VROLOK

by Nolene-Patricia Dougan

  During the succeeding next weeks Vlad made it his business to see Sofia as often as he could. Every time they met, Sofia treated him with nothing more than kindness and a friendship blossomed between the pair, but Sofia was determined that it would never be anything more than that. Vlad despite himself was actually starting to enjoy Sofia’s company. She was a good person and Vlad had forgotten what that meant until he had met her. She had bewitched him with her kindness and generosity of spirit. Vlad made up his mind that he would not corrupt this woman she was too good for him, she would not be part of his hellish scheme but he would go and see her once more just to say goodbye.

  He arrived early at Sofia’s house before he was expected, but he wanted to leave as soon as he could. Sofia greeted him with a smile.

  “It has been some time since I saw you last; I thought you had forgotten about us, Abraham,” Sofia said when greeting him at the door.

  “No. I have just been occupied with other things.”

  “Too busy to pay friends a visit?”

  “Yes, I am afraid so, and my business unfortunately is taking me away. I must go home,” Sofia shuddered. She felt as if her heart had dropped into her stomach. She did not want him to leave; she couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again. She tried desperately to keep her feelings from him.

  “Home, where is home?” Sofia asked her voice quivering.

  “Far away from here,” Vlad answered.

  “Oh… I will miss you.” Sofia got up and stared out at the garden so Vlad could not see her face. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

  “Nonsense, no sooner will I have left than you will forget me,” Vlad said sensing her feelings towards him and trying to convince her that it was just a momentary infatuation.

  “I think you are quite wrong.” Vlad was still reluctant to involve her in his plan, such a good woman did not deserve so harsh a treatment. He decided he had to go now; he should never have even come to say goodbye.

  “I am not wrong; it is better that I leave now,” Vlad answered. Tears were now steadily falling from Sofia’s eyes. Vlad got up and approached Sofia; he placed his hand on her shoulder and said. “It is far better that I leave and you have nothing more to do with me, trust me in this.” Sofia could not stand it any longer. She turned towards him, the tears flowing from her eyes.

  “You can’t go.” Her voice was broken and little more than a whisper.

  “I have to.” Sofia took his hand and pulled him close to her. Vlad made one final attempt to pull away but he was reluctant to leave this woman. He longed to look into the eyes of a woman who loved him and did not hide her love like Isabella always had.

  “I cannot bear the thought of being parted from you,” Sofia begged.

  “Where is your husband?” Vlad asked

  “He is gone for the whole day. Please stay with me?” Sofia was completely in love with him. Vlad could not help himself. He kissed her and felt her exhilaration at kissing him. For the first time in two hundred years all thoughts of Isabella momentarily left his mind.

  Their relationship lasted months; they met several times a week and each meeting was less happy than the last for both of them. Sofia felt guilty at betraying her husband and Vlad now constantly remembered Isabella; he was haunted by Isabella’s face and what he was going to do to Sofia. It had to end soon. The next meeting was to be their last.

  Sofia was obviously very upset when she came to see him on the last day.

  “Come in,” he said.

  “I am not going to stay long,” Sofia said.

  “Why not?”

  “We must end this,” she said.

  “You’re right.”

  Sofia turned to face him. Vlad was relieved at her words. He did not want to hurt her and hopefully not too much damage had been done.

  “You are taking this better than I thought you would,” Sofia replied in a cool manner.

  “What do you want me to say?” Vlad asked.

  “I expected at least some protest from someone who has told me that they love me.”

  “You are wrong Sofia. I have never told you that I loved you.”

  Sofia thought for a moment. “That’s right, you never have. I guess I presumed you did.” Vlad realised at her words that he knew he had to hurt her to end this completely.

  “The truth is I never loved you. I never made you any promises. You were just a distraction for me.”

  Sofia was both shocked and hurt by his words. “You felt nothing for me?” she spoke in a fractured whisper.

  “I would not say nothing, I felt something for you, what we had was quite pleasant and that is why I let it last as long as I did, but I will never feel anything more for you than that.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe it.” Sofia launched herself at Vlad pounding her fists on his chest.

  “How can you say these things to me, after I have deceived my husband to be with you?”

  “That was your error in judgement.”

  Sofia stood back from Vlad in disbelief. This was not the man she had fallen for. She now realised that the man that she had loved had just been a dream and the man before her bore no resemblance to him whatsoever. Sofia wiped away her tears; she had lost enough dignity in front of this man. She stepped back and walked towards the door.

  As she opened the door that lead back out onto the street she took a deep breath and said, “I never want to see you again.”

  Vlad was glad it was over before it was too late, but then he felt completely iniquitous as Sofia spoke her last words to him. “And the child that I am carrying will never know your name.” With that Sofia left. Vlad was devastated. It was too late; the damage had already been done. Vlad’s heart sank. He should have been happy, for he had done what he had set out to do, but his heart was heavy and he did not want to hurt Sofia any more than he had already done.

  A few years passed. Vlad went back to check that Isabella was all right and of course she was. He watched her from a distance, trying to remind himself what he had done this for. When he looked at Isabella he remembered why he had done what he had—to preserve her precious life. Vlad knew what he had to do but he delayed the inevitable as long as he could. He had meant to stay away only months but had stayed away years. Five years passed before he finally returned with the intention of killing Sofia’s child.

  He gazed at Sofia from afar. She looked so happy with her child. It was a boy. She was walking with him to the market. She was laughing and her son was laughing, too. For the first time in her life she was completely happy; she had found someone to love completely and who loved her completely in return.

  How could Vlad take this away from her? But he had to. It was the only way. He waited until the boy was outside his house playing on his own. Vlad approached him and the boy unknowingly greeted his father.

  “Hello,” said the boy. Vlad didn’t answer him. He just stared at the child he was about to kill.

  “Abraham, Abraham,” a voice called from behind Vlad; it was Sofia.

  “Coming, mother,” the boy shouted. Vlad was amazed Sofia had named him Abraham—the name he had used when he had met her. Abraham ran to his mother and hugged her.

  She greeted him with a smile and said, “Go into the house and get ready for dinner.”

  “All right,” he answered and ran to his home.

  Sofia went over to Vlad and said, “What are you doing here?” Vlad ignored her question; he had one of his own.

  “I thought you said he would never know my name?”

  “I thought I hated you when I said that, I even tried to hate you but I realised I couldn’t, because you gave me something that I will always treasure.” Vlad could not do it; he could not kill this woman’s son.

  “You have raised a good boy; he will be better off without my influence.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second,” Sofia said seriously. Sofia watched as Vlad walked away from her forever.

  Sofia would nev
er realise how lucky she was and how close her son had came to danger at such an early age. Vlad left never to return. He knew Sofia would never tell anyone of her affair, so he knew no one could possibly find out that her child was a Dhampir. He would find another way to kill Leila. There had to be another way. He would never try this method again.

  ABRAHAM VAN HELSING

  THE MOST FAMOUS OF ALL THE DHAMPIRS

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Isabella would completely recover from the wounds that Leila had inflicted. However, she now had two more permanent scars, one on the back of her head underneath her hair and one on her chest just above her heart. Her recovery would be slow, and she would stay with Vilem’s child, Jakub, until it was complete. His wife Rayna, was not happy about the situation but Isabella knew her hostile attitude was only because she was concerned about her children. Isabella understood this and put up with the somewhat repressed animosity that Rayna infrequently displayed.

  Jakub’s eldest child Anna interested Isabella. She was a strong, wilful child and Isabella liked her. Anna revered Isabella and followed her around, imitating every mannerism Isabella displayed. Isabella was flattered by the child. Unfortunately, the skills of reading and writing that had been passed from generation to generation within this family had stopped with Katalin. She had no interest in learning and no interest in teaching. Isabella decided to correct Katalin’s mistake and used her time at Jakub’s to teach Anna how to read. It was her payment for Jakub’s family’s kindness and toleration.

  Isabella was enjoying her recovery; she felt as if she was part of a family again. Even though the parents within this family feared her, they also respected her and Anna, not knowing how her parents felt, loved Isabella like an older sister. Despite this, Isabella knew her stay with them was to be relatively short-lived and when five years had passed and she was fully recovered, Jakub approached her.

  “How much longer are you going to stay?” Jakub asked.

  “You are not sick of me already, surely not, for it has only been a few years?” Isabella smiled as she said it. She had been expecting this conversation for the past year.

  “We are not sick of you,” Jakub answered.

  “No, you are not sick of me. You are just scared that I will kill your children.” If Isabella was going to be flippant, Jakub was as well.

  “I know you won’t kill my children, I am worried for the neighbour’s children.”

  Isabella laughed. “Fair enough, I will leave soon.”

  Jakub detected sadness in her eyes, and he regretted the previous conversation.

  “Stay as long as you want, Isabella, I mean that.”

  Isabella turned to him and smiled poignantly.

  “I know you do and that is why I must leave, for some day the thirst will over take me and I will kill someone and it could be someone you care about,” Isabella answered.

  “I don’t believe you would do that.”

  “Rest assured I would and it would not be the first time.”

  Sensing her remorse, Jakub replied, “I am sorry for you.”

  “Don’t be. I know what I am; don’t let sentiment make you forget.”

  “You are quite a woman.”

  “I was. Not any more—now I am quite the Vrolok.” There was a lull in the conversation.

  “Isabella I mean it, you can stay as long as you like,” Jakub reiterated.

  Isabella ignored Jakub’s comment and asked, “Do you remember your mother?”

  “Not at all. I sometimes think I remember what she looked like but how could I?”

  “You remind me of her.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes very much so. I have to say she was the most honest and pure soul I ever knew.”

  “Thank you for telling me that, I would give anything even to remember what she looked like or what her love felt like.” Isabella turned and placed her hand on Jakub’s shoulder.

  “Your father should have told you.” With this, Isabella went back inside the house with the intention of leaving that very night.

  “My daughter will miss you dreadfully,” Jakub shouted after her.

  Isabella turned back towards Jakub and said, “She is a good child. Say goodbye to her for me.” Isabella stood for moment looking at Jakub; she wanted to give him something. “I have never given you anything for letting me stay here. I would like to.” Isabella walked back towards Jakub placed her hands on his temples and Isabella gave him a memory, a long since forgotten memory. Jakub was amazed; tears started to flow from his eyes.

  “I remember her,” he simply stated. Isabella wiped his tears away with the tips of her fingers and left him.

  b

  Isabella traveled north through Germany and then through Holland. Since she had left Jakub’s home she could sense she had company. Leila was always close but never showed herself. Without the Dhampir’s blood Isabella was too strong for her. So Leila chose to follow her without confrontation, waiting for an opportunity to arise to either end Isabella’s life or inflict some great harm. Isabella let her follow her, for she too was looking for some way to kill Leila and Isabella was sure that she would eventually find it.

  Isabella had practically traveled as far north as she could without crossing an ocean. She had halted in Rotterdam and was walking along the bank of the port. She paused for a moment to gaze out across the Mass River. She was only fifteen miles from the North Sea. She longed to cross it and chase after Nicolae, but she knew she could not. She stood on the dock beside a dilapidated and abandoned ship. It caught her eye for a just a moment as she turned. The ship was old and weather beaten; it had been tied to the pier where it would eventually sink, a once magnificent ship that had been forgotten when it had outlived its usefulness.

  “The last of the Flying Dutchmen,” a voice spoke at Isabella’s side. “I came here to see it.”

  “A Flying Dutchman?” Isabella queried. She was glad of the conversation; it had been ten years since she had spoken to anyone.

  “Do you know the story?”

  “No, tell me.” Isabella turned to see who was talking to her. He was a little more than a child and a little less than a man.

  From the instant she saw him Isabella discerned that there was something very different about this very young man. She sensed an inhuman quality. If she didn’t know better she would have sworn he was another Vampire, but she knew he couldn’t possibly be; he was far too young. Hopefully not even Leila would have turned one so youthful. This creature was something new, something extraordinary, neither human nor Vampire. This new being continued to speak.

  “Legend says that Captain Van der Becken was determined to achieve what no other captain had before. He wanted to sail around the Cape of Good Hope. So dogmatic was he in his quest that he did not observe, or chose not to observe, the dark clouds looming overhead. The captain sailed straight into the eye of the storm; the ship was doomed and started to sink. The captain, however, would not give up and would not let a storm so baneful that it must have been sent by God himself to beat him. He yelled out and cursed God for sending such a storm. He yelled he would round the Cape even if he had to keep sailing until doomsday. And with his own words he had sealed his fate, and that is where he is until this day, sailing his ship totally alone, his crew having abandoned him. So if you ever see a ship only manned by one sailor, look away quickly, as whoever looks upon the Flying Dutchman will die a most terrible death.”

  “That is a grim tale,” Isabella said.

  “It is not a tale, it is the truth,”

  Isabella smiled. “Of course it is.”

  “Abraham!” A voice in the distance echoed through the summer air.

  “That is my mother. I better go.”

  “You had better.”

  The boy bowed as a courtesy to Isabella. He had been holding a paint box, tightly in his hands the whole time they had been talking.

  “Are you a painter, Abraham?” Isabella asked.

  “I am, but not for
long. I start medical training next winter.”

  “I take it you are not happy about that prospect.”

  “No, not really, but it is what my mother and father want me to do.”

  “Medicine is a good profession, an honourable one.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Abraham!” This time his mother’s voice was sharper and more determined.

  “I better go.”

  “You better.” As Abraham turned and walked away Isabella knew that she would meet this boy again, but when he was fully grown.

  Isabella did meet him again several years later in Germany. He had lost a little of his romantic nature and was now a man of science.

  Isabella was walking along the bank of the river Neckar when she came across an advertisement.

  “Goethe’s Faust now showing at the Heidelberg Theatre,” it read.

  “You know the story.” A familiar phrase and a familiar voice came out of the darkness. Isabella looked around and saw Abraham. He had matured and was now a handsome young man, his adolescence several years behind him.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Isabella answered.

  “Is it a good story? I am considering going to see it.” Isabella smiled at Abraham, but he did not recognise her.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Isabella enquired.

  “No, should I?”

  “You should, I flatter myself that I am not usually so easily forgotten.”

  “When did we meet?” he questioned.

  “You told me a story about the Flying Dutchman.”

  Abraham looked at Isabella and now he recognised her. “That must be ten years ago; you look as if you haven’t aged a day.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive.”

  “You look well; anyway, I can’t believe you remembered that, I was just a boy then.”

  “You are not a boy any more?”

  “I try not to be.”

  “An honest answer, a rare thing from a young man.”

  “That’s a bit harsh; you must never have known the right young men.”