“What? You have pictures? Of me?”
“Some are pictures,” his voice was a dark, smoky drawl that made my blood run hot, “most are paintings.”
“Have I seen them before?”
“Some of you have. Some… left me, never to return.” He glowered down at the table, eyes burning red and my heart thrilled to feel that spark of danger radiating from off of him.
It struck me then, in a profound way that I was casually chatting with the king of beasts. Dracula was refined and cultured and unbelievably interesting, but he was also dark and dangerous and infinitely more powerful than just about anyone Blue Moon Bay could boast of.
I should be scared of him. Thinking of my well being, telling myself it was time to go.
But I wasn’t.
“Show me,” I whispered.
We stood in a great hall, the walls literally covered in portraits. And I gasped as I slowly walked down the timeline of my long and eternal life.
I was so different from life to life. Sometimes thin. Other times rubenesque. My skin tone was always different. Lily white and other times dark as the night, with every variation between. Male. Female. Sometimes neither.
I could not tear my eyes off the pictures, experiencing a flash of memories with each one my eyes alighted upon. Until I came to stand before one of a man, dressed in Victorian garb with a bowler hat tilted jauntily above my head. A thin, well-groomed mustache upon my thin face. Eyes blue and dancing with laughter, even in the photo. There was an expression in my eyes. Something mysterious, and I knew that the male in the picture hadn’t been staring at the camera, but at someone over the photographer’s shoulder.
I felt Dracula’s nearness and wet my lips. “This was Paul, wasn’t it?”
When he didn’t answer I finally forced myself to tear my gaze away from the Victorian male’s image. The Dark Prince however gazed at the picture with obvious anguish and pain in his eyes.
His jaw was clenched tight and his body stiff as a board.
“You loved him a great deal?”
His eyes finally shifted toward mine and his nostrils were flared. “More than you could fathom.”
“I sense that his death is one of the most painful ones for you. Why?”
Sighing, deeply he turned on his heel and began to slowly walk away. I wasn’t ready to leave Paul yet, but I felt a closeness developing between Dracula and I that I wanted to further explore.
I locked in step with him and just because I needed the comfort of his touch as much as I suspected he needed mine, I grabbed his hand. He was tense for only half a second before I felt him visibly relax. His fingers tightened around mine.
“There were moments in our lives when you were a male, Rose and it never bothered me. I fell in love with your soul, not simply your outward costuming.”
I grinned, feeling weirdly happy to hear him say so.
“And usually it never bothered you either. I mean, there were moments where I had to fight harder to make you believe me when I’d finally reveal our long and convoluted history, but even if we didn’t become lovers we still always kept open communication.”
“Paul didn’t do that?”
He shrugged. “The Victorian age was very repressed. Books and movies make it out to be an idyllic time in history but women were second-rate citizens and men who felt as we did, well… we were so much worse. I could hide, I was a vampire and had the ability to separate myself from that damning influence. But Paul… he was very much a man of his time. Though I knew he loved me, he ultimately rejected me entirely. Cutting me out so completely that it was like I was already dead to him.”
I stopped walking and forced him to turn toward me.
His eyes were shaded with pain and memories that I wasn’t sure I was ready to delve into yet. “Rose, you shouldn’t have to—”
I cupped his cheek in my palm and he hissed, trembling like a sapling in the wind. This big, powerful male, had allowed himself to become weak with me and it was a heady power all its own.
He shuddered.
“Look at me, Dracula,” I murmured tenderly.
He kept his eyes locked shut for a mere millisecond before he did.
I shook my head. “I don’t know why I believe you. But I do. Deep in my soul I recognize the truth of this. Of us. Of me. I feel a great warmth toward you. A surety that you are the adventure I’ve searched for my entire life. I will not run away this time, beast.”
Lifting our joined hands to his mouth he pressed a hard and firm kiss to my knuckles. I stepped into his body, melding my form to his. We were a perfect fit. His chin rested atop the crown of my head. His nose was in my hair and he was smelling me.
I too was smelling him. I rubbed my nose along his chest, filling my lungs with the dark scent of his body. He groaned.
“You are so different this time, Rose.”
I wondered how. In what way? And why it seemed to bother him as it did? “Does that scare you?”
“It terrifies me. Because I don’t know what to expect with you. I never have. But this time, it feels… different.”
When I opened my eyes to stare at his face again, instead my curiosity was suddenly tugged away by the final painting hanging in the hall.
The image of a pale-skinned woman with ravens-wing black hair and jewel green eyes. Her look was mysterious, and even carnal. A soft Mona Lisa type smile wreathed her beautiful face. And I knew without asking this was Evanora. His greatest and truest and only love.
He didn’t look at what I did, instead I felt his look burning a hole right through me.
“Why did this happen to us, Dracula?” I asked into the deep stillness entombing us. “Who did this to you and I?”
Of all the memories returned to me, Evanora’s—I realized—were a complete blank.
“Her name was Aziria. And she was my lover.”
It was the strangest reaction to have, but I suddenly felt as though I’d been punched in the gut. I clamped down on my molars.
Dracula’s stare was long and intense.
“We do not need to speak of this matter if it makes you uneasy, Rose.”
Sighing, nibbling on the bottom of my lip, I shook my head. “No. I don’t know. A part of me wonders why I care as I do, another part though—maybe the louder side of me—makes me feel that I need to know these things. That there is a truth in this that I must learn. And that maybe if I do…”
He frowned and slightly cocked his head. “If you do? What? What are you feeling, Rose?”
I rubbed at my brow. Silly, foremost. Foolish, secondly. And ridiculous, third. But beneath all those emotions I was feeling the rightness of my words. Though internally I couldn’t make sense of why I should feel as I did, because in this life (and I had no doubt now that he’d not lied to me when he related stories of our past, I saw many of those lives in my own mind’s eye) we had no knowledge of one another. And yet the connection was very much there.
Already I felt myself growing more and more bonded to him. To the point that I knew my words of earlier to be a lie. I had no intention of leaving. Not just yet. Not until I unraveled the mystery of why it seemed I was remembering so much more in this time than I had in the others. Why I felt easy around him when I knew how uneasy Paul had been. And it’d been more than the homosexuality aspect of the relationship that’d grieved Paul. His memories were freshest in my mind, likely because he’d been my last incarnation. What’d bothered Paul most had been the profundity of being joined to someone merely because of magic. He’d been unable to shake the feeling that he’d had no choice in the matter and above all he’d desperately needed to feel as though he had a choice in his life.
Me, on the other hand, I did not suffer that affliction. Being born and raised a witch I had an easier time understanding the intricacies of magick and how it often didn’t have to make sense to be so.
I wet my lips and gazed into his eyes, debating whether or not to give him the full truth or only a portion of it.
&nb
sp; But again my gut told me to trust him and I knew that I should.
“A part of me wonders at this unexpected turn in my life. This draw I feel toward you, makes little sense to me. And yet, I very strongly feel that if I shake these shackles of doubt something great could be on the horizon for us both. So do I trust you, Dracula? That is what I ponder. Do I dare open myself and trust you, a stranger who is not really one at all, with the very truths of me?”
I paused, letting him digest my words. I’d chosen to listen to my gut and tell him everything, my doubts, my fears, and also my surety that something about us was right on a visceral level.
His body was tense, but I could see the alertness in his eyes. The openness of them let me know that he listened on bated breath, I could almost taste the tang of his hope upon my tongue.
For a second his lashes fluttered and I thought that maybe he’d turn aside, or even say nothing. But then he seemed to take a breath for bravery and said, “You should trust, Rose. Implicitly. I have never lied to you and I never will. Once, you knew me as your own soul. And if some side of you recognizes that in me again, then I implore you to hear me. To believe me. Do not leave me this time.”
“I always die, don’t I?”
The shadow creeping through his eyes was my answer and my heart sank. “I’m a witch this time, and very long lived.”
His eyes closed and I felt a stirring in my soul. He was right. There was a part of me able to so easily understand his mannerisms. “Do I always die young, dark prince?”
He looked at me full on and there was such anguish and pain in his bright red gaze. “Nay. There have been a handful of times when you’re silver of hair, but that was mostly in the beginning. You’ve died young seven of your last ten incarnations.”
“Ah. Also, part of the curse, I’d imagine?” I couldn’t believe how blasé I was acting about all of this. In truth, I was anxious. But I reckoned that a part of me was still somewhat in denial too. Up until yesterday I thought I knew what my life was. Who I was. And what my role in it was. And then in seconds it all just changed and I was finding it difficult to reconcile that everything I’d ever believed to be true was nothing more than a carefully wrought illusion. And though I did believe on an intrinsic level Dracula and I were fated, it was also hard to accept that my reality was nothing as I’d imagined.
He sighed deeply. “Aziria was very thorough.”
“How long do we usually have?”
He shrugged. “It varies. Weeks sometimes. Once a few years. But rarely longer than ten.”
That wasn’t long indeed. I thought of my sisters then. Of the metaphorical death clock now ticking over me that he and I had found one another again.
They would be devastated by my loss.
“But I am a witch, Dracula. And not to boast, but I’m powerful. I’m part of a trinity of witches, combined our powers are—”
“Never enough,” he said regretfully. “No amount of magick is enough.”
“Why would you say that? You’ve not seen the magick my sisters and I work together. Perhaps if we joined forces we could—”
He suddenly grabbed my hands, squeezing my fingers in his warm grip. “Aziria was a dark mage, Rose. Her curse could only be broken through great darkness. Darkness stains the soul. You would not be immune to it, and I could not do that to you. No matter how badly I wish I could keep you for all eternity.”
I knew what he was saying. All witches were born of the light, but not all witches remained there. Once the magick became corrupted by darkness and violence and wickedness it left a lasting mark on the practioner. Slowly changing them overtime, turning them from something normal to a twisted and darker version of themselves. The very worst version of themselves.
I trembled.
And then I had an idea. A stupidly simple idea and I was suddenly curious why in all the lives I’d never once done this thing.
“I could become a vampire, couldn’t I? Is that not allowed?” The hope I felt flickering like a barely lit candle was instantly dashed by the look on his face.
He wilted in his seat and I saw the pain radiating off him in waves. “Oh, Rose. My darling Rose.” His eyes opened and they were now shot through with deep veins of crimson. “When I say Aziria was thorough, I meant it. She wished us to suffer for all eternity. Your blood is tainted, my darling. If I were to envenom you, you would die instantly.”
“What?” I shook my head, trying to riffle through my extensive memory banks to find what he spoke of, but not all my memories were returned to me yet, if ever, and this was a new one for me.
“We tried once, a few lifetimes ago. You did not believe in the curse, you were a practical woman and insisted that I should. And my love for you had me silencing my caution. The moment I bit you, Rose, you turned to dust in my arms. And did not return to me for a hundred years.” He shook his head slowly staring down at his empty hands with pain glittering in his eyes. “I could not do that to you again.
There was always a way. That’s what he didn’t understand. He might be the master of beasts. But he was not a witch. I was.
And any spell or curse could be counteracted. It was simply a matter of know how.
Straightening my shoulders, I gave him a soft smirk. “This is what we’re going to do, Dracula.”
His brows lifted and a flash of amusement touched his lips. “Oh?”
“Indeed.” I cleared my throat, crossed my legs and shifted on my seat. “You’re going to tell me everything that Aziria did to us. Even to the minutest detail. And then I will break this curse. Because I refuse to be anyone’s pawn, ever again.”
“The trials?” he asked and I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d known about the witch trails, our lives were so intertwined I had no doubt he’d caught himself up on who I was in this life.
“Mm.” I grunted. “Dark days those. And the witches who survived were wise and smart enough to not get caught by the mob. My sisters and I couldn’t leave our hut, much. Sometimes not for weeks on end. Afraid we’d be caught and burnt for no other crime than for being what we’d been born to be. There wasn’t much to do, so I read. I read a lot. And I became greater and stronger than I might have otherwise. Any curse can be broken, Dracula, you merely have to know and understand the puzzle to fit all the pieces together. So… bring out the wine and settle in. Because this is going to be a long day for us.”
He grinned and it was silly that my heart should melt by that boyish enthusiasm on his face, but I do believe that I’d just handed him more hope than he’d known in the entirety of his existence.
“As my lady wishes,” He murmured deeply, then bending over my hand, stroked my knuckles with his soft, warm mouth.
I should not feel as I did, already. Should not feel this powerful connection to him and yet I did. There was no denying that though my mind was still torn my body knew the truth already.
I sighed, melting beneath his touch.
And in my heart I knew that this lifetime would be my last one. This time, we would win.
Chapter 6
Dracula
In so many ways Rose reminded more of Evanora than any other incarnation of hers. She had fire and spunk. A core of steel to her that had first caught my eye many centuries ago.
I tipped the second nearly empty bottle of blood wine toward her. “More?”
She shook her head. “I’m good. Too much more and I’ll actually start flying.” She laughed and then hiccupped and my lips twitched.
The night was long with shadows, the fire in the hearth roared with warmth and the snapping crackle of logs.
She’d been right, we had been at this all day.
We were both tired, I could sense her exhaustion. Giles had come with food for us earlier in the evening and she’d set upon it like a ravenous lion. It’d only been cold olives and sharp cheeses, but she’d sighed and moaned like she’d bitten into the most succulent slice of steak.
She wet her lips. “And you’re certain that it was Dava
ll’s sedge she used specifically?”
Third time now that she’d asked me to confirm the plant Aziria had used to enact her curse against us. Breathing deeply, I held up a finger and stood, then I walked over to my desk and opened the drawer, pulling out a sketchpad and a pencil.
Returning to my seat, I quickly sketched the plant I’d seen hanging in wild abundance around the dark mage’s cottage when I’d gone to confront her all those years ago.
The plant was long and delicate with the appearance of asparagus spears but with translucent hooks growing out of its bud. It was an unusual plant and one I’d never forgotten. I’d grown obsessed with learning all I could about the plant, sure that that knowledge would one day become useful.
I turned the binder toward Rose and waited. She stared at the design with studious contemplation furrowing her brows. Her lips were pursed tight.
“Is that it, then?” I already knew it was, but I wanted to hear what she thought.
Giving a small twitch, as though startled from her musings, she blinked and looked up at me. “Yes, it is. You’re right. And that’s very concerning.”
“How so?” Again, I knew what she would say. Because I’d been devastated when I’d learned the truth of the plant’s fate years ago. A fate that’d led me to act in a manner I might not have otherwise.
“The plant is all but extinct in the UK and is now critically endangered in other parts of the world. Locating one would be miraculous. Let alone a bushel’s worth that would be needed to recreate Aziria’s curse.”
I cleared my throat and nodded. “True. It would be. If I hadn’t dried at least a pound’s worth of them.”
The first happy look touched her face. “My goddess, you already thought of this, hadn’t you?”
The awe in her tone overwhelmed me and I felt a lump form in my throat. I had to clear it several times just to squeeze the words past my now numb lips. “In truth, Rose, it’s all I’ve thought about. I landed on the idea of breaking the curse by replicating it ages ago. But you were always so human and our time so finite that all it could ever be was thought.”
Fangs and Stardust (Hidden Tales of Blue Moon Bay Book 3) Page 7