🚀 go-pugleaf

(continued from part one...)

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

     He was in the sitting room, and he caught her eyes.  She smiled, showing
him the red of her fangs.
     Then she noticed who else was in the room, and she ceased smiling.
     "Good evening, Miss Harkness," the Baron Joseph Phoot said, politely.
"I trust your had a satisfactory meal?"
     Her eyes darted back to Dracula.
     "He knows, Chalandra," Dracula told her.  "He has known for years, now."
     "I see," Chalandra commented.  She sat in a chair, opposite the Baron.
He didn't seem repulsive, now.  It was like a mask had been lifted, a mask
that had been worn so long it had almost become his face.
     "Where should I begin, Miss Harkness?" the Baron asked.  "There is
so much I must tell you, and so little time in which it can be told."
     "You might begin with yourself," Chalandra said.  "I know that your
driver, Waits, was at the meeting with Menos, Luther, and the Bishop.  But
was he speaking for you, or the Count?"
     "How...how did you know about the meeting...?" the Baron asked,
leaning forward.
     "We followed Luther there," Chalandra explained.  "Then we snuck in
the back way, and listened in."
     "And you came anyway?" the Baron asked.
     "Your manipulations coincided with what I desired," Chalandra answered.
     "I see," the Baron said, settling back.  "It would appear that I
underestimated you, and perhaps overestimated Luther's skills at subterfuge.
But Menos insisted that he was what we needed, and the Bishop agreed..."
     "It seemed to me that he was as much a pawn as Luther was," Chalandra
said.
     "No, he has been one of us for quite a while," the Baron said.  "He
poses as a lecherous bishop, much as I pose as a repulsive baron.  Luther,
on the other hand, is honest in his desire to Reform the Church, though
with our guidance, his actions will have far more wide-ranging
repercussions.  Waits is also our agent, though he is bound to the service
of the Count, who is not."
     "I agreed to help the Confusion proceed due to the persecution that
is suffered by my...our...people," Dracula told her.  "The Bavarians see us
as a threat to their secret structure, and let loose the plague of the
Inquisition to cut us down, amongst other reasons.  The M00se Illuminati
promised me payment, and I came to England, to negotiate.
     "It was then that I saw you.  Immediately, I knew I needed you, like
I have needed only one other in my short centuries beyond the veil of night.
After learning that the plan was to siphon off the riches of the Merchant
Adventurers, using the Harkness family as a wedge into that new monopoly,
I stated that you would be my price for co-operation."
     "Unfortunately, you were the daughter of the one woman who was in a
position to cut off our access entirely," the Baron said, taking over the
story.  "Your mother is one of us, as I'm sure you're aware, having proven to
be quite the detective.  She agreed, but with a condition: that you agree
to become a vampire of your own free will."
     Chalandra blinked.
     "Why would she require that?" she asked.
     The Baron regarded her for several moments.
     "Her reasons are immaterial," he said, at last.  "She required it."
     "This is why I did not force your obedience," Dracula told her.  "This
is why Menos attempted to seperate you from Little Fang -- had she succeeded
in turning you, she would have devastated not only your life, but the entire
course of the future of humanity.  It came as a surprise to me that she later
agreed, willingly, to participate in your turning at my fangs."
     "There's much about her that would surprise you," Chalandra said.
"Perhaps one day you will learn it."
     "I do not know," Dracula said.  "I do not believe I shall meet her again."
     A chill ran up Chalandra's neck.  "Why do you say that?"
     Dracula looked into her eyes, and noticed her reaction.  "Do not fear,
my darling.  She left with her friends, unhindered."  He paused, and looked
away.  "Then, there was a strange light in the sky, the likes of which I have
never known.  After that...I could no longer feel their presence nearby."
     "And not even a kiss goodbye," Chalandra sighed.
     "There was no time," Dracula said.  "Waits had to transport your body away
from the villa."
     Chalandra looked up.  "So that I could be found...dead."
     "Yes," Dracula nodded.  "You were attacked by bandits and killed.  Waits
gave you several knife wounds to make it look convincing, though those seem to
have healed now."
     "And why would anyone believe that I was out in the country where bandits
could attack me?" Chalandra asked.
     "Little Fang kidnapped you, of course," the Baron said.  "She can hold the
blame, my dear, as she is no longer here, and not likely to come back in my
mortal lifetime."  He paused.  "Your funeral was quite lovely.  We paid Dr.
Sebastian Morsly to overlook the holes in your neck, of course.  He was quite
agreeable."
     "Sounds like you have it all figured out," Chalandra commented.  "So what's
next, now that you have me?"
     "We will be leaving England tonight," Dracula told her.  "We have a long
journey ahead of us."
     "You're taking me back to Transylvania?"
     Dracula shook his head.  "Farther.  Nepal."
     Chalandra blinked.  "Why there?"
     "It is far enough to be beyond the range of the Inquisition," Dracula
said.  "One of my covens reside there, and you will become one of the family.
You will learn the ancient lore, learn the secrets of survival, and how to
use your power to its greatest effect.  Waits already has our coffins loaded
onto a merchant ship.  We must be there by sunup."
     "Great," Chalandra said.  "It'll give me a chance to say some goodbyes."
     "Don't be a fool," the Baron said.  "The world believes you are dead.
If you show up now, questions will be asked!"
     "I must do this," Chalandra insisted.  "It is all I ask."
     Dracula rose, the menace flashing in his eyes, his pupils red needles.
     "You will accompany me to the ships," he commanded.
     She rose, and stood face to face with him.
     "No," she said.
     His fist connected with the side of her face, and she flew back, slamming
against the far wall.  She could barely feel it - the strength in her system
assured that.  Forming a fist with her right hand, she raised it...
     ...and stopped, as Dracula smiled.
     "So," he said.  "You *have* learned something, after all."
     Learned something...
     ...of course.
     "All my life," she said, "I've seen how women are treated by this world,
how we're beaten down, and humiliated, and finally broken, like oxen put to
yoke.  I hated being thought of as chattel...yet all the while, that was how
I thought of myself.
     "I hated what I was.  I hated the life I expected I would lead.  I hated
knowing how easily I could fit into the world I despised.  Belim tried to
get me to see this, but...I don't think I would have realized it, had I not
known Little Fang."  She blinked, and looked at Dracula.  "If it hadn't been
for her, I would have simply allowed myself to die, rather than come here."
     "It would seem fortituous that you chanced to meet her," the Baron said.
     "I doubt you believe it was entirely coincidental," Chalandra told him.
     "Perhaps it wasn't," the Baron said.  "Perhaps Leviam00se willed it.
Who knows?"
     "At any rate, I have ground to cover, if I am to say my goodbyes and
be at the docks before sunup," Chalandra said.
     "Journey with speed, my pupil," Dracula said, standing and taking her
hand.  "I shall await your return."  He kissed her hand, and released it.
     Moments later, she was gone.

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

     She could hear singing, through the window, as she approached.  The notes
were intended to be joyful, to lift the spirits, but they were being dragged
down by an undercurrent of sadness.
     Mary had a beautiful voice, Chalandra reflected.
     Chalandra could see her friend, through the open window.  She was packing
some clothing into a bag, and dividing her belongings into two piles.
Chalandra imagined that one was to bring with her and the other was to stay
behind.
     Her fingertip touched the window.  Mary's singing stopped, though she
didn't look to the window.
     Chalandra tapped the window again.  This time, Mary Ellen looked...
     ...and froze.
     The candlelight reflected upon the cross she wore around her neck, and
she seemed to be of two minds, regarding what she was seeing, and what was
to be done about it.  Chalandra waited for the conflict to reach resolution,
knowing she could disappear into the shadowy city before Mary Ellen could
call her father or brother in to see.
     Eventually, curiosity won out over fear.  Mary Ellen walked towards the
window, slowly.  Chalandra didn't move, not wanting to shatter her fragile
courage.
     "Is it you?" she asked, softly.  "Or is this a dream?"
     "It is no dream," Chalandra told her.
     "But...you're dead...I saw your body...your wounds..."
     "I am dead," Chalandra told her.  "Yet, I am here."
     Mary took a step back.  Her right hand instinctively darted to the gold
cross around her neck.
     "I'm not here for your blood, my friend," Chalandra told her.  "I've
come to say goodbye."
     "Good...bye...?"
     "I am leaving London," Chalandra told her.  "Much as I know you are."
     Mary watched her, ever considering.  Hesitantly, her hand left her
cross.
     "Then...you know about Martin," she said.
     "Yes," Chalandra answered.  "He's a good man."
     "I know," Mary replied.  "Perhaps too good."  She saw Chalandra's
questioning look.  "I can feel that he loves me...yet, there's something
else inside him, something that's calling him to greater things.  He tells
me constantly about the Church and its indulgences and its corruption, and
I can feel his passion and his anger."  She sighed.  "Perhaps I shouldn't
go to Wittenberg."
     "You must do as you feel," Chalandra said.  "It's your body, and your
life.  Besides...wasn't it you that said no one wanted to become a bitter old
woman?"
     Mary smiled, despite herself.  "You're right.  We were brought together
for a reason.  I owe it to myself to be with him.  One day, he will have to
decide between his Reformation and me, and when he does..."  Her voice trailed
off, and she smiled.
     "I have to go," Chalandra told her.  "I don't believe I'll ever see you
again.  Goodbye, Mary."
     Chalandra started to move away from the window.  Mary moved forward, and
touched her hand.
     "Goodbye, Chal," she said, the sadness welling up into her voice again.
     One more to see.

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

     They hadn't touched anything, it seemed.  Everything in her rooms was
just as she had left it, aside from some straightening and cleaning.
     Time was frozen.  She could get into bed, and sleep, and wake up in
the morning, and never know that she had been dead.  Belim would come in at
daybreak and awaken her, and another day would start...
     She touched her hand to her heart, feeling nothing but stillness.
     Time would always be frozen, here.
     Quietly, she opened the door to the hallway, and stepped out of her
rooms.
     The staircase was dark, but Chalandra moved past with care, knowing
that a servant, or worse, a member of her family, could be at the foot of
the stairs.  She slipped to the end of the long corridor, to the single door
on the end.  Testing the handle, she found that it was unlocked.
     "Come in, Chalandra," Belim's voice said, when the door was only an
inch open.  "I've been expecting you."
     There was no fear in the voice, though it sounded tired.  Chalandra
entered, and closed the door behind her.
     "Belim?" Chalandra asked.
     "Hello, child," Belim told her.  She was seated on the bed, in a
nightgown, as though she had been sitting there for hours, waiting for
Chalandra to arrive.  Chalandra crossed the room and sat next to her,
accepting the woman's strong embrace.
     "You knew I'd be here," Chalandra said.  "Somehow, you always know."
     "It is a less mysterious thing than you may think," Belim said.  "I
was told you had revived, and would be on your way here."
     "By who?" Chalandra asked.  "Waits?"
     "Yes," Belim said.  She hesitated a moment.  "I also understand that you
are aware of the machinations behind your turning by the Count."
     "Aware...you mean, you *knew*?" Chalandra asked, stunned.  "It wasn't
just my mother who was manipulating me, it was you, *too*?"
     "If by 'mother,' you mean May Harkness, she is innocent," Belim replied.
"She has had no contacts with the Bishop, or Luther, or Menos, or Waits
outside of those dictated by her social stature.  She grieved heavily at
your funeral."
     "You're covering for her," Chalandra accused.  "I quite distinctly
heard at the meeting that my mother allowed Dracula to take me for his own,
provided certain conditions were met."
     "Certain conditions," Belim repeated.
     "One condition, actually," Chalandra said.  "That I be turned of my own
will, which I was."
     "A reasonable and necessary condition," Belim said.  "After all, it is
your body, and your life."
     Chalandra looked at Belim.  A feeling grappled at her mind, an intuition
that couldn't be true...
     "Haven't you wondered why your skin was darker than Cassandra's, or
Mandrake's?" Belim asked, softly.
     Chalandra opened her mouth, but no words came out.
     She had known Bertrand for years before he met May.
     She had been able to get Menos to retreat, when he accosted Chalandra and
Little Fang in public.
     "Why...?" Chalandra asked.  "Why...didn't you tell me...?"
     Belim laughed, and Chalandra thought she detected a trace of bitterness.
     "You'll recall that I told you that I met Bertrand when I was quite young,
when I attempted to steal his wallet," Belim said.  Chalandra nodded.  "That
much is true.  I was a thief in those days -- I had to be, to survive.  But
I did other things for survival, then, things that had brought him to the
docks in the first place.  In return for him not turning me in to the
constable, I performed for him.
     "The next morning, he offered me a job, as his housekeeper.  It seemed
that his business had started to pick up, and he was able to afford such a
luxury.  Not being a fool, I accepted.
     "We couldn't marry, of course, not that he would have if we could.  He
was looking for a woman of wealth, to boost his fortunes and his influence.
He met May, and very soon, they were married.
     "I was one month pregnant when Mandrake was born, a year after.
     "May found out, and demanded that he dismiss me from his service.  But
Bertrand refused, possibly the only time he's refused her demands in the
decades that they have been married.  She agreed that you would be raised as
her daughter, and I agreed not to reveal the truth.
     "She's made him pay, in countless ways, since then.  Now, he throws his
energies into his business, and she manages everything else."
     Several moments passed, and Chalandra realized that Belim had finished her
story.
     "Why did you agree to Dracula's demand?" Chalandra asked.
     "It seemed like he could give you what you desired most," Belim said,
"even before you heard of the Baron: a way to die, and yet go on living.  But
it had to be your decision, Chalandra.  That was crucial.  My fellow
conspirators loudly cursed the day they recruited me, but I held firm."
     "And now?"
     "Now..." Belim said.  "The Confusion may proceed.  A great evil will
be disrupted, and the hold of the Bavarians upon millions of lives will be
broken.  Your father will have new routes of trade opening before him, and
Mandrake's sons will inherit his power, and perhaps his wisdom.  Martin
Luther shall have his Reformation, and you will have your freedom."
     "Everybody wins, don't they?" Chalandra asked, not sounding convinced.
     "Chalandra...daughter..."
     "Your daughter's dead, Belim," Chalandra said, surprised at the harsh
note in her voice.  "She has been for a long time."
     She stood.
     "A ship is waiting for me," Chalandra told her.  "I have to go."
     The window was open, and Chalandra moved towards it.  She was almost out
when Belim spoke.  The sadness in her voice froze Chalandra, briefly.
     "I love you."
     Chalandra took a deep breath, and let it out.  Her breath tasted foul
on her tongue.
     "I love you, mother," she said.  "Goodbye."
     There was blood dripping upon the wooden sill.  It took Chalandra a
moment to realize they were her tears.

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

     The evening mist was getting lighter, she realized, as she hurried down
the dock towards the ship on the far end.  The sun would be rising in just
under twenty minutes.  Already, a bit of weakness was starting to set in.
     Dock eleven.  She peered at the name on the side of the ship, and noted
that it was called 'the Impaler,' with the 'p' crossed out and replaced with
an 'h.'  Despite herself, Chalandra chuckled slightly at the remembrance.
     He was waiting for her, on deck.  She sank into his warm embrace, and
kissed him.
     "Your business is finished?" Dracula asked, already knowing the answer.
     "Finished," Chalandra replied.
     Waits emerged from belowdecks, and smiled when he saw Chalandra.
     "We're ready to proceed," he told them.  "Crew's all aboard, as is our
other passenger."
     "Passenger?" Chalandra inquired.
     "Down here," a voice said.  Chalandra looked down to see Mirabai.
     "The Dark One says hi," Mirabai told her.  "He's glad you're going to
be on this voyage."
     "What about you?" Chalandra asked.
     Mirabai blinked a bit, surprised by the question.
     "Yeah," she finally said, breaking into a lopsided grin.  "Me too."
     "I told Little Fang that our journey would take us through India,"
Dracula said.  "She asked that I return Mirabai to her family, and I agreed."
     Chalandra raised an eyebrow.
     "I would have gouged out an eye to get her out of my life," Dracula
said, with only a slight smile on his face.
     "Where's Vrik?" Chalandra asked Mirabai.
     "He had to go,"  Mirabai said.  "The Dark One says we will meet again."
     "Perhaps he's right," Chalandra told her.
     The ship lurched, as the oars touched the water.  Dracula took Chalandra's
hand, and guided her towards the hatch.  Chalandra allowed herself to be led
belowdecks, to her coffin.
     "Will I dream?" she asked, as she looked up at Dracula.
     "You will," Dracula answered.  "Now sleep."
     The coffin lid closed over her, shutting her into darkness, broken only
by the roll of the sea and the stillness of her vampire heart.


                               ^v^v^v^v^v^v^
                                 EPILOGUE
                               ^v^v^v^v^v^v^

     "Amazing," Manny mumbled, as he nuzzled her ear.  "Tell me more."
     "I've already told you," Chalandra answered.  "Weren't you paying
attention?"
     "'Course I was," Manny said.  "Though I did become distracted, a couple
times..."
     "It was those kind of interruptions that made the story take all night,"
Chalandra said, rolling atop Manny, kissing him.
     "I hadn't realized what it must have been like for you, then," Manny
told her.  "I mean, I look at you now, and I can't imagine you taking half the
shit you took then..."
     "I was a different person then," Chalandra said.  "It was a different
time."
     "Did you ever find out...what happened to your family?" Manny asked.
     "I went back to London, in the thirties...nineteen-thirties, I mean,"
Chalandra said.  "Our house wasn't even there anymore.  There were some
records of descendents, but no records on where they moved to, or what
happened to the family fortune.
     "I found Belim's grave, and the Bishop's.  Cassandra wasn't there...she
married the Baron and moved to Italy."
     Manny raised an eyebrow.
     "I met her, decades later.  She seemed happy...genuinely happy, I mean,
not just for show.  I guess the Baron got tired of playing the cad."
     Sunlight reached through the windows of Chalandra's suite.  Because of
the alien construction of CalForce headquarters.
     "Years ago, when you and Rad and Glum killed Dracula..."
     "Or so we thought," Manny added.
     "Or so you thought, I found the magic had been broken," Chalandra said.
"My heart began to beat again, after having been stopped for nearly half a
millenium, as though it had just taken a quick rest.  At first, I was
excited...
     "...but then, I realized, I had lost what I had fought and suffered for.
I think I understood then, for the first time, what being a vampire meant to
me.  So I went out to find someone to transform me back.  Care to guess who
I found?"
     "Not a clue," Manny admitted.
     "Thomas."
     "You're kidding."
     "Nope," Chalandra said.  "Turns out he lives in Oregon, with his wife.
He became a vampire at the age of eighty, and only looks younger when he's
had some blood.  We reminisced about the night he visited me, and laughed,
and drank into the small hours of the morning.  I asked him to turn me, and
he said 'sure.'  Just like that.  It was quick and about as un-erotic as you
can imagine, but it did the trick.
     "The magic's a bit different now, too.  Even if he's killed, in the way
Dracula was, I won't revert now."
     "What about Little Fang?" Manny asked.  "Ever see her again?"
     Chalandra sighed, and nodded.
     "I did, centuries later," she said.  "But my memory of her had grown dim,
and seeing her didn't stir it.  By the time I recognized her...it was time for
her to move on."
     She looked at the sun, as it rose between the office buildings of
downtown Los Angeles.
     "I think it's time for my beauty rest now," she told him, kissing his
nose.
     "Right," Manny said, sitting up.  "Hope Key hasn't destroyed the
kitchen yet."
     From the corridor, there was the dim sound of an explosion.
     "So much for that notion," he said, as he pulled on his boxers and
his jeans.  "Sweet dreams, Chal."  He kissed her again, then put on
his shirt, mis-buttoning it as he exited.
     She rolled on her back, and took a deep breath.
     "HAL," she said.  "Dim the windows."
     <<Okay, Chalandra,>> HAL answered.  The windows darkened, so that it
was nearly pitch black inside her suite.
     The dreams came to her, as promised.
     Dreams undreamt for centuries.
     A season of blood.
     A season that had yet to draw to a close.

FIN

                               ^v^v^v^v^v^v^
                                   THANKS
                               ^v^v^v^v^v^v^

     o To Bill Dickson, for his kind comments and for letting me use the
       character of Mary Ellen Hatchetnose.

     o To Eric Alfred Burns, for his insights and his excellent work on
       "2035."

     o To Nick Cave, Concrete Blonde, Tom Waits, Tori Amos, the Church,
       and the Sisters of Mercy for the music that got me through writing
       this.

     o To Arthur Guinness Son & Co. Ltd, for making such an excellent
       stout.

     o To the readers of Superguy, who I am sure must exist, despite not
       having gotten a single reaction on this, except from the other
       Authors.

     Good night, and watch the skies.

        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"