Yes, now was the time. My mind began spinning as I tried to weave another escape plan. If only I could discover a way out other than the front door, or the back stairs that led into the courtyard. I needed a way that would allow me to flee undetected and that had no major obstacles to dodge during my run for freedom. I would definitely have to be more observant. I would diligently search for an alternate route to the outside world.
~
It was a night of obscure darkness. Clouds rolled across the moon, creating eerie shadows that I imagined were creatures of the night. Shivers raced up and down my spine. I had no idea why. Apprehension enveloped me. Then I heard it. Loud and clear. Howling! A chorus of howling, harmonizing together, creating a symphony of such deep sadness that my heart quivered. How could this be possible? Wolves did not make their homes in cities!
The realization of what must be happening seized me. My throat felt as if there were a vice squeezing it. The guests were arriving; that meant my time to plan an exit from this place had run out. With so many of them scattered about the house, how could I possibly slip out unnoticed?
The baby moved restlessly within me. It was as though he knew they were coming, and he was anxious to welcome his kin. I caressed my abdomen, trying to alleviate the turmoil within. The child refused to succumb to my strokes. In fact, its agitation increased with each note that echoed in the distance!
How, in the name of God, was I ever going to save this child if it was already so affected by them from within my womb? Would it be a futile attempt, a foolish thought to deem possible such a thing? After all, the count was the father, and even if I were to escape his control, I was quite aware of the fact that the child—male or female—might not! There was also the ever-looming question of my fate after the child was weaned, after the end of my usefulness. So many questions ... no logical answers.
A light knock on the door brought me back to the reality of my present situation. Teresa entered without waiting for my reply. Of course, she hardly ever considered the courtesy of privacy when it came to entering or leaving my room. Draped over her arm was a white silk gown.
“Our guests are arriving, Virginia. Supper will be served in one hour. The count wishes you to wear this, and I am to help you dress,” Teresa stated as she laid the clothing on my bed.
So the guests were here. I wondered how they would greet me. Would they rise to the occasion on two legs or bow down to me on four? “Do you mind informing me who has arrived?” I asked.
“Of course not,” Teresa replied. “Not as many as we thought; the family did not bring any of their servants with them. But the important ones are here: the count’s father, Count Atilla Musat, and two of his cousins, the counts Mihail and Vlad Dracul. Also, there is an aunt and uncle, the count Vacaresti Musat and his wife, the countess Emelia. Last, but certainly not least, the doctor I spoke of earlier, Count Balenti Danesti.”
I breathed in sharply at the mention of the last name. He still lived? But how? Atilla had not referred to Balenti as a relative, only as a doctor. “That makes six,” I concluded, counting the names in my head. “Which means everyone is here?”
“Yes,” Teresa stated simply. She retrieved my brush from the dresser. “Come, Virginia, we must hurry. Everything is to be perfect tonight, including you.” I noted the sarcasm in her voice when she said including you. Or had that been loathing?
I went and sat in the chair by my window. Teresa followed and commenced brushing my hair. It had grown quite a bit since my imprisonment, and despite my pregnancy, or maybe because of it, my hair was extraordinarily healthy. As Teresa brushed, I went over in my mind the names she had mentioned. Two in particular bothered me: Mihail and Vlad Dracul—sons of the Impaler, the one for whom the curse was truly meant. And why had he not come for this important event? Did I dare ask? Was he not here because he was the one who was creating all the new rogues? That could not be possible, I thought, because the count had never alluded to such; he had always spoken quite highly of his uncle. I thought it might be better if I did not ask about Dracula’s whereabouts.
“Your hair feels like silk, Virginia. And the colour is such a lovely shade of red. Not so dark that it is ghastly to gaze upon, but colourful enough that it shimmers in any light. I envy you.”
Teresa’s compliment startled me. “You envy me? Please, Teresa, do not patronize me with such a statement. You are more beautiful than I could ever dream of being,” I confessed to her, even though I felt a twinge of regret at having admitted such a truth.
“My beauty comes out of darkness; it is not real. Yours still has the reflection of light in it.” Did I detect a melancholy note in Teresa’s voice as she referred to the conflicting shades of beauty? And what did she mean by her beauty not being real?
“Besides, Virginia,” Teresa continued, “you should not downgrade yourself; you are an extremely beautiful woman. Do you really think if you were not, you would be carrying his child? No, the count would have discarded you to a living hell, where he has sent many others before you. Take consolation in the fact that your beauty has bought you some time.”
I could sense Teresa’s evil behind the words bought you some time. She finished brushing my hair and returned the brush to the dresser. Inwardly, I cursed the beauty God had bestowed on me. The thought crossed my mind that if I had been plainer-looking, the count might just have let me go. Therefore, I did not truly feel thankful at this moment, when my future was so undecided. But who was I fooling? Teresa had said I would have been discarded to a living hell as the others had been. Was there no winning for me?
Did Teresa believe that I should be content with the extra scrap of time that had been granted me? Was she suggesting that was all life had to offer? Maybe I should be thankful, because it appeared that scrap of time could open to me a means of escape—without which this story would never have been written!
There were other things that bothered me. How did the child of a vampire age? At what point did the aging process cease? Did they enjoy their eternity, or had many of them eventually tired of such an existence and ended it with stakes through their hearts and swords to sever their heads from their bodies? And who would end it for them—one of their own? I wished I dared to ask someone such questions! I had not even thought to discuss these subjects with the count.
Also, did Teresa presume that I had no emotional ties to the child growing inside of me? If so, then she truly had no idea about being a mother. In her cold, calculating manner, she constantly reminded me that I was being used—so how could I allow myself to suppose she could care? I was a fool to imagine anything different. She was not her own person; she was merely an extension of the count. And, despite all that had passed between him and me, I still did not understand him!
“Come, I will assist you with the gown, Virginia,” Teresa interrupted my thoughts.
I was not willing to let this matter drop. There was too much at stake. “Teresa, you said my beauty has bought me time. What is my fate to be after I give birth to this child and once it is weaned? I must know. I am frightened! It is enough for me to be able to handle all that is happening to me—like a nightmare from a horror novel. But not to know what is to become of me or the child, that is constantly eating away at me!”
I grabbed Teresa’s arm. I knew I was still being foolish to think she would care anything about what was going to happen to me physically, let alone what mental torments I was experiencing. My mind had already conjured up a gruesome death when my usefulness was finished. I gazed pleadingly into Teresa’s eyes, awaiting my answer, hoping it would be something I would want to hear.
“As I keep trying to tell you,” Teresa began, shaking her head back and forth, “I honestly do not know what he will do with you, or when he will do it. As for the child, you will be expected to nurse him; I will have charge of the rest of his care. Max and I keep reminding you: I am the count’s wife, not you. You are nothing more than the vessel in which the child was conceived. This you have done, not ju
st for him, but for me as well.” There was a definite look of triumph on Teresa’s face. “This child will be born, and he will take his rightful place in the world of his father. He will know that I am his mother! He will not be with you long enough for him to have even the faintest memory of you!”
“Then, after I give birth, would you help me to escape? Please, Teresa. What difference will it make to you whether I live or die—you will have the child! At least grant me my life; after all, I have given you one!” I was praying that I might have exposed some aspect of humanity within Teresa. “I promise I shall divulge nothing of who you and the count are,” I added humbly. “I swear on the life of my child. You have my word that I will be silent, in order to protect him from any harm.”
Teresa’s face took on a stony look. I truly was fooling myself if I thought she would consider assisting me. She did not understand or feel any of the emotions of a human woman. She was nothing more than a feminine version of Count Basarab Musat! I had reasoned within myself, since Max was her father, and he was human—well, at least he appeared to be—that maybe I could reach that part of Teresa’s genes. He had definitely, on more than one occasion, manifested human emotions, especially where Lilly and Teresa were concerned. I had no real way of knowing the truth, so putting my trust in her was a chance I felt forced to take. Whatever the outcome, it was my life I was gambling with!
“It is not in my hands to grant you anything,” Teresa finally answered. “The men rule supreme in our society. Their word is the law, not as in your world, where I have been told that the men kowtow to their women’s every whim.” Teresa paused. “Now, Virginia, we have wasted enough time with idle chatter. The count will be furious if we keep him waiting tonight.”
Idle chatter? Is that all Teresa thought of my fears and of my life? I dared not let her see me weep; my heart was seeping the tears that should have flowed from my eyes. Teresa assisted me as I slipped into the gown. The silk, as it slid over my skin, felt cool on my hot, swollen body. I wished there were a mirror, so I could observe the full effect and see what had become of me.
A knock sounded on the door, and Max entered, holding a long, white veil. Teresa took it and placed it gently on my head. She pulled a section over my face, straightened a few folds, and then stepped back to observe her work.
“The count will present you to his family tonight as the woman he has chosen to bear his son,” she stated. “Do not remove this yourself—he will lift the veil,” she added.
Was I being treated like a bride? Was it not a little late to be getting me to the altar? Besides, Teresa had already been there. So why the white gown and the wedding veil? I was obviously pregnant; in fact, I was almost ready to deliver. I did not present the picture of a bride who was about to take her wedding vows. Of course, no one had actually informed me that I would be taking any vows. Most likely, when all was said and done, I would be attending a funeral—my own.
“What do you think, Max?” Teresa asked, turning to her father. “Will she pass?”
Will I pass? Pass what? How dare she!
Max ran his hand through his hair. “Oh yes, Teresa, she will more than pass. Her condition has added a certain aura to her—she shines. I am positive the count’s father will be more than pleased.” Max sounded sincere. “But you must go now and dress yourself, Teresa. I will escort Virginia to the dining room. Dinner will be served shortly.”
Max extended his arm to me. I laid my hand near his elbow, and we swept out of the room. What play-acting—Max the father figure, I the dutiful daughter being led down the aisle to her betrothed. The only problem with the picture was that I knew I was not the glowing bride, and there would be no adoring groom waiting for me at an altar!
Meeting the Family
Chapter Seventeen
The dining room shone as never before. Someone must have polished the woodwork for hours in order to create such a shine. The table was set with precision, as though royalty would be attending the evening meal. Pale, rose-coloured dishes adorned a black lace tablecloth. I did not bother to examine its stitches; I suspected there would be creatures as diabolical as those woven into the regular tablecloth.
The faint sound of classical music—Mozart’s Funeral March for Signor Maestro Contrapunto—resonated from one of the corners. Music had been another one of the elements missing from my life during my months of captivity. I wondered why it was being played now.
Large baskets of multi-coloured flowers lent a sweet fragrance to the room. I had not known Max ever to bring garden flowers into the house before. Why now? To celebrate the guests’ arrival, or a parallel to the life that grew inside of me?
Max led me to the chair to the right of where the count would be sitting. He seated me, and then he departed.
Alone again? Totally alone? Why had Max left the dining room door open? Carelessness? Or was he giving me an opportunity to escape? Of course I realized, all too well, that he assumed I would not be such a fool, with so many of them wandering around the house!
My body shuddered as a strange shivering raced through me. When I was a child, my mother had always said she would get the shivers when she felt someone was watching her. I could sense another presence in the room, hanging over me, haunting the silence. I was not alone! I gazed nervously around the room, searching for—I do not know exactly what I was searching for, but I knew that if I managed to find it, I would probably not wish to meet it in a dark alley.
My search ended when my gaze fell upon two tiny red lights in the far corner. I trembled. Just as I suspected, I was being observed. Despite Teresa’s warning not to, I lifted the veil off my face and raised my chin. If it was a show they wanted, then I would give them one. Who did they think they were, anyway, spying on me?
“I see you, you know,” I spoke up, mockingly. “Why don’t you just come out and face me like a man, or a woman, whatever you are? I won’t hurt you. I won’t even bite you.” I paused to allow time for the meaning of my words to sink into the mind of the lurking creature. “I do find it rather difficult talking to a ... a ... rodent.” I emphasized the word rodent. I was aware of enough of the folklore that linked vampires to the bat world; I was aware of the curse; I was aware of what was most likely in that corner! And had I not already encountered a bat when I had attempted my first flight?
Silence continued to hang heavily in the room. Suddenly, without warning, the thing flew at me, heading straight for my face. I ducked as quickly as my condition would allow me. I sensed the presence of something formidable behind me. I steeled my nerves. I pushed my chair back from the table, stood up, and then turned to face my assailant. Shock catapulted through me!
There stood a man whose resemblance to the count was flawless. I had no doubt that he was the father of Count Basarab Musat. This was the same man who had written the diary and divulged so much of himself and the plight of the family—Count Atilla Musat himself! There was a sardonic curl to his lips as he studied me. His eyes were notably piercing—like his son’s. Finally he spoke, and his voice was as smooth as the soft silk dress that hugged my skin.
“So, you are the one my son has chosen to bear him a son.” He extended his hand. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Count Atilla Musat, grandfather to this child you bear.”
He took hold of my hand and raised it to his lips. I could feel his breath close to my skin. I shuddered from the coolness of the kiss. What was he up to, lingering as he was over my trembling fingers? I stiffened at his slow savouring of my flesh.
“Do not be alarmed, my dear. I wish nothing more than to kiss your hand,” he remarked. It was as though he had sensed my discomfort.
I blushed a deep rose colour. The baby kicked, jolting me back to reality. I withdrew my hand from the count’s hand, laid it upon my abdomen, and tried to calm my restless infant.
The count smiled as his eyes followed the movement of my hand. “The child is anxious to meet his grandfather,” he laughed.
“Ah, Father, here you
are!” Count Basarab Musat entered the dining room. Close on his heels were two other distinguished-looking gentlemen. They reminded me of someone, but I could not put my finger on who that was. They had piercing eyes, but not quite as piercing as the count’s were, or his father’s.
“Good evening, son. I am afraid you have caught me sampling the delights ahead of time. I was just introducing myself to your little bird, although I would venture to say that she has the heart of an eagle, not a sparrow! She caught me staring at her from the corner and then challenged me to face her like a man!” The count Atilla concluded his dramatization of the recent event with a great burst of laughter.
Count Basarab glanced toward me, a dark scowl crossing his face. His father noticed his displeasure and quickly intervened. “Basarab, do not be angry. I am rather pleased to see that the mother of my grandson has such spunk,” Count Atilla dissuaded his son from admonishing my boldness. “She actually reminds me somewhat of your mother, Mara, before the curse turned her into a walking nightmare,” he added. I detected wistfulness in his words as he spoke his wife’s name. “I just had to see who was behind the veil; forgive me for not waiting for your unveiling.”
The count nodded stiffly. I wondered why his father had said that he had lifted my veil. Was he protecting me from his son’s wrath? Then I remembered Teresa’s warning.
Count Basarab’s cousins joined in the laughter with the elder count. “I see, cousin, that you have chosen a true beauty to bear you a son, one who can hold a candle even to your Teresa, no? One with hair of fire and I assume a spirit of fire, as well? Just who seduced whom, here, my dear cousin?” The taller of the two cousins laughed mischievously.
Night's Gift: Book One of the Night's Vampire Trilogy Page 18