🚀 go-pugleaf

(continued from part one...)

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

     The balcony door was open, and he was approaching.  Chalandra waited,
watching silently, feeling his approach in her mind.  Over the past two
weeks, she had learned to focus on him, to feel his presence even when he
was far away.  It was only one of the many things he taught her.
     Tonight, he was approaching a bit faster than before.  His spirit
seemed troubled, and she wondered if she was part of it.
     She saw him in his bat form only briefly, as he fluttered past.  Moments
later, he entered her room, smiling as she rose to greet him.
     "Good evening," she said, after kissing him.  "You seem hurried tonight."
     "I regret that I cannot stay for the whole night," Dracula told her.
"But a message came in today.  There is pressing business in Transylvania
that I must attend to."
     "How long will you be gone?" she asked, knowing that questioning him
about the nature of the business would be a fruitless quest.
     "A month, no more," he said.  "Once I am across the channel, I will
be able to travel quickly, covering far more ground than a mortal could
hope to.  My ship leaves at dawn; Waits is already loading my coffin
aboard."
     "You need my blood," Chalandra said.  His arms were already around her,
and his teeth were sinking in, draining her again.  There was none of the
passion from before, but the warmth spread through her anyway.  The
draining alone was ecstatic...
     She opened her eyes and saw the woman seated in a chair, in the far
corner of the room, calmly watching.
     Dracula must have detected her surprise, for he lifted his fangs
from her neck, careful to let the holes contract, and turned to see her.
     A few moments passed.
     "So," he said, with a hint of menace in his voice.  "This is the little
fang I have heard so much about."
     "You can call me that, if you wish," she replied, calmly.  "If I get to
call you the big prick."
     "Had I time, I would teach you a lesson in respecting your elders,"
Dracula told her.  "As it is, I can but simply warn you: Chalandra Harkness
is mine."
     Chalandra, who had been staring at the woman, still in a white
nightgown, turned her head quickly to stare at Dracula.
     She was...his?  Like Becca belonged to Mandrake?
     "I have no interest in drinking her blood," the woman said, "nor in
interfering with your turning of her.  I just came for the show."
     "What manner of vampire are you, my dear?" Dracula asked, stepping
forward.  The woman seemed unconcerned.  "Are you shinma?  Chalandra tells
me that you walked in the sunlight.  But Shinma are very rare, in these
parts.  Almost extinct."
     "What I am is my business," she said.
     "Be careful," Dracula said.  "Or I shall make it mine."  He turned
to Chalandra, who was still staring at him.  He gave her a quick kiss, then
headed for the balcony.  There was a fluttering of wings, and he was gone.
     "I can see why you're attracted to him," the woman said, the irony
evident in her tone.
     Chalandra didn't reply.  Instead, she sat down, abruptly, in the nearest
chair available to her.  For several minutes, she didn't speak, and the woman
didn't press the issue.
     "He's no different than the Baron," she said, finally.
     "Pardon?" the woman asked.
     "The Baron Joseph of Phoot, whom I'm supposed to marry," Chalandra told
her.  "The most disgusting pig of a nobleman I've ever encountered.  I
decided I would rather be dead than end up like his previous Baronness...
or like my brother's wife, Becca.  I sensed those currents in Dracula, but
I thought that, if I gave myself willingly..."
     "He wants you to do exactly that," the woman said.  "Mind you, he won't
give them back, once he has them.  That's why he's taking his time with you,
in addition to the reasons he's given.
     "He wants to own your thoughts, as well as your body.  And with his
powers, given time, he can do exactly that."
     "But..." Chalandra said, "he gave me the choice..."
     "He already knew your answer," the woman replied.  "Now that he has it,
he won't give you the opportunity to change it."
     "I...can't say no to him," Chalandra said.
     A thought struck.
     "You're a vampire," Chalandra told the woman.  "You could turn me..."
     "I spoke the truth, when I spoke with the Count," the woman said.
"Moreover, I'm not even sure I *could* turn you.  Technically, I'm not even
undead.  I don't need blood to survive.  I don't shrivel up in sunlight.
I can't become a bat, or a wolf, or mist."
     Chalandra nodded, silently.
     The woman stood.  "Come on," she said, softly.
     "Wh...where are we going?" Chalandra asked, as she accepted the woman's
hand."
     "To make sure that bastard's really getting on that boat," the woman
said.   "I'm not much shorter than you, your clothes should fit."
     "The dresser is this way," Chalandra said, as she stood, "um..."
     "Call me Little Fang," the woman said, smiling for the first time,
really smiling, that is, since Chalandra first saw her.
     Her fangs appeared to be anything but little.

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

     "I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Chalandra whispered, as
she peered through the mist.
     "It wasn't that difficult," Little Fang answered.  "You seem to have a
knack for it."
     "Maybe," Chalandra said.  "I'm just surprised we weren't stopped."
     "This time of night, traffic is thin," Little Fang said.  "And in this
part of the city, I imagine they're not too concerned about the well-being of
a la...shhhh."
     She pointed from where they were hiding, in the alley beside a run-down
tavern that was too decrepit for all but the seediest of London's underclass.
Chalandra looked to where she pointed, focusing her eyes, which had become
sharper over the recent weeks.
     "That's him," she said, softly.
     The figure was barely recognizable, through the mist.  But it was the
Count Dracula.  Chalandra would know him anywhere.
     Did he know she was here, watching him leave?  Would it matter if he did?
     If he did know, he gave no sign.  At the gangway of a small merchant ship,
no doubt loaded with woolen cloth bound for the continent, Dracula was talking
with someone who appeared to be the captain of the vessel.  After a few moments,
the man stood aside, and Dracula proceeded up the gangway, disappearing into
the ship itself.  Seconds later, the crew began to untie the moorings and
get on board.  The anchor was hauled up, and oars began to propel the ship
away from the dock.
     The sun was just beginning to peak above the horizon.
     "Well, I'll be," Little Fang said.  "He wasn't lying after all."
     "I sensed he wasn't," Chalandra said.  "He wouldn't tell me what his
important business was, though."
     "On a need to know basis," the woman replied.
     "Pardon?"
     "Expression," Little Fang said.  "Come on.  We've got fourty minutes
to get back before breakfast."
     They began to hurry down the squalid street, not bothering to avoid the
few people who were out at that hour.  They would be taken to be courtesans
that had finished their night's trade, hopefully...
     Little Fang rounded a corner, and suddenly stopped.  Chalandra nearly ran
into her, and became alarmed when she pushed her back around the corner, with
a finger over her lips.
     Then she heard the voices, and understood why.
     "Their offer is tempting," Martin Luther's voice said.  "And, Lord forgive
me for saying it, but our plan for reforming the Church needs all the help it
can get."
     "It is a daunting alliance," the Bishop agreed.  "But it must be made.
The future of the Church, and perhaps all of mankind, rides upon it."
     "Can they do what they say?" Luther asked.  "Can we gain the covert
support of the Merchant Adventurers?"
     "There is one person in a position to deliver that," the Bishop said.
"Our allies have a plan, and willing partners in its execution.  But without
her support..."
     "She insists that her conditions must be met," Luther interrupted.
     "Unfortunately, she can demand exactly that," the Bishop replied.  "And
she won't take no for an answer."  There was a pause; Chalandra and Little
Fang shrank back, in case the voices started in their direction.  Instead,
they seemed to move off in the other direction.
     "How is Mary?" the Bishop asked.
     "She is sleeping," Luther answered.  "I should send her back before
Mother Prescott..."
     "Let me worry about Mother Prescott," the Bishop said, his voice barely
audible now.  "Our allies gave me a special item, called a 'cup'..."
     Chalandra and Little Fang waited a while, before carefully peering around
the corner.  Cautiously, they crept to where the Bishop and Martin Luther had
been standing, directly in front of a door.  Chalandra tried it, and found
it locked.
     "What were they discussing?" she asked.  "It sounded like a conspiracy!"
     "It was," Little Fang answered.  "Unfortunatly, we don't have time to
pursue it.  We'll have to hurry, to get back to your house."
     Chalandra nodded, and seconds later was on the move again, watching
carefully for spies.

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

     "Two weeks," Chalandra said.  "He's been gone two weeks."
     "So you keep saying," Little Fang said, in a low voice.  "Perhaps, though,
you could keep from restating that bit of information in public?"
     "It's all right," Chalandra told her.  "In the market, no one pays
attention to you unless you're haggling."
     Little Fang nodded.  Chalandra watched her, and tried to judge if she
would collapse.  She had said that her strength had returned enough to go
out during the day, but Chalandra knew to watch.  After they had returned from
their pre-dawn excursion, two weeks ago, Little Fang had been bedridden for
a week, having stretched her strength too far.
     She would improve, but not past a certain point.  It frustrated her,
Chalandra could see; she wasn't used to being this powerless.  But there was
little Chalandra could do to help.
     Why she wanted to visit the market at its busiest hour was a puzzle to
Chalandra as well.  Belim didn't like it at all; she had heard talk while
out to buy needed materials of "the vampire" that lived in the Harkness
household.  The source of the rumors was clear: Cardinal Menos, acting on
information fed to him by Mandrake, was trying to do by circumspection what
he was powerless to do by force, in England.
     Her mother, while sensitive to public opinion, was also somewhat
insulated from it, and consequently dismissed the notion whenever it came
back to her as "ridiculous imaginings."  She was starting to become
impatient with Little Fang, whom she had started calling Lilith.
     "There they are," Little Fang said.  Chalandra looked up, eyes searching
through the pulsating crowd for Menos, or her brother.  She didn't see them,
but she saw someone else.
     "Hello," she said, as they drew closer.  "Haven't seen you in a while."
     "The Dark One returns your greetings," Mirabai said.  She looked up at
Little Fang.  "Hello.  The Dark One greets you as well."
     "Tell Krishna I said hi," Little Fang said, as she looked at Vrik, who
was holding Mirabai's hand.  Before, he had seemed timid, almost scared.  Now,
looking at Little Fang, he was tranquil.
     "You know my Shyam?" Mirabai asked, perplexed.  "He says he has never
met you before."
     "He lies," Little Fang answered.  She looked back at Vrik, looked to one
side of her and smiled.  A few seconds later, he nodded, and turned to
Mirabai.
     "She wants us to watch for her friends," he said, in a raspy voice.
"A man in black, and a woman with a gold chain."
     Mirabai looked at Little Fang, then at Chalandra, then back at Little
Fang again.  A slow smile broke across her young features.
     "My Dark Beloved gives his approval," she said.  "We will watch for them."
Mirabai took Vrik's hand, and led him away.  Vrik watched them over his
shoulder until they had disappeared behind a cloth merchant's stand.
     "You...talked...to them?" Chalandra asked.
     "Telepathically," Little Fang answered.  "The same way you know when
Dracula is near."
     "I know just a feeling," Chalandra said.  "I can't send words."
     "You will learn," Little Fang told her.  "Come on, we should be going..."
     They had gotten only thirty feet when a man in deep crimson robes stepped
in front of them, flanked by Mandrake Harkness and three men in brown robes.
     "Miss Harkness," Cardinal Ricardo Menos said, smiling an unpleasant smile.
"We meet again."
     "Once was more than enough," Chalandra told him.  "Don't you have some
books to burn?"
     Menos merely laughed.
     "You will show the Cardinal some respect, sister," Mandrake said.
     "Why?" Chalandra asked.  "He hasn't shown me any."
     "I cannot respect anyone who openly consorts with an agent of Lucifer,"
Menos said.  "A person such as this."  He indicated Little Fang, who had
shifted her stance slightly, and seemed prepared for a fight.  Chalandra
considered the three men in brown robes, none of whom appeared to be men of
peace.
     "Stand aside, sister," Mandrake said.  "Cardinal Menos wishes to take
...Lilith, here...for questioning."
     "The Inquisition has no authority here," Chalandra said, as she slowly
started backing away.  "Let us be, before I summon the constable..."
     "I think not," Menos said.  "Take her, brothers."
     The men in the brown robes moved forward, but stopped.
     "Boss, I'm starting to get dizzy..." one of them said.
     "Father," the other corrected.  "You're supposed to call him Father, in
public..."
     "Right, right," the first said.  "I'm getting dizzy, father..."
     "Me too," the second one said.  "It's...hot..."
     "Stop this, agent of Lucifer," Menos snarled, holding up a cross at
Little Fang.  If it had any effect, it wasn't obvious.  The looks on the
faces of the men in brown had gone from discomfort to pain.
     "What...are you doing to them?" Mandrake asked, in a fearful voice.
     "Me?" Little Fang asked, innocently.  "I'm doing nothing."
     "I hardly think..."
     "True, you hardly think," another voice said.
     "Belim!" Chalandra exclaimed, startled.
     "What is going on here, Cardinal?" Belim asked, authoritatively.
     "Er..." the Cardinal said, not sure how to proceed.
     "Your flock seems to have contracted indigestion," Belim said, noting the
men in brown robes.  "I suggest they rest."
     Cardinal Menos glared at her, as did Mandrake.  But people had started to
take notice, and public notice was hardly what an agent of the Inquisition
operating outside his sphere of influence wanted.  He signaled his men, who
staggered after him, followed by Mandrake.
     Chalandra, Belim, and Little Fang watched them go.  The people who had
taken notice found other things to take notice of rather quickly.
     "I warned you to be careful," Belim said.  Chalandra wasn't sure whether
she was talking to her or Little Fang.  "Come on, let us get home, quickly.
We can discuss this later."

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

     "Has she ever been this angry with you?" Little Fang asked, from the sofa.
Chalandra looked up from where she had been pacing, and considered the
question.
     "Not as such, no," Chalandra said.  "She came close, once."
     "When?"
     "My first time," Chalandra told her.  She stopped pacing, and sat down
on the other end of the sofa.  "Back when I was sixteen, about Cassandra's
age.  There was a boy who helped the kitchen staff, about my age then.  I
had the flu twice that year, and he would bring my meals up to me.
     "Thomas...that was his name...was red-haired and cute.  A bit shorter than
me, but a bit taller than you.  I could tell he had a crush on me, and
eventually I started feeling the same way.  So, one time, I faked having a
cold, and he came up to my room and...stayed, for a while.
     "Father found out, somehow, but Belim kept him from telling mother.
Thomas left, and I never saw him again.  She got mad, but not at me,
specifically.  I couldn't tell what she was mad at, at least not then."
     "Must've hurt," Little Fang said.
     "It did, for a while," Chalandra answered.  "After a while, I understood
what she was mad about, how I was being treated, how women are thought of.
And then Mandrake married Becca, and, bit by bit, she started dying inside,
like she was being slowly suffocated.
     "Mother tried setting me up with 'permissable' suitors.  Each one a bit
richer than the last, and that much more possessive.  It wasn't until the
opportunity to marry into royalty came along that she decided I'd marry the
Baron, regardless of what I wanted.
     "The Count, I thought, offered a way out.  But he's just like the rest."
     "Except for Thomas," Little Fang corrected.
     "Yes," Chalandra said.  "I wish I knew where he was.  I'd run away with
him tonight if I could."  Chalandra balled her fist, ignoring the pain of her
nails pressing into her palm.  "Oh, God, what am I going to do?"  She closed
her eyes tightly, feeling the tears starting to form.
     Little Fang took her hand, pulling Chalandra towards her.  Her arms
encircled Chalandra, and the dam burst.  She cried freely, no longer able to
stop or hold back, not knowing if she'd ever run out of pain.  Little Fang
simply held her, her warm hand stroking through Chalandra's dirtwater blonde
hair.
     Finally, there were no more tears.  Chalandra rested, eyes pressed
against Little Fang's shoulder, trying to summon the ability to speak.
There was a way out, but she couldn't ask it...
     There was no need.
     "Weeks ago," Little Fang said, "you asked if I would turn you."
     Chalandra breathed, softly.
     "I told you no, then," she went on.  "I have to be careful of my
actions while I am here.  Should I change the course of things to come,
it could have major ramifications for me and those I love."
     "I don't understand..." Chalandra managed to say.
     "You don't need to," Little Fang told her, "because it's not important
anymore."
     Chalandra lifted her face up, and looked at her.  Her eyes were glistening
wet, like Chalandra's had to be.
     "You're my friend, and I've got to try to help you," Little Fang said,
softly.  "And if destiny doesn't like it, tough."
     "Are you...sure?" Chalandra asked, blinking a bit.
     "Well, no," she responded.  "I know I can drink blood, if I want to, but
I don't know what it will do to me, or what it will do to you.  I could end
up killing you, instead of turning you.  So I have to ask you...is this what
you want?"
     Is this what you want...
     ...so long ago, someone else had asked that question.  She hadn't been
able to tell him no, then.
     It wasn't the same, now.  She could say no to Little Fang.  A part of her
said that she ought to, that she had no right to put her friend into this
position.
     "Yes," she answered.  "I want it."  There was only one reason to answer
yes - because that was the true answer.
     "Okay," Little Fang said, lifting Chalandra's face up from her.  "Lean
back..."  Chalandra let her guide her back, and watched Little Fang lean
closer, to give her a soft kiss.  Not passionate, or invasive.  Just...nice.
     "Be still," Little Fang told her.  "I haven't used these much."
     Chalandra felt the sharp points drift along her exposed neck, and
made herself relax.  They reached the points that Dracula had left, points
that hadn't closed, despite the two weeks he had been gone.
     Then the teeth sank in, and her blood started to flow....

CAN CHALANDRA BE TURNED BY LITTLE FANG?
WHAT WOULD DRACULA SAY?
WHAT WOULD HER MOTHER SAY?
WHAT WOULD MARTIN LUTHER SAY?
WHAT WOULD THE SPACE/TIME CONTINUUM SAY?
DID THEY HAVE PUBLIC OPINION POLLS IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY?
ANY CHANCE THIS WILL BE DONE BY LABOR DAY, SO THAT THE AUTHOR CAN WORK ON
     FUNNY STUFF AGAIN?

Ye answers are found in ye olde SUPERGUY!

+-------- 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_