🚀 go-pugleaf

(continued from part one...)

     "Dracula...Dracula...Count Dracula!" Chalandra said, remembering.  "I
think I remember hearing about you..."
     "You have?" Dracula asked, raising an eyebrow.
     "Yes," Chalandra replied.  "Aren't you known as 'Vlad the Impaler?'"
     "Um, no," Dracula said, quickly.  "I'm known as someone who likes to take
really deep breaths, you see.  Deep breaths of air.  'Vlad the Inhaler,' they
call me."  To illustrate his point, he took a couple deep breaths, while
smiling.
     His teeth were white and smooth, and seemed almost to glow in the torch-
light.  Yet, something seemed wrong about them.  Something was missing.
     She looked up from his teeth to his eyes again.  They were focused
directly on hers, gazing down into her mind.  With more effort than should
have been necessary, she looked away.
     "Allow me to congratulate you, Miss Harkness," Dracula told her, "on your
impending marriage to the Baron."
     "Thank you," Chalandra answered, without emotion.
     "The Baron has mentioned to me that his business has kept him from seeing
you as often as he has wished," Dracula said.  "Perhaps you would consent to
joining us for dinner at his villa next week."
     "I..."  She looked at him again, and found that the word 'no' would not
leave her lips.  His eyes looked almost red, though that had to be an illusion,
a reflection of the blood moon on the horizon.
     His blood red eyes...

                               ^v^v^v^v^v^v^

     Fingers, trailing along her skin, like ghosts...
     Two blood red eyes, gazing into hers...
     The city, underneath her, burning with life...
     She was in the air, suspended...
     The fingers were moving across her neck...
     His breath was hot and musky on her lips...
     So light...she was so light, in his arms...
     The moon was directly overhead...
     Fingertips, trailing down...
     A kiss...
     His lips tasted thick and red...
     His breath was foul, yet intoxicating...
     The stars stabbed into her like diamonds...
     A voice...
     He was entering her...
     A question...
     The city, underneath her, burning with blood...
     She tried not to say yes...
     Kisses down her neck...
     Fingernails, sliding down her naked back...
     She couldn't say no...
     She would never be able to say no to him...
     Light, like air...
     In the darkness...
     The city, burning...
     She felt his teeth on her neck...
     His teeth...entering her...
     Pain...
     Love...
     Blood.

                               ^v^v^v^v^v^v^

     Someone had screamed.
     Chalandra looked up at the ceiling of her bedroom, her mind reeling,
trying to penetrate the red fog.  It was only morning, yet it felt so hot
underneath her bedcovers.  Her body felt flushed and serene, and she
guiltily lifted her hand away from her legs.
     She had been dreaming...
     Her other hand slid over her neck, to where she remembered his teeth
sinking in.  It had felt so real...
     The skin was unbroken.  It had only been a dream.
     "Chalandra?" Belim's voice asked, from the doorway.  "Are you all right?"
     "Belim..." Chalandra mumbled.  "Yes...I think."
     She felt, rather than saw, Belim enter the room.  Fingers touched her
neck, brushing over her own fingers, searching for broken skin.  Finding none,
they seemed to relax.
     "I heard you scream," Belim said, as Chalandra focused her eyes.
     "I had a dream," Chalandra said.  "Nothing more."
     "It must have been some dream," Belim told her, with a knowing wink.
Chalandra felt her cheeks flush, and a smile cracked her dry lips.  There
was no point in hiding anything from her.  She had a way of knowing.
     "Yes, it was," Chalandra told her.  Under the covers, she stretched,
feeling the muscles in her legs uncurl.
     "Who is he?" Belim asked.
     "He's the Count Vlad Dracula," Chalandra said, realizing as she said it
that Belim must have already known.  "I met him last night.  He's a friend of
the Baron's."  She paused.  "He invited me to a dinner at the Baron's villa
next week."
     "How did you answer?" Belim inquired, as she sat upon the bed.
     "I...I didn't say no," Chalandra said.
     Belim was quiet, pensive.
     "Should I tell him no?"
     "You should answer him as you feel," Belim said.  "It is your life, and
your body."
     "Tell that to my mother," Chalandra rejoindered.  Belim smiled, sadness
still tinging her strong features.
     "Have you told May about the invitation?"
     "No," Chalandra said.  "It was all very sudden...I wanted to think on it
a while."
     "Sensible, like your father," Belim said, nodding.  "I think May will be
delighted to hear of it."
     "I'll bet she was behind it," Chalandra sighed, as she forced herself
to sit up, letting the bedcovers slide to her waist.  "Anything to get me
used to the company of the Baron."  She shook her head, and decided to change
the subject.  "Has Mandrake arrived yet?"
     "He was in this morning, briefly," Belim told her.  "Said he had some
business to attend to at the church."
     "The Bishop can't be sober yet," Chalandra replied.  "It's far too early
to court his favor."
     "He took some sherry from the cellar with him," Belim said.
     "Ah, clever," Chalandra said, giggling.
     "There is a dignitary from Spain, staying with the Bishop," Belim said.
"A Cardinal Menos."
     "Cardinal...Menos?"
     "Of the Inquisition."
     A slight chill ran up Chalandra's spine.
     "Why are one of...them...here?" she asked.
     "He was supposed to be at the party you attended last night," Belim
answered, "along with the other religious figures invited by the Duke of
Cromwell at the behest of the Bishop."
     "I see."
     Belim looked out the window, at the rising sun.  She looked back at
Chalandra.
     "Shall I draw your bath?" she asked.
     "Yes," Chalandra said.  "Make it a bit hotter than usual...I'd like to
soak in it a while, before breakfast."
     Belim nodded, and stood.  Chalandra watched her go, admiring the quiet
grace in her heavyset form.  Then, she fell back upon the bed, and stared
at the ceiling again.

                               ^v^v^v^v^v^v^

     The rolling hills stretched out in front of Chalandra's eyes, a wave
of verdant green that seemed endless.  Chalandra wished she could run through
it, lose herself and never see London again.  She would live with the spirits
that Belim told her, in her youth, inhabited the countryside.  The fey folk,
people here called them, sometimes with a note of fear in their voices.
     Chalandra glanced at her brother, Mandrake, and wondered what there was
to fear from the feykin that wasn't already present in the human heart.
     If Mandrake saw the glance, he gave no sign.  He sat at the front of the
coach, holding the reins of the horses.  He was tall and broad-shouldered,
unlike either her mother or her father.  Her mother said he got it from her
parents, as well as his curlish demeanor.  A thin mustache sprouted from his
upper lip like a smear of mud, and the beard he was trying to grow wasn't
faring much better.
     Beside him, his wife, Becca, fanned herself, and looked wanly at
Mandrake.  She was pregnant, again, and had argued, half-heartedly, against
being included on the day-long excursion into the Harkness land holdings in the
country.  But Mandrake insisted, and she gave in, as she always did.  It was
her duty, after all.
     Looking at her reminded Chalandra of her wish to die, rather than be
married to the Baron.  She looked away, trying to push the thought out of her
head.  After two days of thought, she decided to accept the Count's offer to
dine with him and the Baron, and had informed her mother and father.  Bertrand
seemed pleased, but distant - business continued to consume his attention.  May
had been delighted, and had come as close to honestly smiling as Chalandra had
ever seen her.  All as Belim had predicted.
     Mandrake, strangely, did not seem pleased.  He clearly distrusted the
Count, and did not seem all too fond of the Baron - his sole saving grace,
Chalandra thought.  Still, he agreed with May that marrying Chalandra into a
noble family would be of immense benefit to the family fortunes, and had
told Chalandra that he was sure she would become a model wife for the Baron.
     Chalandra looked at Becca again, and grimaced.  This time, Mandrake
noticed.
     "Are you well, sister?" he asked.
     "Yes," Chalandra answered.  "I just felt...faint, for a moment."
     "We should stop and rest a while," Mandrake said.
     "But what about the bandits?" Becca asked.
     "I've told you before," Mandrake told her, patiently.  "The bandit
attacks haven't been occuring on Harkness lands.  I've seen to that myself.
Besides, we have two able guards with us."  He indicated the guards, who
were not immediately visible to Chalandra, as they were seated atop the
coach.  "We are in no danger.  God is watching over us today."
     The coach came to a stop, and Mandrake stepped down.  He walked around
the coach, calming the horses, and helped Becca down, before opening the
coach door and helping Chalandra to the dirt road.  She accepted his help,
not bothering to make an issue of it this time.  They had argued before,
but Chalandra had more important things to ponder now.
     It was just past noon, and the sun was high in the bold, azure sky.
Chalandra looked at Becca, hiding her light, golden tresses underneath a
bonnet, already looking for a shady tree to rest under.  Her complexion was
light, unlike Chalandra's, and tended to burn easily.  Mandrake's skin tone
was light as well, but he seemed nearly impervious to the sun's rays.
Chalandra, the darkest of the three, didn't seem to mind the sun at all.
It kept away the darkness that had haunted her dreams, ever since the party.
     She was betrothed to the Baron, who looked forward to breaking her, from
her first night on his marital bed onward.  Dracula seemed to offer escape,
but she didn't know if she could say no to him, regardless of the nature of
his request.  His burning, bloodshot eyes haunted her dreams, dreams in which
he took what he desired, and she let him in, reveling in his pleasure, and
her own.
     Two paths, one slightly better than the other, both leading to the
same conclusion.
     Wasn't there another way?
     It was then that the sky split, and a scream was heard.

                               ^v^v^v^v^v^v^

     "We're getting close," Chalandra said.  "I'm sure it fell here."
     "Stand behind me," Mandrake told her.  "Though it be cast out of Heaven,
it is still a part of the Seraphim, and is a dangerous foe."
     "Brother, I wish you'd stop babbling nonsense," Chalandra said.  "There
is nothing to show that what fell from the light was even alive, let alone
a celestial being."
     "We will see," Mandrake said, grimly.
     Chalandra sighed, her eyes scanning the countryside.  The sky had split
only an hour ago, and yet it seemed forever they had been hunting for the
thing that they had seen fall from the multi-hued light that streaked from
one end of the sky to the other.  It had seemed to glow with unearthly
energy, and Chalandra had to admit, it could have been a sign from God.  Had
she believed in such a being, it would have been an easier thing to admit.
     They were getting close.  Mandrake had good eyes, and had served aboard
a number of sailing vessels, so Chalandra did not doubt that he had accurately
tracked its descent.  Still, whether they would find anything was an open
mystery.  Surely a fall from such a height would destroy any object, alive
or not...
     "There," Mandrake said.  "See those branches?  The outcast destroyed them
upon its descent.  Stay here."
     "I'm going with you," Chalandra said, determinedly.
     Mandrake opened his mouth to speak, then decided against argument.
     "Very well," he said.  "But take care."
     They advanced, cautiously.  Chalandra found herself wishing that the
guards had accompanied them, but they had stayed behind with the coach, to
guard Becca.  Mandrake's sword was drawn, and the tip caught the sunlight
that managed to filter through the trees.
     In a clearing, they saw her.
     It was immediately clear that it was a her.  She seemed to have been
wearing clothing, but it was in tatters, and did little to disguise the
evidence.  Blood caked her face and her breast, and she did not seem to be
breathing.
     Chalandra started forward, and was restrainted by Mandrake's free hand.
     "It is a trap," he whispered.
     "This is no celestial being," Chalandra replied.  "She is human."  She
shrugged off her hand and moved forward.  Mandrake made no move to stop her,
but he did not advance any farther.
     Her skin was pale -- almost bone white, Chalandra saw.  Like Vrik's.
Her hair was dark, the same color as Chalandra's dreams, and was arrayed
in a tangled mess around her, partially obscuring one eye.  Her face wasn't
English, but with the hair and the blood, it wasn't clear what nationality,
if any, she had.
     Chalandra reached down and touched her cheek.  The pale woman's eyes
opened, as if awakened by the touch.
     "Ch...Chalandra?" she asked, in a quiet voice.
     Chalandra found she couldn't reply.  Behind her, she heard her brother's
sword thump as it fell to the ground.
     The woman's eyelids closed again, and her head fell to the side.  A tiny,
tortured breath escaped her.


WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN?
WHY IS A MEMBER OF THE INQUISITION IN ENGLAND?
WAS HE EXPECTED?
WHAT'S MARTIN LUTHER DOING THERE, ANYWAY?
IS THERE ANY CHANCE THESE QUESTIONS WILL BE HASHED OUT OVER A NICE PIZZA?
Beats me.  Read Superguy, okay?

+-------- Gary W. Olson --------+        "All roads lead *away* from Ankh-
| swede@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu  |         Morpork, but sometimes people just
+----- swede@drycas.bitnet -----+         walk along them the wrong way."
                                          - Terry Pratchett, _Moving_Pictures_