Heart of Darkness

by Claire Marta

  Curling my fingers into my palms, the lick of the flames blistering my flesh as they had destroyed the home she describes so vividly, echoes through my mind. Her screams. The way she had begged me to save her and Lucy from death. An innocent life destroyed because of my presence in her cherished home. All because I had loved her.

  Emma laughs abruptly, shattering the moment. “I know it all sounds a little farfetched. Charles always says I have such a vivid imagination. Probably from all the books I read at the library.”

  “Books are gateways to new worlds.” I smile slowly as her eyes dance up to meet mine. “A way of escaping reality and the mundane.”

  “Yes, they are,” she agrees on a breathy whisper.

  I sense her pulse leap. Biting her lips, she lowers her eyelashes to unsuccessfully hide the way I’ve affected her.

  “I should go. Thank you for dinner, Vladimir.”

  Although everything inside me denies letting her slip away, I do not let it show outwardly. We’ve had several hours together. I will not push her. Patience is a virtue. Biding my time is something I have become accustomed to. She will come to me freely of her own accord. The connection between us is there. I sense the familiar push and pull between us.

  “You are welcome, Emma. I’ve enjoyed this evening. I hope you will do me the honor of dining with me again.”

  Her anxiety from the beginning has melted away. I can sense she’s more comfortable in my presence now. It’s all I have desired from the evening. A victory in my favor.

  “I would like that very much,” she agrees shyly.

  Rising from my seat, I help her from her own. “Renfield will drive you home.”

  “I’m sure I can find a bus.”

  “No. For my piece of mind, I prefer that he sees you to your door.”

  Reluctantly she nods. “All right, if you insist.”

  “If you’re ready, Miss?” Renfield stands, waiting for us by the front door, her coat already held out. Emma shrugs it on, lifting the fall of her long, silky hair over the collar in an innocent gesture.

  Eyes glued to the graceful column of her throat, my fangs throb in my gums. Taking her hand, I raise it to my lips. “Until next time, draga mea.”

  Pink stains her cheeks as I brush a kiss over her knuckles. I’m aware of every nuance of her reaction toward me. The way her breath hitches, the thud of her heart, the subtle smell of her arousal.

  “What does that mean?” she asks, mesmerized by my appearance.

  “It’s an endearment in my native Romanian language.” Releasing my hold, I straighten up without expanding on its meaning. “Good night, Emma.”

  “Good night.”

  Standing silhouetted in the doorway, I watch until the vehicle is out of sight.

  My darling. How easily the words fall from my lips around her. Heartbreakingly familiar but I cannot voice them fully.

  “Dragostea mea,” I murmur. My beloved.

  Closing the door, I take the sweeping grand staircase up onto the high levels of my home. Dawn is not yet upon me, and there is still work to be done. Mind a whirl, I’ve planned the downfall of Emma’s young Fiancé. Charles will not be a hinderance. Dorian Grey’s offer also weighs heavily on my mind. Do I accept membership of the Hellfire Club? Join forces with unlikely allies to end the mortal hunters reign of terror?

  Halting by a bedroom, I sense the occupant is asleep inside. Venturing in, the child on the bed rests without a trouble in the world. Curly golden locks frame an innocent angelic face. One tiny hand is carelessly relaxed along the little boy’s forehead.

  The child of the woman whose blood I’ve been relishing. Bathed and fed, his concerns over his mother have not yet melted away.

  Scooping the sleepy toddler up, I cradle him carefully in my arms. He shows no fear at my presence. Instead his chubby cheek burrows into the softness of my shirt front.

  Carrying my precious cargo, I step from the room and proceed into another part of the mansion. I detect the sound of voices, music playing from a movie. Tracking the noise, the object of my search is in front of the giant plasma TV in the entertainment room.

  “Sara, I thought you might be hungry, my sweet?” I call softly.

  Sheathed in silk and a cloud of perfume, my only surviving bride ascends from her bed of pillows. “Oh, poor little mite,” she responds when she spots the boy in my embrace.

  “Gently now, you know how fragile they are,” I warn her, tipping my burden into her waiting outstretched arms. “Drain him too quickly and you’ll only be disappointed.”

  Peeking up at me through the thickness of her eyelashes, she gives me a sultry look. “Thank you, Master.”

  Violet eyed, this petite blonde’s beauty was unfortunate enough to catch my attention back when black and white shows had barely been invented. I’d pursued her with a single mindedness. Seduced her with my darkness and taken her as a concubine. Unlike the other females I’ve turned, Sara has always been a gentle soul. Even with that characteristic unchanged, when the hunger strikes her, the children she adores never last long.

  Cooing softly, she rocks her new toy, marveling in the downy softness of the curve of the child’s cheek.

  “Sara, I have another very special treat for you. I want you to get to know a young man. Seduce him with your wiles.”

  She squeals in excitement, her grip on the child becoming tighter. “Can I taste him as well as fuck him?”

  My expression is indulgent as I see her eagerness grow. “Yes, my sweet, but don’t kill him. Not yet. I have plans for Charles Barker.”

  Chapter 21

  The lights of London glitter like jewels in the darkness beyond the window of my office as I observe them from my chair.

  Two weeks of the simple joy of being in my beloved’s presence has brought me a sense of peace I haven’t felt since before I was cursed. The sun, which has been absent to me for so long, now shines in the smile and eyes of Emma. She is the light I have forsaken since Mina drew her last living breath. Every second we spend together is a precious drop of time.

  Twice a week, I have coaxed Emma to dinner. Alone in my mansion, we have spent many moments in deep conversation. Curious and intelligent, she has been a stimulating companion. Literature is her favorite subject. With my vast lifetime, I have readily devoured books as they were published. Nowadays, I have been spoiled for choice. When I seek solitude, it is my library I have always retreated to. A sanctuary of written words. A place to escape an empty long existence. I’d taken pleasure in Emma’s simple delight showing it to her the previous night. Sharing with her my passion. It has only drawn her closer into my dark web. I have sensed her fascination with me. The ever-present pull between us which she continues to push against.

  A knock at the door drags me from my thoughts. “Come in.”

  “You wanted to see me?” Charles questions striding purposefully into the room.

  Turning to greet him, I don’t bother to rise from my seat. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor. My niece Sara has come to stay with me. I promised to amuse her this evening, but something has come up. A last-minute meeting that, I cannot miss. Would you show her some of the sights of London for me tonight?”

  “Me?” Weary eyes widen. From the slump of his shoulders beneath his wrinkled suit I can see the long days and evenings working for me are taking their toll. The boy has yet to complain. So set on impressing me that he’s running himself mentally and physically into the ground.

  “There is no one I would trust more with her safety. I’m sure you’ll find something to do.” With one finger, I slide the credit card across the table toward him. “And use this for all the expenses of the evening.”

  Charles manages to muster a tired grin at the compliment accepting the card. “I’d be honored to, Vladimir.”

  He has no idea he’s quarry. Unwitting prey. We’ve come to make an artform of being predators. A seduction of the soul and senses.

  “Come then, I’ll introduce you.” Leavin
g my place, I show him from the room and along the gloomy winding corridor. My bride knows what part she must play. It’s not the first deception we’ve performed to be a part of the world we live in.

  The scent of lilacs teases my nose, Sara’s favorite perfume. Rounding a corner, we find her lounging on a leather sofa to the soft notes of jazz floating in the air from the television. Blonde locks scooped up in a careless ponytail, a few long curling golden strands have escaped to frame her face. She sits as still as a female orchid mantis. Beautiful, colorful, and deadly.

  “Sara, this is Charles. He’ll be your escort tonight,” I introduce with a hint of warmth to my voice.

  Tilting her head in an innocent gesture, her violet colored eyes hold just the right amount of youthful curiosity. “Hello.”

  The boy’s pulse speeds up a notch, and I sense his interest at seeing the petite female.

  “Hi...” Adam’s apple bobbing his gaze is glued to Sara. I watch him take in the satin Rainbow colored dress she wears, the material pulled tight over her breasts, down to where it hugs her abdomen then finishes mid-thigh. Rising like a goddess, Sara pads toward me in sandaled feet.

  “Have a good evening.”

  “Thank you, Uncle. I will.” Her lips meet my cheek in a chaste kiss. Only hours ago, they were wrapped around my cock as we fucked and shared a victim. Turning her attention to the man at my side, her smile is coy.

  “I’m so grateful you can take me out.” Sara’s tone is a playful purr. “I’ll feel so much safer with you showing me the sights.”

  Charles clears his throat. “I’m sure I can make it an experience you won’t forget.”

  Threading her arm through his, she leads him toward the door. “Oh, I hope so.”

  I listen to them leave. Now that my ploy is in motion, I have no wish to break it. Sara will amuse herself with him and keep him on a tight leash.

  Striding from the room, I move to the library. I’m not scheduled to see Emma tonight, but that doesn’t keep her from my thoughts. Although things are moving slowly between us, I wish to present her with a gift. A show of my affections toward her. Books speak a thousand words in many forms. Portals to other worlds, her love for them could be a way to her heart. We’ve bonded over them. It only seems fitting I give her something as unique as she is.

  “Renfield, fetch the car,” I instruct my manservant as I descend the stairs. “We’re going out.”

  He obeys without a fuss, heading toward the front doors without a question.

  There’s only one place I can think of to go to search out what I desire. An antique bookshop I stumbled on some months ago.

  Pausing on the step outside the door, I hum to myself, quietly replaying happier memories of long ago. Elizabeth laying in a field of blue flowers as we’d made love. The evening I’d taken Mina for the first time on the floor of her cottage during a thunderstorm. Fleeting moments. Precious for an immortal such as me.

  The drive takes a while with the evening traffic, but I’m so deeply lost in thought it’s of little consequence. Keeping odd hours, the proprietor of the shop tends to stay open late. An opportunity to gather trade from those who work late.

  “Stop here,” I tell Renfield when we are two streets away. “I’ll walk the rest; go home, I’ll find my own way back.”

  His glance snaps to mine in the rear-view mirror. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you, Master?”

  “No. I want you at the mansion when Sara returns.”

  Leaving the vehicle, I make my way along the darkened street. It’s not as busy as rush hour but still full of bustling workers on their way home and visiting tourists. The shop I’m after is tucked away down a side street. Nestled away it can easily be overlooked.

  Ambling along I absorb the melodic sound of the different accents that flow around me. People sauntering in and out of shops. Their purchases in bags clutched tightly in their hands. I drink in the atmosphere. Part of it but alone among them. An island in a sea of restless souls.

  Slipping down and along a side alley, I emerge beside the place I’m after.

  I inhale deeply as I step through the doorway. The smell of books tantalizes my senses. It’s something I never tire of and the reason I’ll never use one of those electronic devices to read. I’d rather feel the heaviness of a book in my hands. The touch of a cover and rustle of the pages as I turn them. This to me is pure joy. Humans depend too readily on technology these days. It’s made them soft, malleable. Addicts to just another form of addiction.

  “Buonsera,” I greet the elderly man stationed behind a desk.

  “Buonsera,” he responds with a friendly smile. The moment I realized the owner of the shop was Italian, it gave me an excuse to practice the language.

  Wandering idly between the crammed bookcases, I let my fingertips dance over the spines of the books. Searching out rare treasures that I’m happy to add to my collection is a hobby to pass the time. This place has been a trove of finds in the past. An expression of the human soul in words. The imagination can be a powerful tool, and these are a testimony to that fact. In their pages I have once more visited centuries that are now lost to me.

  “Dracula.”

  The low accented growl draws me to the old man blocking the end of the passage.

  Steely grey eyes hold mine. Black hair frosted with silver is smoothed back from a face that bares striking similarities to one I’ve seen before. The long coat he wears is two sizes too big for him, hanging from his well-built frame.

  Everything inside me stills. “Helsing.”

  We’ve been clashing horns for years. Descendant of the Abraham Van Helsing I met so long ago in Whitby, he’s never come close to ending me as his great-grandfather had. It’s a mistake I have never let happen again. One that cost me my beloved previously. His accursed bloodline has only grown over time.

  “You murdered three of my best hunters.”

  “Those were your best?” I scoff, returning my attention to the bookshelf before me. “I’m surprised you have any left at all.”

  He doesn’t rise to my jab. Hand slipping into the pocket of his coat, he holds himself with an easy self-assurance. The foul scent of cigarettes reaches my nose. A second later, he retrieves a packet of them.

  “I heard murmurs you had returned to London. My great-grandfather dedicated his life to destroying monsters like you. Good will always ultimately triumph over evil.”

  “Who told you that fairy-tale? Like him you will fail dying with your one wish denied.” In a blur, I’m before him, my hand clutching his neck. “You’re jaded. Life has embittered your feeble soul.”

  I expect to see fear in his gaze, but instead triumph blazes.

  Whipping my head to the left. I protect my eyes as a hiss sounds. An inferno erupts through the flesh of my cheek and neck. Bellowing in agony, the noise rattled the windows of the store.

  “An experimental aerosol filled with a silver compound I created myself and disguised as a packet of cigarettes,” Helsing boasts.

  Staggering away I try to wipe it clean, but it only intensifies the burning of the poison.

  “I will not fail in my task to eradicate you this time,” he continues. “You’re a fool for making it so easy. Hunting alone. You may be powerful, but we can put you down like any other vampire we’ve battled.”

  The air shifts to my left. Raising my arm, I block the blow of the metal stake aimed directly at my chest.

  Lips pulling up, I bare my fangs at the younger man who’s kept himself hidden. More humans appear either end of the thick shelves. Flinging him backward, he crashes into the bookcases, sending them all tumbling like dominos. Displaced books rain down on them, burying them in a flood.

  Shouts ring out.

  Light detonates before my eyes, searing its way through my retinas, blinding me. Pain explodes through my left hip, a crossbow bolt burrowing deep into the flesh. For the first time since being confronted, I experience a surge of panic.

  In a blur, I
dash for the rear of the shop, already knowing there is an exit and not needing my eyes to see it. It will be guarded. They are hell bent on terminating me tonight, but I will not submit. Even before I’m halfway there, I shift taking on a petrifying form. Something borne of man and bat. Grey skin tightly stretched over wings on my back. Snout-like nose twitching, the scent of my hunters invades my senses.

  Somewhere behind me, someone shouts a prayer.

  Solid bodies meet my outstretched arms, and I toss them aside with ease. Pounding hearts, sweat laced with fear and excitement, I detect all of these and more as they pursue me. Metal finally meets my outstretched palms, dots dancing before my eyes as my vision returns. Ripping the door from its hinges, cool night air greets the burn still raging through my neck and cheek. A roar rumbles from my chest as another metal silver crossbow bolt meets my side.

  “I’ve got him!”

  Head swiveling toward the excited voice, I find a young blond man beside me, waving an empty crossbow.

  “Hans, wait for the others,” Helsing bellows from within the shop.

  One clawed hand shooting out, I pluck my attacker up by the throat, my crimson gaze burning into his.

  “Be still,” I hiss between twisted grey lips. My will takes over his, ceasing his futile struggles. Bony wings unfurling, they beat the air in a storm of movement. Everything causes me agony, the silver poisoning my system making me weaker minute by minute. More bolts whistle passed me, but climbing out of reach, I fly higher, merging with the dark, a phantom of the night.

  Chapter 22

  The fire burning in the hearth casts long dancing shadows over the Persian rug in the library, the next evening. With the curtains drawn against the moonlight, it’s the sole source of illumination within my sanctuary. My thoughts are lost among the curl and sway of the orange flames as they lap hungrily at the wood they consume. They bring no warmth to the chill that grips me. My body shakes with the toxin lacing my veins. Gorging on blood will clear it from my system, but it takes time.