Heart of Dracula

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  Maxine shut her eyes and let herself feel the room around her.

  Alfonzo. Tired, but determined. The weary warrior who must lift the sword and defend against the invading army. The wish for family, for peace, and love. Yet he was no fool; he knew it would be denied. He saw in her a chance for a new page, a kindling of hope that his dreams may yet come true.

  Bella. Curious and eager. Everything was something new to learn, something interesting to master. A scholar at heart. She felt like a daisy in the rays of the sunlight in the first days of spring. She was the embodiment of resilience, though she might look fragile on the surface.

  Eddie. There was some deep personal mission that ran through him like a vein of silver in a rock. It defined him and it didn’t, all at once. She resisted the temptation to pry. It was not her right. He was wary, nervous about this whole situation and, of the three, seemed the least ready to charge onto the battlefield.

  He was also in love.

  Oh. The young man’s focus was clear. Bella. It brought a smile to Maxine’s face, and she looked back out the window, letting her awareness of her guests fade. Eddie did not wish to rush to his death because, unlike the other two, he had more to live for than his cause. It was bittersweet. Love rarely ever followed logic or reason when it came to where it chose to place its focus.

  As if she would know. She had never been in love herself. Although she felt it enough through the eyes of others around her, she suspected that wasn’t at all the same as living it.

  How much love would the vampire murder when he took the city? Saving Boston would be a noble cause to pursue, as short-lived as it would be in her case. Literally and figuratively. She looked down at the gem in her hand. She could feel it calling to her. Whispering come and see. It was the lure of secrets untold, of knowledge to discover.

  Of danger.

  Of a creature who would join her there in her visions.

  It should scare her more than it did. As it was…she was intrigued. There was more to this mysterious creature than the death and the murder it seemed he spread around him like a plague.

  It would mean her death, she knew. If she fled the city this very moment, she might escape with her life. He may not send his minions to follow her. She might live to see another day. But they were all assumptions based on nothing. In fact, all she knew of him—although it was very little—pointed to the opposite.

  He had been able to reach through a thread of a connection so slight that it was imperceptible to all others and touch her mind. She could not imagine what he might think of such an imposition. Was it an insult? A curiosity? An annoyance, or uninteresting altogether? She could not say.

  But in all her life, short as it might be in comparison to his, she had never experienced anything quite like it. It was terrifying…but she wanted to try again. She wanted to touch the flame. God help her, doom her to the pits, she was going to walk proudly to her own demise.

  Shutting her eyes again, she let out a small breath. This was going to end very poorly. “Yes. I will help you. I will sniff him out, and I will learn all I can from him. Right until the moment I suspect he will rip my still-beating heart out of my chest.”

  Alfonzo chuckled. “We’ll do everything we can to keep that from happening.”

  “I appreciate that.” She looked back over at the older soldier and shared a smile with him. They were both aware the odds were good that none of them survived. “If I am to die, I suppose it is better that I go with meaning. We rarely get to pick how we exit this world. At least this will be interesting.”

  “That is quite true.”

  “Then I will begin. Return tomorrow morning, and I will tell you what I have found. Or you will find my corpse, one of the two.” She stood from beside the window and placed the brooch on her mantel. “I suspect he is not a creature who likes to be encroached upon.”

  “No. I suspect he is not.” Alfonzo stood from his chair and motioned for the other two to do the same. “We have work to do as well, after the sun sets. We will be back tomorrow before noon.”

  “Perfect.” She tried not to laugh as Eddie shoved the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth.

  Alfonzo walked up to her and extended his hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Parker. Thank you for agreeing to help us. I know the magnitude of what we ask.”

  She ensured she was wearing her glove before placing her hand in his. Alfonzo did not hesitate when he shook her hand to say goodbye. Bella and Eddie could not say the same, as they both glanced down warily before touching her.

  Maxine was accustomed to the sting of being a pariah because of her gift. But it never stopped it from hurting. It merely became easier to bear after all the years.

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  And, with that, she showed them out. Eddie mumbled a goodbye through his food and waved back at her as they left. What an adorable, silly young man. With a shake of her head, she shut the door behind them and threw the locks.

  Vlad Tepes Dracula had surprised her once. He would not do so again. She would not bother trying to protect her home from him. What wards she might be able to place on her home would be useless in the end. One, Roma magic was unpredictable and stubborn, and two, she was terrible at it.

  While she was a decent empath, she was an abhorrent excuse for a witch. The Roma sorceress she had traveled with had given up trying to teach her the traditions quickly. “Your gift is elsewhere. Now, get back to work.”

  She chuckled at the memory of the old woman shooing her away to have her go pretend to be a psychic. It was amazing how much money she could make from those who believed she could see the future only because she could see the past and present. It had not been honest work. But it had meant shelter over her head and food in her stomach.

  She nevertheless went about locking the doors and windows and changed into her house dress, not wanting the uncomfortable steel boning of her corset to dig into her side if she woke up on the floor a second time. After slipping on a necklace that bore a few simple symbols and charms, including her favorite, which was a painted glass evil eye, she was ready. She returned to her parlor and, plucking the brooch from the mantel, she sat in the center of the floor, cross-legged.

  If I am going to find myself on the carpet anyway, I might as well start off that way. Lessens the chance of a head injury.

  Taking off the glove on her right hand, she held the brooch in her left again. “Well, Mr. Dracula. Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  She dropped the stone into her bare palm.

  4

  Maxine found herself standing once more in that nightmarish throne room. She turned around slowly, taking in the space, and waited. Waited for him. But the room was silent. Nothing but the whisper of a breeze that sent the tapestries lazily drifting. It gave the room the appearance of breathing.

  “I know you’re here.” Her voice echoed in the large chamber. It felt like an empty expanse. It felt as lonely as a tomb. “There’s no point in hiding.”

  A laugh echoed through the space, low and dark, dangerous and promising both violence and a great joy taken in bringing such things to pass. “And why would I hide from you?” His voice was a deep baritone rumble. It sent a chill up her spine, and she shivered.

  When she turned, there was no one there. “If you are not hiding, then what, precisely, are you doing?”

  “Observing.”

  “False. You are attempting to scare me. You can observe me well enough standing face to face with me, and not lurking in the shadows like—” She paused, deciding it may not be a grand idea to insult him.

  “Like what, my dear?”

  The voice came from behind her, and much closer than before. She whirled and gasped, taking a step away from the figure who had appeared there. She felt the color drain from her face. Yes, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. This is precisely how a King of Vampires should probably look.

  He was tall, towering over her, and broad shouldered. He was a monolith of a man, and he
surpassed her by easily a foot or more, and she was of average height. Long black hair reached past his shoulders in dark tendrils. They were a sharp contrast to his skin, which was so pale it was almost gray. Full lips were barely a shade darker. His ears were slightly pointed at the tips, accentuating his incredibly inhuman appearance. For while all the rest might be in the right places—he did not have a third eye, nor horns or scales—there was no mistaking what he was.

  But it was his eyes that arrested her to the spot. They were crimson and flashed as they reflected the firelight around him like a wolf in the darkness. He was dressed in blacks and deep cardinals, perfect and regal finery, over which he wore a long peacoat that nearly reached the ground.

  Not that she looked for too very long. While his gaze was intimidating, it was also dangerous. It felt like turning her back on a hungry tiger. He was watching her with a strange expression that all at once seemed predatory, amused, and curious. He arched a dark eyebrow. “Well?”

  “Well…what?”

  “You did not finish your sentence.” His canines were a bit too long and a bit too sharp.

  I am an idiot. Did I expect a vampire not to have fangs? She forced herself to focus on what he was saying, although it was not hard. He commanded attention.

  “You were about claim I was lurking in the shadows ‘like’ something, were you not?” He took a step toward her.

  She immediately retreated one in turn. “I fear I have forgotten what I was going to say.”

  “Now you are the one lying.” His lips turned up at one side in an unfriendly and patronizing expression. “You are merely rethinking your decision to berate me. A wise choice.” He took another slow step toward her, his hands clasped behind his back.

  She took another step away. “Well, then, Mr…” She paused. “What precisely am I to call you?”

  “I have had many names. To others, I am most recently Count Vlad Tepes Dracula.” He swept one arm in front of his waist and bowed deep. She did not miss that his fingernails were long, sharpened points, like claws. He straightened slowly, red eyes catching the firelight and flashing dangerously. “But to you, Miss Parker, I would be only Vlad.”

  She swallowed. She wasn’t quite sure why his words made her as nervous as they did. “That is an assumption of a level of personal intimacy I was not aware we shared.”

  “You have invaded my mind. Twice in one day, no less. You pry into my thoughts. I would call that rather personal. As for intimate…” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze pointedly traveling down her body once and back up. “No need to rush the inevitable.”

  She laughed. That seemed to catch him by surprise, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. She did her best to smile. “Forgive me. I thought you were making a joke.”

  “No. You once more lie to me. You know my comment was not made in jest. You wish to dismiss it. Why?”

  “You are a vampire tyrant bent on destroying my city. Flirtatious commentary is hardly appropriate. Therefore, it must be an attempt at humor.”

  “Mmh. And a third lie.”

  “Neither statement was false.”

  “Perhaps not, but the latter is hardly the real reason you seek to ignore my flirtatious commentary, is it, Miss Parker?”

  “It seems foolish to call me Miss Parker when you would have me call you Vlad. As it is clear you already know my full name, you may call me Maxine.” She hurried into her next thought. He was right. Usually, it was she who could sniff out the lie in the room, not the other way around. It was unnerving, and there was enough about him that was troubling already.

  That he was a terrifying King of Vampires was top on that list. Second was that he knew her name and likely knew who she was and, therefore, where she lived.

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Maxine.” The glint in his eyes betrayed that he had caught her attempt to steer the conversation away from his comment. “I look forward to meeting you in person and not in…whatever this is.” He glanced around them with a thoughtful look. “Is this a dream, or a vision?”

  “I am not sure what this is, to be blunt.”

  “Oh, grand. You do not know the results of your gift.” He sighed. “How disappointing. I thought you were more formidable.”

  “No, you misunderstand. I know what this should be. But what it should be and what it very clearly is are quite different.”

  “Explain.”

  It was an order, and she bristled at the idea of being given a command by him, just as much as she did at his easy dismissal of her. One was understandable, and the other was an odd reflex to being insulted. As she wavered on the edge of doing anything the vampire said, his crimson gaze turned back to her.

  “I have demanded countless things from countless souls, Maxine. I suspect I will demand far worse of you in the days to come. If what I require of you is painless…I recommend you do not fight me for the sake of it alone. You will have plenty cause to find yourself quite rationally obstinate in due time.”

  “What an odd speech. You ask me to take your small intrusions with grace because there are larger and crueler mandates to come.” She laughed again. “You are a tyrant indeed.”

  “I will not argue the title.”

  “Why not? Do you agree with it?”

  “I am merely tired of fighting against such childish insults.” The lines of his face grew weary. “I am very old, my dear.”

  “How old?”

  “A conversation for another time. When we are in person, and I am not trapped in this dreamworld of yours.” His expression shifted back, and she realized now that she could see it anew that it bore a strange kind of playfulness. “Perhaps over a bottle of wine.”

  She skipped over both his mischievous tone and his comment. She would not be lured down that road once more. “This is not a dream. It should be a memory.”

  “Interesting. Go on.”

  “When I touch something, I see the imprint that time has made upon it. They play out for me as a living painting. They are nothing more than pages from a book long penned and immutable in their events. I am a silent and passive witness. What this is”—she gestured between them with the wave of a hand—“I do not know.”

  “I am not one to ever be passive or silent.” He smiled. “In any matters.” His gaze drifted over her body once more. This time, she could not keep the warmth from creeping up on her cheeks. His smile grew as it clearly did not escape his notice. “Tell me, my dear Maxine, why is it you have come to intrude upon my memories?”

  “I would like to propose an accord with you first, King of Vampires. Before we go any farther, I wish to have one thing settled.”

  “Oh?” He was amused. Deeply amused. If her gift of empathy had not told her that, the devilish grin on his features would have done the deed. “Do tell. Please, do not make it boring. I have such high hopes for you.”

  Every word that came from him was like a small piece of a puzzle slipping into place. This conversation was painting a portrait of a man, although she could not say she liked what it was showing her. “And what would constitute boring?”

  “Demanding that I spare this city, or your life, or some such trite and trivial nonsense.” He waved a hand dismissively.

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Human lives are trite and trivial nonsense?”

  “Yes.”

  It was said with such finality and cold determination that it brought a shiver over her. She glanced away, unable to hold his gaze. It was too much to withstand. There was so much ice and stone behind it that she felt as though she were looking up at a mountain and asking it for pity. She might stand a better chance with the rock. “Then I shall strive to not be boring.”

  “You are doing wonderfully so far.”

  “I have done nothing but stand here and make an utter fool of myself. You have low expectations, Vampire King.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Perhaps.” He took a step toward her. “Perhaps not.”

  She took a step back.

>   He grinned.

  Summoning the best glare that she could under the circumstances, she tried to hold her ground. “Stop stalking me.”

  “No.”

  She stammered. That was not what she had been expecting. She grasped the fabric of her skirt in her gloved hands, needing something to do with them. “The accord, Count, is simply this—”

  “Vlad.” He interrupted. “To you, I am only Vlad.”

  “Very well.” She shook her head, not understanding why he, who clearly thought of himself as a grandiose and powerful figure, would wish her to refer to him by his first name alone. The throne room in which they stood told of a man who wanted people to fear and worship him. But that was not who stood in front of her. Overwhelming as he may be, he did not seem intent on terrorizing her any more than was clearly unavoidable. “Vlad. I propose that we agree not to lie to each other in the time that is to follow, however brief it may be, before you tear out my throat.”

  His eyes flickered with something akin to eager excitement. “Oh?” he purred. “And why is that?”

  “My abilities allow me to hear a lie as it is said. And yours allows you to see through mine, it seems—”

  “No, you’re merely terrible at it.”

  “I—I am not!” Now she was flustered, trying to defend her aptitude at an undesirable talent. “I—” She broke off in a frustrated growl.

  He laughed. It seemed to fill the hall, resonating within the stones. It was a real laugh, pleasant and amused. When it faded, he was smiling. “Tell me, why should I agree to an accord with my enemy? And you are my enemy, no doubt. You consort with hunters who have come to end me.”

  “From what they have told me, such things are not possible.”

  “I can be killed. I merely do not stay that way.” He shrugged. “Tell me, my darling Maxine, what danger do you bring me? Why have the hunters sought you out?”