“I’m real, Drakko; I was able to find you via magical means.”
He seemed defiant. “I had thought you were in love with your Jonathan?”
Gaylen gave him the expression that said, yes, such was true, yet she seemed unsatisfied. “He is a decent man, he has made a good living for me, and we had a son together. Sure, I have been happy and, yes, to be honest, I love him, but I have missed you, I truly have.”
She then moved even more from the shadows to sit before him, near his chair looking up at him. Her hair was curled today so nicely, and so sweet was her sudden arrival. He now felt she was real.
“Why is it that I miss you, and do you miss me?” she asked.
“I have,” he replied. “Oh, yes, I have.”
He touched her silky locks and she turned her face to his touch in happiness.
“What do you actually like about me?” the count asked.
“Well, as they say, there is something mysterious about a tall, dark and handsome man.” Gaylen seemed excited at such a reply. “I mean, after all, we have never been physically together.” She then stood up. “I wanted to see what that would be like, and thus I have returned.”
The count shook his head, and then shrugged. “I do not want to wish upon you the curse of my heritage. I am not sure it was wise that you came, Gaylen Van Warden, she whom I first though was a man come to see me at my castle.’
Gaylen was not taking no for an answer. She let all of her long hair loose now and lowered her dress down her shoulders, slowly easing it over her breasts and down to her belly and then to the floor. These she stood naked before her Count Rothchild.
He was aroused. She came to him and undid the buttons of his shirt, lifting such over his muscular chest.
She then placed her hands upon him and, looking into his eyes, asked, “Would it be so awful if we made love?”
They embraced in a deep and passionate kiss. It was real, so very real. A great weight was lifted off his shoulders; finally he had found love again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath now.
Once more he snapped back to reality sitting in the same chair fully awake. Everything was a dream-like vision, a nightmare pulling him like a puppets strings, those extending his arms and legs in different directions, and then yanking at his heart.
A rat scurried out from a side passage.
“Is that you, Wescott; have you come to torture me, too?”
The rat looked over at him and came closer. Then it ran off into the dark corner of the grotto.
Rothchild shook his head. It was a rat and it was real, but it was not Wescott.
Epilogue
It had been around twenty or so years since Gaylen Van Warden Hartsell had written about her strange journey in meeting Count Drakko Rothchild. It was true Dracula had a brother.
It was a piece that was infamous in its telling; a tale in which was, indeed, a story of the legendary brother. It became even more known as time passed by.
Today she had published a small connecting piece of such on the anniversary of the prior article. Everyone in the kingdom went about reading such.
It has been decades now since I first wrote about the man people referred to as Dracula’s brother. In my first piece I called him Drakko, but in truth his real name I have since learned and now will disclose is Krons.
I have miraculously returned recently to his dwellings, that being against most people’s better judgment; for it was a journey to recover that which I had lost long ago.
Let me say nothing has changed; this fellow is a madman through and through. But I have come to the conclusion that every human is a little mad, and that every terrible person was once innocent and perhaps had goodness in their heart. Krons Rothchild is one of those very men.
About the writer:
Gaylen Van Warden Hartsell is a storyteller, stage performer, singer, and has been known to be a darn good juggler as well. She lives with her husband, cattle rancher Jonathan Hartsell, in the northern highlands above the capital city of Englewood.
From the Journal of Drakko Del Rothchild
There appears to be only one way to change my situation. As the years have passed, it is all I can think about. I am plotting such, as death sits across from me this very day.
I should have allowed the summoning of our creator to occur. It is she who I believe is the source of my great curse. The Crim, I am sure of it, are awaiting my decision. But as I ponder such, death is watching me, yet she has no eyes. I cannot see her, but I know she’s there. We shall continue to sit together as the time goes by and by. I feel her right now in this very room.
“Hey,” I call out, “I know you are here. I am sure one day you will get the last move; you will come and take me once and for all. But I am not move less; just patient right now. Perhaps one day I will come for you.”
I shall end with one of my poems.
I will not last forever
I must fall in love with me
Then every second I am alive
I will be free
Personal Note from Michael
Well, you made it to the end of my Gothic novel. I hope you enjoyed it. I would just like to thank you for giving me your valuable time to try and entertain you. I am blessed to have this fun job, but I only have such because of people like you, people kind enough to give my books a chance.
I am very grateful for that. I love writing and telling stories. If you enjoyed this tale and would like to help me out, please consider leaving a review on the various sites you as a reader visit. The most important part of how well a book sells is the many positive reviews it has, so if you leave me one, you are directly helping me to continue on this wonderful writing journey.
– Thanks again, Michael W. Huard
From Count Drakko Del Rothchild’s
Secret Journal
I see that you found my hidden book.
I shall say that I am not afraid to feel love, though I am terrified of what will become of me without it. We only get one life in this world, be it mine a long never-ending one. Anyone would be a fool not to live bravely, fully, and utterly in search of love. Perhaps I am that fool unwillingly, holding back now.
I have seen so much pass by me. I am somewhat now becoming afraid of my private heart. It has a great hunger much like the blood I consume, that which is to not grow too old and worthless. You would not believe what I have seen, be it once, twice, or thrice; good people shriveled down to nothing but rotting flesh and minds warped by age. I am not sure now if I have a life easier than they.
I wear the smell of death like my own cologne. You have to understand my world is a wonderland of what could have been. We all have these thoughts, these what-ifs.
There has been too little research into a long life such as my own. There is something at work within my soul that which even I do not understand.
I suppose there is no real beauty without strangeness, yet how is a man to remain sane when seeing all that he has ever loved pass before him. Trying to appreciate life when it does not end is difficult. Death makes life have meaning. Where shall I now seek such meaning? Suffering has taught me more than any teacher in my life. I am twisted in half, but I still come back often in better shape than before.
What if I told you, yes, you, the one reading this right now, that even in a hundred lifetimes, in worlds beyond time, I would somehow find you, and choose you to love; could you the reader fall in love with me, the main character in this wild life story of mine. What if I said I have fallen in love with you?
I suppose blessed is he who expects nothing; this way I shall never truly be disappointed.
Change my mind. I want you to.
I truly do.
Please enlighten what is dark in me, strengthen what is weak, mend what is cracked, bind that which is bruised, and heal what is sick. Will you save me?
If I was to ever fall in love again, with you, I want you to know that my favorite color is blue, and that if you make me laugh I will be yours
forevermore. Place your head upon my chest and hear a heart that would be yours to cradle so softly in your hands.
Kiss me in front of others and every morning when we wake up side by side show me your smile. Blind me with your beauty. Teach me that a strong soul can survive through the craziest of perils and still one day shine bright.
Can you do that for me? Seriously, say it out loud - I can do that! Give unto me your naked body, but know this, I shall most love your bare and open soul.
Thank you. I love you.
Drakko
About the Author
Michael W. Huard is a dreamer, a lover of words, and someone with an endless imagination. He's a long-time martial artist, a d&d game master, and simply a human being on a voyage in time.
Please join his mailing list for all the latest updates in his Gothic fantasy stories and the Mystical Slayers book series. Mike is always busy writing many more tales, and the best is yet to come.
Get In Touch:
For the latest in the Gothic Fairy Tale stories and Mystical Slayers updates, get on my mailing list subscription and website:
https://michaelwhuard.wordpress.com/
My Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/pinetreestateauthor/
I am also on Goodreads where the same reviews can be left for all my books.
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17199918.Michael_W_Huard
Other books by the author
Gothic Short Tales
1. The Black Rose Witch
2. Red Cold Snow
3. The Diva of the Mist
4. Bloodsucker – Coming Soon
5. Gothic Carol – Coming Soon
Gothic Tales
1. Vampir of Shadows
2. Belle of the Ball
3. Gravestone’s Manor
4. Dark of the Sea
5. Gothic Lil Faerie
6. The Grunch Who Stole Winter Solstice
Gothic Fairy Tales Treasury - NOW AVAILABLE! - Grab all the published stories above in one large book!
The Mystical Slayers Heritage Series (All novellas)
Rising: (Set hundreds of years before Land of the Free)
Sisters of the Dawn's Early Light: These ladies are tough!
Hellcat: Mahira fights like no other!
*Now Available – The Mystical Slayers Heritage OMNIBUS; all three novellas in one huge book or boxed set.
The Mystical Slayers Trilogy (All full novels)
LAND of the FREE: Book One – The sisterhood has arrived!
HOPE BRINGERS: Book Two – The women must fight!
FREEDOM: Book Three – Victory or die!
The Mystical Slayers Origin Series
1. The Venom of God
2. The light of God
3. The Talk with God
© Michael W. Huard 2019. All rights reserved
Count Rothchild Page 23