🚀 go-pugleaf

(continued from part one...)

     "How odd," Chalandra said, after several commentless moments passed.
     "Very," Little Fang agreed.
     "I've got to get in there," Chalandra told her.  "Maybe there's a back
door."
     There was.  Or at least, the remains of one.  They stepped inside, and
Chalandra was amazed by how well she could see, despite the darkness outside.
There were a couple paintings on the far wall, and she guessed from their
contents that the building had functioned as a brothel, in its heartier days.
But the dust was heavy, and thieves had long since taken what pleased them.
     She felt Little Fang's arms around her waist, and felt her feet leave
the floor.  They moved across several gaping holes, and a line that had
been stretched at ankle level across a doorless, interior doorway.
     They came to a stairway, and ascended.  Voices were nearby, argumentative
and heated.  Some of them sounded familiar...
     "...understand the situation you're in, Martin.  But she just won't
listen."
     "She's very stubborn, Bishop."
     Stubborn?  Were they talking about Mary Ellen?
     There was a room that, from the sound of the voices, was directly over
their meeting place.  Its single window was dark and in jagged pieces, and
a half-hearted attempt to board it up apparently had not kept intruders out.
The floor was in similarly perilous condition.
     They landed at the edge of the largest of the holes, almost the size
of Chalandra's head.  Little Fang set her down softly, so as not to cause the
floor to creak.  It did make a small sound, but the conspirators below were
far too interested in their own debate to notice.
     "Gentlemen, gentlemen," a third voice said, soothingly.  "Now is not the
time to debate what we've already agreed to.  We're here to finalize our
arrangements."
     Chalandra almost gasped, when she heard the voice.  Looking through the
hole, she confirmed that it belonged to none other than Cardinal Ricardo Menos,
of the Holy Inquisition.
     Luther sat to his left, not at ease, but not at unease, either, in the
company of the man he had publicly confronted weeks before.  To Luther's left
sat the Bishop, looking far more sober than popular rumor would have him at
that time of night.
     There was a fourth in the room, who was sipping an ale and regarding the
other three with patience.  He was Waits, the driver who was nominally in the
employ of the Baron, though she suspected him of being more the Count's man.
     The fifth chair was empty.  All present, including Waits, would look
at the empty chair from time to time and frown.
     "What is there to finalize?" Luther asked.  "Hasn't the Count Dracula
finished his arrangements?"
     "The Count," Waits spoke, "has secured the routes through which the gold
will be channeled.  It was not easy, but he has done so."
     "I dislike having to rely on him at all," the Bishop said.  "His designs
on the Harkness daughter are hard to stomach."
     "That is his price," Waits said.  "Chalandra is to be his, or the deal
is off."
     "Were it not for the Inquisition, it might not be necessary to enlist
his aid," Menos said.  "But, with the support of the Bavarians, they have
smothered a great portion of the continent, and we in the M00se Illuminati
have found them very difficult to infiltrate.  We need the support of the
European covens to fund the Confusion."
     "The Reformation," Luther corrected.
     "You name it according to your purposes, and I shall name it according
to mine," Menos responded, not entirely without warmth.  "I trust you've
made arrangements for your return to Saxony?"
     Martin nodded.  "Arrangements for myself...and Mary Ellen."
     Chalandra felt a coldness clutching at her heart.  It was true.
     Menos arched an eyebrow.  "You are a man of the cloth, Luther, and when
I first contacted you in Wittenberg, you struck me as a man who was by far
more true to spiritual doctrines than, say, the Bishop here..."
     "My relationship with Mary Ellen is between myself and the Lord,"
Luther said, his voice rising a bit.  The Bishop looked at him, and he settled
back in his chair.  "She will journey with me to Saxony, where she will enter
the Wittenberg Convent and become...a Nun."
     "Enjoy your play while you can, Luther," Waits said, his gravelled voice
contrasting with the voices of the others.  "When '19 comes, you won't have
time for dalliances any longer."
     "We shall see," Luther said.
     They fell into silence again, and Chalandra began to think about leaving.
The thought was forgotten moments later, when the Bishop spoke.
     "Well, when is she going to be here, anyway?"
     "When she damn well pleases, of course," Menos answered.  "I regret the
day I recruited her into our organization.  The most stubborn, obstinate
woman in all of England and the continent..."
     "And the key to Bertrand Harkness' fortune," Waits interrupted.  "One
of the wealthiest of the Merchant Adventurers, and one many of their number
look to for guidance in expanding their cloth monopoly.  He's the key to
their support..."
     "And she is the key to him," Luther finished.  "When I learned she was
ready to sacrafice her own daughter to the eternal service of the Count, to
advance the cause of the Reformation...or the Confusion, if you prefer...I
was shocked, though when I heard her conditions, I understood."
     "Aye, her *conditions,*" the Bishop grumbled.  "If it wasn't for her
insistances, our whole plan would not be in jeopardy."
     "If it was not for her insistances, I would not be sitting here,"
Luther said.
     "Yes," Menos said.  "We need you, as well, to be the one right man in
the one right place in the one right time."  He sighed, and looked at the
empty chair again, frowning.  "Well, what say we go over the details one
more time?"
     There were some grumblings of assent.
     "Very well," Menos said.  "Now, Martin, how many Theses did you say you
were going to write?"
     "Ninety-four..."
     Chalandra leaned away from the hole, her mind reeling.  She looked at
Little Fang, who nodded silently and lifted Chalandra up from the floor
again.  They glided down the stairs and out of the dank building, discovering
that the fog had, in fact, thickened while they were inside.
     She hardly noticed the fog, as her feet touched the ground, and she
began to walk, with Little Fang at her side.  The revelations brought to her
by her eavesdropping swarmed through her head, clawing to get out.
     Her mother was a part of it.  The key to it, if the conspirators were
speaking accurately.  She had made a deal with them, to give Chalandra to
the Count Dracula, in exchange for a network that would support some form of
rise against the Church.  The Baron, either wittingly or unwittingly, had
been employed to drive Chalandra towards the Count; the prospect of being
married into royalty was a cover for more secretive ambitions.  Apparently,
she had some conditions that had to be met, but that didn't surprise Chalandra
at all.
     What her mother wanted, her mother got, eventually.

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

     Chalandra looked to the setting, yellow-red sun, and knew, inside, that
this would be the last she saw of it.  Before it rose again, she would be dead,
ending her season of blood.  Whether a new one would begin was entirely
dependent on when Waits appeared.
     She was waiting in the market square, where Dracula had told her to be.
It hadn't been easy to get away from the house - with the pallor having
whitened Chalandra's formerly darker complexion, even Cassandra and Belim were
worried about her health.  It was only when she promised that Little Fang was
staying behind that they agreed that an evening stroll would do her good.
     The hostility in the household had increased towards her.  Mandrake and
Becca wouldn't come around any more, so long as she resided there.  Cassandra
was afraid of her, Bertrand was uncomfortable around her, and May hated her.
Only Belim would go near her or talk to her.
     It didn't matter.  After tonight, nothing they did would matter again.
     She wanted to talk to Mary Ellen, to say goodbye to her dear friend.  But
Mary Ellen didn't have much time for her, since meeting Martin Luther, and, to
be honest, Chalandra hadn't had much time for her, since meeting Dracula and
Little Fang.  Their lives were splitting, and who could say where they would
be reunited, if ever?
     "Hello," a voice rasped.
     Chalandra looked around, blinked, and then looked down, at the source of
the voice.
     "Hello, Vrik," she said, smiling.  "Where's Mirabai?"
     Vrik opened his mouth to speak, then stopped.  After a bit of thought,
he started again.
     "She's...with friends," he said.
     "Friends?"
     "Friends...of Little Fang.  The ones she asked to be watched for."
     It was happening.  Chalandra looked into the boy's blackdeep eyes, and
knew that she would never see him again, never see Little Fang, never see
London...ever again.
     "Mirabai sent you to look for her?" Chalandra asked.
     "No," Vrik said.  "To look for you.  She knows tonight is for your
Turning."
     "How...no, I don't want to know," Chalandra said.  She looked up, and
searched the market square again.  Her eyes froze on Waits, who was resting
against the side of his coach, watching her as though he had been there for
hours.
     She looked down at Vrik, and made a decision.
     "Do you know where the Baron's villa is?"
     "No," Vrik answered.  "But Mirabai does."
     "Tell her to bring Little Fang's friends there, no sooner than five hours
past midnight," Chalandra instructed.  "She will meet them there."
     Vrik nodded, and moved off.  Chalandra's eyes had trouble following him,
as he seemed to almost blend in to his surroundings.  She was almost certain
he was connected to Little Fang in some way, but could not decide how.
     Waits was walking towards her.  Setting her musings aside, she decided
to meet him halfway.
     "Evening," he said.  "What's the word?"
     "The word is yes," Chalandra said.
     "As the boss predicted," Waits said, smiling a bit.  It was not an unkind
smile.  "You ready?"
     "No," Chalandra told him.  "Go back to your boss, and tell him to expect
me at the villa at midnight."
     Waits seemed perplexed.  "How will you get there?"
     "Let me worry about that," Chalandra said.  Without another word, she
broke away from him and began walking east, towards her family's house.  The
scabble-sound of horses hooves against the cobblestone was the only sign of
Waits' departure.

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

     "You're back," Little Fang said, as Chalandra shut the door to her room.
She sounded surprised, and relieved.
     "I saw Waits tonight," Chalandra told her.  "I told him I would accept
being turned by Dracula."  Little Fang smiled, a bit sadly.  "I also saw
Vrik.  He said that Mirabai found your friends."
     "I know," Little Fang said.  "I've been talking to them."  Seeing
Chalandra's confused expression, she tapped her forehead.  "In here."
     "You're leaving, then?" Chalandra asked.
     "Yes," she answered.  "It's time for me to get moving again.  I've got
many, many miles to travel, and I doubt I'll get another chance to rest."
She looked up at Chalandra, but before she could say another word, Chalandra
stepped forward and put her fingertip to her lips.
     "Would you participate in the turning?" she asked, quietly.
     She lifted her finger from Little Fang's lips, but it took the pale
woman a moment to form a reply.
     "I...I would be honored...but..."
     "Dracula will give me his blood, at the required time," Chalandra said.
"I will be bonded to him through the centuries.  But that doesn't mean only
he can be there."
     She nodded, and her smile became wider.  "I'll tell my friends."
     "I...already had Vrik tell them to meet us at the Baron's villa,"
Chalandra told her, a bit sheepishly.  Little Fang responded by kissing her
on the nose.
     "Sneak," she commented.  "When do we leave?"
     "Now would be a good time," Belim said.  They jumped, startled, and
looked at the door, which Belim was closing behind her.  "Mandrake and some
of the Cardinal's boys are on their way here."  She looked at Little Fang.
"They're determined to kill you."
     Chalandra remembered Cardinal Menos, from the meeting.  How did hunting
Little Fang fit with his goals?
     The answer hit her, seconds later.  Because she was supposed to go to
Dracula, and Little Fang was a threat to the deal he had worked out.  Only,
there was no need, now.  She had chosen Dracula, of her own will.
     But Mandrake didn't know that.  All he knew was his fear, which had
finally surpassed his fear of May.
     "We will leave," Chalandra told her.  "Little Fang is taking me to the
Baron's villa, for my turning."
     Belim seemed surprised.
     "Very well then," she said.  "Goodbye, Chalandra."  Chalandra hugged
her, and could feel the sadness within Belim, threatening to burst the moment
Chalandra left her sight.  She wanted to stay, to comfort Belim the way
Belim had comforted her so many times before, but knew she could not.
     She took Little Fang's hand, and walked out onto the balcony.
     The darkness was gathering, and in the distance, she heard voices.
     Then Little Fang's arms circled her, and she was rising, rising above
the deeply pulsating, burning city, rising away from the life she had
known, into the endless night.

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

     They set down in the courtyard, a few minutes shy of midnight. Waits'
coach was nowhere in evidence, though there were lights in some of the
villa windows.
     Before, it had felt cold and characterless.
     Now, it felt like a tomb.  Which, to all intents and purposes, was what
it was going to be.  The first of many, for her.
     "When did you tell my friends to get here?" Little Fang asked.
     "Around five," Chalandra answered.  "I didn't know how long this would
take."
     They waited, gazing at the closed doorway.
     From the direction of the city came the tolling of the church bells.
     Twelve tolls.
     It was time.  They walked up the stone steps, and were not startled when
the doors opened as they approached.
     At the door, Waits smiled, and indicated they should enter.
     "He's waiting," he told Chalandra.  He didn't look at Little Fang.  They
entered, and started down the hallway.  Behind them, they heard the sound
of doors closing.  Turning, Chalandra saw that Waits was gone.
     She wondered where the Baron was.  It had been a while since she had
seen him.  Not that she missed him; on the contrary, the time he spent away
from her was time well spent.  But if he was away, it had to be for a reason,
a reason more important than pizza.
     They reached the dining room, and, finding it empty, proceeded to the
next room, the room in which Dracula had first revealed to Chalandra that he
was a vampire.
     Inside, he was waiting.
     His smile was as cold as his heart.
     "Welcome, Chalandra," he said.  "And to you as well, little fang.  It is
an honor to your friend that you accompanied her, but the consummation of the
turning is something that is between us..."
     "I invited her to participate," Chalandra told him.
     Dracula blinked, and appeared to consider the proposition.
     "Would you care for some wine?" he asked, instead of giving a reply.
     "Yes," Chalandra said.
     It was going to be a long night.


WILL DRACULA ALLOW LITTLE FANG TO PARTICIPATE?

WHAT, EXACTLY, DOES PARTICIPATION ENTAIL?

WILL THE WINE GO TO THEIR HEADS?

WILL THE REFORMATION AND/OR CONFUSION COME TO PASS?

WILL MARY ELLEN HATCHETNOSE LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER WITH MARTIN LUTHER?
(Well, okay, we know the answer to that one.  It was rhetorical, see.)


These and other questions that none of you are asking will be more or less
answered in an upcoming...SUPERGUY!

        Gary W. Olson         <^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v
swede@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu  >  "If you're so special, why aren't you dead?"
     swede@drycas.bitnet      <      - The Breeders, "I Just Wanna Get Along"