《Rise of the Fel Queen #1: The Satanic Brides of Dracula》 Prologue Vasilja. The name sends shivers down the spines of men who lived to tell tales of her whispers. Whispers threading glittering holes between midnight and dawn. Holes which bleed. He knows her name. Knows it even as his mind searches for a way to deny it. Her voice is mercury and honey. Equal parts a child¡¯s innocence, a maiden¡¯s charm, and a butcher¡¯s icy cold. Each uttered word steals pieces of his soul. She glides into the room on silent feet. An angel without wings. White dress gleaming. Pale skin shining. Eyes alive in ways her heart was not. Then the others came. Drifting out of shadows with a seductive exhale. Blazing with hunger. Ruby red lips curled into lustful grins. Senka, young and exotic. He caught his breath before there was time to draw it. Hailwic, proud and withdrawn. Holding back. Smile only lightly planted on her pale face, but it was there. Cruel where Vasilja was comforting. Senka approached first. Impatient. Lusting. A lunging wolf. Passion and frenzy sucking snarls from throat. Glint of white teeth. Sharp. Clawed fingers. They grab hold and never let go. Clutch. Scratch. She pins him down and beats with fists. Pants into his ear; ¡°Fight me.¡± Her mouth is a scarlet heart. Eyes blue. So pale they echo skies she can no longer recall. If she cares for the loss, it never shows as she ravages her prey. Chuckle of delight like growl of lion. He doesn¡¯t fight back, so she hisses. Thrashes and snaps. Howls for resistance. Shrieks for it. He is bruised. Bleeding from dozens of raking cuts. Bewildered by her savagery. He tries to recover. Wants to crawl out from underneath. A worm beneath hooked claws. But it¡¯s too late. She tires of his weakness. Looks to Vasilja. Who slides into the gap. Places cold hand on warm cheek and whispers. Promises everything will be fine. Kisses are given. Ethereal flowers whose pale white thorns barely prick skin. And where Senka¡¯s kiss raged with desperate need, Vasilja brings the gentle touch of a lover. A soothing taste of comfort. Unwinding fingers. Glide down swallow of throat. Stolen novel; please report. Rests on neck. Crook of shoulder. She presses her nose and inhales. Sucking tang of sweat and swollen stink of fear. Smiles. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid,¡± she whispers. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be afraid of.¡± His fear leaks away, and he wonders why it was there to begin with. Hailwic waits. She stands aside. Blonde hair loose around cheeks. Watching. There is light in the back of her eyes. A warmth which never escapes. Body tight with muscle. Dress worn like a suit of armor. She stands with a warrior¡¯s pose. A soldier¡¯s rigid spine. Absent a sword or axe, she looks unsatisfied. As Vasilja¡¯s fang enters skin with the softest of bites, it is Hailwic who makes the first sound. Quiet growl. Panther roused from rest. Lifts her head. Stalks the edges. Searching for the perfect place to pounce. And when she finds it, she is swift. Lips pull back to show fangs of purest white. A blur etched in moonlight. Snap of jaws. His life flees in terror as Hailwic gorges. Vasilja flinches, raising her arm to avoid the spray of blood across her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re wasting it all, Hailwic,¡± Senka complains, still straddling his waist. ¡°You always waste it. You promised you¡¯d be more careful this time. You promised!¡± Aware Hailwic is lost to the frenzy, she darts in to lock her own mouth around his wrist. Hunched and back curved over the body, Senka sucks deep. Eager to take her share. Drawing crimson flood quickly into her mouth. Almost choking on it. Glaring as Hailwic works deeper into his throat. Vasilja sighs. Reaches for the other arm. Holds it up, but stops short of biting. Looks at the blue face, its horror lost to the apathy of death. Shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry,¡± she says, wetting fangs with blood. ¡°I didn¡¯t actually mean to lie.¡± Hailwic reels to her feet. Wipes mouth on her dress. Closed eyes as vitality cruises through undead veins. Vasilja rises next. Giggles soft before moving away. She pulls a ribbon from a pouch at her waist and begins to tie her hair. Annoyed at how quickly their prey has been dispatched, Senka can¡¯t resist a few final savage attacks. She tears flesh with sharp nails. Exposes gore. Runs fingers through organs and wipes slender fingers across the walls like an artist leaving a signature. The frenzy is gone, but the fascination with the wreckage of life never left. They¡¯ve done this so many times it is a ritual. An order of destruction as calculable as the tides. White dresses soaked red, they stand in circle around the corpse. Hold hands. And let the warmth settle inside as hot blood dissolves icy hunger for a time. Moonlight spears the room. Startled dust motes begin to settle. And silence creeps between frozen breaths. They do not speak. They don¡¯t have to. A sound disturbs them. Someone is coming. Shuffled feet. They run together, giggles stifled and sharing quick glances laced with cruel humour. Three malignant fairies teased by moonlight, they leap out the window. Soar into the sky, rising toward the stars with stained white dresses trailing past bare feet. Then halt, shrouded in the wind¡¯s crisp embrace. Look down at the house. Holding breath. Senka presses fang to her lip. Looks to Vasilja, who smiles wider in return. A candle is lit within. Muffled voice calls a name. Calls again. The vampires cling to each other. Tremble with the thrill of anticipation. Utter excitement flaring within dead hearts as, below, the body is found. A scream splits the dark. A scream of horror and loss echoed by shrieking laughter as the Brides swirl into the wind¡¯s invisible rivers. On most nights, this is when they¡¯d feel it. The tug. Pulling on ethereal cords which bind them. A bond formed in the darkest pits of Hell. And laughter would cease. They¡¯d look to one another. Eyes wide. Did they still feel a sliver of fear when they felt it? Or was it simply the shock of its pull? Even Vasilja wouldn¡¯t admit to fear. ¡°He calls,¡± she¡¯d say. ¡°Why does he always call when we¡¯re having fun?¡± ¡°We should make him wait,¡± Senka says. Bares her fangs. There is humour there. Nasty and vicious. ¡°Why do we always do what he wants?¡± But Hailwic makes the decision. ¡°No. We go now.¡± And they go. Though Senka pretends reluctance, she keeps pace with her sisters. She shares a scowl with Vasilja, but there¡¯s no emotion to it. It¡¯s simply the ritual. It is always like this. It is always the same. But this night was different. Because the tug did not come. And, as they waited in the winds for the Call, even Senka began to gnaw her fingernails. She looked this way and that. Slitted eyes searching the dark horizon. Glancing more often to the castle high in the mountains. ¡°Something is different,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°Something is changed,¡± Hailwic agreed. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s teasing us,¡± Senka said. Reared like a snake, twirling angrily. Brow pulled into frown. ¡°We should find him. Bite him. I want to bite him.¡± The moon shifted between clouds. Thunder. Vast and terrible, hurled itself in the distance. Flash of lightning. Vasilja repeated herself; ¡°Something is different.¡± ¡°Come,¡± Hailwic said. And even Senka didn¡¯t argue as the blonde vampire turned toward home. ¡°We go.¡± Her words, at least, gave the comfort of ritual. Hailwic moved fast. Long white dress reflecting bright. Its length like a comet¡¯s tail as she streaks across the sky. Strong round shoulders tense and writhing. Fists bunched at her sides. War in her eyes. Just behind, Vasilja and Senka gripped hands. Mirror expressions. Worry? Concern? Something was different. Something had changed. And the Brides felt true fear for the first time since daylight died. Chapter One It was Senka who touched ground first, bare toes disrupting soil with a grunt of impatience. Hailwic only just behind but was first to sprint across the courtyard. A cat whose claws expected to sink into flesh. She didn¡¯t look back. Jabbed finger to her right. Snapped; ¡°Senka, east tower. Vasilja. Master chamber. I¡¯ll take the Hall.¡± Senka bit back a reply. Said nothing. Not this time. Hailwic was a warrior. A fighter. She¡¯d led an army before Dracula found her. An army of ruthless men who killed on command and without question. Such a wondrous thing, Senka thought. She dreamed of having an army of her own. A horde of slaves who bowed and groveled. Who begged for her attention. Whose only desire was to feed their vampire queen with the rewards of savagery and slaughter. She¡¯d lead them across Europe. Africa. The world! Flood cities with death and destruction. Revel in flavours of barbarity and pleasure which can only be found in the madness of war. Blood would flow in rivers and she¡¯d drink it all. In her inexperienced mind, war was glorious. Senka kicked into the east tower on the heels of irritation. She hated that Hailwic decided everything. Just once she wanted to hear the eldest say she didn¡¯t know what to do. A seed of spite gleamed in her heart as she made her way down the stairs. She quickly gave up running and instead floated weightless like a ghost down the winding passages. Hovering inches above the ground. Why the others chose to run all the time, she didn¡¯t know. Power over even such a simple thing as gravity was intoxicating. She inhaled a faint smell of brimstone which worked to remind her of the origin of all her strength. She could feel the air ripple around her. Felt also the warmth of fresh blood soak from her belly and into her bones. Replenishing her strength. The door opened at her touch. An ancient enchantment laid across the carved stone face in runes delivered in the Devil¡¯s own language circling Dracula¡¯s sigil. Each rune infused with the demonic energy of Fel. They flared green beneath her fingertip before the door groaned open on heavy iron hinges. Stone dragon statues guarded the entrance to the room. Today, she didn¡¯t study their silent snarls. Nor did she smile at sight of the carved blood drooling from their fangs. Instead, she soared straight into the crypt and found three coffins undisturbed. Hers. Hailwic¡¯s. Vasilja¡¯s. Looking at the bright scarlet coffin Vasilja used, she remembered placing garlic flowers inside. It¡¯d been worth the greasy feeling of revulsion carrying them down to witness Vasilja¡¯s horror. Then Vasilja¡¯s mad rush through the castle in search of a vampire hunter while Senka squatted on a beam above and cackled in wicked pleasure. The heavy stone dais at the end was empty where once a giant coffin dominated. Empty. The word rocked through her thoughts like a hammer ringing against an anvil. And, though she would feel shamed by it later, her mouth dropped open and a shriek filled the brittle air. Hailwic came with a roar. Flying into the room and spinning through the air. Sword in one hand. In the other, a heavy steel mace. It¡¯s why she¡¯d taken the Hall. That¡¯s where her weapons were kept. Seething rage twisted the eldest¡¯s face and Senka shrank beneath the fury. ¡°He¡¯s not here,¡± Hailwic spat. ¡°He¡¯s gone.¡± ¡°But he can¡¯t! He can¡¯t leave us like this. What will we do?¡± Hailwic turned her head to the empty dais. Sword blade tapping against her thigh as thoughts raced. She aimed a narrow gaze at her sister. ¡°Vasilja. Where is Vasilja?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about me, Hailwic,¡± Vasilja purred as she cruised into the crypt. Dragging a hunched form which she tossed into the middle of the room. ¡°I¡¯m here. I looked everywhere in the tower, and I couldn¡¯t find any sign of Dracula. But I think he left us a parting gift. That was nice of him, don¡¯t you think?¡± Senka shot into the air with a squeal, clapping her hands in delight. ¡°What is it? Is it young? Is it tiny?¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s not very young at all, Senka. In fact, it¡¯s the man. You remember the man. The one who¡¯s been staying with us. Mister Harker.¡± ¡°Jonathan!¡± Senka whirled into the air, white dress flapping like angelic wings. Let out a mocking screech; ¡°Oh, Jonathan. Save me, Jonathan!¡± The man trembled at Vasilja¡¯s feet. ¡°Please. Please let me go. I won¡¯t tell anyone what I¡¯ve seen. I promise.¡± ¡°Let you go?¡± Vasilja¡¯s tone made his head droop. ¡°Why would we let you go, Mister Harker? Weren¡¯t you here to rescue us? That¡¯s what you promised my sister. You said you wanted to save us. That¡¯s what you said, wasn¡¯t it? And all we had to do was show a little bit of gratitude and let you love us very much until the morning. Wasn¡¯t that how you put it? But I don¡¯t think you would like our kisses, Mister Harker. You were very lucky he showed up, you know. Senka can be very messy. And he does so hate messy floors.¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°I¡¯ll love him,¡± Senka said. Licked her lips and showed sharp white fang. ¡°Love him until dawn. Please, Hailwic. Let me love him.¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Hailwic said. And Senka said nothing. She could hear the reluctance in the eldest¡¯s voice. They all wanted him in their own way. ¡°Vasilja, take him to the cells. Lock him inside. Chain him if you have to. He¡¯s not to leave. You¡¯ll make sure of this?¡± ¡°Of course, Hailwic.¡± She raised an arm imperiously toward the door and sneered at her captive. ¡°Run, Mister Harker. Run. I do so like to watch you run.¡± Giggling, Senka started to follow, but stopped as Hailwic¡¯s voice cut through her reverie. ¡°Not you, Senka. You come with me.¡± ¡°But I want to see him run,¡± Senka complained. Testing her limits. Not too hard. ¡°I promise you will. But remember why we¡¯re here. Dracula is gone. With the time we have, we must quickly search the castle. There may be some sign as to where.¡± ¡°Why should we care? He left us. Does it matter where he went? Let him go to Greece. To Germany. Russia, even. Good riddance to him. Now we have the towns to ourselves! We can feed on who we want to feed! And he¡¯ll not stop us anymore. We can be sated. I want to be sated, Hailwic. I want to bite!¡± ¡°Our thirst can never be sated.¡± Hailwic looked down at the weapons in her hands. ¡°You¡¯ll learn this in time.¡± ¡°You always say that.¡± ¡°I say it because it¡¯s true. Now. Come. He kept papers in the library. He¡¯d need to arrange travel. There has to be letters there. He¡¯d never leave without knowing which ship to board. Never risk leaving his body in a warehouse for some filthy dock rat to find. No. He has arranged this. Planned it. Planned for how long, I wonder?¡± Senka pressed fangs to her lips. Stopped short of biting. To ask the next question was to invite ridicule. But she had no choice. She was the youngest. ¡°Has he done this before?¡± ¡°Four times,¡± Hailwic said. Heading toward the stairs. ¡°That I know of.¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± ¡°He¡¯s older than me, Senka. Most likely he¡¯s done this before. Many times. At least, I suspect so.¡± ¡°Done what?¡± ¡°Left the castle. His home. Like us, he is tied to this place. To this earth. You feel it as much as I.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not tied here. I can leave any time.¡± And recruit an army. Fight across Europe. Burn it all to the ground! Show her sisters she wasn¡¯t a kitten. She was a lion. The world would hear her roar. ¡°You¡¯re tied here. Why else have you stayed this long?¡± There was no answer to that, so she tightened her lips and followed the eldest without further question. Hailwic was right. She hated the eldest for it. But she was always right. Though she thought about leaving, she¡¯d never been able to go further than dreams. In her most secret of places, she knew she didn¡¯t even want to. Not anymore. At the top, they paused before leaving the tower. Hailwic turned to the youngest and, though she didn¡¯t quite smile, looked pleased by a stray thought. Held out the mace and said; ¡°Here, Senka. I¡¯m giving this to you. I think you¡¯ll enjoy using it. And you may need it soon.¡± Senka ran her tongue across her lips and felt flame burn in her belly. Reached slowly. If it was Vasilja, she¡¯d expect a trick. But Hailwic never played games. Especially not with weapons. Hailwic almost worshipped them. She could spend hours cleaning and oiling swords, axes, knives, and an arsenal of exotic weapons from all over the world. Even guns. One lesson above all others had been drilled into Senka since she¡¯d first arrived. Never touch Hailwic¡¯s weapons. Ever. ¡°Really? Are you sure?¡± ¡°I am. You are the youngest. And I¡¯ve treated you as such. But I think it¡¯s time we accepted the meaninglessness of doing so. You¡¯ve been with us for a hundred years, Senka. More than a mortal lifetime.¡± Senka took the weapon. Marveled at the way moonlight formed silver sprays off the bladed head. It would look so much more beautiful if it was slick with blood and gore, she thought. She smiled into the cool gaze of the eldest. A genuine smile filled with affection. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say.¡± Then serious. ¡°I¡¯ll look after it, Hailwic. I promise. And I won¡¯t ever lose it.¡± Hailwic reached first, pulling Senka close. ¡°You¡¯ve nothing to prove, Senka. Not to me. Not to Vasilja. And definitely not to him. Only to yourself. Now. Let¡¯s find where he has gone and hunt him down. And, yes. You can bite him.¡± ¡°I want to hit him with this.¡± She swung the mace, relishing the swish as it howled through air. ¡°Again and again. Over and over. Hit him with it.¡± ¡°I think I¡¯ll let you.¡± She showed a wry smile this time. ¡°It deserves to strike him at least once. That mace has killed a king, Senka. Also two Cardinals, a Bishop, and a Pope.¡± ¡°A Pope?¡± Gasped. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Truly. Some nights, I¡¯ve kissed its metal and imagined I can still taste his blood on its edge.¡± ¡°It sounds too much to believe. Weren¡¯t you afraid?¡± ¡°When I killed him?¡± She thought about it. ¡°No. He was afraid. Too afraid to try and defend himself. He even forgot to pray to his god when he died.¡± ¡°How did he taste?¡± Hailwic¡¯s mouth formed a cruel curve. ¡°Divine.¡± ¡°I want to bite a Pope.¡± The library was sheathed in darkness. Candles, usually lit, lay cold and dead. Papers strewn across the ground. Books, snatched from their shelves, lay amid the destruction of his desk. Splinters of which formed a sharp carpet. Dracula must have blasted it with his magic, Senka thought. No way he would¡¯ve taken the time to tear it to so many pieces with his hands. She could smell the lingering stink of brimstone. The two vampires hovered above the wreckage, feeling hope sink as their eyes were drawn to smoking remains choking in the fireplace. Secrets now protected by ash. Other papers were shredded by his own hand. Torn and discarded. A journal, open on his desk. Last few pages already taken. Burned? Ripped to pieces? Taken with him? It didn¡¯t matter. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here,¡± Senka said. ¡°He¡¯s left us nothing, Hailwic.¡± The mace felt heavy in her hand, but she didn¡¯t let it go. Despair was sinking in. And when she felt despair, she wanted to break things. The mace would break things so much easier. ¡°He was in a hurry. He didn¡¯t have time to hide anything from us.¡± Hailwic pressed the sword¡¯s brass pommel to her chin. Thinking. ¡°He rushed here. Found everything he thought we might find and burned it. The rest he left for us to sift through. Knowing there¡¯s nothing we can use. But, the important thing to remember, Senka, is he was in a hurry. Which means he may have missed something. Maybe something small. Something he didn¡¯t think was important.¡± ¡°How do you know?¡± Waspish. Pause. Sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Not really. Sometimes, he¡¯s too clever.¡± The admission made Senka shiver rather than want to celebrate Hailwic¡¯s confession. Vasilja slid into the room with a whistle. Arched a brow. ¡°Senka, did you damage his desk? He¡¯ll be very cross with you. He liked that desk.¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t me,¡± Senka said. Couldn¡¯t hide the sorrow in her voice. ¡°I wanted to, but he broke it first.¡± ¡°You know what I think? I think he knows you very well.¡± Hailwic frowned. ¡°He knows us all too well. I¡¯ve decided we¡¯re wasting time in here. Is Harker secured?¡± ¡°Of course. I have asked him very nicely not to leave. And if he doesn¡¯t want to listen to me, then the chains should keep him from going anywhere.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll question him after sunset.¡± Senka crossed her arms. Almost stamped a foot, but she was hovering above the ground, so it was pointless. ¡°Why not do it now? I want to do it now. I¡¯m hungry, Hailwic. I need to bite. I have to. I think we really should bite him now.¡± ¡°There¡¯s not enough time. Can¡¯t you feel the cursed sun? Already it pushes at the night. My skin is crawling.¡± ¡°You always feel it first.¡± Senka said. ¡°You¡¯re sensitive.¡± It wasn¡¯t quite an accusation of weakness. ¡°To look upon its light is to accept death and eternal damnation,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°I want for neither of these things. The better I feel its chase, the less I need to worry about being surprised by its sudden appearance.¡± ¡°You¡¯re very wise when you talk like that, Hailwic.¡± Vasilja took Senka¡¯s hand. Gave it a small squeeze. ¡°It¡¯s why you make the decisions. You always make good decisions. I can¡¯t worry when you are around. Senka, we should learn this ourselves. We should always know where the sun is, too.¡± ¡°All I want to know is where he¡¯s going.¡± Senka scowled. ¡°And I want to know why he left.¡± Hailwic sighed. ¡°We will know, in time. For now, return to the crypt. Wait for night. Then we get what answers we can from Harker and decide whether to wait. Or to follow.¡± ¡°And bite him. Jonathan, first. We have to bite him.¡± ¡°Yes, Senka. Then we bite.¡± Chapter Three ¡°I don¡¯t think you should take that much, Senka.¡± ¡°But you said we¡¯d be gone for months, maybe a year!¡± ¡°I know what I said. I was the one who said it. Which is why I¡¯m also saying you shouldn¡¯t take it. Be sensible, Senka. Would you really like to carry it all around with you?¡± ¡°But there¡¯ll be plenty of room. Hailwic is getting more than one wagon. You said that, too.¡± ¡°Of course she is. Our coffins can¡¯t fit on just one. It would have to be very wide. And the beasts pulling it would need to be strong. And I¡¯ve not seen a strong ox in many years around here. They all look thin and wasted. Much too brittle, really. I don¡¯t know how they pull a wagon to begin with.¡± ¡°So, with two, I can take my clothes.¡± ¡°If you want to take them, you can. I never said you can¡¯t. But I really don¡¯t think you should.¡± ¡°Well, what are you taking?¡± ¡°I¡¯m taking my coffin. And some of Transylvania¡¯s finest dirt, of course.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s all I really need, Senka. There are plenty of cities along the way. I shall buy new clothes in Vienna. And Paris.¡± ¡°I thought we were going to Munich.¡± Vasilja grin was sly. ¡°I meant Munich, of course.¡± ¡°You¡¯re hiding something from me,¡± Senka said. She planted her feet, hands on hips, and glared. ¡°What are you hiding? I want to know.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not hiding anything at all. You can ask Hailwic if you like. She¡¯ll tell you where we¡¯re going. She knows everything.¡± Pause. ¡°Which means you¡¯re hiding it from Hailwic, too.¡± ¡°Honestly, Senka. You¡¯ve got quite an imagination sometimes.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell.¡± Firm. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Hailwic you¡¯re hiding something from her. She¡¯ll punish you, Vasilja. You know she will.¡± Vasilja sighed. Placed her hands over her belly and leaned closer. Lowered her voice to a low whisper. ¡°Can you keep this secret, though? I mean, really secret? You can¡¯t tell Hailwic. If you tell her, she¡¯ll go straight to Paris without stopping. This trip will be over before we had a chance to have any fun. You know what she¡¯s like. She¡¯s got no sense of adventure, Senka. I want to go to Vienna. Don¡¯t you? And maybe Prague. Then, if we can, I want to bite a Sardinian. You¡¯d like Sardinians, Senka. They taste delightful. Much smoother than the rough blood we get here. Although, I think Hailwic will tell you they¡¯re called Italians. It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m sure they taste the same as they used to. They can¡¯t have changed all that much.¡± ¡°I want to see Munich, too,¡± Senka said. Suddenly excited. Eyes wide. Whispering loudly. ¡°I want to bite people from all over!¡± ¡°Then you can¡¯t tell Hailwic.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°You promise?¡± ¡°I swear.¡± Eyes so serious Vasilja couldn¡¯t stop the smile which sprang to her face. ¡°Good. Then, I read Mister Harker¡¯s diary. Two nights ago, I slipped into his room and I read it. It was very silly, mostly. But people like him usually are. He came here to meet Dracula, but didn¡¯t expect to find us here. He was trying to think of a way to have you all to himself. When he discovered what you were, he wanted to lock you in your coffin and take you back home with him.¡± ¡°What for?¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing you want to know about. Most of it was rather revolting. But he¡¯d have stopped you from biting. Maybe fed you rats. In his diary, he wondered if he could.¡± Horror made Senka almost cry out. ¡°Rats? Why would I bite rats?¡± ¡°You might if you were desperate.¡± ¡°Never! Not rats.¡± ¡°He thought you might, and that¡¯s all that matters. He talked a lot about his home. He had a fianc¨¦e there.¡± ¡°Who would want to marry him? He seemed like an awful man.¡± ¡°Oh, I think you¡¯re right about that.¡± Vasilja cocked her head. Listening. Trying to feel if Hailwic was close. Seemed satisfied the other vampire hadn¡¯t yet returned. Still kept voice a whisper. ¡°He talked about his friends. About his mentor. A man named Van Helsing.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Is that German?¡± ¡°His name is, but they lived in London. Mister Harker and Van Helsing. Oh, and Mister Harker¡¯s fianc¨¦e, too.¡± Vasilja¡¯s smile turned ferocious. ¡°He kept a photograph of her. She¡¯s very beautiful. Dracula would like her a lot. Which is why he¡¯s gone to London. I¡¯m sure of it.¡± ¡°What?¡± Outrage lifted Senka from the ground and she hovered like a scowling banshee. ¡°How dare he? We should be enough for him!¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said before he brought you back to the castle.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Senka dropped to the ground. Looked sheepish, she stared down at her toes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Vasilja.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to be sorry. You just have to be quiet. You can¡¯t tell Hailwic. She¡¯d only rush us to London before we had a chance to have an adventure. And he¡¯s out having an adventure, so we should, too, I think. Don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we stop him, though?¡± ¡°What on earth for?¡± ¡°But if he brings home another¡­¡± Shrug. ¡°Then there¡¯d be four of us. It might be nice to have someone from England around. I¡¯ve heard wonderful things about their trains.¡± ¡°Trains?¡± ¡°Yes, you¡¯ll see. We¡¯ll have to travel by train to get to Paris. Hailwic will be sick of wagons by the time we get to Munich. You¡¯ll see. You¡¯ll like trains, Senka. I¡¯ve read all about them. And I saw one, once. From the mountains. I¡¯m sure I did. It had smoke coming from its chimney. So much smoke. It roared so loud. It must be thrilling to stand inside one. And what would it be like to bite someone inside a train? We should find out.¡± Senka still struggled. ¡°But what if we don¡¯t like her? What if she won¡¯t share her brush?¡± ¡°Then we bite her. Or lock her in the church. There are plenty of options. I still have a whole book of them from before he brought you home and I made a list.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Of course. I wanted to feed you to the wolves, but Hailwic said I had to wait until he got bored of you. That¡¯s when I started being creative and had to write it all down to remember what to do.¡± Senka stood rigid. Looked down at her mace. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that, Vasilja. I thought you liked me. You were nice to me when I arrived. I always remember how nice you were. I was scared when he said I had to meet you. I thought you¡¯d hate me. Then, when I saw you in the courtyard, I wanted to cry. But you gave me your ribbon, and it meant a lot to me. I still wear it, you see? And I always clean the blood off, too. I don¡¯t care about my other clothes, but I care about this. Because I want to keep it forever.¡± ¡°Oh, you shouldn¡¯t worry, Senka. I didn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t like you now. It¡¯s just when you first came here, we didn¡¯t know quite what to expect. We thought you¡¯d be like the girls in the village or something. And you know what they¡¯re like.¡± She put her hand on the other vampire¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Honestly, Senka. You shouldn¡¯t think about it. You¡¯re my sister now. I just wanted you to know that how you feel, if he brings home a new Bride for us, is normal. We¡¯ve all felt jealous before. And angry. I think it¡¯s the little piece of us which was human. Sometimes it tries to make us feel human again. It tries to tell us that we¡¯re different now. And that it¡¯s wrong to be different.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t let it.¡± Showed her teeth. Snarled; ¡°I won¡¯t feel jealous. I won¡¯t feel angry.¡± ¡°You see? It¡¯s easier if we just remember what we really are. Vampires.¡± ¡°Which is why if I don¡¯t like her, I¡¯ll just bite her.¡± ¡°We all will.¡± Patted Senka¡¯s cheek. ¡°Now. Let¡¯s finish packing before Hailwic gets back. She shan¡¯t be very long now.¡± ¡°Can I take my brush?¡± ¡°You should. Your hair is very pretty when you brush it. It gets messy when you don¡¯t.¡± ¡°It tangles. I hate it.¡± She looked down at the boxes she¡¯d been trying to arrange. ¡°Are you sure I shouldn¡¯t take everything?¡± ¡°Do you remember your journey here?¡± ¡°It took months.¡± ¡°And what did he let you bring with you?¡± ¡°Nothing. He said I had to start a new life.¡± ¡°Oh, he says that all the time. Because he knows it¡¯s too hard to carry things with you. And he¡¯s terrible at explaining why.¡± Vasilja absently reached for a book on the shelf and tucked it under her arm. ¡°But, if you can, remember what it was like travelling all that distance. Now imagine trying to do it with your big boxes there. Imagine that, Senka.¡± ¡°We had to run in the rain, once. Some men were chasing us.¡± ¡°And would you be able to run from them again with all this?¡± ¡°No.¡± Regretful. ¡°I suppose I wouldn¡¯t. I¡¯d have to leave them behind.¡± ¡°And would you want them to have your dresses? They¡¯d give them to some peasant or something.¡± ¡°How awful!¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°But I want to wear nice clothes. And not the same ones every day.¡± ¡°Paris, Senka. Munich. London. You¡¯ll be bringing more home with you than you think.¡± Vasilja giggled. ¡°Last time he took us to Rome, I came home with three wagons full of silk. I think I even got that ribbon in Rome.¡± ¡°Really? So, it¡¯s Roman?¡± ¡°Italian. Hailwic says they¡¯re Italian now.¡± ¡°Italian?¡± ¡°Yes. Apparently, that¡¯s a thing. I expect a lot has changed since I last left these mountains. Which is another reason we simply must keep our secret from Hailwic. Do you understand? If we want to learn anything at all about how things have changed, we need to keep it secret.¡± ¡°Yes, Vasilja.¡± ¡°Good. Now, Hurry. I want to get another book from the library.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t they be heavy?¡± ¡°I¡¯m only bringing two.¡± ¡°Maybe I should take one?¡± ¡°But you don¡¯t read, Senka.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that I can¡¯t read. It¡¯s that they¡¯re mostly boring. But I imagine I¡¯ll spend a lot more time in my coffin, so I could try!¡± ¡°Well, I suppose that would be amusing.¡± She held out her arm for Senka to take. ¡°Come along, then. Let¡¯s find you something to read. It¡¯ll have to be something simple, of course. If it¡¯s too hard, you won¡¯t want to finish it, and it¡¯s just not right to leave a story unfinished.¡± As they glided down the hall, Senka frowned suddenly. ¡°Do you think Hailwic will let us go into the town before we leave?¡± ¡°Not tonight, I should think.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Almost a whine. ¡°I really was looking forward to biting Jonathan. With him gone, I have no one.¡± ¡°Oh, Senka. You are silly sometimes. You¡¯ll love travelling. I can tell.¡± A wicked edge cut through Vasilja¡¯s tone. ¡°There¡¯s so much to bite. So much more than the bare pickings up here in the mountains.¡± ¡°You promise? You¡¯re not just making it up to make me keep secrets from Hailwic?¡± ¡°I promise. You¡¯ll see. And, by the time we get to Vienna, you¡¯ll be glad you listened to me. You¡¯ll thank me. By Munich, you¡¯ll be begging forgiveness for ever doubting me.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll kiss you if it¡¯s true. But bite you if you¡¯re lying.¡± ¡°And I¡¯d do the same if I were you.¡± They whispered through the air until they paused in front of the library. Vasilja placed her hand on the enchantment which opened the door. Room still cluttered with debris. ¡°Vasilja?¡± Senka rested her fang on the corner of her lip. ¡°You do like me now, don¡¯t you? You¡¯re not still thinking of feeding me to the wolves?¡± ¡°Of course not! Why would I do that?¡± She smiled wide, eyes sparkling bright. ¡°I gave you my ribbon, didn¡¯t I?¡± Chapter Two Jonathan Harker was gone. ¡°Where is he?¡± Senka gripped the mace. ¡°He should be here! I wanted to bite him, Vasilja. You said I could. You both said so. Why isn¡¯t he here?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, Senka,¡± Vasilja said. She didn¡¯t look very concerned, though she made a show of examining the broken hinge on the door. ¡°I put him in our best chains and everything.¡± ¡°He¡¯s more resourceful than he looked,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°I don¡¯t want him to be resourceful,¡± Senka hissed. ¡°I want him to be here!¡± Vasilja nodded. ¡°Well, he¡¯s not. And I think he probably ran away very fast. He might have made it to the village by now. And if he got himself a horse, he could be anywhere.¡± ¡°Who would sell him a horse? If anyone tried to sell him a horse, they know we¡¯d bite them for it! They¡¯d have to be stupid.¡± ¡°If Mister Harker had money in his pockets, Senka, he¡¯d get himself a horse. Maybe not a good one, of course, but it would still be a horse. He might even have stolen one, I suppose.¡± Senka reeled. ¡°Well, let¡¯s go get him. He can¡¯t have got far.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know which direction he¡¯s going.¡± Vasilja tapped on the broken hinge. ¡°Do you know, I think he managed to kick it open. He must have been very desperate. I think I¡¯ll need to speak to the blacksmith. And the carpenter. We¡¯ll need them to fix it and make sure it never happens again. It¡¯s not very nice when people run away like this, is it?¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t want to look for him, I will!¡± ¡°We¡¯re not looking for him now,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°He¡¯s most likely too far ahead of us. Let him go, Senka. Let¡¯s not waste time.¡± Small voice. ¡°But I really wanted to bite him.¡± ¡°And if we see him again, you shall. But tonight, there¡¯s more important things to worry about than that particular worm.¡± ¡°He really was a worm,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°I don¡¯t think he would have tasted very nice. I think he¡¯d have tasted like a stableboy.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Senka growled. ¡°I almost bit him. And I would have killed him, too. But Dracula stopped me. Why did he stop me if he never meant to have Jonathan for himself? I could have bitten him and then we could have all gone away together instead of Dracula sneaking off on his own like that. Now they¡¯ve both gone and I¡¯ve got no one to bite¡­¡± ¡°I think he wanted something from Mister Harker,¡± Vasilja. ¡°Somewhere in the worm¡¯s cunning little mind was something Dracula wanted very much to know. That¡¯s why he didn¡¯t want you to bite him. Because he hadn¡¯t got what he wanted yet. Now he has. Which is why he left him for us.¡± Senka frowned, trying to work it out. Hailwic nodded. ¡°Did he tell you why Harker was here?¡± ¡°No, Hailwic,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°I thought he would have told you, though. He trusts you the most.¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t say anything to me.¡± ¡°He¡¯s not very good at sharing secrets, is he?¡± ¡°Which is why we need to be better in digging them out.¡± Senka planted her feet at last. Lifted the mace and brought it crashing down onto the bars of the door. ¡°That¡¯s what I wanted to do! Dig them out! With my teeth. With my fingers. I¡¯d have dug out all his little secrets and piled them by the door. But you wouldn¡¯t let me! Why won¡¯t anyone let me bite?¡± Vasilja put her arms around her sister. Pulled her tight. ¡°Don¡¯t cry, Senka. It¡¯s useless to try. You don¡¯t have tears anymore, remember? All it does is make your eyes feel uncomfortable and gives you a headache.¡± She hugged the vampire. ¡°Listen, we promise next time you can bite. Don¡¯t we, Hailwic? Next time, you can bite as much as you like, and we won¡¯t stop you. How does that sound?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Hailwic shrugged. ¡°Well, I suppose my way didn¡¯t achieve anything. Perhaps biting a bit more might be more effective.¡± Senka wiped at her dry eyes, more out of instinct than anything. ¡°You promise? You¡¯re not just saying it?¡± ¡°Of course not.¡± Vasilja smiled wider and stepped away. ¡°Now, I think you should let out some of your frustration on the door again. You¡¯ll like that, won¡¯t you? Hit it with your thing there and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll feel much better.¡± ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll go find something soon, I promise.¡± She pointed delicately at the bars. ¡°Go on. Hit it.¡± Senka tapped the iron with the mace. ¡°Tsk, Senka. That¡¯s not nearly hard enough. How¡¯s that supposed to make you feel better? Hit it harder.¡± Senka howled her fury and beat at the iron bars with her mace. Again. And again. The clang of metal echoed in her frenzied shrieks. Vasilja and Hailwic left her there. Threaded their way into the courtyard and stood in the chill wind. Pale white dresses still stained from their feast the night before. There had been no time yet to change. ¡°She¡¯s still a child,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°He took her too young. Don¡¯t you think so?¡± Hailwic snorted. ¡°She was older than you were.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a nice thing to say, Hailwic. You know what I meant. I was not as young up here.¡± Tapped her forehead. ¡°She¡¯s full of passion. That¡¯s all. It¡¯s what drew him to her.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a very pretty way of saying she¡¯s impulsive and immature. I don¡¯t understand it sometimes, Hailwic. I can see what he liked in Senka. But what was it he loved about me? He picked you because you were strong. And he likes you. You spend more time in his rooms than any of us. And lately, you always come out with a swollen neck. Sometimes he doesn¡¯t even look at me for weeks. It¡¯s almost like he doesn¡¯t know I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°He once told me he loved your sense of humour.¡± ¡°That¡¯s very flattering.¡± She didn¡¯t sound flattered. If anything, she sounded disappointed. She sighed. ¡°Well, if Mister Harker can¡¯t give us answers, how do we know where he¡¯s going?¡± ¡°I believe Harker had something our Master wanted very much. Whether Harker shared his secrets or not, Dracula discovered something worth leaving the castle for. Do you remember where he was from?¡± ¡°Harker? I¡¯m not sure. He sounded English. But everyone speaking English always sounds English to me. I¡¯m not sure if he came from England at all. He might as well be Belgian for all I know. Or Sardinian.¡± ¡°He can¡¯t be that. It¡¯s called Italy now.¡± ¡°Is it? When did that happen?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly. It doesn¡¯t matter. All that matters is that it happened. You know about it already because I¡¯ve told you before.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you have. And besides, I think it does matter. I mean just because someone stops calling your home by its name doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not yours anymore. You should know this better than anyone, Hailwic.¡± She pursed her lips. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. It¡¯s not very important right now. I mean, I don¡¯t think Jonathan Harker is a Sardinian name, anyway. It doesn¡¯t even sound very pretty when you say it. And Sardinian names always sound pretty, don¡¯t they? They¡¯re very musical. That¡¯s why I like Sardinians so much. They¡¯re very musical. That and they taste as delightful as they sound. Don¡¯t look at me like that, Hailwic. Oh, very well, I will call them Italian if I must. Honestly, you¡¯re so silly about these things sometimes. Anyway, I suppose Mister Harker could have come from Munich. Do you remember we had to go to Munich before he arrived? We had to rescue him, didn¡¯t we? Dracula didn¡¯t want poor old mad Elizabeth to bite him first. Terribly selfish of him.¡± ¡°Are you trying to say you want to go to Munich?¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s a place to start. But I think I¡¯d prefer to go to Italy now. It sounds much more exciting. And Senka would like it, too. Although, I do think she¡¯d prefer it when it was Sardinia. It sounds nicer.¡± ¡°Munich,¡± Hailwic said. A decision made. ¡°And Munich is so very close to Prague.¡± Vasilja¡¯s tone was only slightly mocking. ¡°I have no interest in Prague.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe you. You can lie to Dracula, Hailwic, but please don¡¯t lie to me.¡± She prodded Hailwic¡¯s arm. ¡°You lived in Prague for such a long time. It was almost like home to you. It¡¯s normal to miss your home. I shan¡¯t tell him if you say it, you know.¡± ¡°This is home.¡± Back rigid, but her eyes slid away. ¡°You know what I mean. We all miss parts of our lives, even if we can¡¯t recall why. It¡¯s why Senka talks too much of Belgrade. Belgrade this. Belgrade that. As if it¡¯s the only city in the world.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the only one she knew.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I was trying to say earlier.¡± Vasilja¡¯s eyes glinted momentarily. A small triumph. ¡°He took her too young.¡± ¡°We took her.¡± ¡°We didn¡¯t have a choice.¡± ¡°In this, we have more than you think.¡± ¡°Munich, then?¡± ¡°It will be nice this time of year.¡± ¡°It will be cold. There¡¯ll be little fun to be had on the streets. I can¡¯t think there will be more than a few lost drunks or stray dogs. And they smell. I would need to wash much too often. That¡¯s assuming we get to bite at all.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll manage to keep us fed.¡± ¡°I have always tried my best. But how will I keep Senka entertained? She needs entertaining, Hailwic. If we don¡¯t entertain her, she¡¯ll be intolerable. You know what she¡¯s like when she¡¯s bored.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll think of something, Vasilja. You always do.¡± She looked again to the doorway where Senka¡¯s howls were finally subduing. ¡°When she¡¯s finished, set her to work packing. We¡¯ll need to leave quickly.¡± ¡°And you?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll arrange our wagons.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t we take a train? It would be faster, you know. And I always wanted to travel on one.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t trust trains.¡± Grunt. ¡°I should be back before dawn.¡± ¡°Well.¡± Crooked smile and show of fang. ¡°At least you know when that happens.¡± Chapter Three ¡°I don¡¯t think you should take that much, Senka.¡± ¡°But you said we¡¯d be gone for months, maybe a year!¡± ¡°I know what I said. I was the one who said it. Which is why I¡¯m also saying you shouldn¡¯t take it. Be sensible, Senka. Would you really like to carry it all around with you?¡± ¡°But there¡¯ll be plenty of room. Hailwic is getting more than one wagon. You said that, too.¡± ¡°Of course she is. Our coffins can¡¯t fit on just one. It would have to be very wide. And the beasts pulling it would need to be strong. And I¡¯ve not seen a strong ox in many years around here. They all look thin and wasted. Much too brittle, really. I don¡¯t know how they pull a wagon to begin with.¡± ¡°So, with two, I can take my clothes.¡± ¡°If you want to take them, you can. I never said you can¡¯t. But I really don¡¯t think you should.¡± ¡°Well, what are you taking?¡± ¡°I¡¯m taking my coffin. And some of Transylvania¡¯s finest dirt, of course.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s all I really need, Senka. There are plenty of cities along the way. I shall buy new clothes in Vienna. And Paris.¡± ¡°I thought we were going to Munich.¡± Vasilja grin was sly. ¡°I meant Munich, of course.¡± ¡°You¡¯re hiding something from me,¡± Senka said. She planted her feet, hands on hips, and glared. ¡°What are you hiding? I want to know.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not hiding anything at all. You can ask Hailwic if you like. She¡¯ll tell you where we¡¯re going. She knows everything.¡± Pause. ¡°Which means you¡¯re hiding it from Hailwic, too.¡± ¡°Honestly, Senka. You¡¯ve got quite an imagination sometimes.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell.¡± Firm. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Hailwic you¡¯re hiding something from her. She¡¯ll punish you, Vasilja. You know she will.¡± Vasilja sighed. Placed her hands over her belly and leaned closer. Lowered her voice to a low whisper. ¡°Can you keep this secret, though? I mean, really secret? You can¡¯t tell Hailwic. If you tell her, she¡¯ll go straight to Paris without stopping. This trip will be over before we had a chance to have any fun. You know what she¡¯s like. She¡¯s got no sense of adventure, Senka. I want to go to Vienna. Don¡¯t you? And maybe Prague. Then, if we can, I want to bite a Sardinian. You¡¯d like Sardinians, Senka. They taste delightful. Much smoother than the rough blood we get here. Although, I think Hailwic will tell you they¡¯re called Italians. It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m sure they taste the same as they used to. They can¡¯t have changed all that much.¡± ¡°I want to see Munich, too,¡± Senka said. Suddenly excited. Eyes wide. Whispering loudly. ¡°I want to bite people from all over!¡± ¡°Then you can¡¯t tell Hailwic.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°You promise?¡± ¡°I swear.¡± Eyes so serious Vasilja couldn¡¯t stop the smile which sprang to her face. ¡°Good. Then, I read Mister Harker¡¯s diary. Two nights ago, I slipped into his room and I read it. It was very silly, mostly. But people like him usually are. He came here to meet Dracula, but didn¡¯t expect to find us here. He was trying to think of a way to have you all to himself. When he discovered what you were, he wanted to lock you in your coffin and take you back home with him.¡± ¡°What for?¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing you want to know about. Most of it was rather revolting. But he¡¯d have stopped you from biting. Maybe fed you rats. In his diary, he wondered if he could.¡± Horror made Senka almost cry out. ¡°Rats? Why would I bite rats?¡± ¡°You might if you were desperate.¡± ¡°Never! Not rats.¡± ¡°He thought you might, and that¡¯s all that matters. He talked a lot about his home. He had a fianc¨¦e there.¡± ¡°Who would want to marry him? He seemed like an awful man.¡± ¡°Oh, I think you¡¯re right about that.¡± Vasilja cocked her head. Listening. Trying to feel if Hailwic was close. Seemed satisfied the other vampire hadn¡¯t yet returned. Still kept voice a whisper. ¡°He talked about his friends. About his mentor. A man named Van Helsing.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Is that German?¡± ¡°His name is, but they lived in London. Mister Harker and Van Helsing. Oh, and Mister Harker¡¯s fianc¨¦e, too.¡± Vasilja¡¯s smile turned ferocious. ¡°He kept a photograph of her. She¡¯s very beautiful. Dracula would like her a lot. Which is why he¡¯s gone to London. I¡¯m sure of it.¡± ¡°What?¡± Outrage lifted Senka from the ground and she hovered like a scowling banshee. ¡°How dare he? We should be enough for him!¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said before he brought you back to the castle.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Senka dropped to the ground. Looked sheepish, she stared down at her toes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Vasilja.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to be sorry. You just have to be quiet. You can¡¯t tell Hailwic. She¡¯d only rush us to London before we had a chance to have an adventure. And he¡¯s out having an adventure, so we should, too, I think. Don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we stop him, though?¡± ¡°What on earth for?¡± ¡°But if he brings home another¡­¡± Shrug. ¡°Then there¡¯d be four of us. It might be nice to have someone from England around. I¡¯ve heard wonderful things about their trains.¡± ¡°Trains?¡± ¡°Yes, you¡¯ll see. We¡¯ll have to travel by train to get to Paris. Hailwic will be sick of wagons by the time we get to Munich. You¡¯ll see. You¡¯ll like trains, Senka. I¡¯ve read all about them. And I saw one, once. From the mountains. I¡¯m sure I did. It had smoke coming from its chimney. So much smoke. It roared so loud. It must be thrilling to stand inside one. And what would it be like to bite someone inside a train? We should find out.¡± Senka still struggled. ¡°But what if we don¡¯t like her? What if she won¡¯t share her brush?¡± ¡°Then we bite her. Or lock her in the church. There are plenty of options. I still have a whole book of them from before he brought you home and I made a list.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Of course. I wanted to feed you to the wolves, but Hailwic said I had to wait until he got bored of you. That¡¯s when I started being creative and had to write it all down to remember what to do.¡± Senka stood rigid. Looked down at her mace. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that, Vasilja. I thought you liked me. You were nice to me when I arrived. I always remember how nice you were. I was scared when he said I had to meet you. I thought you¡¯d hate me. Then, when I saw you in the courtyard, I wanted to cry. But you gave me your ribbon, and it meant a lot to me. I still wear it, you see? And I always clean the blood off, too. I don¡¯t care about my other clothes, but I care about this. Because I want to keep it forever.¡± ¡°Oh, you shouldn¡¯t worry, Senka. I didn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t like you now. It¡¯s just when you first came here, we didn¡¯t know quite what to expect. We thought you¡¯d be like the girls in the village or something. And you know what they¡¯re like.¡± She put her hand on the other vampire¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Honestly, Senka. You shouldn¡¯t think about it. You¡¯re my sister now. I just wanted you to know that how you feel, if he brings home a new Bride for us, is normal. We¡¯ve all felt jealous before. And angry. I think it¡¯s the little piece of us which was human. Sometimes it tries to make us feel human again. It tries to tell us that we¡¯re different now. And that it¡¯s wrong to be different.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t let it.¡± Showed her teeth. Snarled; ¡°I won¡¯t feel jealous. I won¡¯t feel angry.¡± ¡°You see? It¡¯s easier if we just remember what we really are. Vampires.¡± ¡°Which is why if I don¡¯t like her, I¡¯ll just bite her.¡± ¡°We all will.¡± Patted Senka¡¯s cheek. ¡°Now. Let¡¯s finish packing before Hailwic gets back. She shan¡¯t be very long now.¡± ¡°Can I take my brush?¡± ¡°You should. Your hair is very pretty when you brush it. It gets messy when you don¡¯t.¡± ¡°It tangles. I hate it.¡± She looked down at the boxes she¡¯d been trying to arrange. ¡°Are you sure I shouldn¡¯t take everything?¡± ¡°Do you remember your journey here?¡± ¡°It took months.¡± ¡°And what did he let you bring with you?¡± ¡°Nothing. He said I had to start a new life.¡± ¡°Oh, he says that all the time. Because he knows it¡¯s too hard to carry things with you. And he¡¯s terrible at explaining why.¡± Vasilja absently reached for a book on the shelf and tucked it under her arm. ¡°But, if you can, remember what it was like travelling all that distance. Now imagine trying to do it with your big boxes there. Imagine that, Senka.¡± ¡°We had to run in the rain, once. Some men were chasing us.¡± ¡°And would you be able to run from them again with all this?¡± ¡°No.¡± Regretful. ¡°I suppose I wouldn¡¯t. I¡¯d have to leave them behind.¡± ¡°And would you want them to have your dresses? They¡¯d give them to some peasant or something.¡± ¡°How awful!¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°But I want to wear nice clothes. And not the same ones every day.¡± ¡°Paris, Senka. Munich. London. You¡¯ll be bringing more home with you than you think.¡± Vasilja giggled. ¡°Last time he took us to Rome, I came home with three wagons full of silk. I think I even got that ribbon in Rome.¡± ¡°Really? So, it¡¯s Roman?¡± ¡°Italian. Hailwic says they¡¯re Italian now.¡± ¡°Italian?¡± ¡°Yes. Apparently, that¡¯s a thing. I expect a lot has changed since I last left these mountains. Which is another reason we simply must keep our secret from Hailwic. Do you understand? If we want to learn anything at all about how things have changed, we need to keep it secret.¡± ¡°Yes, Vasilja.¡± ¡°Good. Now, Hurry. I want to get another book from the library.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t they be heavy?¡± ¡°I¡¯m only bringing two.¡± ¡°Maybe I should take one?¡± ¡°But you don¡¯t read, Senka.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that I can¡¯t read. It¡¯s that they¡¯re mostly boring. But I imagine I¡¯ll spend a lot more time in my coffin, so I could try!¡± ¡°Well, I suppose that would be amusing.¡± She held out her arm for Senka to take. ¡°Come along, then. Let¡¯s find you something to read. It¡¯ll have to be something simple, of course. If it¡¯s too hard, you won¡¯t want to finish it, and it¡¯s just not right to leave a story unfinished.¡± As they glided down the hall, Senka frowned suddenly. ¡°Do you think Hailwic will let us go into the town before we leave?¡± ¡°Not tonight, I should think.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Almost a whine. ¡°I really was looking forward to biting Jonathan. With him gone, I have no one.¡± ¡°Oh, Senka. You are silly sometimes. You¡¯ll love travelling. I can tell.¡± A wicked edge cut through Vasilja¡¯s tone. ¡°There¡¯s so much to bite. So much more than the bare pickings up here in the mountains.¡± ¡°You promise? You¡¯re not just making it up to make me keep secrets from Hailwic?¡± ¡°I promise. You¡¯ll see. And, by the time we get to Vienna, you¡¯ll be glad you listened to me. You¡¯ll thank me. By Munich, you¡¯ll be begging forgiveness for ever doubting me.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll kiss you if it¡¯s true. But bite you if you¡¯re lying.¡± ¡°And I¡¯d do the same if I were you.¡± They whispered through the air until they paused in front of the library. Vasilja placed her hand on the enchantment which opened the door. Room still cluttered with debris. ¡°Vasilja?¡± Senka rested her fang on the corner of her lip. ¡°You do like me now, don¡¯t you? You¡¯re not still thinking of feeding me to the wolves?¡± ¡°Of course not! Why would I do that?¡± She smiled wide, eyes sparkling bright. ¡°I gave you my ribbon, didn¡¯t I?¡± Chapter Four They were at least three miles from a town with no name. A town whose only road was little more than muddy track. The oxen had come to a halt and one of the wagons had a wheel half-submerged. Two men pushed on the wheel while a third tried to lever it free. Torrential rain formed thick sheets which made it impossible to see far in any direction, drumming into sodden ground with ceaseless noise. Grey clouds overhead swirled and clashed with thunder. Sheets of lightning ripped the early evening sky apart. Oxen, resigned to the weather, stood motionless. Water dripping from their bodies. Heads low. The men shouted at each other. Had to shout just to be heard. One waved to a fourth at the rear, who came running. His hat kept the rain from his eyes but not the rage. ¡°What the fuck are you lot playing at? Get this piece of shit out of the mud before we sink too fucking deep and get stuck until stinking Summer!¡± He slapped his hip with a hard-calloused hand. ¡°We should¡¯ve been in town fucking hours ago.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t shift it! Weight is gonna break the axle if we push any harder. We¡¯re gonna have to unload.¡± ¡°Bollocks to that. Just-¡± ¡°John!¡± An older man leaned against the wagon. Looking exhausted. Clothes drenched, stuck to his skin. Long grey hair in ribbons down his face. Moustache plucking at his upper lip. Closed eyes. Not looked up as he shouted as hard as his hoarse voice could manage. ¡°Listen to the boy, John! We¡¯re not telling you we want to unload for the fucking fun of it. It¡¯s a cunt of a job to pull it all off and then put it back. We¡¯re telling you because it¡¯s the only fucking way we¡¯re getting this goddamn wheel out of the fucking mud!¡± John tightened his jaw. Looked from man to man, then nodded. ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, lads. The storm. It¡¯s just¡­ The storm.¡± ¡°We know, mate.¡± ¡°Right, then. Let¡¯s do it.¡± Clapped wet hands together. ¡°George, I want you to go on up ahead and see if you can¡¯t find somewhere we can get the wagons off the road while we let the rain let up. Somewhere firm, mind. We don¡¯t need to get bogged in again. And don¡¯t go too far. We won¡¯t make it far even if we can get this bastard moving.¡± George tipped his hat. ¡°I¡¯ll be quick. Be back to give you a hand.¡± ¡°Aye,¡± the old one growled. ¡°You¡¯d better.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll take it in turns,¡± John said. ¡°I¡¯ve been back there, so I¡¯ll take first shift. You both look done in, but Dimiti is eldest. Peter, it looks like you¡¯re with me. Dimiti, get up into your cot and get yourself a bit dry. Have a smoke if you like.¡± ¡°Aye.¡± Tension eased from the old man¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Appreciate that, John.¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± Looked up at the stuck wagon and climbed awkwardly into the back. Trying not to slip. Patted the coffin and shook his head. ¡°All this fucking grief over a goddamn dead body. What¡¯s the point, eh? Carting them all the way across the world? Bury them where the poor sods fell, I say. If I die out here, Peter, you can bury me under a tree. I wouldn¡¯t haunt you for it.¡± Peter crossed himself and scowled. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t talk like that, John.¡± ¡°Right you are, Peter. And I¡¯m sorry. Here, take a couple of these crates.¡± ¡°What¡¯s in them?¡± ¡°Dirt, if you¡¯d believe it.¡± ¡°Dirt?¡± ¡°Deceased¡¯s last wishes and all that. Wanted to be buried in Transylvanian soil, but in Munich.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a bit odd, ain¡¯t it?¡± Shrug. ¡°I only care about the money, Peter. As should you. With the blasted trains starting to take all our business, I¡¯ll cart fucking corpses any day if it¡¯ll pay half as well as this job has. Stack it over by that tree there.¡± ¡°Will do.¡± The two men worked without talking after that. Grunts of exertion lost to the loud rain and rolling thunder. John moved the crates and handed them down. Peter stacked them carefully against the tree. Rubbed at his shoulders every time he moved back toward the wagon for more. But never complained. Jobs like this paid well for the time away from home. And the chance to see the world when it wasn¡¯t pissing down was enough to keep him happy. Still, he couldn¡¯t stop thinking about a campfire. Drying his boots out. And a hot meal. Steaming hot meal. Meat. Slabs of it. Heaped with gravy. Thick and delici- ¡°Peter! Wake up, lad.¡± John was holding a small crate out to him. He hadn¡¯t even noticed. He blinked and nodded. ¡°Sorry. Was lost in a dream.¡± John watched the younger man turn away. He was pushing them hard. He knew it. But the woman had promised an extra five hundred francs if he could get the coffins to Vienna before month¡¯s end. It was a hard trek, and one he never should have agreed to. He¡¯d needed an extra team of oxen to even think about it. But she¡¯d paid. And paid a fair sum in advance. So, he pushed. Pushed them hard. And they knew why. Knew there was a hefty bonus at hand, so they didn¡¯t complain. The journey back would be easier with some weight in their belts. It wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d had to push into the face of Winter. The last of the crates was stacked and John leapt from the wagon to stand next to Peter. The younger man was blowing hard. Had tucked his thumbs into his belt and was almost doubled over. Almost as much sweat as rain on his face. ¡°You think we can do this without taking the coffin off, Peter?¡± ¡°I wish we could, John. I ain¡¯t wanting to move it. Reckon that was the heaviest of the three, too.¡± ¡°You mightn¡¯t have to. Here¡¯s George. Hoy! George! What¡¯s up ahead?¡± ¡°Mud. Mud. And more fucking mud.¡± Spat in disgust. ¡°It¡¯s even worse just round the hill there. Puddles almost right up to my knee, almost, in some places.¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Shit.¡± Dimiti jumped from the other wagon, rubbing hands together. Aimed a sour look to the mountains in the distance and the sullen black clouds reaping their peaks. ¡°I say we untie the beasts and get that coffin over here near the trees. Leave moving the wagons ¡®til morning. Fuck all else we can do now, John. We¡¯ll only be digging them out again soon after.¡± ¡°If it keeps raining like this, we¡¯ll lose our lead.¡± ¡°Then best we get young Peter here to start praying forgiveness for whatever sins the Almighty has set on punishing us for today,¡± Dimiti growled. ¡°Because judging by this weather, they were mighty bad.¡± Peter crossed himself. ¡°I keep telling you to be more careful how you take the Lord¡¯s name, Dimiti. He won¡¯t like that kind of talk.¡± Dimiti clapped the younger man¡¯s shoulder. Jerked his head to the wagon. ¡°You go hop on up, lad. Leave the rest to us for a bit. John¡¯ll be in for you soon.¡± Hesitated. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± John agreed. ¡°You¡¯ve helped out already, mate. You look done in. We¡¯ll dump the rest and see if we can get the wagon moving.¡± Dimiti spat into the mud. Said; ¡°Sure you really want to push on, John?¡± ¡°It¡¯s worth trying. Don¡¯t you think we should try?¡± ¡°It¡¯s dark now, though. We should be setting camp. Here¡¯s as good a spot as we¡¯re likely to get.¡± ¡°I know you think it¡¯s stupid of me. And I¡¯m a bit of a stubborn man as you all know. But I¡¯d like to give it one good try if we can. If we bog down a second time, I promise we won¡¯t go further.¡± The older man nodded. ¡°Aye, well. That¡¯s fair enough. I can¡¯t argue you ain¡¯t looking out for us, John. And you¡¯ve always done right. Patient or not. So, I¡¯ll give you my back and you¡¯ll have every honest bit of strength I¡¯ve got left.¡± ¡°I never doubted it.¡± He looked to the ropes lashing the coffins in place. ¡°Here, George. Get these ropes loose, will you? My fingers aren¡¯t up to the trick.¡± ¡°Sure, John. Won¡¯t take a minute.¡± John nodded. Pushed his hat up a little, then back down again as rain wet his cheeks. Sighed. Dimiti grunted. ¡°Gonna be fucking cold this Winter, John. Getting back through the pass might be tough if it¡¯s been as wet as here.¡± ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Aye. I figured you might. But sometimes it needs to be said.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see how it is when we get to Vienna. Ain¡¯t usually this wet.¡± ¡°True, that is.¡± ¡°You done, George?¡± ¡°Almost!¡± Thunder cracked directly overhead, making John flinch and the oxen shiver as the lightning ripped down into a field not far away. One let out a huff and stamped back feet. Flicked its tail. Dimiti couldn¡¯t help but grin. ¡°That were a big one. And close.¡± ¡°Made me jump out of my fucking skin.¡± George tossed the ropes into the wagon and scampered up. Rolled over the coffin and started looking it up and down. Sour twist of his lip. ¡°This was the heavy one, weren¡¯t it?¡± ¡°No, lad,¡± Dimiti called. ¡°The black were the heaviest. This little red one weren¡¯t much at all.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure this was heavier.¡± ¡°That¡¯s only because you got out of having to carry the others. Right, John?¡± John shrugged. ¡°They were all fucking heavy to me.¡± Sighed. ¡°Right, well. It won¡¯t move itself. George, grab the handle there. I¡¯ll slide it up my way. Dimiti? You be ready. We ain¡¯t got time to do this proper with the ropes, so it¡¯ll be hands only. And it¡¯s slippery as shit.¡± ¡°Should be right. Ground¡¯s wet mush here. Even if we drop it, it shouldn¡¯t cause no damage. Just need a bit of a spit and polish.¡± ¡°Not a scratch, the Lady said.¡± ¡°And there won¡¯t be if you keep your grip.¡± ¡°Holler out if you can¡¯t keep hold.¡± ¡°Maybe I should get Peter back out?¡± ¡°No, let him rest. He¡¯s already moved the rest.¡± Wiped his face. ¡°George?¡± The younger man grabbed the handles at the back with both hands. ¡°Ready when you are.¡± ¡°Then give it a shove.¡± The two men began to haul on the coffin, corded muscle pulling hard. Grunted and groaned as the coffin refused to move. ¡°Let go, let go,¡± John roared over another blast of thunder. ¡°George! It¡¯s alright, lad. It ain¡¯t moving. Fuck. Must be caught on something.¡± ¡°Reckon some of the planking¡¯s buckled,¡± Dimiti said, ducking down to get a look. ¡°Can¡¯t see it, but I¡¯m sure that¡¯s what it is. Can you get the rope under? Maybe lift it over the top.¡± John shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± ¡°I felt it shift,¡± George said. ¡°At the end. It nearly gave. I¡¯m sure of it.¡± ¡°You reckon one more go, lad?¡± Nod. ¡°I can do it. I¡¯ll get up here behind it right and proper. And give it a shove.¡± ¡°Be careful. We don¡¯t want to send it off the edge. Not one scratch, remember?¡± ¡°Dimiti¡¯s big and strong,¡± George said. Grinned. ¡°Like an ox, he says. All the time, don¡¯t you Dimiti? I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll catch it with one hand.¡± ¡°And throw it back in your face, young George.¡± Dimiti grimaced. ¡°But let¡¯s not try it today, yeah?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll be careful.¡± ¡°Right then. Give us a shout when you¡¯re ready.¡± George climbed up behind the coffin. Anchored himself against the front of the wagon. Placed both hands on the lid. Looked up at Dimiti. Then to John. Nodded. ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°On three?¡± He took the handle in both hands. ¡°One. Two. Three!¡± Dimiti screwed his face into a snarl of effort and pushed with everything he had. Face turning red. George tugged, trying to lift at the same time. Felt the coffin scrape. Then jar to a halt. ¡°Almost,¡± George said through teeth. Spittle drooled down his chin as he clenched jaw and gave it another push. ¡°It¡¯s okay, George,¡± John said. ¡°Nearly got it!¡± ¡°It¡¯s-¡± Wood cracked. And, with a shocked splinter, the coffin slid toward the end of the wagon. John pulled on the handle, now trying to stop it as it flew toward Dimiti¡¯s startled face. The old man danced to one side, making a futile grab at one of the handles. Knowing he couldn¡¯t stop it from flying of the edge. It landed in the mud with a crash, angling against the wagon. ¡°Oh, hoy,¡± George lifted himself up from where he¡¯d landed on his stomach. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, John. It got right out of my grip. I couldn¡¯t hold it in the rain.¡± Though anger studded his belly, rain cooled his mind and John simply sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t fret about it now, George. Ain¡¯t your fault. Can¡¯t help what can¡¯t be helped. And I have to admit it¡¯s my fault for pushing onwards when we oughtn¡¯t to.¡± Dimiti bent to look at where the coffin¡¯s foot had rammed into the mud. ¡°Oh, shit. John, this ain¡¯t good.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± He jumped off the edge with a splash. ¡°I think the lid¡¯s come loose.¡± ¡°Come loose? How?¡± ¡°Not sure. It¡¯s like the hinge has broke.¡± ¡°Broke?¡± John chewed his bottom lip. ¡°How bad?¡± ¡°I¡¯d have to get a look at it in the morning to be sure. Maybe I can fix it¡­¡± ¡°I bloody hope so!¡± John stamped a foot. ¡°Fucking shit. That¡¯s all we need, isn¡¯t it? She¡¯ll never pay our bonus if we¡¯ve busted it up, will she? She sees that, she¡¯ll lose her fucking mind. You know what these rich folk are like!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, John,¡± George said again. Looked to Dimiti. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect it to go like that.¡± Dimiti picked at the coffin lid. Frowned. ¡°Hang on.¡± He gave the lid a shake, showing it was loose. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like the hinge is damaged at all. Could be it¡¯s supposed to be like this. Here, look.¡± He felt the lid click as a mechanism inside triggered smoothly. And the lid opened. A mad flash of lightning speared into a hill half-hidden by trees. Tore a small smoking crater. But no man looked in that direction. ¡°I ain¡¯t a very religious man, John,¡± Dimiti said. Dry mouth. ¡°But if that ain¡¯t the perfect vision of the Virgin Mary herself, then I¡¯m a blind man and don¡¯t you dare ask a Bishop to cure me.¡± John found himself staring. His uncle had been a rich man. Had loaned him the money to buy the wagons he¡¯d needed to start this business. On the day he¡¯d settled the loan, his uncle had served him tea. In porcelain cups. He¡¯d been almost too afraid to touch them in case his fingers left a mark. Pure as snow, he¡¯d thought them. The most perfect shade of white he¡¯d ever seen. Until now. Her skin didn¡¯t look anything like he imagined a dead body would. It looked soft. Alive. Like he could reach out and touch it. He had to squeeze his fingers into fists just to stop himself from doing so. Red lush lips. Raven hair. George slid down the wagon. ¡°What¡¯re you two staring at?¡± Then stopped himself as he saw her. ¡°Fuck me. She¡¯s beautiful. Ain¡¯t she Dimiti? She¡¯s beautiful.¡± Dimiti stood there, tears edging his eyes. Shook his head. ¡°More than anyone I ever saw.¡± ¡°Why¡¯re you crying, Dimiti?¡± The old man wiped at his eyes with the cuff of his hand. ¡°My Lenda was beautiful, too. When she was taken. I just can¡¯t help it, lad. It¡¯s like I¡¯m seeing her all over again. It ain¡¯t right for young girls to die like this. Ain¡¯t right at all.¡± ¡°You were married? I didn¡¯t know that.¡± ¡°I was young, once, lad.¡± The tears didn¡¯t stop. ¡°She died in our first year. Couldn¡¯t bring myself to look at another.¡± ¡°Close it up,¡± John said, voice strangled and thick. ¡°Close it up now.¡± George couldn¡¯t pull his gaze away from her. ¡°But-¡± ¡°Shut it, damn you! Show some respect for the dead. And if not respect, then do it before you catch sickness. It ain¡¯t healthy to be around the dead, you fool.¡± ¡°He¡¯s right, lad,¡± Dimiti said. Closed the lid as quickly as he could, trying not to get mud inside. Scrubbed his eyes and motioned for John to grab the other side of the coffin. ¡°Let¡¯s get it over there as quick as we can.¡± ¡°And seal it,¡± John said. He wasn¡¯t sure why he felt so afraid, but fear bubbled in his belly. Made worse by the shocking roll of thunder which caused every hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. ¡°Seal it up again.¡± ¡°It weren¡¯t sealed.¡± ¡°What do you mean it weren¡¯t sealed?¡± ¡°No wax. You saw.¡± ¡°Well, do something. I don¡¯t want it to open again. Make it stay shut.¡± ¡°Aye.¡± The three men lifted the coffin over to the trees, laying it down near the stacked crates of earth. They moved it without words, each lost in thoughts of their own. Each handling the weight with as much gentleness as they could manage. When it was done, they stood nearby in pouring rain. ¡°She was so beautiful,¡± George said. Flushed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t stop thinking about her now. It¡¯s like she was alive. Even her mouth. She was smiling. Did you see that?¡± ¡°She weren¡¯t smiling, you fool,¡± John snapped. ¡°She¡¯s dead. It¡¯s not a woman in there. It¡¯s just a body. Sorry, Dimiti.¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright. Let¡¯s get the wagon loose.¡± He looked back at the coffin, a small frown playing across his old face. ¡°Poor lass.¡± ¡°She¡¯s in a better place,¡± George offered. ¡°Peter can pray for her tonight.¡± ¡°Sure he can,¡± John said, shivering. ¡°Now run off and get him out here. Let him pray over the wheel before anything else. I don¡¯t want to be stuck out here any longer than we have to.¡± Chapter Five They sat around the pitiful campfire and ate in silence. On previous nights, even when the weather had been this bad, they¡¯d entertained themselves with story and song. Had even allowed Peter to teach them a few hymns. But on this night, hardly a word was uttered. John nodded as Peter took his plate and set to wiping it clean. Behind them, the wagon remained where it was. They¡¯d been unable to move it more than a few turns before it had sunk again. The beasts were unhitched and rested now beneath a few trees. One, bolder than the others, shifted closer to the fire and slumped with its head near George¡¯s hip. Usually, George would reach out and pat the shaggy head. Not this night. The three men who¡¯d seen her glanced often to the coffin. Soft pitter of rain bouncing off the lacquered lid. A constant reminder of its presence even when they weren¡¯t looking at it. Not that they needed one. When they finally moved to their bedrolls inside one of the wagons, they still didn¡¯t speak. They slid beneath their blankets and waited for sleep. After a long day, it should have come easy. Exhaustion should have triggered their bodies into slumber. Instead, it was a wrestle against thoughts which frightened them. Frightened because they didn¡¯t know where they came from. Never had they entertained private fantasies of corpses and moonlight. Revulsion gnawed at their guts, but thoughts continued to rot and fester in their minds. Ashamed, they pleaded to their inner voice to quiet. To submit to sleep. And to a new day which would hopefully allow haunted minds a chance to purge the evil urges. John¡¯s dreams were nightmare when they came. A chain of forbidden desire and rabid violence. He had to run. Had to fight. Was pursued by something which heaved and struggled against him. Claws flashing from the shadows. Horrific screams cut into his mind. And, beneath the screaming, the soft laughter of a woman. Laughter which curdled his belly and left him shaking inside with terror and a burning need to please the woman in white who pursued him. Pale hand. Porcelain pale. Sharp fingers reached for his face and brushed against cheek. So cold. Frozen like Winter¡¯s hardest ice. Her purring voice coiled around his brain like a snake. Whispering promises. Promises he knew God would never forgive him for listening to. But he couldn¡¯t help it. Couldn¡¯t stop his hand from reaching for hers. He woke with a rush, bolt upright. Cold forehead and hot sweat reflecting the conflicted emotions which had driven his dreams to their extreme conclusion. He panted. Shuddered. Wiped his face with the corner of his blanket and waited for the shudders to cease before looking around to see if he¡¯d disturbed the others. Expected them to be watching with big grins on their faces. Instead, George muttered in his sleep and Peter tossed and turned in silence. ¡°Dimiti?¡± The man¡¯s bedroll was empty. ¡°Shit.¡± John eased himself from the wagon, moving as quietly as he could. He was distantly pleased to notice the rain had stopped at last. Wind still shook the trees, bristling their wet leaves and keeping the forest hush. The campfire was a sodden mound of ash drowning in mud. The oxen had shifted back to the road, away from the trees. They weren¡¯t sleeping. Instead, they peered nervously into the dark, bovine eyes fixed on where the crates and coffin were stacked. Where Dimiti stood, arms rigid at his sides. Fingers loose. Dangling. Almost lifeless. Staring. Staring like a heartsick boy at the coffin¡¯s open lid. Where the woman in white lay with pale white arms across her breasts. White dress gleaming so bright in captured moonlight that it appeared to glow. ¡°Dimiti?¡± John shivered as he came up beside the old man. Put his hand on Dimiti¡¯s shoulder. Smell of crisp night air. ¡°Are you alright, mate?¡± Slow nod. ¡°I¡¯m fine, John.¡± ¡°Why¡¯d you open it up again? It¡¯s not her, you know. Not your wife. You ought to close it.¡± Shake of head. ¡°I didn¡¯t, John.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t, what?¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°Didn¡¯t open it.¡± Dread crawled through John¡¯s heart as he asked what he didn¡¯t want to ask; ¡°Well, who did?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, John. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± The scream died in John¡¯s throat even before it began as the pale white face in front of him moved. Red lips curved into a predatory grin and her eyes snapped open to pin him with a ghastly stare. Beautiful, was all he could think. She was so terrifyingly beautiful. She climbed from the coffin on limbs which moved like a hunting spider. ¡°John.¡± She purred his name, and a warm thrill riddled down his spine. ¡°Would you really do those things to me? Your dreams were quite sinful, weren¡¯t they? What would your God think of them? I know mine would be very pleased.¡± Managed to squeak a strangled plea; ¡°Forgive me!¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing to forgive, silly. But if you really mean it, you could do something for me. It¡¯s just a little thing. It would make me so very happy. Would you like to make me happy, John?¡± The nod came quicker than he could think. ¡°Yes, Lady. I¡¯d do anything for you. Anything you want.¡± ¡°Of course you would. I want you to go to the other wagons and untie my sisters. Hurry, John. You must hurry.¡± He shuffled away, brain humming within its seat. Eyes misted and wet. He staggered towards the wagon. Whimpering, he struggled against the ropes and tugged at the knots with the frenzy of a man desperate to fulfil a desire which went beyond the mere carnal and entered a realm of the mystic. Fingers, brittle with cold, worked hard to break the knots. He whimpered with frustration as they resisted. ¡°John?¡± Peter called from the wagon, leaning off the edge. Blinking away the remnants of his own cursed dreams. ¡°What¡¯re you doing, John?¡± John didn¡¯t answer. Couldn¡¯t. His throat was constricted and dry. Couldn¡¯t even work enough moisture to spit. Didn¡¯t look at Peter. His eyes focussed on the knots with a determined glare. Then grinned as one came loose. He glanced over his shoulder to where the woman in white stood beside Dimiti and felt a flash of jealousy. Maybe if he hurried with the knots, she¡¯d stand near him instead. Stand so close his heart might break. Renewed vigour sent him rushing to the next rope. But Peter blocked his way. Reached for John¡¯s hand. ¡°John? Stop-¡± The punch sent Peter wheeling into the mud. He landed with a splash and groan, but John didn¡¯t pause. Peter had tried slowing him down! Couldn¡¯t the fool understand? He had to please the Lady. Had to get the ropes free. He wrenched hard. Fingers darting into the knot and pulling. Moan escaped lips. He was going too slow. Cursed old hands. Gnarled hands. Already strained and sore. Peter looked up, rubbing his chin. And finally saw her. Opened his mouth. Screamed; ¡°Demon!¡± His hand dove into his shirt, hunting for his crucifix. It was George who hit him again. From behind. With a lump of wood. Then dropped his makeshift weapon in the mud beside the dying man before shambling toward her, face alight with awe. ¡°My Lady,¡± he murmured. ¡°My Lady, I¡¯ll do anything for you.¡± John wept. The knots were too tight! They wouldn¡¯t give. He looked over his shoulder. George was getting close to her. She was reaching for him. Her pale fingers touched his. ¡°No,¡± he growled. ¡°Touch me, Lady. Touch me instead.¡± He found strength from somewhere inhumanly deep. The knot gave and the rope slithered free. It dropped like a dead adder at his feet. ¡°Lady,¡± he called. Turned and staggered toward her. ¡°Lady, I¡¯ve done it. Done what you asked. Please, Lady¡­¡± He couldn¡¯t bear to put it into words. And, by the smile which crawled across her unearthly face, knew he didn¡¯t need to. ¡°You did very good, John. I¡¯m very pleased.¡± Pride made him drop onto his knees in front of her. He stared up at her like a hound. Adoration making his eyes bulge. Begging for her attention. Pale hand. Porcelain hand. Finally reached out and touched his cheek. Just like in the dream, it was icy cold. So cold he sucked a breath and exhaled mist. The cold went right through bone. He contorted his body as the absolute pleasure of her frozen touch hit like lightning. Hair standing on end, he lifted his chin and saw her lips part. Saw the fangs. ¡°Vasilja,¡± a voice called. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t my fault, Hailwic. You told them not to touch our coffins, didn¡¯t you? You told them that?¡± ¡°I did.¡± ¡°Well, they obviously didn¡¯t want to listen to you. They broke mine. Look at it. I¡¯ll need a very good carpenter to fix it again. And there aren¡¯t many of them out here, are there? I¡¯m very cross right now.¡± Another voice, cruel and youthful. Like slivered glass. ¡°I want to bite them. But I don¡¯t know which to bite first.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s easy, Senka. This dull-looking young man here is for you.¡± She rubbed her fingers through George¡¯s hair. ¡°This is George. Look at him. He has eyes just like one of those cows.¡± ¡°They¡¯re oxen,¡± Senka said. She hovered above the mud. Pale white dress falling below her feet ¡°Not cows.¡± ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t to know. I was never a milkmaid.¡± ¡°I was not a milkmaid!¡± Senka flew across the mud, rearing in front of Vasilja. Whipped to a halt, eyes glowering bright. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you keep saying that!¡± ¡°Which one is mine?¡± Hailwic floated down from her wagon. Looking from man to man. ¡°They all look miserable.¡± ¡°You can have the one on the ground. His name is Peter. He has a crucifix. You always like killing the holy boys.¡± ¡°What about me? I want one with a crucifix.¡± Senka snatched at George and spun him around. Quick fingers delving into his pockets. ¡°You have one, don¡¯t you? You must have one, George. Where¡¯s your crucifix? Did you leave it in your other coat? Go get it.¡± The young man looked to Vasilja, who nodded. ¡°Answer her, George. She asked you a question. It¡¯s rude not to answer.¡± ¡°Please, Miss, I don¡¯t have one, Miss. My pa never believed in the Jesus.¡± Senka tossed him aside. ¡°It¡¯s not fair, Vasilja. I want one with a crucifix.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m afraid you can¡¯t. Not just yet. There was only one of them here. And Hailwic has him now. Besides, I don¡¯t think you want that one anyway. George hit him a little too hard on the head, I think. He¡¯s not going to wake up again. He¡¯ll be very boring for you, but Hailwic won¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°George hit him too hard?¡± Senka rounded on the young man, who shrank back into the mud with a squeak. ¡°So, it¡¯s his fault I can¡¯t have the one with the crucifix?¡± ¡°Well, you can look at it that way if it makes you feel any better.¡± ¡°I want to bite you, George.¡± Peter stirred. Legs skidded in the mud as he looked up into Hailwic¡¯s calm gaze. Sucked a breath. And screamed. The vampire didn¡¯t seem to notice. Planted one hand on his forehead and the other on his shoulder. Pinning him to the muddy ground as he thrashed and tried to work himself free. She raised her head. Looked to the dark clouds above. Then brought her mouth down with a wolfish snap, tearing a hole in the side of his throat. Pulled with savage fangs, stripping back skin. Pushed his head down into the mud and wrapped her lips around the gaping wound. Worked her fangs deeper into flesh. Chewing. Back arching as she found the fountain of his life within. And drank. Peter¡¯s scream trailed into a wet gurgle. Senka watched Hailwic and sighed. ¡°I wanted to bite him.¡± ¡°You still have George.¡± ¡°But that leaves two for you. That¡¯s still not fair.¡± ¡°Oh, Dimiti isn¡¯t for me. Someone needs to keep the wagons moving. And that¡¯s you, isn¡¯t it, Dimiti? You can get us to Vienna, can¡¯t you? And then to Munich? You¡¯ll look after our coffins from now on and you¡¯ll guard us when we sleep. Won¡¯t you?¡± She ran slender white fingers across the old man¡¯s bristled jaw. And he nodded. ¡°I will, Lady. I¡¯ll protect you with my life.¡± ¡°You see, Senka? We need Dimiti.¡± ¡°Then, I can bite George? He¡¯s all mine? I mean, I won¡¯t have to share him or anything?¡± ¡°He¡¯s all yours, Senka. I said so, didn¡¯t I?¡± Finally satisfied, Senka¡¯s smile grew wide and impish. ¡°Thank you, Vasilja!¡± George whined like a frightened dog as the vampire turned. She danced on air and snatched his collar. Dragged him to his feet and hovered in front of him. Pushed her face close and breathed; ¡°Hit me, George. Hit me with all your strength.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t, Miss!¡± Senka frowned. ¡°Of course you can''t. I¡¯m right here in front of you.¡± Chapter Six George blinked, mouth numb with fear. ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t hit you, Miss. It wouldn¡¯t be right. Why, you¡¯re a lady! A man should never hit a lady¡­¡± Her hand lashed, slapping hard across face. Long nails raked across nose, drawing thick red lines. She twirled in front of him, a mad banshee wail let loose as she slapped him again. Again. And again. He staggered back each time until pressed against a dead tree trunk. Unable to retreat any further. Blood slick down cheeks. Wild eyes rimmed white with terror. She pressed against him. Pushing him hard against rough bark. ¡°Hit me, George.¡± Pleading, her voice was almost a childish whine. ¡°Please, Miss¡­¡± Hissed; ¡°Fight!¡± A mad sob tore loose as his arm lashed out on its own. A backhanded blow which connected across the side of her mouth and rocked her head back. Back so far, her eyes aimed to the sky where a flash of lightning peeled back the dark underbelly of cloud across the horizon. Thunder quickly followed. Thunder which rolled in the spaces between her insane peals of laughter as she crashed against him. Eyes, ablaze with furious desire. Glorious red lips wide and open. Fangs drooling blood. Her own blood from the cut inside her cheek. A cut he¡¯d inflicted. He cowered against the tree, curled arms up to protect himself. ¡°Miss,¡± he cried. ¡°Forgive me, Miss. I didn¡¯t mean to!¡± She grabbed his coat. Pulled his mouth close to hers. Lust steaming her breath. Moaning against his lips; ¡°Do it again.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± Wracking sobs whipped him harder than a lash. ¡°Please don¡¯t make me. Don¡¯t make me do it.¡± ¡°You must fight me, George.¡± Snarling. A cat toying with its mouse. ¡°You must!¡± He made a half-hearted attempt to knock her off him. The vampire¡¯s hands seized his wrists and he wrestled, crazed mind unable to comprehend the torn emotion of not wanting to hurt her and the feeling of being completely and utterly overwhelmed by her inhuman strength. Locked in her grip, he pulled. Harder. Jerked his weight to break free. Couldn¡¯t. Her tongue wet lips. Smeared red which swirled inside her mouth and drooled down off chin. She released one hand and raked her nails across his face. Down the side of his neck. Not deep, but enough to peel more skin and let blood flow. Head darted in. Her tongue licked the rough skin beneath his jaw and she threw herself back in ecstasy as his blood burned into her mouth. ¡°George,¡± she growled, disappointment clear in her tone. Body undulating in a way which made him want to be sick. ¡°George, if you don¡¯t fight me, I will tear you into small pieces. You believe me, don¡¯t you? You believe I¡¯ll do it?¡± The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I believe you, Miss.¡± And he did. In the corners of her eyes, he saw the hatred there. The contempt for his weakness. Tears blurred his vision as he understood there was no chance he would survive the night. None at all. He froze in front of her. And she pounced as lightning flashed again. She was too fast for him to block. Her small fists beat at his chest. Unexpected strength pounding all air from his lungs. He couldn¡¯t breathe. She came in quick, head snapping toward his cheek. Instinctively, he jerked his head aside, and her fangs latched onto his ear. Just above the lobe. Shook her head. Like a dog with a bone. Tore. He felt his ear rip. Felt cartilage snap and break. Felt skin stretch. Could feel the swollen heat as his blood spat loose. Agony washed his brain. Cleansed the fear. And turned it into desperation. He had to escape. Had to get away. She was going to kill him. Vasilja¡¯s fog loosened its grip as the need for survival pulsed through his body. And his fist came up without thinking. Cracked flush against Senka¡¯s chin. His other ploughed into her chest, above her breast. Sent her cartwheeling backward. Both blows drew surprised yelps from her fanged mouth. ¡°What in God¡¯s name are you?¡± Clutching at his ear, he felt blood flowing quick. Hot between his fingers. Swelling flesh. Pain. Senka grinned at him, fangs bright and sharp. Eyes wicked. ¡°That¡¯s it, George. Fight!¡± She flung herself at him again. A rabid ball of tooth and nail. And he used fist and foot. Kicking. Punching. Shoving himself away. Felt a spark of hope as air whistled between them. Released! Headed toward the forest. Running. Snow kicking up as he ran. Could hear her laughter behind him. Hear her breath soiling the air. Horror beat holes in his heart as he ran. He could remember seeing a farm not far from the road. It had looked deserted. Maybe he could break inside. Maybe he could hide in there. Or find a weapon. Something he could use to keep her away. ¡°George,¡± she called. ¡°Don¡¯t run, George. Stand and fight. Fight me. I¡¯m just a girl, remember? Just a girl. You can beat me, George. You want to beat me, don¡¯t you? I know you do. You want to push me to the ground, George. Push me there and hold me down. You want to taste me. Why are you running? I don¡¯t want you to run. I want you to fight me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not a girl at all,¡± he flung back at her. ¡°I know what you are! You¡¯re a vampire!¡± He felt a flash of pain as her claws cut through his coat and into his back. Screaming, he launched himself harder through the twisting path of trees. It was hard to see. There was such little light. His eyes were as wide as they could ever be, but it was dark. Too dark. Hit an overhanging branch. It cracked across his forehead. Knocked him down. He had to scramble to make it to his feet. Managed just as she ploughed into him from behind. They tumbled together, locked inside her cruel embrace. The vampire¡¯s clawed hands drew him close. Legs wrapped around his torso. Gripping him. He thrashed as hard as he could but couldn¡¯t get free. Shoving at her with everything he had, but she only pulled him closer until her mouth was against his cheek. Her wet tongue flicked out. Tasting him. She rolled him through mud until he was on top of her. Pulling his head down in a perverted semblance of a lover¡¯s embrace. His face buried in the crook of her shoulder. Her tongue lapping at his ravaged ear. He could hear each wet rasp. Feel her breath. Cold against the ruined skin. He struggled to push her away. Tried to lift himself off her body. But her grip was beyond mortal strength to resist. As he was about to give up, he felt a sharp pain and then his arm popped free of her embrace. He choked a cry of hope. Raised it high, fist clenched. Satisfied of her demonic origin. Content to pound her face. Pound it and pound it until there was nothing left of her skull. His fist came down. Her arm flashed, fingers wrapping mercilessly around his wrist. Holding him there. Frozen in the motion of attack. ¡°It¡¯s too late, George,¡± she said. Softly now. So soft it seemed she was someone else. ¡°You had your chance. I gave you that. And you disappointed me. Look at you. You¡¯re weak. You¡¯re pathetic. And I¡¯m going to do to you what you deserve. I¡¯m going to tear you apart, George. I¡¯m going to bite you. Bite you so deep. I will taste every last drop of your blood. It¡¯s mine now. All of it. I don¡¯t have to share you. Not with Hailwic. Not with Vasilja. You¡¯re mine. All mine.¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t. Please, Miss. Let me live.¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright, George.¡± Fangs flashed by lightning. ¡°You can scream now if you want. At least you do that well enough.¡± He did. He screamed. And screamed. Even as she began stripping the cloth so she could bite into his chest. Bite into his shoulder. Even as she tore his arm from its socket. Wet crunch of bone, pop of cartilage, and slippery tear of meat combining into one long awful crunch. As she drilled clawed fingers into his belly and ripped him open. He screamed. Until there was nothing left of him to scream. Chapter Seven John watched Hailwic¡¯s jaws work on Peter¡¯s throat. He wanted to cross himself as he¡¯d been taught to do to ward off evil. But his arms wouldn¡¯t move. They felt like dead weights at his side. Hailwic, blonde hair matted with mud. Face streaked with Peter¡¯s fountaining blood. Stared back at him across the twitching corpse. Her eyes blank and bereft of expression. Like a snake, he thought. A reptile¡¯s cold unfeeling gaze. As she drained the life from a boy who¡¯d never harmed a single living thing for as long as John could remember. He could feel Vasilja floating behind him, her arms around his neck. Hands draping his sternum but not quite touching skin. She¡¯d taken his coat and thrown it away. Thrown the rest of his clothes into the wagon. Left him to shiver naked in the cold. He knew he should be afraid. Knew he should be screaming. He could hear George screaming from somewhere in the forest. Screaming like the crazy one was tearing him apart. And a distant part of him knew that¡¯s exactly what she was doing. Vasilja rested her head on top of his and sighed. ¡°Senka¡¯s having so much fun,¡± she whispered. ¡°Don¡¯t you think, John? Do you think she¡¯s enjoying herself with your friend? With George?¡± John swallowed. A dry swallow. Nodded. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± She stroked his cheek, Her fingers seeming to feel each bristle one by one. ¡°She¡¯s very impulsive, you know. She hasn¡¯t got much patience. I don¡¯t think it will be long before George stops screaming. He didn¡¯t look like he was very strong, and she does need someone strong to keep her interest.¡± Pop of something pulled from its socket. Sharp crack. Splinter of bone. Wet tear of flesh. Arm? He shuddered at the thought. Or leg. Visions of unholy butchery danced through his mind on vivid sprays of crimson blood. He heaved, wanting to vomit. But Vasilja held him upright. ¡°Now, John. Be calm. Be still. There¡¯s no need to feel anything at all for your friend, is there? I know you were jealous of him anyway, weren¡¯t you? He was getting between us, wasn¡¯t he? Between you and I?¡± He remembered the flash of hate he¡¯d felt. And that hate seemed to burn inside his chest again. A bright fire which made him draw his own lips into a snarl. ¡°I would¡¯ve killed him!¡± ¡°Well. Now he¡¯s dead. And that means there¡¯s more time for us to play together, isn¡¯t there?¡± There was a fog threading his mind. He could feel it thickening. Haunting him. He knew it shouldn¡¯t be there. Knew he should fight it. But her voice was honey. And she was so beautiful. He wanted to turn around. Look at her. Wanted it more than anything in the world. Hailwic¡¯s baleful stare remained on him. Unblinking. He nodded. ¡°I¡¯m yours, Lady.¡± ¡°Are you?¡± Purring of a giant cat. ¡°Are you really, John? What is it you want? Do you want to please me? Is that what you want?¡± Strangled gasp; ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°I like when people want to please me, John.¡± She slid her arms free and he felt an aching sense of loss. But then she drifted like smoke, sliding in front of him. Bright red lips curving perfection. His heart hammered its crippled rhythm and he wanted to fling himself at her. Wrap his arms around and squeeze. Squeeze himself into her. If only she¡¯d tell him to do so, he¡¯d do it. Without hesitation. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth as her eyes slid up and down his naked body. Mocking eyes shamed him deep as she said; ¡°Well, I can see you at least want to please yourself.¡± Then she turned away and glided to where Hailwic lay across Peter. The blonde vampire watched Vasilja¡¯s approach the same way a wolf might watch its rival. Hailwic took another long leeching inhale and opened her jaws. Lifted her head, drooling thick lines of red from her chin as Vasilja smiled. ¡°How does he taste, Hailwic?¡± Hailwic wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her fist. ¡°It will do until we reach Vienna.¡± Sound of flesh striking flesh. Both vampires turned to the sound. Vasilja sighed. ¡°It¡¯s probably a good thing they broke my coffin. She was becoming unbearable. She really needed to bite someone, and we haven¡¯t been through any decent villages in at least a week.¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°What are you doing with these two?¡± ¡°John and Dimiti? Well, I haven¡¯t finished with John. I think it¡¯s only fair that I get to bite someone, too, isn¡¯t it?¡± Hailwic grunted. ¡°You¡¯re wasting time, then.¡± ¡°Am I? I like to think I have patience, sister. I sometimes think I¡¯m the only one who does.¡± John didn¡¯t understand what they were saying. Knew they were talking about him, though. His cheeks flushed red and he endured Hailwic¡¯s open stare. Even when she dipped her head to lick at Peter¡¯s torn throat one more time. ¡°One of your pets should hitch the wagons, Vasilja,¡± she said. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t stay here for too long. If the locals find the bodies, they¡¯ll know what¡¯s happened.¡± ¡°They won¡¯t find anything. Dimiti will make sure of it. Won¡¯t you, Dimiti?¡± She reached a hand to the old man, who stumbled through the mud and took it. ¡°You¡¯ll bury the bodies, won¡¯t you? And then hitch the wagons?¡± Jealous rage made John let out a canine growl as Vasilja wound her fingers through Dimiti¡¯s own. Like a lover. ¡°But they¡¯re my wagons,¡± he managed to rasp. ¡°Mine. I can serve you better than he can. I¡¯m younger, ain¡¯t I? I¡¯m younger, Lady. I can give you more!¡± ¡°More?¡± She turned the word thoughtfully across her tongue. ¡°I know very well what you¡¯d like to give me, John. And I have to say it doesn¡¯t interest me even a little bit. Besides, Dimiti is much more experienced with these roads. Aren¡¯t you, Dimiti?¡± ¡°Yes, Lady,¡± the old man said. Tone empty and void of emotion. ¡°I know every inch. I¡¯ve been travelling since I was born. My ma and pa were Travelers, you see. We have Romani in our blood. I was bonded to the road. It¡¯s why John hired me.¡± ¡°But he¡¯s right about one thing, Dimiti. You are old. You even have wrinkles. I don¡¯t really like wrinkles on a man. They remind me of what it¡¯s like to age. And I never want to grow old. Do you know how old I am, Dimiti?¡± ¡°No, Lady.¡± ¡°I am over three hundred years. Would you believe that?¡± ¡°No!¡± Fierce denial made the old man¡¯s eyes flash with emotions he¡¯d been missing. ¡°That can¡¯t be! Why, you look so young. And too beautiful. You can¡¯t be that.¡± She reached out and cupped his rugged face in both hands. Giggled. ¡°You¡¯re a precious man, Dimiti. Very precious. Now, I need you to do something special for me. Would you?¡± ¡°Of course. You know I¡¯ll do whatever you ask.¡± ¡°I know.¡± She lifted her wrist closer to his mouth. Touched a sharp nail to skin and drew a thin line of red. Ignored his gasp and pressed it closer toward his mouth. ¡°I want you to drink a little bit of my blood. Not too much. I¡¯ll tell you when to stop and then you must stop. Do you understand?¡± John shook with anger. Wanted to rampage across the mud and fling the old man down. Strangle him with bare hands. Beat him to the ground. Rip his face off. Tear his head from his neck. Dimiti nodded. Licked his lips and moved closer to the cut. Paused just above. Looked at her. A puppy to its mistress. She nodded. ¡°Go on, Dimiti. You can do it. It¡¯s not very hard at all. And it will make you feel so much better about everything. I promise.¡± He drank. And, from the mountains, thunder called to the heavens to witness. But only the Devil was watching. Of this, John knew for certain. His addled mind could almost smell the rot of brimstone and sin. ¡°Lady¡­¡± John closed his eyes. He couldn¡¯t bear to see Dimiti¡¯s lips touching her perfect skin. She wasn¡¯t meant to be touched by folk like Dimiti. His kind were hardly better than dogs. But John? His family was rich. Sure, they weren¡¯t all rich right now. His uncle had most of the fortune held in his greedy fingers. But John would be rich again someday. Besides this, his great-grandfather had been of noble blood. A Duke, it was said. In every way, he was a better man than Dimiti. Every single way. It should have been him standing there kissing her arm. The growl in his throat continued. When he opened his eyes, Dimiti was standing apart, fingers to his mouth. Eyes shining. Staring at Vasilja with reverence and awe. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you,¡± John snarled between teeth. ¡°Fucking kill you. You don¡¯t deserve her. You¡¯re just a fucking gypsy. You¡¯re filth. Slime.¡± But Dimiti wasn¡¯t listening. The old man swayed, mesmerized. Vasilja floated toward John, turning slightly as she approached. Reached back to Dimiti and crooked a slender finger at the old man. ¡°Dimiti? Would you come here, please?¡± ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± Voice firmer. Something in him had changed. John could see it in the way the old man walked. He¡¯d always had the hint of a limp. And had often kept a hand to his hip. It ached more in Winter, Dimiti had told him. But now he walked with the easy stride of a youth. The lines across leathered cheeks looked shallow. Less defined. And his eyes had lost the smoky haze of a man who¡¯d seen too much. They were wider now. More open than they¡¯d been before. Bright and alert. What gift had she given him? He didn¡¯t deserve it. Fury belted John across the gut. ¡°Kill you, Dimiti,¡± John spat. He writhed, pulling at invisible chains which kept him locked in place. ¡°Do you like the gift I¡¯ve given you, Dimiti? Does it make you happy?¡± ¡°Aye, I feel young. Like I was just born all over again. I¡¯ve had this awful pain in my shoulder this past few days. And it¡¯s gone. My knee. It bends proper. Even my hip doesn¡¯t hurt anymore.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be able to hitch the wagons on your own, now. And hopefully you can move the coffin back without breaking it this time.¡± ¡°Aye, I¡¯ll do my best, Lady. Really, I will.¡± Looked to where the coffin lay open. Eager to please. ¡°You want me to shift it up now?¡± ¡°No, Dimiti. Not yet. First I want you to help me kill John.¡± John struggled to get loose. Suddenly frantic. His eyes captured hers and he almost howled. ¡°But, Lady! I¡¯m better than he is. And they¡¯re my wagons. Mine! I paid for them. You can¡¯t take them. You can¡¯t do this to me, Lady. Please, I beg you. I can serve you better than he can. Serve you better than anyone. And I want to. I want to serve you. Can¡¯t you see?¡± ¡°Dimiti? He¡¯s talking an awful lot.¡± ¡°Aye, Lady. He always was one for talk.¡± ¡°You have a knife, don¡¯t you?¡± The old man nodded. ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°Is it sharp? Do you keep it sharp?¡± ¡°Aye. It¡¯s sharp alright. A knife is no good to a man if it¡¯s got a dull edge.¡± ¡°Then I want you to use it. I want you to cut out John¡¯s tongue.¡± Dimiti whipped the knife free of its sheath on his hip. Looked from the steel to the terrified eyes of his friend. Hesitated. ¡°Like, all the way out, or just a little?¡± Vasilja floated up behind Dimiti and wrapped her arms around his chest. Pressed her cheek against the back of his shoulder and purred. ¡°You know, Dimiti. I always said if you are going to do a job, you ought to do it properly. Don¡¯t you agree?¡± ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± Dimiti¡¯s gnarled old hands grabbed hold of John¡¯s jaw. Firm. No hesitation at all. ¡°No,¡± John croaked. Tried to shake his head loose. Couldn¡¯t. ¡°Dimiti. Please don¡¯t do this.¡± ¡°Best you stay still, John. It¡¯ll be a lot easier on you if you stay still.¡± He opened his mouth to scream, but Vasilja reached out across Dimiti and touched a fingertip to his lips. The frozen touch stole his breath and left him silent. ¡°I thought you said you wanted to please me, John. That¡¯s what you said, wasn¡¯t it? Did you lie to me?¡± ¡°No! I¡¯d never lie to you, Lady.¡± ¡°Then, please me. Let Dimiti remove your tongue.¡± John felt the rush of horror slide through his body like a gelatinous ghost. Shudders shook his spine. As with terror shrieking inside his skull, he opened his mouth. Stuck out his tongue. And did little more than sob as Dimiti sawed it free. Blood gushed across the old man¡¯s hands. Vasilja¡¯s eyes narrowed into tight little slits as she moved around the old man¡¯s working arms. Her hands pressed lightly against John¡¯s bare chest. Sliding through rough patches of hair and rivers of blood now pouring down from his mouth. She started at his belly and worked her way up, tongue scooping his blood and swirling it between her teeth. Swallow. Until she came to his chin. His mouth. Which she kissed, melting his fear into a lassitude of acceptance and relief. A kiss he¡¯d waited so long to receive. She withdrew a little, eyes burning like coal embers. Her tongue wiped her lips. Clean. Pure. She sucked a small breath. ¡°You see, John? It¡¯s so much better for you if you please me.¡± He nodded. Couldn¡¯t say anything. His mouth was on fire. Agony kept his jaw hanging loose. She was killing him. He knew that. And he¡¯d never been more satisfied than when her mouth reached for his neck. And then never more horrified as her fangs bit deep. His final scream was that of an animal. Guttural and wet. It didn¡¯t last long. Chapter Eight Sound of shovel biting wet dirt. Scrape. Whoosh. Thud as another load spattered on the heap. The hole was getting bigger. Vasilja aimed a proud smile to where the old man worked. ¡°I want to bite him,¡± Senka said petulantly. Perched on top of her wagon like a gargoyle. White dress trailing past muddy feet. George¡¯s battered hat askew across her head. ¡°You want to bite everyone.¡± ¡°So?¡± Senka looked confused. ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Well, yes. But I don¡¯t go around telling everyone. That sort of thing makes people feel uncomfortable, Senka. And when they¡¯re uncomfortable, it¡¯s harder to control them. Especially in the beginning.¡± ¡°Is that why I can¡¯t make them do what I want like you do? Because I make them uncomfortable?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s more to it than that.¡± Vasilja rubbed at her temples. ¡°We all do things very differently. You shouldn¡¯t worry. Your power will come to you in time.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been years, and I can¡¯t do anything special.¡± Looked down at her bloodstained nails. ¡°I tried to make George do what I want. But he wouldn¡¯t let me.¡± ¡°He was afraid of you. It doesn¡¯t work when they¡¯re too afraid of you. It¡¯s about how you approach them. Think of them like this ox of yours. You wouldn¡¯t run up to it and scream in its ear if you wanted it to pull a plough or something, would you?¡± ¡°I might.¡± ¡°Well, I suppose you would. But you do know what I mean?¡± ¡°I think so.¡± Sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get it right.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve forgotten what it means to be a woman, Senka. That¡¯s all.¡± ¡°And there¡¯s nothing wrong with that,¡± Hailwic said. She sat on the edge of her coffin, legs dangling. Looking to the mountains. ¡°It¡¯s good to embrace what we¡¯ve become. Then we never think of looking back. Of trying to return to what we were. We should always remember what we are.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so depressing, Hailwic. It¡¯s horrible when you get like that. Can¡¯t you at least be a little cheerful? We¡¯re on the road. Vienna isn¡¯t very far away. Dimiti said he could get us there very quickly. We might even be there by end of the week.¡± Hailwic turned her gaze to Vasilja. Looked like she was about to say something spiteful. But shook her head as she changed her mind. Let out a small sigh instead. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Vasilja. Whenever we¡¯re out like this, I also can¡¯t help but remember my life from before. Before he found me.¡± ¡°You remember when you were a bandit?¡± Senka flew into the air, thrilled with excitement. It was rare for Hailwic to open up about her past. Eyes wide and bright, she clapped her hands. ¡°Would you tell me all about it, Hailwic? Please? What was it like? Did you kill lots of people?¡± ¡°I suppose we did.¡± Hailwic held out her arm and made a fist around an invisible sword. ¡°We weren¡¯t bandits, though some may have called us so. We were a band of mercenaries. We¡¯d fight for coin. And it didn¡¯t matter to us who was paying. I remember once fighting for a duke who was in line for the throne. The king had just died, so the duke was looking to take the crown. He hired us to fight with him against his biggest rival. We fought. It was a battle which still makes me proud. My fighters fought like demons despite being outnumbered ten to one. The rival put down his weapons. Swore fealty. And everyone went to crown the duke. Along the way, we were told we wouldn¡¯t be needed anymore. And then his rival offered us gold to kill the duke in his tent.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Senka hovered in front of Hailwic. Eyes wide like a child listening to stories. ¡°Did you do it? Did you kill him? The duke? In his tent?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Hailwic smiled patiently, touched by the younger vampire¡¯s enthusiasm. ¡°We were paid to. The new king was much more generous.¡± ¡°That¡¯s amazing, Hailwic. I can¡¯t believe you did those things. It¡¯s so hard to imagine. I wish I¡¯d had adventures like that. Even just once.¡± ¡°I bet that felt very free, Hailwic,¡± Vasilja said. She hovered between the wagons, arms wide in the wind. ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s nice to be free?¡± ¡°Of course it is. And don¡¯t think you can play with me like I¡¯m one of these simple human boys. My mind isn¡¯t something you can manipulate.¡± ¡°What a thing to say, Hailwic. I never thought it was.¡± ¡°I know you don¡¯t want to find Dracula straight away. I know very well you¡¯re trying to traipse us around Europe first.¡± Hailwic¡¯s scowl twisted into a sigh. ¡°And I won¡¯t stop you just yet. Have your fun, Vasilja. Enjoy it while you can. But remember what we are. And why we¡¯re bound to him.¡± ¡°I always remember. ¡°Our strength is in our bond,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°You¡¯d do well to remember that. I don¡¯t deny I miss my old life sometimes. I miss the fighting most of all. But you should always remember Elizabeth. How mad she was? That¡¯s what happens when we leave. When we try to break the bond. When we turn from the Bargain. We are stronger together. Apart, we are weak. It is harder to feed. Harder to build the funds to keep our lairs. Harder to travel.¡± Vasilja nodded. ¡°The world is changing, though. There are steamships, which travel faster than the ships we knew. And I keep telling you about trains, remember? You can go a great distance on trains. And very fast, too. All this walking in the mud and spending weeks on the back of wagons is a waste of time. If you¡¯d listened to me, we could have been in Munich by now. Maybe we could even be ahead of him. You know he¡¯d never take a train.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Their inventions will always be clever. But there are dangers to any way we travel. Tonight is proof of this. Imagine if we were on a train filled with people? We need to be careful, Vasilja. And vigilant at all times.¡± ¡°I do know that, Hailwic. I¡¯m not a complete idiot.¡± ¡°No.¡± Her smile held a touch of warmth. ¡°Just a bit of one, sometimes.¡± Senka looked from one to the other. ¡°Why are you fighting?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not fighting, Senka,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°We¡¯re just disagreeing on a few small things while agreeing on the big things. It¡¯s more a conversation over which road to travel. I wish to take the long one so I can see the view. But Hailwic is a soldier, so she wants the one which will get her there with the most discomfort. She wants to scout the land. Map it out. Write a report. All those tiresome things.¡± ¡°I can scout,¡± Senka said. Rose higher in the air. ¡°I can see all sorts of things from up near the clouds. Farms. Houses. Towns. And I think there¡¯s even a big light across the hills. I¡¯m not sure. It¡¯s very fair away. But it¡¯s bright on the horizon and it¡¯s not the sun. Or the moon. I¡¯m not sure what it is.¡± ¡°That¡¯s Vienna,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°Really? But I can see it from here. We must be closer than I thought.¡± She drifted down again. ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡± ¡°It¡¯s very clean,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°Most of the time. The roads are paved and they¡¯re strict with horses. There are large apartment buildings. Like nothing you¡¯ve ever seen. And an opera. You can listen to violinists play almost every night. And there are cafes, too. Places where people gather to drink and talk. Mostly they talk about nonsense. Poetry is very popular. And art. But some prefer the new sciences. Engineering. Physics. I hope this time to hear more of that and a lot less of their vapid philosophy.¡± Senka screwed her face up. ¡°I don¡¯t like philosophy. It¡¯s boring.¡± ¡°But you like the people.¡± ¡°Only when I¡¯m biting them.¡± ¡°Honestly,¡± Vasilja threw her arms up and let out a heavy sigh. ¡°You should both have stayed home. Can¡¯t you at least pretend you want to see how much the world has changed? Can¡¯t you at least try to think about how wonderful a city can be? There¡¯s more to life than moping around a silly old castle or biting mindless little boys. You, Senka. You should be even more happy. Since you came to us, you¡¯ve never been able to travel to cities like this. Aren¡¯t you excited?¡± ¡°Of course I am!¡± ¡°Then stop complaining! Both of you are very bothersome sometimes. I go to a lot of effort, you know. I try hard to make you both happy, don¡¯t I? I try to find the perfect people to bite so you all get something enjoyable out of it. I want you to have a wonderful time. I can¡¯t bear the idea of spending the rest of eternity sitting in a creaky old chair in that damp old castle.¡± Exasperation made her whirl, arms wide. ¡°It drives me mad, Hailwic! Dracula gets to travel all the time. We should be able to travel, too! How else can we fulfil the Bargain?¡± ¡°I never said we shouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°But you make it sound like we should only travel when he wants us to. Or travel at his side like a set of pretty little ornaments. We¡¯re not ornaments. You were a fighter, once. Your name was feared. Now? Now, it¡¯s forgotten. No one remembers Hailwic.¡± Fierce lights burned in the back of her eyes. ¡°But they should. They should be terrified!¡± ¡°Dracula made the Bargain,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°And that binds us, too.¡± ¡°I honour it better than he ever did,¡± Vasilja hissed. ¡°Senka has just honoured it in ways he hasn¡¯t done for more than fifty years. When was the last time he fed with us? He feeds alone now. Always alone.¡± Hailwic looked away. ¡°He has his own ways.¡± ¡°Then we should have ours.¡± She held her hand out, stretching toward the other vampire. ¡°Hailwic, please. I want you to see the world which is changing right in front of our eyes. If we don¡¯t change with it, how can we achieve what we need to? We risk becoming useless. And what would happen then? The Devil never looks kindly on failure.¡± ¡°Dracula knows it¡¯s changing. Believe me, Vasilja. He knows all too well. And he¡¯s changing, too. He really is.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Calm now. Still holding out her hand. ¡°He is. And so will we. But are we changing in the same way? I believe in our Bargain, Hailwic. I believe that¡¯s the core of our power. You know Dracula more than we do. You know his thoughts better. He trusts you. Confides in you. If we are stronger together, as you said, then guide us.¡± Hailwic coiled through the air and gripped Vasilja¡¯s hand with both of hers. Looked deep into her eyes and spoke softly. ¡°You¡¯re my sister. You will always be that. Both of you.¡± ¡°Then let us go to Vienna together. As sisters! Let¡¯s see the lights. Let¡¯s listen to the music. Let¡¯s see the world which was meant to be ours. And then we should renew our commitment to the Bargain. Don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°And bite,¡± Senka said, thrusting herself between them both. Clasping their hands with her own. ¡°Please tell me we¡¯ll bite someone.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Hailwic said. Finally let the smile touch her eyes as she stared at the younger vampire. ¡°Of course, Senka. We¡¯ll bite Vienna into three glorious pieces. I promise.¡± ¡°At last,¡± Vasilja purred. ¡°Hailwic is with us.¡± Dimiti grunted behind them as he dumped Peter¡¯s corpse into the hole. Then turned to what was left of George. Didn¡¯t even flinch as his fingers touched cold flesh. His old hands scooped up and tossed dismembered chunks into the shallow grave. Eyes flat. Dark like coal. He began to whistle a low tune as he dragged John¡¯s naked and shredded corpse toward the grave. Looked up once to see the three vampires holding each other. Nodded to himself as though it was the most natural thing he¡¯d ever seen. Then used his boot to roll John into the ditch. Tapped his cap with his hand in lofty salute, then grabbed his shovel and began filling the hole Senka pursed her lips, feeling the man¡¯s eyes on her. Swiveled her head, but he was intent on his work now. ¡°I still want to bite him,¡± she said. Vicious, but softly so he wouldn¡¯t hear. ¡°Leave him be, Senka. Trust me, by the time we get to Vienna, you¡¯ll be spoiled for choice. Won¡¯t she, Hailwic?¡± ¡°I liked Vienna. But it was a long time ago.¡± The older vampire frowned at the mountains in thought. ¡°I don¡¯t recall there being any great variety.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure much has changed. The trains would bring people from all over the world.¡± ¡°Possibly.¡± Hailwic lifted her head to the wind. Smiled. ¡°There¡¯s still enough time before dawn.¡± ¡°Time?¡± Senka licked her lips eagerly, eyeing Dimiti. ¡°Are we going to bite him?¡± Hailwic shook her head. ¡°No. But there are caves not far away. Can¡¯t you feel them?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t feel anything,¡± Senka said. Pouting, she pulled away. ¡°It¡¯s not fair. Nothing at all.¡± ¡°Bats,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°There are so many of them. And they talk and talk.¡± ¡°What are they saying, Hailwic?¡± Vasilja¡¯s eyes shone brighter. ¡°I can¡¯t hear them. They won¡¯t talk to me.¡± ¡°Tell us,¡± Senka pleaded. ¡°Tell us what they¡¯re saying, Hailwic!¡± Hailwic closed her eyes, listening. ¡°There¡¯s a house. It¡¯s on the hill.¡± ¡°Which way?¡± Pointed. ¡°That way.¡± ¡°Are there people inside? Is that what you¡¯re trying to say?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Her mouth split into a red grin. Glint of fang and tooth between lush lips. ¡°And one of them is small.¡± Senka clapped her hands in delight. ¡°Does it wriggle?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll need to be quick. We¡¯ll need to be quiet.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll race you,¡± Senka cried, flashing into the sky. Vasilja took Hailwic¡¯s hand and pulled her after the younger vampire. ¡°Come on, Hailwic. If we don¡¯t beat her there, she¡¯ll have the thing all for herself. She¡¯s much too greedy. Senka! Senka, wait for us.¡± Dimiti watched them go. Rested for a moment on his shovel as he dug around inside his pockets for an old leather pouch. Pulled out his pipe and began smudging it with tobacco. ¡°So beautiful,¡± he murmured into the wind. ¡°Don¡¯t you think so, John? They¡¯re the most beautiful creatures a man ever hoped to see.¡± He chewed the pipe thoughtfully before snapping a match across his thumb. Warm light bathed his face as he lit the tobacco. Sucked a deep lungful of smoke. Sighed. Gripped the pipe tight in the corner of his mouth. And shoveled more dirt on John¡¯s silently screaming face. Chapter Nine Vienna. And Senka was drunk. Drunk on the gaslights which lined the streets. Drunk on the music which permeated the air from halls, cafes, and open windows. Drunk on the sheer number of bodies which pressed against her as she reeled down the path. Drunk on the heady rush of heartbeats which pulsed all around. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it,¡± she cried. Wide-eyed and dangerous, she flung her arms around as she twirled. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, Vasilja. Look at it! Look!¡± Vasilja snatched her by the shoulder and held her down as she tried to rise off the ground and float. ¡°Yes, Senka. I can see it. Please try not to draw too much attention. People are looking at us. We don¡¯t really want that.¡± A carriage clattered down the street. Varnished black wood polished to a fine finish. White horses clean and immaculate. The driver perched atop with his high hat and haughty expression. Senka pointed at the carriage. ¡°I want one of those. Hailwic, can we get one? It would be marvelous to travel in. It¡¯s not at all like the horrible peasant ones we¡¯ve got.¡± She almost flew at the carriage, but Vasilja again held her down. ¡°Senka, please. Do get hold of yourself. I know it¡¯s exciting, but it wouldn¡¯t do to have an entire city hunting us before we¡¯ve had time to enjoy it, would it? At least let me see a recital first.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± The younger vampire clasped Vasilja¡¯s hand tight. ¡°I won¡¯t do anything stupid. I promise. It¡¯s just so¡­ So beautiful. All of it. Wait. What¡¯s that that smell? What is it? It¡¯s divine.¡± Hailwic nodded to a corner building stuck in the mouth of a curving fork. ¡°It¡¯s coming from over there.¡± ¡°I keep telling you, it¡¯s coffee,¡± Vasilja said, keeping her firm grip on Senka. ¡°We¡¯ve passed at least three places just like it and each time I tell you what it is. And then you both forget.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go closer,¡± Senka said. ¡°I want to see it. If I see it, maybe I can remember what it is next time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure we¡¯re properly dressed for a caf¨¦, Senka. Let¡¯s get some clean clothes, first. Preferably new ones.¡± ¡°Clothes?¡± She tried to look over the heads of a small crowd of people. Pointed to a man leaning against a post. ¡°I want one of those. I want a hat just like it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think ladies wear hats like that. Have a look at the ladies, Senka. Their hats are very different.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to. They look strange. Look at their bottoms. They¡¯re so big. I don¡¯t have a bottom like that.¡± ¡°Bustles,¡± Vasilja sighed. Rolled her eyes. ¡°They¡¯re bustles. I¡¯ve told you that about fifteen times. Haven¡¯t you understood anything I¡¯ve said about modern fashion?¡± Senka shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t want to. I want that hat. And the coat. It looks very comfortable. And then I want to come here and see the coffee.¡± ¡°Of course. We¡¯ll come back, I promise.¡± ¡°Right here?¡± ¡°Absolutely.¡± Satisfied, Senka let herself be led further down winding streets. Most were lit with lamps, which she circled like a moth before Vasilja dragged onward. Dazzled, she smiled at any who paused to watch her. Grinned wider at their puzzled expression. Muttered often; ¡°I want to bite them.¡± Would have, except Vasilja refused to let go of Senka¡¯s hand. And Hailwic also kept close. Ready to snatch the younger vampire. Vasilja kept a rapid stream of conversation, trying to distract Senka from thoughts of biting. ¡°Stop smiling so wide. Keep your mouth closed. You can¡¯t show your fangs. People will think you¡¯re a dog. Or worse, they¡¯ll know what you are and run off very quick to find a stake. And you wouldn¡¯t want that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m faster than they are.¡± ¡°Only at night,¡± Hailwic said. The dressmaker Vasilja had chosen was open. Had agreed to remain so for an additional fee. And while Hailwic and Vasilja allowed themselves to be measured, Senka stood apart. Arms folded across her chest. Scowling. ¡°I don¡¯t want to dress like that,¡± she said. ¡°I want a hat. And a coat.¡± Vasilja sighed. ¡°Well, you can¡¯t. Everyone would look at you. It¡¯s been horrible enough having everyone look at us while you prance along like an excited cat. We don¡¯t need more attention.¡± ¡°Why do they look at me anyway? Let them mind their own business.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a city, Senka. No one minds their own business in a city. They just pretend to.¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Well, I think I should be allowed to wear whatever I want.¡± ¡°You can. Of course you can. Look at that dress over there. How can you not want to wear that? Isn¡¯t it pretty? And red is most definitely a good colour for you.¡± ¡°I like white.¡± ¡°White is not very fashionable right now. Please, Senka. Try to understand. Hailwic, will you tell her?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a tailor across the road,¡± Hailwic grunted. ¡°If you¡¯re quick with some coin, he can get you a coat. And he might help you with the hat.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Vasilja rolled her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡± ¡°You think he will?¡± Senka pressed her nose to the glass and looked across to where a young man was working to close his doors. ¡°You can try. If he says no, you¡¯ll need to wear the red dress.¡± ¡°If he says no, I¡¯ll bite him.¡± ¡°You bite him, and we won¡¯t go to the coffeehouse.¡± ¡°But that¡¯s not fair!¡± ¡°Hurry, Senka,¡± Hailwic called. ¡°He¡¯s nearly closed.¡± The young vampire fled, making the bell above the door clang loudly as she left. Vasilja, arms outstretched as her dress was being fitted, stared at Hailwic. ¡°Why did you do that?¡± ¡°You were right, Vasilja. This is our one chance to have an adventure. I know you enjoy wearing all this frippery, but she doesn¡¯t. I don¡¯t, either, but I understand the reason why.¡± ¡°Then you should have made her understand.¡± ¡°She needs to find out herself.¡± Hailwic winced as a pin glided against her skin, thrust between cloth with expert hands. It didn¡¯t prick, but the thought of it had caused her to twitch. ¡°You can¡¯t learn lessons by being spoken to. You must learn them through experience.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not safe to get attention. Not for us.¡± ¡°Then why are you dressing like that?¡± ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°You walk down the street in this, and every man will turn his head. You will be noticed. Remembered.¡± Vasilja looked down at her dress. The frills and bows. An expensive layer of gilded lace. ¡°That¡¯s different, Hailwic. That¡¯s an altogether different kind of attention. You know what I meant.¡± ¡°The world is changing. You and I, we follow that change. We observe it. We write about it. We are corks in the stream. Senka, though, is different. She feels too much. She¡¯s not content with seeing it. She wants to taste it. Challenge it.¡± ¡°Bite it, more like.¡± ¡°You wanted to know what we will change into, Vasilja. Well, look to her. Because, like it or not, she¡¯ll be guiding us more than I will.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous, Hailwic. If we let her lead us anywhere, we wouldn¡¯t last very long.¡± ¡°She¡¯s young. Passionate. Impulsive. Don¡¯t mistake that for stupid. She¡¯s quite clever when she feels confident enough to show it.¡± ¡°I never said she was stupid.¡± Vasilja stretched her torso, testing the corset¡¯s flexibility and was mildly surprised to find it better than the last time she¡¯d worn one. ¡°Well. Not quite.¡± Senka pushed into the tailor¡¯s shop, making the young man yelp in surprise. ¡°I want a hat,¡± she said, allowing no room for argument. ¡°And a coat.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ah, I¡¯m closing¡­¡± ¡°And I will need trousers. And a shirt. I want a white shirt. Should I get boots?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Miss, but-¡± ¡°Yes, I think I should have boots.¡± She tossed the small bag of coins Hailwic had given her and let it bounce in front of him. ¡°But I want them to be comfortable.¡± He wet his lip and winced. ¡°Oh, Lord,¡± he muttered. ¡°Mitzi will kill me for being late again.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing, Miss,¡± he said. ¡°I can assist with the outfit. I don¡¯t sell hats, but I can recommend a place to go. And for boots, also. Is it for your husband?¡± ¡°No.¡± Mouth tightened to a frigid line. ¡°It is not. I wouldn¡¯t buy him anything at all. If he wants something, he can get it himself. No, they¡¯re for me.¡± ¡°You?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She held out her arms as Vasilja and Hailwic had done. ¡°You may measure me.¡± ¡°But, I¡¯m a tailor, Miss. I don¡¯t do dresses.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want a dress! I want a coat. And a hat. And boots.¡± ¡°Oh, Lord.¡± ¡°Are you a Christian?¡± ¡°I beg your pardon, Miss.¡± The young man patted his cheek as they reddened. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be rude, but are you sure you want to dress this way? I mean, I don¡¯t want to cause any trouble.¡± ¡°There will only be trouble if I don¡¯t get my coat.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± he sighed. The pouch looked more than heavy enough that she wasn¡¯t wasting his time. ¡°Very well. Let¡¯s look at a few styles and you can tell me what you¡¯d like.¡± ¡°And the hat? Boots?¡± ¡°You want it organised tonight, I assume?¡± ¡°Of course. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°I think my assistant is still here. I¡¯ll have him find out who¡¯s still around. Let¡¯s see what we can do.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Senka said, finally letting herself smile. Careful to keep fangs tucked in as Vasilja had ordered. Remembered what she¡¯d said about compliments. ¡°You¡¯re very helpful.¡± ¡°And more than a little insane,¡± he murmured. ¡°What is your name?¡± ¡°Hugo, Miss. Hugo Loos.¡± He rummaged in a box for appropriate tapes. Bobbed his head a little as he turned to face her. ¡°At your service.¡± ¡°Hugo?¡± She ran the name across her tongue. ¡°I like it.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Dry. ¡°It was my father¡¯s. I inherited it. It came with the shop.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t like it here?¡± ¡°It could be worse, I suppose.¡± Then frowned as he realised how he was talking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That¡¯s a little too personal, I think. Now, I¡¯ll need to measure you, of course. I apologise in advance, but I¡¯m not used to measuring ladies. Also, I assure you I am happily married, and any incorrect placement of hand is entirely due to inexperience. My customers are mostly gentlemen, you know.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind.¡± She drew herself up and nodded. ¡°Vasilja says good clothes should fit properly and are worth getting stabbed with a few pins.¡± ¡°Yes. Well, I¡¯ll try to miss with the pins.¡± ¡°When can my coat be ready?¡± ¡°Given the amount you¡¯re paying, Miss, I¡¯ll have it ready for you by tomorrow. Is late afternoon convenient?¡± ¡°That would be good.¡± Then cocked her head. ¡°I¡¯ll return just after sunset.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Shook his head. ¡°Twice in a row. She¡¯ll definitely kill me.¡± ¡°Who will kill you?¡± ¡°My wife.¡± Quick smile. ¡°Honestly, she¡¯s not as bad as that, but we were only married last month, and she does expect me to be home on time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m making you late?¡± ¡°Ah. I¡¯m sorry, Miss.¡± Shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m talking so much. You must have surprised me. I meant it when I said my customers are mostly gentlemen. And there¡¯s some things a man will tell another which he¡¯d never dream of saying to a lady.¡± ¡°That¡¯s silly.¡± ¡°Possibly,¡± he admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s also very sensible. A lady, after all, has secrets of her own. That is how she keeps her mystery. It¡¯s only fair that men have theirs.¡± ¡°You like mystery, Hugo?¡± ¡°Of course. Who doesn¡¯t?¡± ¡°Vasilja prefers to know everything.¡± ¡°Life is a string of mysteries. Some we will solve. Others we shan¡¯t.¡± Another smile as he began measuring her shoulder. ¡°If we learn the answer to everything, our lives might be a trifle boring.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Senka nodded. ¡°I think that way, too. I was very bored in the castle once I discovered all its secrets.¡± ¡°You lived in a castle?¡± He looked surprised. ¡°A real one?¡± ¡°Yes. In Transylvania. It wasn¡¯t as fine as the buildings here, though.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure it was very fine, Miss,¡± he said. ¡°At least, I find the streets of Vienna bore me. I know them, you see. All their secrets, as you say. I¡¯m sure your castle would astound me.¡± The young vampire burrowed her brow and thought about it. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s bored with us,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s why he left.¡± ¡°Bored of you?¡± Hugo paused sharply. ¡°Oh, I doubt anyone could be bored of you, Miss. I, ah¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s nice of you to say, Hugo,¡± Senka said as he trailed off awkwardly. Lifted her arm for him. Watched him fumble with the tape. ¡°You know, this has been very pleasant. Usually I can¡¯t stand being still like this. I think, when this is done, I won¡¯t even bite you at all.¡± Hugo shot her a puzzled look. Smiled nervous, unsure what to say. Settled on; ¡°Well, thank you, Miss. I appreciate that. Very much.¡± Chapter Ten Vasilja sat at the small round table with her hands placed calmly in her lap. Outwardly, she was serene, but inside a storm approached the coastline of her heart. Hailwic had left the caf¨¦ an hour before, telling her she wanted to find out if Dracula had passed through Vienna. Before leaving, she gave Vasilja a stern glance. ¡°Look after Senka.¡± ¡°Thanks so very much,¡± Vasilja said, looking to where Senka was backed up against a pillar. Facing a young man with an excessive large and thick moustache. The young man kept inching closer, testing his luck. ¡°It will make for such a delightful evening.¡± ¡°I like to think you¡¯re getting just what you wanted, Vasilja,¡± Hailwic said with more than a hint of malicious humour. ¡°I wanted to go to the Opera. Not a bawdy little coffeehouse,¡± Vasilja said as Hailwic left with a mocking laugh. An old man sat at the table next to her. Newspaper across his knee. Tea by his elbow in a small nickel pot. Orange bowl-shaped cup near his wrist. Steam drifting loose like slender aromatic ghosts. A cigar was clenched between two big knuckles on his left hand. He touched his tongue to the tip of his fingers before turning each page. During the slow deliberate flip of paper, he¡¯d look at her. Smile a wistful smile. Suck a deep pull on the cigar. Exhale gently. Then look down. Content to admire without intrusion. Each time, she wanted to throw herself at him. Tear the newspaper to pieces. Spit in his face. And rip his throat open with the sharp edges of his shattered cup. Instead, she forced herself to remain calm. And waited for Senka to grow bored. ¡°His name is Peter,¡± Senka announced when she finally dropped into the chair next to Vasilja. ¡°He¡¯s most fascinating.¡± ¡°Most fascinating,¡± Vasilja mimicked with exaggerated girlishness. ¡°Honestly, Senka, I think it was a mistake to let you come with us. We should have left you at home. Just listen to you. Fascinating? I think I liked you better when you wanted to bite everything that moved.¡± Senka pouted. ¡°You should talk to him. You might like him. He¡¯s very knowledgeable, Vasilja. About law. Philosophy. And even science. He¡¯s studied them all.¡± ¡°He looks shabby, Senka. Look at his clothes. And I can smell him from here. He lives in a brothel, I¡¯m sure of it. I¡¯ll wager he never finished his studies. Did he?¡± ¡°Study bores him. He wants to study people instead.¡± ¡°For what purpose? That sounds a lot like wasting time. He¡¯s not a writer, is he? Oh. He is, isn¡¯t he? Of course. The shabby clothes. The silly moustache. The way he walks like every woman needs to know him. How distressingly banal.¡± ¡°He showed me some of his poems. They¡¯re very short. I like them.¡± ¡°You only like them because they¡¯re short. If they were of a proper and decent length, you¡¯d get bored.¡± Senka shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I liked poetry before.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure what he¡¯s writing isn¡¯t poetry,¡± Vasilja said with a delicate shudder of her shoulders. ¡°It sounds like it to me.¡± Vasilja frowned, remembering Hailwic¡¯s words. Shuddering, she sighed. ¡°Can we leave this place, Senka? I want to see a recital. I¡¯ll go crazy if I¡¯m forced to sit here surrounded by old men drinking tea any longer. The cigar smoke makes me want to strangle every last one of them. The stink of it! How can anyone stand it?¡± The young vampire looked about to argue. The pout had already touched her lips. Then her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed into a disapproving pout. ¡°Hailwic left you with me, didn¡¯t she? She didn¡¯t trust me to be on my own.¡± ¡°It¡¯s your first time in a city, Senka. We were all a bit giddy our first time.¡± ¡°Even you?¡± ¡°You¡¯re lucky it¡¯s me who¡¯s looking after you. If it was Hailwic, you¡¯d be screaming like a trapped wolf by now. On my first trip away from Transylvania, she tied a ribbon from my wrist to hers. It wasn¡¯t long enough for me to walk more than two paces behind her.¡± ¡°She didn¡¯t!¡± ¡°She did.¡± Indignant scowl. ¡°It was bright red, too. So, everyone saw it. It was so humiliating. And she didn¡¯t mind. She told them I was her dim-witted sister and that if she didn¡¯t keep me close I would run off and play with gypsies or something equally unattractive to city people. I haven¡¯t tied a leash to you, so I would appreciate it if you showed just a little gratitude.¡± Senka nodded, her lips curling with amusement as she imagined Vasilja trotting obediently behind Hailwic. It was difficult for her to picture it. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°Then, can we please leave? That dreadful man is staring at us.¡± Senka turned and waved, a cheeky grin on her lips as Peter flushed with pleasure. ¡°I thought you wanted me to learn how to control people, Vasilja.¡± ¡°Yes, but not his kind of people. He makes me sick to my stomach. Look at him. He¡¯s a stray dog looking for a tree to urinate against. That¡¯s all he is.¡± ¡°What a thing to say!¡± ¡°And, to him, you¡¯re the tree.¡± ¡°That¡¯s disgusting.¡± ¡°Come on, Senka. That¡¯s it. I¡¯ve had enough. If we don¡¯t leave, I¡¯ll bite everyone here. Including you.¡± Shocked, the young vampire put her hand to her throat. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I would. The smell of coffee makes me irritable.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t Hailwic wonder where we are?¡± ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. She¡¯s gone to see Dracula¡¯s lawyer.¡± ¡°He has one here?¡± ¡°He has one in most reasonable cities. There¡¯s usually also a banker at the very least, but not here. If there was, I¡¯d go and see him. I like bankers. They¡¯re a lot more like us than most people. If Dracula was here, he would have told his lawyer. He¡¯d want to make financial and legal arrangements, which lawyers love to coordinate. Especially considering the kinds of places he likes to stay. Nothing but the best for him.¡± ¡°Is that what Hailwic¡¯s doing? Getting more money?¡± ¡°Why? Have you spent all of yours already?¡± ¡°Not all of it. But Mister Loos was very accommodating. I felt he deserved more than he asked for.¡± ¡°We gave you enough to buy at least a hundred coats. He must be very happy right now.¡± ¡°He was worried his wife would kill him. I kept him too late. I offered to talk to her.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°He said she¡¯d definitely kill him if I did.¡± Vasilja put her arm around the younger vampire and smiled warmly as they left the coffeehouse. ¡°Hailwic says you¡¯re changing, Senka. She says you¡¯ll change us all one day. Please don¡¯t change that much. I love you just as you are, you know.¡± ¡°Love?¡± Senka showed her teeth. Put her top hat on and adjusted its balance. It was only slightly too big and tended to push down uncomfortably on her ears. ¡°Or is it that you¡¯re just amused by how I don¡¯t know everything about the world like you do?¡± Vasilja¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°It¡¯s the same thing, in the end.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound right.¡± They linked arms and strolled down the street. Vasilja loosening her shoulders the further from the coffeehouse they got. In the distance, the sound of a violin soared into the air, filling the night with its mesmerizing song. More than one person walking the street stopped to cock their head with curiosity. ¡°Oh, listen to that, Senka. Listen! It¡¯s exquisite!¡± ¡°Is it? I don¡¯t know much about music¡­¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to. Just listen. Can you feel it? Isn¡¯t it like rushing blood soaring across your tongue?¡± ¡°Not really.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a heathen, Senka. A monster.¡± The little hall was almost full, but Vasilja swept inside like it belonged to her. She clasped Senka¡¯s hand tight, trembling with excitement as the violin wept. Breathless, Vasilja slid into a vacant chair and stared. Stared at the young woman dressed in blue and white. Lit by a row of gaslight lamps at the front of the stage. The young violinist¡¯s eyes were closed. Her mouth offering the smallest of movements as she worked her bow. Senka¡¯s gaze scanned the crowd. Most people seemed fairly clean, she thought. The coffeehouse hadn¡¯t been dirty, but there was an obvious difference here in social status. Wealth, she thought. Self-conscious, she glanced down at her clothes. The coat and suit she wore were very nice. A few gentlemen in the crowd wore similar, though they¡¯d left their outer coats at the door. The ladies, however, dressed like Vasilja. Roses in their hair. Bows and lace. Immaculate. Senka fidgeted for most of the performance, feeling a rising sense of unease every time someone in the crowd caught her eye. They always frowned. Not with annoyance or displeasure. They were mostly surprised. Perhaps a little curious. Their gazes would slide across to Vasilja, and their curiosity would rise. Two women. One dressed as a man. Heat licked the inside of her chest. A buzzing of bees forming in the hive of her heart. She hadn¡¯t felt out of place at the coffeehouse. In fact, Peter had complimented her boots. But here? Here, she was a thing to be scrutinized and assessed. How did Vasilja stand it? The other vampire was utterly absorbed by the violinist on stage. Didn¡¯t notice the staring. Didn¡¯t seem to care. ¡°Brahms,¡± Vasilja said softly between her teeth. Aimed the words to Senka¡¯s ear. ¡°It¡¯s Brahms who composed this sonata. And she¡¯s simply amazing with it, don¡¯t you think? Her name is Marie Soldat. Did you know Soldat means soldier? Hailwic would like that. She should have come with us.¡± ¡°Everyone is looking at me.¡± ¡°Not everyone, Senka. Most of them are more interested in Miss Soldat.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s your own fault. I told you to wear a dress.¡± ¡°But I like these clothes. They¡¯re comfortable.¡± ¡°Fashion isn¡¯t about being comfortable. It¡¯s about wearing a uniform which allows others to make a judgement as to what kind of person you are.¡± ¡°Peter didn¡¯t judge me.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because he was busy thinking about what was under your uniform, Senka. He hoped your unusual attire made you the kind of person who would hasten to engage in unusually lascivious acts.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a horrible thing to say about him. He was very nice.¡± ¡°Only because he wanted to get you out of your clothes.¡± Sigh. ¡°Look, Senka. It¡¯s your choice to make, of course. You can wear the hat and coat if you want, but you¡¯ll need to learn to accept that other people will find it very strange. They¡¯re trying to figure out if they like your strangeness or not.¡± Senka scowled deeply. ¡°I don¡¯t want them to like me!¡± ¡°That¡¯s not your choice to make. You can choose how you feel about them, but you can¡¯t choose how they feel about you.¡± A smug smile teased her lips. ¡°At least, not unless you learn my power. And I don¡¯t think you will.¡± ¡°Can you make them all stop staring at me?¡± ¡°Possibly. But why should I? That¡¯s a lot of energy I¡¯d have to spend just because you wanted to wear a gentleman¡¯s clothes. I might need that energy on the way back to the hotel.¡± ¡°Oh? What for?¡± Vasilja tilted her head closer to Senka¡¯s ear. ¡°We¡¯re in Vienna, dearest sister. This music is making my blood race. I am surrounded by people whose lives have no real meaning to either themselves or anyone else in the city. In fact, the only ones who¡¯d value them at all are the two of us. So, what do you think I mean?¡± Senka¡¯s mood lifted immediately. ¡°We¡¯re going to bite one of them?¡± ¡°Hush. Let me listen to the rest of the performance in peace.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Senka said, trembling excitedly. ¡°I won¡¯t say another word. I promise.¡± She didn¡¯t understand the music. Couldn¡¯t grasp why Vasilja enjoyed it so much. Sometimes the sound of the violin was like chalk on a board to her ears. She tried not to flinch. Tried not to fidget or sigh. And, as a final applause vibrated the hall, she still waited quietly until Vasilja took her hand before speaking again. ¡°There are two men at the front. One has a white flower in his jacket. And his hair looks like he uses glue to keep it in place.¡± Vasilja nodded, not looking at them. ¡°I noticed.¡± ¡°They kept looking at us. And I didn¡¯t like it.¡± Vasilja¡¯s smile was broad as they glided outside with the crowd. ¡°Then let¡¯s go find them. They¡¯ll want to take us somewhere quiet. Somewhere secret. Somewhere dark.¡± ¡°And then we¡¯ll bite them!¡± ¡°There you go,¡± Vasilja giggled. ¡°Something we can do together which we both enjoy. The night is not wasted.¡± Chapter Eleven Senka dreamed while her body lay in torpor during the day. Exciting dreams which echoed her revelry. Bats with eerie emerald eyes swarmed in the skies while she danced through Vienna¡¯s cobbled streets. Blood pooled in the gutters and bodies were left to rot where they fell. Death danced behind her. Her army was a foul and twisted band of demons, eyes burning with venomous green Fel energy. Ecstatic, they sang unholy songs born in the deepest pits of Hell. Songs of murder. Songs of doom. Songs of perverse and bestial lust. Drums beat the rhythm, a constant pulse which measured the frenzy of battles fought, won, and celebrated. She danced among her horde, stealing blood and kisses. Whirling into the air, she hovered above the city. Now her city. Her glittering eyes watched as Felfire erupted from the ground, spewing more demons into the streets. They floundered on uncertain legs. Then rose, ready to fight. She laughed as St Stephen¡¯s Cathedral burned. Consumed by foul green flame. Laughed as wailing screams played their own demented tune from the hill on which thousands were skewered on heavy wooden stakes. Their agonies amplified by torments devised and inflicted by droves of demons with exotic tools of torture hung from their belts. Ardent passion consumed the vampire as she spun, eyes absorbing the violence. She looked down at her hands. Clawed nails dripping blood. And saw veins glowing green beneath her pale skin. Shaking, she held them up in front of her. What was this? The bright lights throbbed inside her flesh. A demon roared. A thunderous and bestial sound which made her stomach churn as shock gripped her by her neck. The song... It wasn¡¯t a battle song. It was the song of Fel. The Felstone. The corrupted heart of Hell was singing to her. Singing through her. ¡°Hailwic,¡± she croaked. ¡°Hailwic! What¡¯s happening to me?¡± ¡°What are you complaining about now, Senka?¡± Hailwic sighed from behind. Senka turned. Hailwic¡¯s eyes burned bright with green Felfire. Black horns dominated her forehead, long and curved. Fingers unnaturally elongated and ending in cruel red claws. Mouth filled with wide sharp teeth like blades. The terrible beauty remained, but now she looked more powerful. Evil armor embraced her lithe form like a living carapace. Hailwic wasn¡¯t Hailwic anymore. She was a demon. Senka screamed. And screamed again as her body erupted from torpor to the alluring smell of fresh blood and the peeling air of death. Vasilja leapt on her, the vampire shoving hand across Senka¡¯s mouth. ¡°Hush, sister! Hush. It¡¯s alright. You¡¯re safe. Listen to me, Senka. Stop screaming. Listen! It¡¯s alright.¡± Panic still darting through her mind, Senka¡¯s eyes rolled as she struggled to break free. Then quieted when she saw Hailwic. Beautiful Hailwic. No horns. No strange armour. The blonde vampire stood quivering with rage. It was that rage which softened Senka¡¯s struggles and froze her to stillness. Was Hailwic angry with her? Had she found out about them biting the two men? Hailwic¡¯s eyes burned with anger, making Senka flinch into her coffin. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Hailwic,¡± she mewed. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it.¡± ¡°Mean what?¡± Senka looked from Hailwic to Vasilja. Not sure what was happening. Looked down. Her white dress was wet with blood. From chin to navel. ¡°Senka,¡± Vasilja hissed. ¡°Hush.¡± And there was a body at the foot of her coffin. A man she¡¯d seen in the coffeeshop. An old man whose stare she¡¯d captured more than once. She¡¯d dismissed him as little more than a pervert. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Now he lay on his back. A big knife buried to its hilt in his belly. His bruised and battered face looked sightless to the ceiling. Mouth open, leaking drool and blood. Ghastly emptiness to him as his eyes, milky and dry, stared into death. He wore an old white shirt. Collar and armpits stained with sweat and travel. Pants of tweed. Patched at the knees. He¡¯d come into their room, forcing the lock. Seen them in their coffins. How long had he stood there? Staring at her? Then he draped his coat over a chair. Rolled up his sleeves. Opened his bag. Senka¡¯s mouth dropped open as she saw the stake and hammer by his gnarled hands. Hands now curled in death. Before dying, those hands had gripped the stake with every intention to nail it into her heart. ¡°Senka?¡± Vasilja helped her climb out of her coffin, lifting the younger vampire with ease. Held her close. ¡°Senka, are you alright? Do you need air?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She blinked rapidly, not knowing what to think. ¡°Vasilja, what happened? He tried to kill us?¡± ¡°Dimiti was here,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°He kept us safe.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a good man,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°You did very well, Dimiti.¡± ¡°I tried, Lady.¡± The old man¡¯s voice was weak, and Senka shot a glance to where he sat on the floor against the wall. One knee up. One arm across the knee. The other across his belly. Blood ribboned down from a wide gashing wound in his neck. Another hole in his chest soaked his shirt black with blood. Wide pool stretching across the floor around him. ¡°Dimiti?¡± Senka swallowed hard. ¡°You saved me, Dimiti? You?¡± ¡°Aye, Miss.¡± ¡°But he must have been standing right in front of me.¡± ¡°Had the stake to your heart, he did. When I came in. It were a close thing, Miss.¡± He coughed, blood flecking is lips. ¡°Close thing.¡± ¡°But I wanted to bite you,¡± she said. Struggled to understand why he¡¯d saved her. ¡°Aye, Miss.¡± She pushed away from Vasilja and knelt beside him. Blood tang sweet in the back of her mouth, but she pushed it aside. Pressed a hand to his shoulder and stared in confusion at his wounds. Looked up to Vasilja. ¡°Have you called for a doctor?¡± Amusement twinkled the vampire¡¯s eyes. ¡°He doesn¡¯t need one, Senka. He drank my blood, remember? He¡¯ll heal. It might hurt for a little while, though, and there¡¯s nothing a doctor can do about that.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t we do anything for him? Dimiti? Do you want anything? Tea? Would you like tea? All the old men drink tea. They say it¡¯s good for their health and makes them feel better.¡± She flew to her coat. ¡°I¡¯ll get you tea!¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, Miss.¡± ¡°Tea.¡± More firmly. ¡°Senka?¡± Vasilja called as the younger vampire whipped the door open. ¡°Wait!¡± ¡°Go with her,¡± Hailwic said. Voice clipped. ¡°But-¡± ¡°There might be others. Go with her. At the very least you can stop the hotel staff from panicking when they see her covered in blood.¡± Sigh. ¡°This is a terrible idea. And you shouldn¡¯t keep letting her do what she wants like this.¡± ¡°Just follow your sister, Vasilja. Protect her. Now isn¡¯t the time to force her to use her brain.¡± Vasilja ran, kicking the door shut behind her. Leaving Hailwic to stare down at the body of the vampire hunter. ¡°Have you seen him before, Dimiti?¡± ¡°No, Miss.¡± ¡°He wasn¡¯t hanging around the hotel? Or the wagons?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯m sure I would¡¯ve seen him, even if I didn¡¯t know what he was. When I opened the door and saw him, it was the first time I¡¯d ever clapped eyes on him, I swear.¡± She nodded. Moved to the coat and began rummaging. Searching for papers. Finding them, she squinted at them beneath the gaslight lamp. ¡°Holmwood. Arthur Holmwood. Do you know the name?¡± ¡°No, Miss.¡± She opened the dead man¡¯s bag. A heavy leather thing with dull wooden handle. Initials on a brass plate. Inside, a bottle which she guessed was holy water. Crucifix, which she flung aside with a hiss of contempt. Change of clothes. Small wallet of folded paper money. And a diary. The vampire hovered in the middle of the room, swiftly turning page after page and looking more and more angry as she did. ¡°He came from London,¡± she said. ¡°Via Paris and Munich. He was looking for us. He left England before Dracula left Transylvania. A man named Van Helsing sent him. They know too much about us. Much too much.¡± The old man stared back at her, not sure what to say. Dabbed a cloth to the ripped wound on his throat. Nodded as much as it would allow. ¡°They were expecting you, Miss,¡± he said, knowing it was a lame thing to say. ¡°Yes, I think so.¡± She tucked the diary into a pocket inside her coffin. ¡°It doesn¡¯t say if there were others with him. Or how many this Van Helsing person sent. But I think we can expect there will be.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep my eyes open, Miss.¡± ¡°Are you a man of weapons? Have you had any training?¡± Hesitated. ¡°I can use a gun, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡± ¡°But you only carried a knife.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a shotgun on the wagon. John never kept it clean. He weren¡¯t a violent man at heart and hated the thing. It¡¯s not good for anything but scaring off the occasional highwayman.¡± ¡°Are there places you might find guns in Vienna?¡± ¡°If you¡¯ve a mind to, Miss. I know a few unsavoury types.¡± ¡°Then, as soon as you can walk, I want you to go buy what you think you need. Vasilja will give you enough to cover it.¡± ¡°How long, Miss? Until my neck heals, I mean?¡± ¡°A few days, maybe. You¡¯ll need to wear a scarf, I should think. Given it¡¯s still Winter, you shouldn¡¯t attract much attention wearing one.¡± ¡°A scarf? Aye, Miss. A scarf it¡¯ll be.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t like scarfs?¡± ¡°I was a born traveller on roads which didn¡¯t like my kind too much. Made me appreciate the value of not having anything around my neck. If you get my meaning.¡± ¡°I do.¡± She looked down at him with kinder eyes. ¡°We have a lot in common, Dimiti. We both know what it¡¯s like to be hunted for what we are.¡± The old man said nothing. Didn¡¯t need to as Senka burst back into the room like a whirlwind, a tray in her hands and determination in her eye. A look which brought an unbidden smile to the old man¡¯s cheeks. A smile which left quickly as pain shot down his neck. He couldn¡¯t yet feel anything in his chest. The man called Holmwood had stabbed between his ribs with the stake. Used it like a knife. Had belted him across the face with the hammer, too. It had been a surreal encounter. He¡¯d felt his pulse sling itself along in rapid bursts and there were brief moments as he wrestled Holmwood when time seemed to be sucked into a vortex. Left him hovering between one moment to the next. When the stake had pierced his chest, he hadn¡¯t even noticed it. Didn¡¯t feel it at all. Had been so overwhelmed by the desperate desire to protect the three Brides that he¡¯d cared nothing for what wounds he received in exchange. The fight ended inevitably when he buried his blade in Holmwood¡¯s guts. Felt a flash of satisfaction which left him reeling in ecstatic glee over Holmwood¡¯s crawling form. Then he¡¯d rolled Holmwood onto his back. And stared into those frightened eyes while strangling the last breath from the man¡¯s body. It had, Dimiti thought, felt incredible. He¡¯d never felt so alive even as he should¡¯ve been dying from the hole in his neck. When it was over, he¡¯d collapsed and lay there against the wall until night returned to the world. For a while, he¡¯d thought he was dying and was surprised to find it didn¡¯t bother him at all. ¡°Here, Dimiti,¡± Senka was saying as she poured tea into a small orange cup. ¡°Drink this. They said it¡¯s their best tea. There¡¯s none better, they said. Even the Prince comes to drink it sometimes.¡± Dimiti drank. And, though he¡¯d never dare say it to her, thought it tasted like piss. Chapter Twelve ¡°As soon as Dimiti¡¯s neck is healed, we leave,¡± Hailwic said. Her tone left no room for argument. ¡°We head directly to Paris. Then London if we¡¯re too late. No more exploring. Whatever Dracula has gotten us into, we need to cut its head off.¡± ¡°Yes, Hailwic,¡± Vasilja sighed. ¡°And when we find him, I really shall let Senka bite him. He¡¯s ruined my holiday.¡± ¡°This wasn¡¯t a holiday.¡± ¡°Well, it was for me. I was even beginning to enjoy it. I wanted to go to Munich.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll still pass through Munich.¡± ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s not the same. We¡¯ll be in a rush.¡± Her eyes narrowed slightly, almost hopeful. ¡°Unless you plan on letting us stay a few days¡­¡± ¡°The longer we remain in one place, the more likely it is they¡¯ll find us again. We need to be more careful than ever. These hunters sound too organised for my liking. I can¡¯t believe they deliberately sent one man. I think he was only supposed to be watching us. He saw Dimiti leave the room and took his chance. The others won¡¯t be so foolish, I feel.¡± ¡°Senka was lucky.¡± ¡°Yes, she was.¡± Hailwic paced the room. Fists at her sides. ¡°It mustn¡¯t happen again. We were stupid, Vasilja. Stupid to let our guard down. It¡¯s been too long since we left the castle. We¡¯ve forgotten how dangerous it is. How easy it can be to reveal what we are.¡± ¡°You¡¯re overreacting, Hailwic.¡± ¡°The coffeehouse we went to. They had mirrors along the wall. Mirrors! And we didn¡¯t even pay attention to them. These cursed lights ensure the rooms are bright enough anyone could notice our lack of reflection in them.¡± ¡°Really. Overreacting.¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m not. We¡¯ll stay away from the coffeehouses.¡± ¡°Honestly, Hailwic. Please. You really are overreacting. This is a city. People are not as religious as they used to be. Haven¡¯t you listened? People don¡¯t talk about God anymore. Or our Master. They talk about science. They discuss the philosophies of maths, architecture, and poetry. I listened to a man talking about how he was interpreting people¡¯s dreams. Their dreams, Hailwic. A hundred years ago, he¡¯d have been burned at the stake for even thinking about such nonsense.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you see that¡¯s even more dangerous? They¡¯ll not settle for a stake. They¡¯ll want proof. Evidence. They¡¯ll cut us up. Dig around inside our bodies with their knives. Holmwood had all kinds of instruments in his bag. Take a look if you don¡¯t believe me.¡± Vasilja took the small couch by the window and shook her head as she positioned herself elegantly. She brushed her dress smooth before folding her hands on her lap. ¡°You should hear yourself. You¡¯re being paranoid.¡± ¡°Protective.¡± ¡°Possessive.¡± ¡°Promise me, Vasilja. I know you. You¡¯ll test the limits of what I¡¯m saying. But promise me you¡¯ll be careful. Especially with Senka. She¡¯s the one I worry for most of all. She lacks our experience.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t blame me for how she is. You can blame him. He seduced her with his Bargain. You know, she actually dreams about it. Dreams she¡¯s leading armies all over Europe. Crushing them all in Lucifer¡¯s name. I wake before her, and I hear her talking to herself.¡± ¡°We all hold to the Bargain.¡± ¡°That¡¯s rubbish, Hailwic, and you know it.¡± Vasilja snorted. ¡°What have we done to achieve it? When was the last time we performed a sacrifice? Fifty years? More? Dracula has hidden in his decaying old loft for all that time. He hasn¡¯t done a thing. And has he even heard from our Master? I¡¯m beginning to wonder if he even cares what we¡¯re doing now. If he gave up on it a long time ago.¡± ¡°Dracula hasn¡¯t forgotten the Bargain. How could he?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. But something changed in him after he found Senka.¡± ¡°She changed us all.¡± ¡°Not me. I haven¡¯t changed.¡± ¡°Of course you have. Did you even dare argue with me before she arrived? You used to hide in my shadow like a little mouse.¡± Hailwic twisted her mouth. ¡°I think I preferred you like that, sometimes.¡± Vasilja gazed back, her eyes drained of emotion. ¡°Hailwic! What an awful thing to suggest.¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t let her out of your sight. Keep her close.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Vasilja waved an arm and slumped her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯ll put a little leash on her, if you like. You did that to me, remember?¡± ¡°It worked.¡± ¡°It was humiliating.¡± ¡°As I said,¡± Hailwic¡¯s grin was malicious. ¡°It worked.¡± Vasilja¡¯s mouth curled. ¡°Beast.¡± ¡°Mouse.¡± The affection in her voice made Vasilja wince as she half-expected the other vampire to reach across and pat her on the head. Sighing, she turned the conversation. ¡°What did the lawyer say?¡± ¡°Only that he hasn¡¯t heard from Dracula in months. That our finances are still doing well. He wants to invest in a company which is researching ways to change these cursed gas lights to electrical ones.¡± ¡°Electrical?¡± Vasilja raised an eyebrow. ¡°That sounds exciting.¡± ¡°It¡¯s apparently the next big thing. All the cities are investing in it, he claims. Paris. London. He wants to rush into it before it¡¯s too late.¡± ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he, then? It sounds very sensible to me.¡± ¡°Magnin isn¡¯t releasing the funds. He seems to believe that electricity is a fad. And Dracula hasn¡¯t yet replied to letters requesting funds to be allocated.¡± ¡°What is he doing, Hailwic? Dracula, not the lawyer.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Pause. ¡°I thought he might be searching for another Bride. But now? I¡¯m not so sure. Perhaps he¡¯s not going to London after all. We could be wrong about that¡­¡± Hailwic¡¯s voice trailed off as she stared out the window at the glittering lights which dotted the streets. Vasilja tugged at her lip, thinking. Watching as the eldest paced. ¡°You said this vampire hunter was from London, Hailwic?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Thoughtful. ¡°Do you promise not to get mad?¡± Stopped rigid. Turned slowly, fists curling out into claws. ¡°What did you do?¡± ¡°Well, nothing. I didn¡¯t do anything at all.¡± ¡°Then what didn¡¯t you do?¡± ¡°I might have forgotten to tell you something.¡± ¡°Forgotten.¡± ¡°Must you make this difficult?¡± Hailwic flew across the room. Snarl hissing through lips. Fangs revealed in the soft gaslight. Reaching with her long arm, she snatched Vasilja tight by the dress. Jerked her out of the couch and lifted so the younger vampire¡¯s head was brushing the ceiling. Vasilja winced, but didn¡¯t try to shake free. She¡¯d learnt a long time ago how pointless such a struggle would be. Stolen novel; please report. Hailwic¡¯s eyes burned fiercely. ¡°What haven¡¯t you told me?¡± ¡°Hailwic, you¡¯re really being very emotional about this. Can¡¯t you put me down, please? Let¡¯s talk about this like sisters.¡± ¡°Tell me!¡± It was Senka who answered, sliding gracefully into the room without a sound. ¡°We already know for sure that he¡¯s going to London,¡± she said. ¡°And why. Jonathan Harker had a fianc¨¦e. Vasilja said Dracula wants to make her one of us. I think that¡¯s silly. Isn¡¯t three Brides more than enough?¡± Hailwic¡¯s eyes blazed. ¡°You knew where he was going, and you let me wander all over Europe?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve hardly gone anywhere in a hundred years,¡± Vasilja complained. ¡°I wanted to come to Vienna. That¡¯s all. It¡¯s not even out of our way. We¡¯d have had to come here to go to London anyway, Hailwic. Honestly, I didn¡¯t think it was important for us to hurry.¡± ¡°You told Senka!¡± ¡°Well, I had to tell her something. You know what she¡¯s like. She was bored. She wanted to bring the whole castle with her. And she wanted to find him, too. I just wanted you both to enjoy the journey.¡± ¡°If hunters came after us, what have they sent after him? Vasilja, he might need us.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know at the time!¡± She put her hands around Hailwic¡¯s wrists. ¡°Now, please. Let me down, Hailwic. I didn¡¯t know. I thought he was just chasing some little English girl. I thought, what¡¯s the point in rushing to him? Let them have their moment. We¡¯d meet her soon enough, anyway. Why shouldn¡¯t we enjoy ourselves? And we have, haven¡¯t we? It was fun while it lasted. I saw a recital. Senka saw a coffeehouse. You got to sneak around the city. I¡¯m sure that was a lot of fun for you. You like sneaking.¡± ¡°She was nearly killed!¡± ¡°But I wasn¡¯t,¡± Senka said. ¡°I¡¯m here, you know. In the room. You don¡¯t have talk about me like I¡¯m not. I know you both think I¡¯m stupid. And too young. And fragile. But that¡¯s not what I am.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t think that about you,¡± Hailwic said. Looked over her shoulder. Frowned. ¡°You¡¯re our sister, Senka. Our youngest sister. If anything, we just want to protect you more.¡± ¡°Shelter her, you mean,¡± Vasilja muttered. ¡°Think before you speak.¡± Hailwic glared. ¡°Don¡¯t make things worse than they are.¡± With a grunt, she let Vasilja go. Released, Vasilja hovered weightless where she was. Not trusting it was safe yet to move. Nodding gently, she let out a tentative sigh. ¡°Yes, Hailwic. I¡¯m very sorry, Hailwic. I truly didn¡¯t expect any of this. How could I? We haven¡¯t seen proper vampire hunters in years.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the only reason I don¡¯t bite you.¡± ¡°Well, I would hope there were other reasons, too.¡± ¡°Think.¡± Held up a long finger, repeating her words. ¡°Before you speak.¡± ¡°I want to go to London,¡± Senka said, clenching her fingers into a tight fist. ¡°I want to find Dracula. And I want to find the others. The ones who hurt Dimiti. I want to find Jonathan Harker. All of them. I want to find them. And then I want to bite them.¡± ¡°Of course, Senka,¡± Vasilja said. Lowered herself to the ground and drew her lips into a tired smile. Rubbed her neck. ¡°I do think that would be for the best.¡± ¡°Then you should tell Hailwic everything.¡± ¡°I have!¡± ¡°There was another man, you said. In Jonathan¡¯s diary. You told me his name. A German name.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that, Hailwic! I didn¡¯t hide it from you this time. I just forgot is all. I mean, I really forgot until Senka mentioned it just now.¡± ¡°What name?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a silly name.¡± She closed her eyes for a moment, dredging her memory. ¡°Van Helsing. Yes, I think that was it. Jonathan Harker mentioned him a few times. He might have been his employer. I¡¯m not sure.¡± ¡°That name also appears in Holmwood¡¯s diary,¡± Hailwic snarled. ¡°Holmwood practically worships the man. He calls him a genius.¡± Vasilja flinched, not taking her hand from her throat. ¡°Yes, well. I didn¡¯t remember it until just now. Thank you, Senka, for reminding me. It was most convenient. And considerate...¡± ¡°Who else?¡± Hailwic fumed. ¡°Names, Vasilja. Give me all their names.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­¡± ¡°Think! It didn¡¯t matter before, but it matters now.¡± ¡°Well, there was also a John Seward, I suppose. He¡¯s a doctor, I think. A doctor of minds. He probably thinks dreams are very important, too. I think Mister Harker knew Doctor Seward well, but he mentioned Van Helsing quite a bit more. He seemed to look up to the man, too.¡± Sigh. ¡°I think Van Helsing has an interest in the occult.¡± ¡°And vampires?¡± ¡°Maybe. It wasn¡¯t mentioned specifically.¡± ¡°But probably.¡± ¡°Probably.¡± Winced. ¡°Now I think about it, it¡¯s possible Harker¡¯s diary was deliberately vague because he feared we might find it.¡± ¡°Vasilja!¡± ¡°You can¡¯t blame me! Most rich men these days have an interest in the occult. It¡¯s just something they do. Like going on long walks. It doesn¡¯t mean they actually do anything. They just sit around in coffeehouses and talk about it a lot. All very boring, if you ask me. Isn¡¯t that right, Senka?¡± ¡°Leave her out of this, Vasilja. What else was in this diary?¡± ¡°Nothing much. Mostly, he wrote about his fianc¨¦e. How beautiful she was. The kinds of things he couldn¡¯t wait to teach her. All very disgusting, of course. And he has too much of a fondness for prostitutes. And not in a positive way. His thoughts on women are a little disturbing, actually. I felt sorry for the last one he visited. The things he said he did to her were quite revolting. Honestly, it turned my stomach and it takes a lot to do that.¡± ¡°What was her name?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, Hailwic. He seemed to visit so many of them and didn¡¯t bother taking their names.¡± ¡°The fianc¨¦e!¡± ¡°There¡¯s no need to shout. Her name was Mina. Don¡¯t ask me to remember her last name, because I don¡¯t.¡± Pause. ¡°Murray. Her last name is Murray. Oh, and there was Quincey Morris. Something about him being an American. I don¡¯t like him already. Jonathan didn¡¯t like him, either. Someone called Lucy did, though. I think Lucy is John Seward¡¯s friend. But I¡¯m reading between the lines, I think. I can¡¯t be sure about that. And, well, you won¡¯t like this. But Jonathan did mention Arthur Holmwood now that I think about it, but only that he was some kind of aristocrat. Which is hard to believe. I mean, he didn¡¯t look like an aristocrat, did he? He looked like a gypsy. He might have been engaged to Lucy.¡± Hailwic spun angrily, looking like she wanted to hit something. ¡°Vasilja!¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°How could you hide all of this?¡± ¡°All of what? It¡¯s just the names of his friends. There was nothing obvious in what he wrote to suggest he was hunting us. Or that anyone else was. I only read his diary because he wanted to keep it secret. I thought there had to be something interesting in it. But it was mostly boring, like I said.¡± ¡°Are you sure there wasn¡¯t anything else?¡± ¡°That¡¯s all there was, Hailwic. It was just the diary of a very simple pervert.¡± ¡°Was Jonathan interested in the occult?¡± ¡°Not very much. He seemed to find it rather entertaining, but wasn¡¯t taking it very seriously. He thought of it mostly as a kind of game to play with other men.¡± She grinned wickedly. ¡°We must have been something of a shock to him, I think.¡± ¡°We should have bitten him when we had the chance,¡± Senka said. ¡°Was he there to kill us? Or to confirm our existence?¡± Hailwic paced again, eyes slitted and mouth hard. ¡°Or was he bait?¡± Vasilja blinked. ¡°Bait?¡± ¡°Transylvania is ours. It¡¯s where we¡¯re strongest. The further we move away from it, the weaker we become. London is as far away as they could take us. It¡¯s even across water.¡± ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad. Dracula has gone to London before.¡± ¡°They must have known we¡¯d follow him.¡± ¡°But why try killing us here? If we¡¯ll be weaker there, then why not wait for us to get to London, too?¡± ¡°Maybe he didn¡¯t think we¡¯d be going to London at all.¡± Senka pushed her brows together, concentrating. ¡°I saw Holmwood in the coffeehouse. I didn¡¯t think about him at the time. But he was standing close when I was talking to Peter. And I was telling Peter how much I wanted to see the city. He asked me how long I would be here, and I told him I didn¡¯t know. I said I wanted to stay for a year, at least. But I only said that because I knew it wasn¡¯t wise to tell him our plans. Is it my fault, Hailwic? Is it my fault that he hurt Dimiti?¡± ¡°No, Senka. It¡¯s not your fault. It¡¯s our fault. We¡¯re older, and we should have known the risks. We should have been prepared.¡± ¡°There shouldn¡¯t be any risks,¡± the young vampire hissed, flaring suddenly. ¡°We¡¯re vampires. What are humans compared to us? They¡¯re the ones who are mortal and weak.¡± ¡°Yet, they can kill us while we sleep.¡± Senka scowled. ¡°Not if we had an army. We need an army. Why don¡¯t we have one?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, Senka. Times have changed. If we tried to raise an army, all of Europe would rise up and kill us. There¡¯s too many armies these days. And most of them have better guns than we could afford.¡± ¡°Then we need more money. And better guns!¡± She frowned fiercely. ¡°Maybe we should bite a King and take over his Kingdom. Vasilja could control him. Then we¡¯d have his armies, wouldn¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Will you look at this, Hailwic,¡± Vasilja said. Amusement in her tone. ¡°Our little girl is discovering politics. I¡¯m so very proud.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t laugh at me, Vasilja,¡± Senka stamped a foot while pointing her finger. ¡°Don¡¯t ever laugh. You¡¯re both just like him. When he came to me, he told me all about the Bargain he¡¯d made. And I couldn¡¯t wait to be part of it. I begged for this. I wanted this. And when we arrived at his castle, I thought I¡¯d find an army. I found you. He said we were the army. Maybe in his head he thinks he can make more of us, but it wouldn¡¯t matter if there were ten of us. Twenty of us. Could we take Europe? The world? We need an army. That¡¯s why you were first, Hailwic. He knew that, once. Knew enough to know he needed you to lead it. But something changed. And he stopped. Now you¡¯re all so afraid of them. Afraid they¡¯ll come to us while we sleep. Well, I¡¯m scared, too. But we shouldn¡¯t be hiding! Why should we? We¡¯re vampires. We feed on them, not they on us.¡± Hailwic nodded as the young vampire spoke. Turned to look at Vasilja, who shrugged and offered a rueful smile. ¡°From the mouths of babes¡­¡± Hailwic sighed. ¡°He tried to raise an army. More than once. The last one was disastrous. Hungarians chased us for weeks. They nearly caught us. Very few of our soldiers survived. We started with thousands, Senka. And we were left with less than a hundred.¡± ¡°Maybe he went about it the wrong way,¡± Senka said. ¡°Raising an army is relatively easy, Senka,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°There¡¯s not really a wrong way. It just requires a lot of money and someone very skilled with managing supplies.¡± ¡°I can tell you we don¡¯t have that kind of money anymore,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°And neither do any Kings these days.¡± Senka looked grim. ¡°Then, who does? Let¡¯s bite them.¡± ¡°How will biting them solve anything?¡± ¡°Then you bite them, Vasilja. Make them like Dimiti.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not as easy as that, Senka. Not everyone is like him.¡± ¡°Then maybe we need a new army. One which doesn¡¯t need money.¡± Vasilja laughed, a soft tinkle of gems spilling across the floor. ¡°Darling, Senka. I thought you were growing up and then you say that. Don¡¯t you understand humans? They¡¯re too influenced by our master¡¯s past experiments. Greed is so much a part of their soul now. You¡¯ll never find people who¡¯ll fight for you for nothing. Everyone always wants something for themselves. Isn¡¯t that true, Hailwic?¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about people.¡± The younger vampire looked carefully from one to the other. ¡°I think I need to tell you about my dreams.¡± ¡°Dreams?¡± Vasilja settled into the couch and put her fingers to her forehead. Kneading her temples, she curled her lips into a rueful grin. ¡°Oh, dear Senka. You spent too much time listening to that dreadful hypnotist and his ridiculous theory of dream interpretation, didn¡¯t you?¡± Chapter Thirteen Franz stood at his window, watching wind sweep leaves down the cobbled street. At his back, rows of old books skinned in leather were pressed into the polished shelves. A small fireplace coughed light into the room along with a generous amount of heat. Warmth was something he¡¯d grown fond of in recent years. A small writing desk squeezed against one wall among the shelves. A couch waited for him in front of the fire. Thick rug under his feet. Large round glass in hand. Brandy. The finest he could afford. He sipped with absent relish. Swirled the glass thoughtfully. Inhaling fumes. ¡°Mister Hartmann?¡± Small voice from the doorway. ¡°Was there anything else you¡¯ll be needing me for tonight?¡± ¡°No, Marie. I suppose not.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯ll bid you goodnight, sir.¡± ¡°Yes. Goodnight, Marie.¡± A short exchange. About as personal as he ever got with her. She was, after all, just a servant. There to tidy the rooms and dust his shelves. Nothing more. A slim book rested on the floor beside his couch. Closed. Green leather binding. Black ribbon marking his page. He thought about opening it, but something was bothering him. Something was tugging at his mind, and he couldn¡¯t quite put a name to it. Something he¡¯d been reading in a paper said to be the work of Paracelsus. The skeptical side of him couldn¡¯t accept it as genuine. The language wasn¡¯t quite right. Not what he¡¯d expect from the legendary alchemist. Yet, despite its dubious origin, there was something in it which fascinated him. One line. Could he trust it, though? Should he absorb it into his doctrine, or discard it for now? The gaslight lamp flickered on the wall above his writing desk. He didn¡¯t notice. Instead, he watched as Marie darted down the path, eager to make her way home. She looked to be in a hurry. Had she said she was married? He couldn¡¯t recall. He stared after her, intense eyes unblinking as they followed her passage. The gentle glide of each step accentuated the feminine wiggle of her behind. His tongue touched the edge of his lips. Was she beautiful? How would her soft flesh feel in his hands? Would she moan or whimper? He hadn¡¯t given her much thought before. Did it matter? He turned from the window and ran his finger across a line of slender books. His gaze slid over the promising spines of his collection. Gently, he pulled a few from their shelf and placed them on his desk in a neat pile. There was a purpose to his selection. Eyes glinting, he felt himself in the grip of a ritualistic pattern of movements as he reached into the gap he¡¯d created. Then tugged at a hidden board to reveal a small collection of books secreted inside the wall. His fingers sifted through them until he found what he was looking for. A silver pentagram was all that adorned the dark green leather cover. It was a book without name and it had cost a good deal of money to procure. How many times had he read its crisp pages? Too many. Most of it didn¡¯t make sense. It could leap from one idea to the next with a suddenness that made him question both its authenticity and its author¡¯s sanity. But some sections were alluring in a primordial way. The twisted passages seemed to whisper to him even when he wasn¡¯t home. Every time he gazed at the grotesque lines, they were etched a little deeper into his memory. As he worked on his patients, he thought about this book more than any other he¡¯d ever read. He couldn¡¯t get it out of his mind. He opened it to a familiar page. A page which described a ritual so blasphemous it made his heart race to read. Should anyone discover this book in his possession, he¡¯d be arrested. Its contents were so heinous that no judge would hesitate to have him hanged at the very least. His colleagues in the Theosophical Society would be both horrified and secretly thrilled by it. But he dared not show them. Their tongues were looser than their purses. Licking his lips, he read it over and over as he¡¯d done many nights before. His lip curled slightly as he marveled at the ritual¡¯s cold violence and the intoxicating promise of power beyond imagining. What made a man capable of committing such obscenities as those described on this page? Was he such a man? Had India taught him nothing of the peace a man should struggle to attain? The daily meditations. The frequent brush with the spiritual. The words of enlightened men. Were these so inconsequential compared to the abhorrent whispers of the Devil himself? After all, what other hand could have written of such occult perversions as this? He closed the book with a shiver, the slam of its pages making his heart skip a beat before he shoved the cursed tome back into its hiding place. Unsettled by the images conjured into his mind by the book¡¯s words, he took his seat by the fire and swirled his brandy. Sipped. Shook his head. And realised that, above all else, he desired to perform this foul ritual before he grew too old to enjoy any mystical rewards it might deliver. He had to attempt it. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. But anxiety gnawed at his heart with every passing second. Would he be able to commit to the final act, though? Would his hand quiver and shake? What if he couldn¡¯t finish the thing? What if the woman screamed? Or beg for her life? He wasn¡¯t so sure he wouldn¡¯t flinch from what had to be done if she did. He¡¯d need to gag her. And where would he even find a suitable sacrifice? He knew so few women. And a virgin? How did one even ask that question of a woman? It had never come up in polite society before. There was no polite way to ask such a thing. Marie looked innocent enough, though. Could she be virgin? Even if she was, questions would be asked if she disappeared. Uncomfortable questions. Who, then? Who? And how to get them to where he needed them to be? It was said there were men who¡¯d kidnap someone for a fee. Where would he find such blaggards? Should they be local? What if they blackmailed him? They¡¯d be sure to blackmail him. He¡¯d have to kill them, too. He rubbed his cheeks, frustration making them redden. If the ritual was both authentic and succeeded, the power he¡¯d gain could be indescribable. And if not? Execution. It was too much of a risk. The whole thing was ridiculous. He couldn¡¯t do it. He slumped in his chair and finished the last swallow of brandy, bitterness evaporating his fantasy. Sighed. Said; ¡°Shit.¡± Then jumped as someone knocked on his door. He wasn¡¯t expecting company. Was he? Lately, he¡¯d been forgetting things. Too much of his mind was focused on that damned book. He put his glass down a little heavily and stomped from his library. Irritated that he¡¯d sent his servants away so soon. But he hadn¡¯t wanted anyone home while he studied in case they saw what he was reading. Flinging the front door open faster than he¡¯d intended, he stared in slack-jawed amazement at the three ladies standing in a neat row in front of him. ¡°Mister Hartmann,¡± one of them purred. ¡°And so eager to meet us, I see.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he choked. Pulling his voice loose. Looking from one beautiful face to the next, unsure what to think. Were his cheeks still red? They felt hot. Warm from liquor, or something more carnal? ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting visitors. If you¡¯re patients, I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t do work from my home. And certainly not this late. I mean¡­¡± ¡°Oh, we¡¯re not patients, Mister Hartmann. Not at all.¡± She stuck out her lips in a coy smile. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to invite us inside? It¡¯s terribly cold out here, you know.¡± ¡°Inside?¡± ¡°Of course. Is that a fire? That would warm our skin so much. You¡¯re cold, aren¡¯t you, Senka?¡± ¡°Very cold,¡± the youngest said. Her voice sent shivers through his lower region. She was dressed in a top hat and coat. Like a man. But there was no mistaking the lush curves of her figure. ¡°I want to be warm.¡± His mind felt distant all of a sudden, but a question managed to reach out and slip over his tongue. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°My name is Vasilja. This is Hailwic. And that¡¯s Senka. She¡¯s very hungry. I wouldn¡¯t recommend feeding her, though. Well. Not straight away.¡± ¡°Are you¡­¡± Hesitated. Looked to see if anyone he knew was around. Lowered voice; ¡°Prostitutes?¡± ¡°Why, Mister Hartmann, what an offensive thing to suggest. Do we look like harlots to you? Of course we don¡¯t. We might be ladies of the night, but the emphasis is most definitely on lady, I should think.¡± ¡°Then¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been informed that you have a collection of philosophical books we might find very interesting. We do so adore books. Senka here, she loves books. Don¡¯t you, Senka?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Senka nodded, her face serious. ¡°I like books.¡± ¡°We were hoping that you might show us your collection, Mister Hartmann. And perhaps tell us all about your travels? We¡¯ve heard you¡¯ve been to India. Is that right? All the way to India. I hear the weather is intolerable, but their people are very educated in all sorts of very interesting things.¡± Her smile grew wider. ¡°Won¡¯t you please invite us inside and educate us?¡± An alien part of his mind whispered that this was a very reasonable request despite the hour. ¡°Yes, well. I suppose there¡¯s no harm¡­¡± ¡°None at all.¡± Vasilja moved forward a little, pale hand reaching for his. Stopping short at the threshold. Her smile penetrated him deeply. Through to his soul, he thought. Couldn¡¯t help nodding as she said; ¡°You want to invite us inside, don¡¯t you?¡± A curtain seemed to pull itself around him like hot perfume. Smoking his thoughts even more. ¡°Yes, I think I do.¡± ¡°Well, why don¡¯t you? You¡¯ve left us standing outside for far too long. The cold air is absolutely ruining my hair.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I wasn¡¯t thinking.¡± He stepped aside and gestured toward the library as he felt the natural comfort that comes when a gentleman allows the manners ingrained by good breeding to dictate his words and actions. ¡°Please. Come inside, ladies. Be welcome in my humble home.¡± Senka flashed a grin which hid her fangs and skipped through the doorway without a word. Vasilja looked around the little entrance, noting a few small paintings on the wall. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say it was humble, Mister Hartmann. It looks very fine indeed. Oh, I do like this one.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yes, of course. I said it, didn¡¯t I?¡± She turned on him, stunning him back into silence. Reached out with a finger and pressed it to his cheek. He flinched at the cold touch, but didn¡¯t pull his head away. ¡°Do you know what else I like, Mister Hartmann?¡± ¡°Franz,¡± he said. His name tripped awkwardly across his tongue. ¡°Please. Call me Franz.¡± It sounded like a plea from his heart and he wondered how he¡¯d let so much desperation fall into his voice. All he knew was he desired for her to say his name. Just once. Say it, he thought. Please say my name. ¡°Franz,¡± she purred, sending a jolt of electricity into every cell in his body. ¡°Very well, Franz. Please take us to your library. We would be delighted if you¡¯d allow us to see your books. We¡¯ve heard so much about them.¡± ¡°This way,¡± he said. ¡°Follow me. I hope you like my collection. I¡¯ve spent years acquiring everything I could. Some have come from as far away as America. Spiritualism is very popular there, you know. In fact, I think America will grow to become a new centre for study in the future. So many very talented people are working there already. Good work, too.¡± ¡°America?¡± Vasilja sounded impressed. ¡°You speak as though you¡¯ve been there.¡± ¡°I have. It was some years ago.¡± ¡°Did you like it there in America, Franz?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± He stopped in the middle of the library. Thinking as hard as he could. ¡°I think I did. Some of it. I was married for a brief time.¡± ¡°Was she beautiful?¡± ¡°She was.¡± The sadness was like a plucking of a harp¡¯s string, but distant. ¡°I wanted to stay, but I couldn¡¯t. I wasn¡¯t well-liked. I tried hard, but they didn¡¯t like me. And they barely tolerated me in India. I¡¯ve come to accept my interests may be somewhat more specific than theirs. In the end, I think America was a bit of a disappointment now I think about it¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s not here,¡± Hailwic said softly. ¡°You¡¯re not like all those other people,¡± Vasilja purred, pressing against his side. He liked the feel of her up against him. Wanted to snatch her into his arms. But his body wouldn¡¯t move. It was frozen. As if in fear, but it wasn¡¯t fear. ¡°Their way is too feathery for you, isn¡¯t it? Too empty. All that vapid talk of astral bodies. Fourth dimensions. Touching the spiritual plane. It¡¯s all nonsense to you, really. When you close your eyes and try their mental exercises, you fall asleep.¡± ¡°I take what interests me,¡± he said. Carefully. Was she testing him? The damned fog wouldn¡¯t leave his mind. ¡°Everything they would share with me had holes in it. Pieces missing. I believe if I can find what fills those empty places, I might discover a better way.¡± ¡°A better way for whom? Your friends? The world?¡± She ran her fingers down his collar. ¡°Or for yourself?¡± Strangled, his voice squeaked out; ¡°Myself.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why these aren¡¯t the only books you have, are they? You have others. Secret books. Books which could get you into a lot of trouble.¡± He shook his head. Sweat beads probed the edge of his forehead. He wanted to wipe them away. They itched his skin. But he couldn¡¯t move. His heart was hammering in his ears. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said, struggling with the fog in his mind. ¡°Yes, you do.¡± She slid around behind him and wrapped arms around his chest. He could feel her breasts soft against his back. Her cheek rested against his shoulder. ¡°We want to see it, Franz. We want to see the book you dare not show anyone. The book which makes you frightened of the man you were meant to be.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t have such a book.¡± His words were dry. He could hear the lie in them. Each syllable thick. Too thick. ¡°Show us, Franz,¡± she moaned. ¡°Please show us. Don¡¯t you want to please us? Don¡¯t you want to please me?¡± ¡°Behind the shelf,¡± he said. Fast. Washed with relief. It felt so good to say. Even better as her fingers gripped him hard as she pulled him tight against her body. His blood roared through his body in an excited rush. ¡°It¡¯s in a secret compartment. There¡¯s a trick to opening it. I can show you.¡± ¡°Show us.¡± ¡°As you wish.¡± A little of the fog cleared. Not much, but enough. Enough for him to loosen his lips a little. ¡°You¡¯re not human, are you? You look human, but you¡¯re not. You¡¯re something else.¡± ¡°Are you scared, Franz Hartmann?¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to be. Not if you bring us what we want. Not if you please us.¡± Everything suddenly seemed so clear to him. It was as if the fog revealed some prophetic truth. They were the key. The key he¡¯d always been waiting for. He didn¡¯t know how, yet. But their path led to his magical success. He was sure of it. A hole inside his soul had found its perfect filling. The spark of hope burned brighter and he gave in to the fog swirling through his brain like brandy in a glass. ¡°You see, Franz? Isn¡¯t that so much better? Aren¡¯t we everything you ever wanted?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± And it was true. ¡°You are.¡± Chapter Fourteen ¡°It¡¯s incomplete,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°It can¡¯t be,¡± Franz Hartmann moaned. He stood where Vasilja had left him. Unmoving. ¡°I was promised it was the full version. An original.¡± Vasilja sighed ¡°How much is missing?¡± Hailwic pursed her lips, thinking. ¡°Two hundred years ago, we were ambushed by Turks. There were only fifty of us left alive after the first night. We¡¯d taken a small farm. I can¡¯t even remember where it was. Dracula used a copy to summon our Master and beg for aid.¡± ¡°I remember that,¡± Vasilja said. Even tone sounding colder than ice. ¡°Oh, wait. No, I don¡¯t. You locked me up in the castle.¡± ¡°It was for your own good.¡± ¡°For two years?¡± Vasilja¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°We sent you messengers to eat.¡± ¡°Only once a week!¡± ¡°Now¡¯s not the time.¡± Hailwic tapped the book¡¯s cover. ¡°Judging by the size alone, I¡¯d say half is missing. Maybe more.¡± Senka stood in front of Franz, poking him in the chest. ¡°Why won¡¯t he move?¡± ¡°I told him not to,¡± Vasilja said, still a little annoyed. ¡°Please leave him alone, Senka. It¡¯s easier to control them if they¡¯re not too stimulated.¡± ¡°I want to control him.¡± ¡°I rather think you should learn your own power first,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°Just so you know, I think this is a complete waste of time. Dreams are only fantasies, you know. Stories we tell ourselves while we sleep.¡± ¡°They weren¡¯t fantasies.¡± Senka moved away from Franz. Reached out and snatched the grimoire from Hailwic. Ignored the eldest¡¯s raised eyebrow and began flipping through the pages. ¡°It looks wrong.¡± ¡°Wrong,¡± Hailwic repeated. ¡°That¡¯s your assessment?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She handed the grimoire back with a sour twist of her mouth. ¡°It¡¯s not right.¡± ¡°Well, Senka,¡± Vasilja said. Amusement triggered her to reach out and twirl the youngest vampire¡¯s hair around her finger. ¡°I¡¯m so glad we brought you along for such astounding displays of insight.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that.¡± Senka slapped her hand away. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what else to say. Just because I¡¯m not as good with words like you are, doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m stupid.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± Hailwic weighed the book in her hand. ¡°What do you think, Senka? What do you think we should do?¡± Vasilja¡¯s hands flew up to her cheeks and she stepped back, aghast. Mock horror played across her face. ¡°Are you seriously asking her what she thinks?¡± ¡°Quiet, Vasilja.¡± Back to Senka. ¡°Well? They were your dreams. You must have seen something.¡± ¡°I told you. I saw the Fel. And it was inside me. I saw armies rising out of the earth. Demons with green skin and burning eyes. And we were leading them.¡± She closed her eyes. ¡°And I saw this grimoire in my first dream after I came to the castle. Green with a silver pentagram. Just like this. And I was reading it right here. In this house. It even had the same chair and rug and everything. The Fel came to me in that dream, so the book must be a key. I remember it so vividly. Stop sniggering, Vasilja. I saw it.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not sniggering. But couldn¡¯t it just be a dream, Senka?¡± Vasilja took the grimoire and opened at random. ¡°You must see how awfully unlikely it all sounds. I mean, just look at this. It¡¯s mostly nonsense. Why, there¡¯s a whole chapter in here on how to make a Hand of Glory. You know what that is, don¡¯t you? A fetish for rapists. It¡¯s hardly real magic at all.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not all nonsense,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°Mostly it is. Oh, look. Astrological charts. How quaint. What was your birth date again, Hailwic? We can find out what kind of man you¡¯re likely to marry. Or what¡¯s the best day to buy a new pair of boots.¡± ¡°Stop it, Vasilja.¡± ¡°There must be more to it,¡± Senka said. ¡°If this is only half of the book, then someone must have the other half. Don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Oh, I suppose so.¡± Vasilja rolled her eyes. ¡°But it¡¯s all so tiresome. I thought we were going to London. Do we really have time for this? You said it yourself, Hailwic. You wanted to get to Dracula as fast as possible.¡± ¡°This is important, too.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see how. There are other books, you know. Other rituals. It doesn¡¯t have to be this one.¡± ¡°Ask Franz if he knows where the rest is.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask him?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t sulk, Vasilja. It¡¯s not like you.¡± ¡°I think it is,¡± Senka said, grinning mischievously. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Don¡¯t be horrid,¡± Vasilja snapped. ¡°I still haven¡¯t forgotten the time you put garlic in my coffin.¡± Senka poked her tongue out. ¡°Vasilja. Stop it.¡± Hailwic shoved herself between the two of them. Crossed her arms and glared at Vasilja. ¡°You¡¯re being difficult. Now, please. Ask him about the book. We¡¯ve wasted enough time tonight.¡± ¡°Oh, very well.¡± She shoved the grimoire into Senka¡¯s hands and flew in front of the shocked man. Hovered just off the ground, toes twitching angrily. Still managed to smile. Leaned down and kissed him on the tip of his nose. Said sweetly; ¡°Even though eavesdropping is not very gentlemanly, you were listening. Weren¡¯t you, Franz?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to.¡± ¡°That¡¯s alright. You were in the same room. It¡¯s only natural.¡± She slapped both hands down onto his shoulders. ¡°Tell me where you got the grimoire.¡± ¡°Paris,¡± he said. ¡°From some Luciferians I¡¯m acquainted with.¡± ¡°Luciferians?¡± She clapped her hands in delight. ¡°Not Satanists? Luciferians! How charming. Most bourgeois. I approve. They sound like wonderful people. We simply must meet them. Who are they, Franz? Could you write their names down for me?¡± ¡°I could do better, Lady,¡± he said. Licked lips. ¡°I could show you. Introduce you. I can help you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure Hailwic would think that was a good idea.¡± ¡°It might be quicker,¡± the other vampire said. ¡°Can you control him, though? He seems unstable.¡± ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think he needs much control. Do you, Franz? You want the same thing, after all. You want power.¡± ¡°Yes. I want that. I¡¯ll do anything.¡± ¡°Would you help us perform a little ritual, Franz?¡± ¡°The ritual from the book?¡± ¡°Yes. That one.¡± ¡°You know what it does?¡± ¡°Of course we do, silly.¡± ¡°And you really want to summon him. The Devil?¡± She purred as she stroked his face with her fingertips. ¡°Who else would give someone everything they ever wanted?¡± ¡°Please take me with you, Lady.¡± He dropped to his knees. ¡°I¡¯ll serve you forever. I swear.¡± ¡°I like this man,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°Hailwic? Can I keep him? I promise to look after him all by myself.¡± ¡°I thought we were going to bite him,¡± Senka said. ¡°We agreed.¡± ¡°Yes, but now we need him to show us Paris. Don¡¯t you want to get the rest of your little book, Senka? Well, then we can¡¯t bite him.¡± Vasilja wrapped her arms around Franz Hartmann¡¯s head possessively. ¡°We must protect him. Keep him close. You¡¯d like that, wouldn¡¯t you, Franz?¡± ¡°Yes, Lady,¡± he said. Voice muffled. ¡°Very much.¡± ¡°You see? I have him completely under control.¡± She flung him back and danced in the air. ¡°Paris! Oh, how I love Paris. The charming little boutiques. The perfume! The dresses. Such fashions found only in France! The lightest of silks. The purest of leathers! Theatres everywhere. Delightful little flowergirls on almost every corner. Their pretty little necks just full of blood.¡± ¡°Garlic,¡± Halwic grunted. ¡°You forgot the garlic.¡± ¡°Well, yes. I suppose there is that.¡± Senka crossed her arms. ¡°Then, who can I bite?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, Senka. Perhaps we¡¯ll find someone on the way back.¡± ¡°And what if we don¡¯t?¡± ¡°Then you¡¯ll have to wait until tomorrow, won¡¯t you? Honestly, since we¡¯ve gotten to the city, it¡¯s like you expect you can eat every night.¡± ¡°There¡¯s so many people here, though.¡± She pushed her nose against the glass window. Looked out at gaslights burning along the street. Squinted as she caught sight of a few figures moving quickly between. ¡°Who¡¯d miss one or two?¡± ¡°Not tonight,¡± Hailwic said. Decision made. ¡°I want to you to look through this book some more. You need to separate out which pieces you think are right, and which are wrong.¡± Vasilja let out a throaty laugh. ¡°That sounds positively exciting. I bet you can¡¯t wait to get started.¡± The youngest vampire looked down at her hand. Veins, dark against the inside of her wrists. In her dreams, they¡¯d glowed bright with venomous light. Fel. The feeling had been ecstatic as it burned through her. Frightening, too. But ecstatic. She curled her fingers. Tried to concentrate on the memory of that feeling rather than the aching hunger for blood. ¡°I want to get some tea, though,¡± she said. Put her hat back on and fished into her coat for a pair of white kidskin gloves. ¡°From the coffeehouse. For Dimiti.¡± ¡°You¡¯re spoiling him,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°He¡¯s supposed to be our servant, not the other way around.¡± ¡°He saved my life.¡± ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s no reason to buy him tea every day, is it? I mean, it was his job, Senka. I told him to do that. I don¡¯t see you thanking me for telling him to look after you. You haven¡¯t bought me any nice flowers or anything.¡± ¡°You said you hated the flowers here.¡± ¡°I do. But that¡¯s no reason not to buy them for me, is it?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get you some in Paris.¡± ¡°In Paris, they come with the flowergirl.¡± ¡°Are they small?¡± Vasilja¡¯s grin was predatory. Franz, looking into it, ducked his head with a wince. ¡°They¡¯re delicious. Aren¡¯t they Hailwic?¡± ¡°Help him to pack his bag. We can talk about Paris on the way.¡± ¡°There you go again. Taking all the fun out of things.¡± She took hold of his necktie and began floating toward the doorway, dragging him behind. ¡°Come along, Franz. Let¡¯s go find out what naughty things you keep in your closet. I do hope you¡¯re inventive.¡± Hailwic drifted up behind the young vampire still at the window. Put a hand on her shoulder. Kept her voice low. ¡°Are you sure about all this, Senka?¡± ¡°I think so.¡± She put her own hands on the glass. Feeling the crisp cold bite through her gloves. ¡°But I admit it¡¯s mostly just a feeling. Is that enough, do you think?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Hailwic followed Senka¡¯s stare. ¡°I want it to be. It gives me hope. Because Vasilja¡¯s right. Dracula hasn¡¯t been the same. Things have changed. More than I can say.¡± ¡°He¡¯s always been the same to me.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because you didn¡¯t know him before.¡± She looked down at the grimoire. ¡°Lucifer¡¯s Bargain meant a lot to him when we met. His passion for it consumed him. In the early years, the mountain streams would run red with blood most nights. We gorged, Senka. Gorged like your dreams. Dedicated every feast to Hell¡¯s glory on Earth. Vasilja was there for the end of it. Dracula¡¯s final army was destroyed by Hungarians. It was his third. If you could call it an army, of course. More like a band of savages he¡¯d attracted from as far away as Rome. No real military training, which is why they ran. I tried to warn him about that, but he was born in a simpler time when all you needed was a sword and an axe and the lust for victory. He thought just his presence would be enough to secure victory. He expected the Hungarians to run. They didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°What changed him?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± She looked down at her feet. Thinking. ¡°After you joined us, he retreated. Refused to speak. At first, I thought it was just melancholy. I thought he¡¯d grow out of it. Instead, he grew into it.¡± ¡°Was it my fault, Hailwic?¡± The blonde vampire put her arms around Senka. Touched her forehead to the other¡¯s own and smiled. ¡°Never. His problems were his own.¡± ¡°Vasilja blames me.¡± ¡°Because you replaced her, for a time. And, when he changed, it must seem to her that you triggered something different in him. But she also saw the signs from before, so blames you less than you think.¡± ¡°I feel so stupid. What if she¡¯s right? What if they¡¯re just dreams?¡± Hailwic kissed her cheek. ¡°If they¡¯re dreams, I won¡¯t think less of you.¡± ¡°How can you be sure?¡± ¡°Because if they give us nothing else, your dreams have given me hope, Senka. And I haven¡¯t felt that in a long time.¡± Chapter Fifteen The sun left a soft blush against the sharp peaks of mountains being swallowed by impending night. The two men were oblivious to the beauty of it. The freezing temperatures had robbed them of their ability to appreciate it as crisp evening air bit deep into their bones. ¡°Put your shoulder into it, Franz. Come on! I¡¯d rather sleep in a tavern tonight, if it¡¯s all the same to you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a doctor, not a fucking labourer!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t give a pig¡¯s arse what you think you are, you weak piece of shit. Right now, you¡¯re the only fucking help I have! Now, push!¡± They roared together, each man leaning hard on the wagon¡¯s wheel until, with a soulful creak, it rolled loose of the savage ditch. The ox, feeling free, trotted a few steps before stopping. Shook its head. Looked back at Franz, who leaned against the side of the wagon. Sweat poured down his face as his lungs heaved for breath. The old man reached out and thumped him on the back. ¡°There you go,¡± he said in a kindlier tone. ¡°Good work in the end.¡± Franz dropped to the ground and sprawled on his back. A tired heap. ¡°I can¡¯t do this, Dimiti. I wasn¡¯t made for it, was I? I¡¯m a scholar. A doctor. Look at me. Look at my hands. What¡¯s this? A blister. It¡¯s a blister. I¡¯ve never had such things before.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve never travelled?¡± ¡°Of course I have! But I¡¯m usually inside coaches. Not pushing them out of the damned mud.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯ll be good experience for you, won¡¯t it?¡± ¡°No,¡± the little man curled his lips. ¡°No, it bloody well won¡¯t. I hate it. I can¡¯t stand it. Look. My trousers, they¡¯re ruined.¡± ¡°Should¡¯ve brought another pair.¡± ¡°I did. I wore them yesterday. They¡¯re in even worse condition now.¡± ¡°Quit your moaning, Franz. There¡¯s a town up ahead. A hot meal and a decent kip and you¡¯ll feel right as rain.¡± ¡°Until it rains.¡± He rose onto his elbow and spat into a puddle on the side of the road. ¡°What was I thinking?¡± ¡°Whatever it was,¡± Dimiti said. ¡°Keep thinking it. It¡¯ll keep you going.¡± ¡°Why come this way at all, though, Dimiti? Why? Look at this. Mud. It¡¯s just fucking mud. It¡¯s not a real road, even. It¡¯s not on a map. Surely there are better ways. We could have taken the ferry. Or a train.¡± ¡°Aye,¡± Dimiti said. ¡°There¡¯s a lot better than this, for sure. But it¡¯s what Hailwic wanted. So, we live with it.¡± The little man looked up, his intense expression staring holes in the other man. Who ignored him. Was used to the stare by now. ¡°Aren¡¯t you ever conflicted, Dimiti?¡± The little man¡¯s eyes were shrewd, but something stirred inside them. Something which nibbled at the loyalty Vasilja had instilled in him only days before. ¡°Don¡¯t you ask yourself if you¡¯re really doing what you want, or is it because of her? Because of the touch she put on your mind?¡± The old man didn¡¯t look upset by the question. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your breath on me with that kind of talk. I¡¯ll serve her for the rest of my life.¡± ¡°And how long will that be, do you think? How long before she tires of you? She¡¯s not like you and I, Dimiti.¡± Quick look to the coffins. To the last shred of daylight. Hurrying now. ¡°Satan¡¯s work. That¡¯s what she is. Even to her bones. All three of them. They creep inside our heads. Make us do things. Are we doing them because of us? Are these our choices? I can¡¯t be sure. I want to be sure. Dammit, man, how can I be sure?¡± ¡°Whatever my choices are now, Franz, it were my choice to serve in the beginning. I¡¯ll accept what comes. She¡¯ll look out for me. I know it.¡± ¡°You know the price of serving her as much as I. Damnation. Burning in the fires of Hell for all eternity.¡± His tongue flicked out. Back in. Quicker than a whip. ¡°They¡¯re evil. How can such evil look out for us? They don¡¯t look at us as anything more than servants!¡± Dimiti looked the man up and down, expression showing he didn¡¯t much like what he was seeing. But age stopped him from leaping on Franz and stabbing him in the throat. Instead, he shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t much give a shit what you think, Franz. And I never will.¡± ¡°What does she see in you, I wonder?¡± ¡°Probably someone who doesn¡¯t complain.¡± ¡°Like a dog, you mean?¡± Lightly. ¡°Are you saying you¡¯re a dog, Dimiti?¡± ¡°Aye, if that¡¯s what she wants me to be.¡± ¡°I bet you think of licking her-¡± Dimiti wrenched the little man by his collar. Lifted with inhuman strength to slam him against the wagon. The sudden burst of strength took Franz by surprise and he whimpered in fear and pain as the old man held him off the ground. To Franz, it was as if Dimiti¡¯s eyes glowed sullen red as the older man glared into his face. Fear churned his belly¡¯s acidic juices and he wondered if he¡¯d pushed the snarling Dimiti too far. ¡°You listen to me, you little shit. Listen good. I don¡¯t give a fuck what you say about me. I really don¡¯t. You think you¡¯re better than me with your dandy clothes and your snuffbox and your picky manners. You think you¡¯re a better man. That¡¯s fine. I haven¡¯t been bothered by that kind of shit in a long time.¡± Pushed his face so close. The deep lines in the old man¡¯s face didn¡¯t look so deep. Didn¡¯t look caused by age. They looked unnatural. Made him look like a gargoyle. ¡°But I¡¯ve heard enough of your shit about her. If you talk about the Lady like that again, I¡¯ll have your tongue out. Then I¡¯ll nail it to the nearest fucking tree.¡± Stolen novel; please report. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± ¡°I fucking well would. And it¡¯d be a pleasure.¡± ¡°She wouldn¡¯t like that.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯d mind in the end, Franz. You¡¯d still have your hands to write. And an educated man such as yourself can surely write out anything she wants from you.¡± ¡°She did something to you, didn¡¯t she?¡± The little man peered closer. Something about Dimiti now seemed obviously inhuman. ¡°What did she do?¡± ¡°If she wants you to know, she¡¯ll tell you.¡± Dimiti let the little man go with a gruff shove. ¡°Just you remember what I said.¡± ¡°She promised me power, Dimiti. All she promised you is servitude.¡± Franz absently smoothed down his rumpled clothes. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask her to give you to me, one day. And when she does, I¡¯ll have you flogged every single morning. Right before breakfast. I¡¯ll listen to you beg, do you know that? You¡¯ll beg for mercy from me every day, but you¡¯ll never get it.¡± Dimiti snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t beg.¡± The old man walked away, leaving Franz to let out an ugly chuckle as he slumped against the wheel. ¡°But you¡¯re a dog, Dimiti,¡± he called. ¡°Just a dog. That¡¯s exactly what you do. You beg.¡± Dimiti didn¡¯t answer. But another voice did. ¡°I want to bite you.¡± Franz whirled on his heels, heart racing. Found Senka perched on top of her wagon. Eyes slitted dangerous. Red lips an angry line. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean anything,¡± he stammered. ¡°I was just teasing. That¡¯s all. There¡¯s nothing to do out here. The mountains. There¡¯s too many mountains. They close in on me. I can¡¯t stand it. I can¡¯t stand it any longer!¡± He threw himself to the ground as she swooped over his head, hissing through her fangs. Her dress whipped his spine and her clawed hands lashed once, leaving three thin lines down the back of his neck. Landing without a sound, she crouched in front of him. A panther ready to pounce. ¡°I really want to bite you.¡± ¡°Senka,¡± Vasilja called. ¡°Please leave Franz alone.¡± Relief warmed his bowels as her voice melted inside his ears and he found himself smiling. A dreamy smile as his doubts and fears slid away. ¡°Lady,¡± he breathed. Scrambled to his knees and bowed, touching head to the ground. Knew he was groveling, but couldn¡¯t stop himself. How much of that was him, he wondered. ¡°Where are we, Franz?¡± ¡°A mile or two outside a place called Hallstatt.¡± He sighed. ¡°It seems out of our way. And these stupid bovines keep getting stuck in ditches. The mountain trails are terrible this time of year. I¡¯m telling you, it¡¯s barely a trail. It¡¯s too wet. I¡¯ve worked as hard as I can, but it¡¯s not easy, Lady. It¡¯s not easy. I told him we should have taken the boat. It would have been easier.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t like to cross the water, Franz,¡± Hailwic said. She uncoiled from her coffin and rose into the air. ¡°Where¡¯s Dimiti?¡± Franz shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°He made Dimiti leave,¡± Senka said. ¡°Can I bite him, Hailwic? Vasilja won¡¯t let me.¡± ¡°She probably has a good reason.¡± Pause. ¡°Maybe you can find Dimiti?¡± ¡°I think he went that way,¡± Vasilja offered lightly. Pointed toward a line of trees. ¡°He shouldn¡¯t be far.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Senka said. She gave Franz a spiteful hiss which made him shuffle a step back. Then floated toward the trees, swinging her mace absently at the wind. ¡°Salt mines,¡± Vasilja said when Senka was out of view. ¡°Isn¡¯t that all this place was good for? I¡¯m sure that¡¯s what Dimiti said was here.¡± ¡°I believe so,¡± Hailwic said. She drifted higher so she could see above the trees. Her eyes swept over the grey mountains sloped like chilled razors on either side. Moonlight bathed the ice-capped peaks blue where it could. Shivering beams spearing between racing clouds dragged on alpine winds. Vasilja looked up at her. Crossed her arms across her chest. ¡°Are you sure we can¡¯t go to Munich? I would very much like to go to Munich, you know.¡± Hailwic shook her head. ¡°No. Munich is the obvious choice. And the most convenient. The roads to Munich will be watched more closely than those to Zurich.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think Senka will like Zurich. I know I don¡¯t, and I¡¯ve never even been.¡± ¡°This stopped being a holiday as soon as a vampire hunter tried to kill her in our hotel.¡± Franz looked up. ¡°Vampire hunter?¡± ¡°Hush, Franz. Please don¡¯t interrupt when we¡¯re talking. Unless you know something about vampire hunters?¡± ¡°Crazy old folk, mostly,¡± he said. ¡°Older than me. Older than Dimiti. One tried to join our society last year. I sent him packing. I won¡¯t tolerate that kind of nonsense. Folklore makes my head hurt. Most of it¡¯s just old wives¡¯ tales, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a voice of reason in an insane world,¡± Vasilja said, patting his cheek. ¡°Now, do be useful and make sure the wagons are ready for Dimiti.¡± He nodded. Didn¡¯t want to do it. But how could he refuse? Vasilja prodded the soft mud trail with her toe. ¡°I think he¡¯s right about the road, Hailwic. It¡¯s terrible. Look at this. We should write a letter to the Prince. The state of it. Look. How is anyone supposed to travel here?¡± ¡°No one travels this way,¡± Hailwic said. ¡°That¡¯s why we chose it.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll take forever to reach Paris, though. At this rate, Franz will die of old age before we get across the lake.¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t have to¡­¡± Vasilja shot her an indignant look. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not letting him have any of my blood, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re suggesting. I like Dimiti. I don¡¯t like Franz. Just look at him. He looks like a stoat. You know what a stoat is, don¡¯t you? The man is positively repugnant. I only kept him around because you want him to introduce you to Luciferians. And because Senka doesn¡¯t like him, I suppose. I admit that does amuse me a little.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you think you¡¯re being hard on her?¡± ¡°No, Hailwic. No, I don¡¯t. Both of you are being very unreasonable. It¡¯s bad enough that she has you following something she saw in a dream. A dream of all things! But now you¡¯re seeing vampire hunters in every shadow and have us trudging through the mountains. We¡¯re not goats, Hailwic. Our wagons are not pulled by goats.¡± ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing.¡± ¡°Do you? I hope so. Because I¡¯ve had quite enough of mud, thank you.¡± Hailwic¡¯s laughter rang through the trees. ¡°Vasilja, you were born in a place just like this. Can¡¯t you remember?¡± ¡°Despite my very best attempts to forget, I remember it very well.¡± Icy cold, the vampire turned away and drifted back toward her coffin. ¡°And this intolerable mud was just one of the reasons I left.¡± ¡°Wait.¡± Hailwic cocked her head suddenly. ¡°I can hear music.¡± ¡°Can you? Really, Hailwic? Do you mean it? You¡¯re not just teasing me now, are you? It¡¯s not that horrible peasant rubbish, is it? I can¡¯t stand that nonsense. It¡¯s like listening to cats fight. Please don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s a music box.¡± ¡°No.¡± Frown. ¡°It sounds like a flute.¡± ¡°I must hear it.¡± She slammed her coffin shut and whirled as Dimiti and Senka returned to the wagons. Imperiously, she pointed at him then the wagons. ¡°Dimiti! There¡¯s a flautist in this grubby excuse for a town up ahead. I wish to hear it.¡± ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± He touched his cap and called to the wagon; ¡°Move up, Franz!¡± ¡°I¡¯m moving,¡± Franz growled back. ¡°I¡¯m moving. About all that is, of course.¡± With the oxen quickly on the move, and the chance for music, Vasilja brightened. She joined Senka on the wagon with Dimiti and linked her arm with the younger vampire. Hailwic kept to the rear. She tucked a heavy revolver into her belt and kept her gaze moving across the dark shadows which crawled through mountains and trees. ¡°The flute is an amazing instrument, Senka,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°It has a voice like no other. Depending on who is playing it, of course. I do hope this one is decent. If they¡¯re not, I won¡¯t care what Hailwic says. I¡¯ll bite them.¡± ¡°Will we be able to bite someone tonight, do you think?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see when we get into town.¡± She giggled, giddy with joy. ¡°But I hope so! I think so.¡± Trees grew across the trail, scraping the top of the wagons as they went underneath. Senka let out a girlish squeal as leaves prickled her skin. Pine needles soon covered the wagons. Only Vasilja didn¡¯t seem to notice. Didn¡¯t try plucking needles from her dress. Had instead closed her eyes and was smiling. ¡°Oh, Senka. Good news,¡± she said dreamily. ¡°Best of news, in fact. Listen. Can you hear? The flute is more than decent. It¡¯s beautiful.¡± Chapter Sixteen The town shivered on a near-vertical slope. Little houses crushed together, battered and bruised by weather, looked out across the placid belly of a large lake. Mountains looming above. Mist clinging to the street. Snow had been and gone, leaving wide patches of white. Ice hung like fangs from gutters. A little orange hall squatted in the middle of the town. Candles in the windows called the vampires closer. Promising music and the warm rush of blood. As Franz led the wagons into town, he looked over his shoulder. Called; ¡°It¡¯s good to see civilization again, isn¡¯t it? Even if it is dreadfully primitive.¡± ¡°Stop!¡± Hailwic¡¯s voice rang clear in the frigid night. Dimiti pulled hard on the reins while Franz looked back in confusion before hurrying to obey. ¡°What is it, Hailwic?¡± Vasilja asked, impatience edging her voice. ¡°Listen to the music. I want to go inside.¡± ¡°And I want to bite,¡± Senka said. Hailwic¡¯s eyes slitted. ¡°Hush.¡± The blonde vampire stood tall on her wagon. Had dropped the reins and her head was crooked to the wind. Slowly she drew the revolver and sniffed the air. Inhaled deep. ¡°Dimiti?¡± Her voice was colder than the lake. ¡°Get your guns.¡± The first shot blasted a hole in the wagon near Senka¡¯s hand. She let out a yelp and snatched her hand away from the splintered wood. The second shot should have put a hole in her chest, but Dimiti flung himself at her and they rolled off the wagon and into the snow-lathered mud. He let out a grunt of pain. Hers was irritation and surprise as she pushed him off. Vasilja was already moving, flying toward one of the houses, arms outstretched. Mad cackle bubbling across her lips. Bullets smashed through the glass windows from within, tunnelling air in search of the vampire¡¯s flesh, but she was a blur. She hit a window on the upper floor like a comet. Glass and shrapnel exploded inward. Hailwic dropped to the ground, eyes searching for Senka. Franz ducked behind his wagon and scrambled to get under it. Teeth chattering and shivering with terror as much as cold, he squeezed his eyes shut as if doing so would protect him. His ox took three bullets and dropped, making the wagon creak and shake. ¡°Oh, Lord God,¡± the little man moaned. ¡°What have I done? I didn¡¯t mean it, Lord. I didn¡¯t. Please save me. I don¡¯t want to die. I can repent. I swear to you. I can. I¡¯ll renounce all devils, I swear¡­¡± Someone¡¯s voice shouted; ¡°Now! Do it now!¡± The hall exploded. A massive fireball ripped it apart as the bomb inside was triggered to send shrapnel spearing in all directions. The fire roared as it chewed into houses immediately at hand. Then flared outward with frightening speed. Each flame flashing across the divide between structures and licking hungrily at old wood. In a world chilled by the dead of Winter, the inferno lit the night with a promise of blood and death. Vasilja flew down the stairs, white dress trailing behind. She coiled like a snake around a corner and twirled her torso to avoid a bullet to her lung. Then dived onto the gunman with a shriek. One hand grabbed his shoulder. The other his throat. And, with manic joy, she tore him open. She laughed as his scream thrilled her ears with the music of fear. She adored the sound. Relished the deep crack of spine and bursting ribs as she slammed him into the wall to end his scream. A ladder of sharp sound drowned in wet flesh. Mouth lunging for the wound, she gulped her first taste of gushing blood before flinging him away as a younger man darted out of a nearby room, firing blindly. A bullet shot past her face and she was on him. Both hands wrapped around his head, she lifted him off his feet before her fangs slashed his neck. She drank. Drank swift and long. Excited, the vampire dropped her kill and soared toward the front door, licking her fingers clean as she went. It had been kicked open and two men were running for the trees. ¡°Don¡¯t go,¡± Vasilja called. Reached her hand to them, feeling her demonic power rise inside. The acrid stink of Brimstone and ozone filled the air. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to leave. I want you to stay. Stay with me¡­¡± They lurched to a halt as one, staggering as their minds were overcome. They shuddered. Then turned, eyes bulging. Guns quivered forgotten in their fists. The raging battle against her control revealed in a flood of emotions which played across their faces. Clean faces, she thought. Finely shaved. Meticulous hair. Gentlemen. Vasilja liked gentlemen. She smiled at them. Beckoned with her finger. ¡°Come to me. I know you want to.¡± They began the slow shuffle back. One jerky step after the other. Low groans which faded away as they drew closer. Expressions shifting from horror to adoration as they stared at her, minds distantly aware of the venom in her heart. Unable to resist her vampiric call, they stumbled. Shoulders drooped. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Mouths open. Lust inflaming their souls. When they were almost to the door, she giggled. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be silly,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t want both of you. I only need one.¡± The two men gulped. Looked at each other. Hesitated for just a second. Then aimed revolvers and started firing. Screaming rage and violent hunger. Each pull of the trigger more desperate than the last. Bullets exploded into flesh, fired one after the other until a rhythm of clicks announced all ammunition spent. Both men, riddled with holes, dropped to their knees. Stared mute at each other. Blood flowing fast. Drooling from mouths as lungs tried to expel the dark crimson flood. And Vasilja laughed. A long mocking roll which broke the spell. One lifted his trembling arm, aimed the revolver. Cocked hammer. Pulled trigger. Click. Vasilja crouched down next to him. Purred into the crook of his neck as her fangs touched his skin. ¡°Darling boy,¡± she whispered, breath hot against his skin. ¡°I bet you taste delicious.¡± Hailwic kicked into a door, snarl of rage twisting her face. Fury boiled her blood and she used her sword on the first man she found. Split him from shoulder to hip. Ripped the sword free and plunged deeper into the house. Three men fumbled to reload their rifles. One swiveled from the waist, pumping his weapon fast. Bullet smooth into chamber. Cocked. Aimed at her chest. But she was faster. Her revolver spat fire and death, obliterating his head and sending fragments of skull and brain splashing across the wall. The remaining two, unable to load in time, dropped guns and scrambled to get away. The first took her sword in the back and fell across the couch, impaled and squealing. Blood hissed from his back in warm jets. The second changed his mind and whipped around. Thrust an arm out towards her. Hand filled with a heavy silver crucifix. ¡°Back! Back, you foul-¡± Hailwic shot him in the heart. ¡°It¡¯s too late for that,¡± she growled. ¡°You should¡¯ve tried that first.¡± A noise from the attic made her look up. Cruel grin on her lips. Slitted her eyes and began walking up the stairs. Outside, Senka rolled away from Dimiti. Narrowed her gaze. ¡°Are you alright, Dimiti?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, Miss.¡± ¡°Wait here. Everything will be fine.¡± ¡°But, Miss¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. I want to bite.¡± And she whirled, shooting into the air so fast and so high that he lost sight of her. She could feel Hailwic¡¯s presence. Feel Vasilja. And saw four men making a run for their horses. Their footprints left dark tracks through raking stretches of snow. The young vampire bared her fangs and plummeted. Crisp air stinging her cheeks. Whipping her dress behind her. One of the men looked up. Opened his mouth. Died as she landed on him, smashing his body to the ground with such force it crushed his spine. ¡°Davey!¡± Senka felt nothing from the impact other than satisfaction. She corkscrewed her body as she leapt from the corpse and into the next. Clawed hands tearing. Blood burst as she ripped through cloth and skin. Found something slippery and smooth. Yanked a few yards of entrails free and tossed them aside. Didn¡¯t watch him fall. Violence was singing a song inside her mind. A thrumming song which played in tune to the Fel of her dreams. A song which made the dead heart in her chest seem to beat with frenetic energy. She smiled as she moved, her body flowing with the languid grace of a predator. A bullet cracked into her shoulder and she let out a vengeful shriek. Drove herself through the air in a vicious blur. Snatched wrist and squeezed until bones snapped and he dropped the revolver. Screaming. She launched herself into the air with tremendous force. Wind howling in her ears, echoing frantic screams as he wailed in her grip. Senka spun at the top of the trees, eyes searching. Found what she was looking for. Pulled him close. Raked fangs through throat, snapping greedy mouthfuls of blood as it spurted fresh. Then wheeled his body in her arms. Laughing as his squeals rose in pitch. Lifted him high over her head. And rammed him down onto a splintered branch. The wooden limb speared through his back to erupt from his chest in a crimson flash of gore. His head lolled to one side, blood vomiting as he managed a single moan; ¡°Mother¡­¡± No one heard him. The last hunter was on his horse. Pounding its flanks with frantic lashes to send it galloping wildly down the muddy track. And Senka was quick behind him. Banshee wail assaulting his ears. ¡°Lord help me,¡± he croaked. Twisted his torso. Aimed with the revolver. Steady. Pulled the trigger. Bullet stung her cheek, and she was tossed sideways. Hit a tree. The crunch sounded final, and he grinned his triumph. ¡°Got you, you bitch!¡± Turned to face front. And caught the limb across his face as the horse kept going. ¡°Ack!¡± Thrown back, he landed in a dazed heap. Clutched his face. Blood. Lots of it. His head felt numb. Couldn¡¯t feel his nose. He pressed against his forehead, but it didn¡¯t feel cracked. Just hurt. Really hurt. And wet. Just blood, though. Just blood. He didn¡¯t have time. Knew that much. His hand searched for his revolver in the snow and mud. Didn¡¯t find it. ¡°Shit.¡± Wobbled to his feet and took a step forward. Waves of nausea nearly drove him back to his knees, but he grit his teeth and kept moving. He had to get away. Had to warn the others. ¡°You look tough,¡± a voice said from the tree above. He looked up, neck jabbing pain as he did. Saw her. Perched like an owl. Or a gargoyle. Demonic face too white in the slivered song of moonlight. ¡°Foul creature,¡± he spat. Dug into his pocket and found the crucifix. In the other, a wooden stake. He still had that. Held both in front like a shield. ¡°Keep away from me. I know what you are.¡± ¡°Do you?¡± She dropped lightly to the ground. Drifting toward him. Eyes burning with a craving he could never fathom. His own lust had haunted him all this way. And when he¡¯d seen her, he¡¯d felt himself stirred. But now, he knew his were the desires of a child. Hers were the hungers of a demon. ¡°Do you really know what I am?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a demon.¡± Hissed between his teeth. He kept the crucifix carefully between them. Knew she was feeling the effects of it. Her eyes couldn¡¯t look at it. ¡°A vampire!¡± But it didn¡¯t seem to stop her. She smiled. ¡°What is your name?¡± ¡°Richard,¡± he said. ¡°I won¡¯t give you my last name. You don¡¯t deserve it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care about the rest,¡± she said. ¡°I just wanted to know what name to scream as I tear the beating heart from your chest and drink it dry. Oh, Richard, I¡¯ll scream. Oh, Richard. Men like to hear me cry their name. Vasilja says it¡¯s because you¡¯re all very dull. You¡¯d like me to scream your name, though, wouldn¡¯t you, Richard?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not afraid. Not afraid of you!¡± ¡°That¡¯s good. I don¡¯t want you to be afraid. You see, I want you to fight me,¡± she said. ¡°Do you understand? And not just a small fight. You have to give me everything you have. You can¡¯t hold back. You must try. Try really hard. Hit me, Richard. Hit me now. Can you do that?¡± ¡°Just try it, bitch. I¡¯ll show you!¡± She pounced. Shrieking; ¡°Do it!¡± Not far away, Vasilja slurped the last drop of blood from the young man bent over her knee and smiled. A wistful smile. ¡°I do wonder who was playing the flute,¡± she said to the dead man. ¡°I would have liked to listen to it now. Wouldn¡¯t you? Music makes life worth living and death worth achieving.¡± He didn¡¯t answer. Hailwic made the top of the stairs. Held the revolver ahead and kept it pointed at a figure made dark against the moonlight. ¡°You were waiting for us,¡± she said. Her brow creased. ¡°You knew we were coming this way.¡± ¡°You are predictable, Hailwic. The others more so.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I had hoped you¡¯d arrive earlier, though. I¡¯m glad you found me first, though. It¡¯ll make it easier to deal with the others when you¡¯re dead.¡± The blonde vampire opened her mouth to speak, then moved in a blur as the figure whipped toward her with confounding speed. Flash of steel. And she felt it. Felt the tip burst through her chest. Tear through ribs. Heart. Spine. She hadn¡¯t paid attention to the simple-looking spear he¡¯d been holding. But as it entered her body, it seemed to come alive. It shone with angelic light. Its heat boiling inside her like the sun. ¡°Vasilja,¡± she whispered. ¡°Senka.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll be joining you soon.¡± Hailwic aimed the revolver. Pulled the trigger. Bullets found flesh each time and he let out a roar as he tore the spear free. Jabbed it into her side one more time. Twisted. And she screamed as heat flowered inside veins. Burning. Consuming. She heard Vasilja first. Heard Senka¡¯s sorrowful echo. ¡°Not with this you won¡¯t,¡± she hissed. With dying hands, the vampire grabbed the shaft of the holy spear. Took a last breath. Glared into his face and wrenched. The shaft snapped with a blast of light and fire. He screamed her name. Screamed it with hatred. And lunged with grasping hands to tear at her flesh. But was too late. She was already ash. Chapter Seventeen ¡°Hailwic!¡± Vasilja wailed as she knelt before the scattered ash. Senka¡¯s eyes burned and she sobbed frantically despite the lack of tears. Scrubbing at her cheeks, she beat the ground in frustration. ¡°Who? Who did this? Vasilja? Who?¡± Vasilja¡¯s hand was tight around the broken spear¡¯s shaft. She flung it at the wall, where it buried itself by more than a few inches. ¡°I want their skin,¡± she hissed. ¡°I want their skin peeled. I want it peeled, Senka. Nothing quick. I want them to die for a very long time. Dimiti?¡± ¡°Lady,¡± the old man knelt by the doorway. Head bowed. ¡°Search the grounds. We need horses now. And we¡¯ll take the ferry. We need speed. I won¡¯t tolerate one more day in these cursed mountains.¡± ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s Franz?¡± ¡°Gone, Lady. I couldn¡¯t find him.¡± ¡°Forget that blithering idiot, then. Horses, Dimiti. Please¡­¡± Vasilja¡¯s enraged eyes scanned the room. Searching for something she couldn¡¯t find. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Senka said. Her voice was small. Confused. ¡°Vasilja, what¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Hailwic is dead.¡± The words sounded like blasphemy in her ears. ¡°She was a warrior, Senka. I¡¯ve seen no man beat her with a sword. No man beat her with his hands. Not even Dracula. Whoever did this, they were strong. And fast. And she died saving us.¡± ¡°Saving us?¡± ¡°She broke the spear. With her own hands. So it couldn¡¯t be used against us.¡± In the middle of the pile of ash, a blackened skull lay with its dark sockets staring sightless. Vasilja placed her hand gently on its crown. ¡°With her last act, she protected us, Senka.¡± ¡°I want to know who did this.¡± ¡°So do I.¡± Senka flung herself at Vasilja, wrapping her arms around her sister. ¡°I want to bite them, Vasilja. I want to bite and bite! I can¡¯t bear it. I can¡¯t.¡± Vasilja held Senka close. Boiling with her own flaring emotions. Rage. She wanted vengeance. But fear, too. Unable to tear her gaze from the remains of her sister, the fear crawled into her soul and shivered. A single question burned in her mind. Was vengeance worth dying for? ¡°Maybe we should go home, Senka. We need time to think about what¡¯s happened. We need to plan. Yes. I think that would be best.¡± ¡°No!¡± The younger vampire flew back, rearing into the air and snapping her jaws. Exhaled sharply. ¡°We must go to Paris! We must, Vasilja. Now more than ever!¡± Vasilja glanced at the skull, imagining Hailwic¡¯s disapproving gaze on her once again. Aching loss threatened to make her explode. And it was that loss which fueled her resentment. Before she could bite the words back, she growled; ¡°You and your dreams, Senka. Your silly dreams. They don¡¯t mean anything at all. They¡¯re just dreams, you know. That¡¯s all they are.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not just dreams!¡± She dropped. ¡°I know what they are. They¡¯re promises, Vasilja. Promises that if we follow this path, we¡¯ll get what we want. Please, Vasilja. Please trust me.¡± Vasilja lifted her head. Her cold eyes were warm behind her pupils. It was hard to know what to believe. Harder than before. Without Dracula. Without Hailwic, how could they make decisions? Who would tell her what to do now? Who would control Senka when she couldn¡¯t? The young vampire approached tentatively, her pale blue eyes wide. ¡°Please, Vasilja?¡± ¡°Yes, but how sure are you, Senka? You¡¯ve told us Fel is the light Lucifer stole from God. That he corrupted and warped it to create Hell. But it sounds so fanciful. Even Dracula hasn¡¯t mentioned anything about it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve seen it, Vasilja. Please believe me.¡± ¡°I believe you dreamt about it. And that¡¯s not quite the same thing, Senka.¡± ¡°I know. Why do you think I never told you before?¡± She scowled. ¡°I know you think I¡¯m silly. You think I¡¯m stupid. A child. But, I swear to you, Vasilja. This isn¡¯t just a normal dream. It¡¯s not. I¡¯m sure of it.¡± ¡°I still can¡¯t see why our Master would show you those things without sharing them with us, too.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. But I know it¡¯s something to do with the Bargain. I know it is. He wants us to succeed.¡± ¡°But Dracula hasn¡¯t done anything about that in years! If he hadn¡¯t left the castle, we¡¯d still be there. Still waiting for something which might never happen.¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Exactly!¡± Senka licked her lips. She grabbed Vasilja¡¯s hand and squeezed it tight. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? Dracula has grown weak. The Fel could make us more powerful. It could help us fulfil the bargain. Hailwic knew it was true.¡± ¡°Hailwic is dead.¡± Senka reached into the ashes and took the skull in her hand. Frowning, she shook her head. ¡°The Fel will revive her. I know it. I saw her in my dreams, remember? She was always there with us.¡± ¡°Now you are being silly. We¡¯re vampires, Senka. When we¡¯re destroyed, we¡¯re destroyed. Look. Look at this. This is Hailwic. You¡¯re holding her in your hands. What¡¯s left of her. There¡¯s no coming back from this. She can¡¯t heal.¡± ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± Senka said. Her voice was firm and commanding, making Vasilja flinch. ¡°We were given power over death. We¡¯ve conquered it once. We can conquer it again.¡± ¡°This is different!¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s not.¡± Senka stood. Skull in her hand. Something in her had clicked into place and she stood taller, looking down at her sister. ¡°I love you, Vasilja. Even though you tease and think me stupid, I still love you. But I must go to Paris. If you won¡¯t come with me, then I¡¯ll go alone. I¡¯ll crawl there if I must. All by myself. I¡¯m going to find these Luciferians Franz talked about. And then they¡¯re going to give me their book. And I¡¯m going to make a new Bargain. One which will bring back Hailwic and let us do what we were always meant to do.¡± ¡°You¡¯re mad, Senka.¡± The young vampire laughed. ¡°Of course I am! Aren¡¯t we all? How else can we be what we are? But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not right.¡± Vasilja stared into Hailwic¡¯s ashes. She could almost hear the warrior¡¯s wisdom bubbling through the veil of death. A wisdom she desperately needed. Was Senka right? Could she really bring the Fel into the world? ¡°When Dracula left to find you, he gave us no warning,¡± she said with a heavy sigh. ¡°I was in his bed. He kissed me, Senka. And then left me there. I didn¡¯t see him for almost a year. And when I did, he was leading you into the courtyard. I couldn¡¯t understand. Did I do something wrong? Hailwic said it was just the way he was. There had been others, you see. Before me. But they didn¡¯t last. Only the three of us have survived longer than a few years. The others, like Elizabeth, all went completely insane. If they didn¡¯t escape, he used to chain them in the courtyard and let the sun destroy them. I was afraid he would do that to me after he brought you home.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Vasilja.¡± ¡°Hailwic said it wasn¡¯t your fault, and I believed her. It was my fault, you see. I always thought he chose me because he loved me. But he didn¡¯t. I don¡¯t think he knows why he chose any of us. Maybe it was just instinct. Or maybe he was given our names by our Master. I don¡¯t know. We never talk about it. Isn¡¯t that silly?¡± ¡°I wanted to be a witch,¡± Senka said. ¡°There was an old lady outside our town. She seemed to know a lot of things. But she wouldn¡¯t teach me. She kept saying I was too impatient. But I wouldn¡¯t let her say no. I wanted her to tell me everything.¡± ¡°A witch?¡± Vasilja couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°Witches are stupid, Senka. They dig holes at night and make terrible stews. And are far too attached to their broomsticks.¡± ¡°I know that now, but I didn¡¯t know it then. I thought she could give me power. I wanted power so much.¡± Senka looked out through the shattered window at the brutal line of peaks soaring high above. ¡°I had none, you see. My life was meaningless. If I couldn¡¯t get power, I was going to die a peasant. You might think I¡¯m stupid, but inside I felt like I wasn¡¯t. I felt like I was surrounded by animals. That¡¯s all they¡¯ve ever been to me. People, I mean. Animals. They¡¯re obsessed with things I can¡¯t understand. I knew that if I had to spend my life among them, I¡¯d only end up going crazy and killing them all. I used to think about that a lot. I used to dream of going to their house, one by one. Late at night. With a pitchfork. And I¡¯d kill every one of them. The men. The women. The children. All of them. And then I¡¯d live in the town by myself. And it would be so peaceful without them.¡± ¡°Well, witchcraft wouldn¡¯t have got you that. At the least, it would have given you a taste for horrible food. At worst, you¡¯d have been burned at a stake.¡± ¡°I just wanted something special to happen to me.¡± She wiped ash from Hailwic¡¯s skull. Looked at it like it wasn¡¯t dead. As though she could smooth back the absent blonde hair. ¡°And it did. Dracula found me. I had just stabbed the old witch and was trying to find her book of spells. All I found was a book about herbs. I was alone in her cottage, weeping like a child.¡± ¡°I told you.¡± ¡°He brought me to you. I was terribly afraid. But when I saw you, Vasilja, I knew I didn¡¯t have to be.¡± She turned and looked with desperate eyes. ¡°Because I knew I wasn¡¯t alone. You were like me, too. You wanted something more.¡± Vasilja¡¯s mouth opened to spill a sarcastic line. But instead, she looked down at her bloodstained dress and sighed. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re so bothersome, Senka. You really are. I really wanted to hate you. I put a lot of effort into it, you know.¡± She pulled herself to her feet and took the younger vampire¡¯s hands in her own. ¡°I love you, too. And I do trust you. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Which it does, by the way. But Paris is on the way to London, so it¡¯s not too much of a diversion, I suppose.¡± ¡°Then, you¡¯ll come with me?¡± ¡°Of course! You¡¯d only get lost if you went on your own, and Hailwic¡¯s ghost will never forgive me. She¡¯d find a way to haunt me.¡± She put her hand on the skull, so they were all three joined again. ¡°Besides, whoever killed her needs to be bitten. Don¡¯t you think?¡± Senka nodded. ¡°I¡¯m going to bite them a lot.¡± Dimiti cleared his throat from the doorway. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lady. Miss. The wagons are ready to go. I had to put the coffins onto one, though. But it¡¯s a light cart and I¡¯ve managed to round up three horses. They should do.¡± ¡°Very good, Dimiti,¡± Vasilja purred. She drifted to the old man and patted his cheek. ¡°Even though everything has turned out utterly terrible, I am so very grateful we found you.¡± ¡°Aye, Lady. Thank you.¡± ¡°Will you help Senka to find something nice to put Hailwic in? Nothing pretty, of course. She wouldn¡¯t like being put in something pretty. I¡¯m thinking of something functional. Something a fighter might like.¡± ¡°I found a small armory downstairs,¡± he said. ¡°There was a box for ammunition? It¡¯s not very respectable, but it¡¯s something a fighter might like.¡± Vasilja smiled broadly. ¡°Actually, that sounds perfect. Make sure you keep her gun with her, will you? If Senka is right and we can revive her, I think she¡¯ll want it again. She did seem quite fond of it.¡± ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± He hesitated before leaving. ¡°Where are we going now, may I ask?¡± ¡°First, we must get to Zurich as quickly as possible. I¡¯m done with wagons. Hailwic may have preferred them, but this is the nineteenth century and I refuse to live with the smell of dung on everything anymore. I¡¯ve heard there is a new train which will take us all the way to Paris much faster.¡± ¡°Paris.¡± He nodded. Took off his cap and scratched his long grey-flecked hair. ¡°Train. Right.¡± ¡°Oh, and Dimiti? If you see Franz again, do please put a bullet in his head. I can¡¯t abide a man who would run away and leave us like that.¡± ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± His grim smile held genuine pleasure. ¡°It would be a pleasure.¡± ¡°I thought it might.¡± ¡°Is there really a train, Vasilja?¡± Senka¡¯s eyes had been wide since mention. ¡°I saw it in Vienna. The train, I mean. Could we really ride a train all the way from Zurich to Paris?¡± ¡°The newspapers have been talking about it for a few years, so I¡¯m hopeful. But these days, what can you believe in a newspaper? Most of what you find in them is little more than gossip. Still, it¡¯s worth the attempt. No matter how awful it is, it has to be better than wagons.¡± Senka nodded. ¡°I want to travel on a train.¡± ¡°Of course you do. And I think we shall, alas.¡± ¡°Alas? What do you mean, Vasilja?¡± ¡°The smoke, Senka. Surely you saw it. It no doubt gets everywhere. And I read that in the smoke there¡¯s grit which gets in your eyes.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll wear my hat, then.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Vasilja sighed. ¡°I rather thought you would.¡± Chapter Eighteen Zurich. If there had been snow, it¡¯d already melted and left the streets glistening. Wide puddles formed across gap-toothed cobblestones. Gutters carried a steady flow of water into drains which eventually poured into the lake. Tall apartment buildings and townhouses stood to attention, their colorful facades doing nothing to warm the late evening chill. Dimiti kept his coat firmly buttoned around his body. Two sets of woolen gloves on his hands. A scarf muffled his neck and lower face. Wide-brim hat tied on his head. He urged the horses onward. He¡¯d switched the oxen for them to get a bit more speed. Beside him, Vasilja held an umbrella against the rain. Not that it was doing much good. They were both wet. ¡°I should¡¯ve stayed in my coffin, Dimiti,¡± she said sourly. ¡°At least it¡¯s dry in there.¡± People trotted through the streets, heads down. Passing a factory, Vasilja winced at the stink. A few children rushed across the street in front of the horses, eager to get into the factory¡¯s gates before they were closed. An older man bellowed at them to hurry. Gas lamps, delicate and sometimes frosted with yellow glass, glowed with warmth they couldn¡¯t deliver. Out front of restaurants, extra gaslights were attached to the walls and made the surrounding area gleam. Reflected in puddles, the glittering colours were too vivid for Vasilja, but the effect had Senka reeling on the wagon behind her. The young vampire had her coat and hat. Thrilled by the sights, she darted from one side of the wagon to the other. Her owlish eyes were drunk on exotic splendor. ¡°Oh, Vasilja. Look at it! Isn¡¯t it wonderful?¡± ¡°Will you sit down, Senka? People are beginning to stare.¡± ¡°No, they¡¯re not. They¡¯re more worried about the rain.¡± Sighed. ¡°They can¡¯t see the beauty that surrounds them.¡± ¡°Yes, well. I don¡¯t blame them. The weather is dreadful.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that over there? It doesn¡¯t look like a carriage.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a tram, Miss,¡± Dimiti said, steering the horses to one side. Out of the tram¡¯s passage. ¡°A tram?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± He pointed to the rails running down the middle of the street. ¡°Like a train, I suppose. But as you can see, it¡¯s pulled by a horse.¡± Senka leapt from the wagon and flashed toward the tram. ¡°Senka! Come back!¡± Vasilja clicked her tongue. ¡°Honestly, Dimiti. It¡¯s like bringing a child to a sweets store. How can you control such a thing?¡± He shrugged. ¡°I never knew, Lady.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t have children?¡± ¡°No, Lady.¡± He looked about to say something more, but changed his mind. ¡°Well, I think you¡¯re lucky.¡± ¡°Thank you, Lady, I think.¡± Senka danced around the tram, amusing the driver. He waved at her and some of the passengers let out a laugh as she whirled around with a look of wonder in her eyes. She let out a few delighted squeals as it passed the wagon. ¡°Look, Vasilja! Look how many of them are inside! It¡¯s like a can of sardines. Look!¡± ¡°It¡¯s unnatural,¡± Vasilja called back. ¡°No one should travel like that. It¡¯s not civilized at all. Don¡¯t you think, Dimiti?¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t catch me riding in one, Lady.¡± ¡°See, Senka? Dimiti agrees. Now, come back before you make more of a fool of yourself. We don¡¯t need the whole city talking about us.¡± Senka watched the tram continue up the road. Waved back at one of the young men doing his best to get her attention. Sighed. Then jumped back onto the wagon and dropped down. Pressed her back against Vasilja¡¯s. Pulled her hat down so the rain couldn¡¯t hit her face. Couldn¡¯t hide her grin. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t help it, Vasilja. It¡¯s just so amazing.¡± ¡°I know. And when we come back, I promise we¡¯ll run in the streets like mad things together. I won¡¯t care what anyone thinks. But tonight, I¡¯d rather we weren¡¯t forced to fight any vampire hunters. I¡¯m sure Dimiti would like some sleep, too. Wouldn¡¯t you, Dimiti?¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind, Lady. If it¡¯s convenient.¡± The vampire gave a snort. ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that. Of course it¡¯s inconvenient. But we make do, don¡¯t we?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her, Dimiti,¡± Senka called. ¡°She¡¯s just annoyed because she has to make the decisions now.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right I¡¯m annoyed. I¡¯m positively livid. I don¡¯t like making decisions. I liked it better when Hailwic was here.¡± She tightened her jaw. ¡°But she¡¯s not. So, I¡¯m doing my very best and you could help by actually being polite enough to listen to what I say.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡± Vasilja sighed. ¡°Good enough for now, I suppose.¡± The hotel overlooked the lake, and Vasilja booked two rooms. One for Dimiti, and one for her and Senka. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be disturbed,¡± she told the clerk. ¡°Not at all. I don¡¯t want my bed made. I can make it myself. I¡¯m not an invalid. I shan¡¯t need a maid. My sister here is good enough for that. Not good for much else, of course. Are you even listening to me, you wretched little man?¡± The clerk blinked, finding it difficult to focus. ¡°Of course, Lady. Everything will be as you ask, I assure you.¡± ¡°I want a hot bath for Dimiti, too. It will do his cramps some good. And he¡¯s beginning to stink.¡± Dimiti nodded, hat in hand. ¡°Thank you, Lady.¡± ¡°I shall also want to know where we can sell our wagons. We wish to take a train to Paris and we don¡¯t want to be burdened by such trivialities as wagons and horses.¡± Vasilja closed her eyes and let out an exasperated grunt. ¡°You¡¯re not even listening, are you?¡± ¡°Yes, Lady. I¡¯m listening.¡± The clerk waved his hands. Too flustered to know where to put them. ¡°Sell the wagons. I can find someone. I¡¯m sure I can.¡± ¡°You¡¯d better. Or I¡¯ll let Senka bite you.¡± Senka grinned at him. ¡°Umm, that won¡¯t be necessary,¡± he said. ¡°Would there be anything else?¡± ¡°Train tickets, of course! We will require privacy. A cabin of our own, if they have such things. And we have luggage. And two coffins. Dimiti will advise you on how we want those handled.¡± ¡°Coffins?¡± He winced. ¡°Yes.¡± Her lips curled as she let out a waspish growl. ¡°Have you got a problem with your hearing? I wish to have tickets arranged immediately and would like to leave Zurich without delay.¡± ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± ¡°Then what are you waiting for?¡± ¡°Your rooms,¡± he stuttered. ¡°I can show you to your rooms?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t bother. But if you want to be helpful, you could have someone assist Dimiti with our luggage.¡± ¡°What about yourselves?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been travelling through mountains, forests, and ghastly little towns with no name. We¡¯ve seen restaurants and wine bars, and we wish to visit some of them to rid our mouths of the taste or rural blandness.¡± ¡°I could recommend one, Lady?¡± ¡°We can find our own way, thank you. We¡¯re not as useless as Senka looks. Dimiti?¡± ¡°Aye, Lady?¡± ¡°Do wash thoroughly, won¡¯t you? Take a long soak.¡± ¡°Aye, Lady.¡± He ducked his head and looked around at the fine surroundings. He blinked slowly, running his fingers through his thin hair. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d find myself in a place like this.¡± Vasilja held out her arm, which Senka took. ¡°Come, Senka. Let¡¯s go out for a bite to eat.¡± The clerk watched them leave. ¡°Beautiful,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone so beautiful.¡± ¡°And, if you live to be as old as me, son, you¡¯ll never see one as such again. I promise you that.¡± ¡°Both of them.¡± The clerk looked to Dimiti, eyes desperate to convey feelings he couldn¡¯t bear to repress any longer. Blurted; ¡°How would a man choose between them?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t rightly say.¡± The old man looked down at the battered ammunition box cradled in his arms and shook his head. ¡°But, though you¡¯d never believe me, it used to be even harder.¡± Outside, Vasilja shivered as a curtain of rain rode the wind from one end of the street to the other. Under cover of the overhanging roof, she watched water spatter the lower hem of her dress and shook her head. ¡°This is why you should never travel this far into Winter, Senka. It¡¯s much too miserable outside to really enjoy yourself.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s that bad. Imagine if we were still at the castle. We¡¯d be sitting in the library looking at each other and going crazy. Don¡¯t you remember the blizzards a few years ago? We were stuck inside for weeks. I was so hungry.¡± ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡± ¡°You know I am. I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re complaining, though. You¡¯re the one who wanted to travel in the first place, remember?¡± ¡°I am, aren¡¯t I? I think I just feel terrible because of Hailwic.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Senka said. Firm. ¡°I promise I can bring her back.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Smile. ¡°Yet. But I will soon. Trust me, Vasilja.¡± Vasilja pulled the other vampire closer. ¡°You know, I think the reason I never hated you as much as I wanted to was because you are always so horribly cheerful. You¡¯re like a little cat looking at a hole in the wall. And you know there¡¯s a mouse inside, even though you haven¡¯t seen him yet. So, you sit there. And sit there. And you wait for the mouse to show its face.¡± ¡°And then I bite it?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, Senka. We¡¯ve yet to see the mouse, are we? It¡¯s possible you¡¯ll starve to death looking at the hole. Either way, I¡¯m amused by your optimism, and that¡¯s a positive.¡± ¡°I can see a mouse, Vasilja. In fact, I can see two.¡± ¡°Oh, yes. We do have their attention. But I think they¡¯re not sure if you¡¯re a man.¡± Senka took off the hat and let her hair fall down around her face. ¡°Is that better?¡± ¡°Yes, I think that did it. Shall we go and introduce ourselves?¡± ¡°Only if you¡¯re going to let me bite them.¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Because Hailwic would have said we had to be careful.¡± ¡°Yes, well. I¡¯m not Hailwic, am I? And I¡¯m very thirsty right now.¡± She closed her eyes for a moment. Then smiled wide. ¡°All the same, a little prudence wouldn¡¯t go astray.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean, bite them carefully. Let¡¯s not make too much noise.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try if you will.¡± ¡°Then this will be a learning experience for both of us, won¡¯t it?¡± She lifted her head suddenly and aimed her gaze at the two young men who¡¯d hesitated in lamplight. ¡°Excuse me, gentlemen? Would you by chance know of a nice quiet place one might engage in conversation? Preferably with musical accompaniment. But not peasant music. I don¡¯t wish to hear any accordions. Or mouth harps. I want something sophisticated.¡± The two men looked at each other for a moment, unsure of their luck. Then, while one looked shyly down at his feet, the other stated boldly; ¡°I think I know just the place. Would you like us to show you there, ladies?¡± Senka nodded; ¡°Yes, please!¡± ¡°Then, follow us! Onward to adventure, I say.¡± He made a small bow. ¡°My name is Karl. And this is my friend, Wilhelm. Are you Swiss, by chance?¡± ¡°No, silly,¡± Vasilja laughed. ¡°No, we¡¯re from much further away. I am Vasilja. And this is my sister, Senka.¡± ¡°Fellow travelers, then?¡± ¡°Something like that.¡± ¡°Are you travelling alone?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± she said. Waggled her finger under his nose. ¡°But don¡¯t get any indiscreet ideas. My sister here has a terrible bite. As I¡¯m sure one of you will find out.¡± Chapter Nineteen The train was almost too much for Senka¡¯s mind to take. Belly still brimming with Wilhelm¡¯s blood, the young vampire settled into their cabin with insatiable delight. There were two small beds on either side which managed to convey a sense of confident luxury despite the somewhat cramped interior. Each had a curtain which could be draped across for privacy. A little table squeezed between. Two plush leather seats on either side of the window promised comfort, if not dignity. A tiny alcove for washing. And a small closet which smelled of lavender. As the train hauled gently through the city in search of escape, its heavy mechanical thrusts and deep engine growls had Senka moving from window to corridor. Unable to contain herself as she tried to absorb every moment of experience. ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful,¡± she said, running her hands along the window¡¯s edge. ¡°Look at the carving in the wood. Isn¡¯t it intricate?¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s very nice.¡± ¡°And the bed sheets. They¡¯re silk! So much silk. Feel this! It¡¯s so smooth. And the blankets!¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Vasilja lounged in her seat. Unmoving. ¡°Very pretty.¡± ¡°Where shall we sleep?¡± ¡°Unfortunately, in here. I didn¡¯t want to stay in our coffins for the whole journey. Humans get awfully upset if they catch you climbing out of one.¡± ¡°What about the window?¡± ¡°Dimiti bought a sheet of leather to cover the glass. And some waxed canvas bags for us to sleep inside.¡± Senka wrinkled her nose. ¡°Bags?¡± ¡°Yes. They use them to transport corpses these days. Think of them as portable coffins. They might not be comfortable, but they¡¯re very practical.¡± ¡°It sounds awful.¡± ¡°It is. But it should do to keep the sunlight out. Not that there¡¯s a terrible amount of it this time of year. One advantage to travelling in Winter, I suppose.¡± She frowned, tapping her chin with her finger. ¡°You know, now I think about it, if we put some work into them, they¡¯d be better than dragging coffins around with us everywhere we go. I¡¯m sure they could be adapted. I¡¯ll talk to Dimiti about it tomorrow.¡± Heading out of the city, the train raced around a curve in the track and Senka swayed with it, her face lit with a smile. ¡°Did you feel that? It¡¯s so fast! Do you think we could fly as fast as this?¡± ¡°For a short time, I should think.¡± ¡°I want to try. I want to race it!¡± ¡°Senka, please. That¡¯s much too dangerous. What if you can¡¯t keep up? What if you fall behind? Then Dimiti and I would need to get off to find you. And we might lose the coffins. Or our soil.¡± ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right, Vasilja. But I want to race a train one day.¡± ¡°Of course you do. But not today.¡± The young vampire nodded, then slid the window open to let the freezing wind roar into the small cabin with icy claws. Far from distressing, it instead excited her as her hat flew from her head and bounced to Vasilja¡¯s feet. Repressing the urge to stomp on it, Vasilja instead just stared at it like it was a bug. Then turned in her chair as someone knocked on the door. ¡°You may enter,¡± she called. The door opened with a polite tug to reveal the steward standing meekly outside, brass buttons on his uniform gleaming bright. ¡°Lady,¡± he said. ¡°I came to check everything is in order?¡± ¡°Of course it is. Why wouldn¡¯t it be?¡± Then followed his startled gaze to where Senka was shoving her head out the window to laugh into the rushing wind. ¡°Oh, never mind her. She¡¯s an idiot.¡± ¡°I heard that!¡± ¡°You were meant to!¡± Then back to the steward; ¡°It¡¯s probably for the best if we weren¡¯t disturbed. Can you ensure this?¡± ¡°Absolutely.¡± ¡°Excellent. Then, if you require anything else from us, please talk to Dimiti in the next cabin.¡± ¡°As you wish, Lady.¡± He winced as he glanced at Senka again. ¡°Lady, I don¡¯t mean to be intrusive, but we are coming to a tunnel soon. It¡¯s not healthy to have the window open. The sulfur, you see. In this weather, there can be acid. It¡¯s best to keep the window closed until we¡¯ve passed through.¡± ¡°Acid?¡± ¡°Yes, Lady. The steam can cause your skin to burn in the tunnel. I thought you should know.¡± ¡°Thank you. It¡¯s much appreciated.¡± She glanced at Senka and sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll try to explain it to her.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. I¡¯ll leave now. And if you need anything, please don¡¯t hesitate to call.¡± Vasilja nodded her thanks as he closed the door. ¡°Senka! Will you pull your head inside, please? You¡¯re not a dog.¡± She pursed her lips. ¡°At least, for now I¡¯m giving you the benefit of the doubt.¡± ¡°I will in a minute!¡± ¡°Did you hear the steward? He said there¡¯s a tunnel coming up.¡± ¡°I heard him!¡± ¡°Then stop playing around and do what he suggested, will you?¡± ¡°I told you. In a minute! I can see it up ahead! There¡¯s plenty of time.¡± ¡°You could at least help with our bags.¡± ¡°There¡¯s plenty of time for that, too!¡± Senka felt the sharp air as it cruised past her face. The trees and the mountains seemed to shoot past. Rain hit her cheeks so hard it was like each drop had the power to cut into skin. Flecks of coal clicked sharply against the window. Smoke from the engine whirled in the wind. Fumes of oil tainted her nostrils. And the crashing sound of the engine thrilled as she contemplated the power needed to pull the heavy machine. So much power. She wondered what it would be like to stand in front of it. To let it hit. Would she be obliterated? Would anything be left of her? She imagined the impact and couldn¡¯t help but smile at the majesty of such an end. The smile remained for a few moments until she caught herself wondering if the younger vampire¡¯s childish enthusiasm was contagious. Up ahead, the tunnel¡¯s mouth seemed to roar in anticipation as the furious energy of the steam engine pulled the train faster. Faster. A gentle curve. A passive slope. Closer. She knew what she was doing was wrong. But she had to feel the air inside the tunnel on her face. She looked over her shoulder. A wicked grin aimed at Vasilja. ¡°Stop it, Senka, please.¡± Something in Vasilja¡¯s voice made her think of Hailwic. And a flash of guilt ribboned through her undead heart. While Hailwic¡¯s skull lay in the small box beside the door, she was having fun. Too much fun. The thought made her start to pull her head inside. When a hollow howl of wind made her look ahead. The tunnel. It swallowed the train in a rush of utter darkness which drenched the cabin in shadow and made Vasilja let out a yelp of surprise. ¡°Senka!¡± Sulfur. The stink of it was thick. Cloying. It raced into her nostrils. The Devil¡¯s own fumes. Pouring into her lungs and infecting her blood. She opened her mouth to say something but was hit by a wave of searing fire which seemed to rip her from the train. She felt flung into the dark reaches of the tunnel, sulfur and acid clawing into her flesh. Burning. She screamed. At least, she thought she did. Mouth open, the scream collapsed quickly into mute suffering. And then she was floating. Darkness. Silence. Which cleared as milky green light crept out of nowhere. Drifting across a chasm of thick smoke. Underneath the layer of smoke, pale white arms reached for her. Millions of them, reaching. White fingers. Splintered nails. Dead meat beneath papery skin. Reaching. Clawing. Rasp of their skin against each other the only sound she could hear. She drifted across the sea of dead flesh, her eyes fixed firm on the horizon. Smoke curled around her ankles and was scattered in her wake like ghostly tendrils. Across the chasm, she continued to drift. Gliding as though she were being reeled. Swaying on the hook. Unable to fight the compulsive grip. Then she saw it. A temple. Tall and dark. Molded out of flesh and stone. Rampant carnality corrupted the ground in all directions around it. Writhing figures worked themselves to frenzy. Demons danced along the ramparts, boisterous and enthused. A sea of souls formed a lurid tide which washed against the temple walls. Perversions she¡¯d never dreamt of were played out in front of her as the damned were raped again and again for the pleasure of an unknowable eye. Further out, twisted mutations dragged themselves out of luminescent green lakes. Things with swollen protrusions, pus-filled sores, tentacles. Slime-drenched and whimpering in agony, they crawled. Crawled however they could toward the temple. To observe. To worship. Or to beg. Giant bats wheeled overhead, eyes burning with foul green light. Their shrieks skating through the dark. A winged demon flapped past, not looking at her. Its drugged gaze firm on the temple¡¯s altar. Felfire rippled along its shoulders. It opened its maw and rancid green drool spilled from its lips. Its draconic wings carried it swiftly ahead. At the temple¡¯s peak, a green fire burned like a beacon. It roared high, its flames seething with rage and poisoned hunger. The cavern ceiling above, impossibly high, reflected the unholy light across the entirety of Hell. He was there. She could feel his presence. Dracula¡¯s master. Her master. Lucifer. Satan. A thing of a thousand names, and one. The Devil himself. Slowly, he turned. Eyes burning with the corruption of Felfire. Horns long and curved. Wings diseased and black. Power radiated from him like heat from the sun. Brimstone and ash melted beneath his feet. ¡°Senka¡­¡± The voice was turpentine and sludge. It speared through her head like a stick of thorns. Left her mind vibrating and soul bleeding. Numb, her voice fell from her mouth; ¡°Master¡­¡± He pointed to the altar. In the heart of the burning fire, a burning sphere spun slowly. Its stone surface was cracked with glowing green veins. She knew what it was. She¡¯d seen it so many times in her dreams. The Felstone. Half-submerged in the writhing plasma of burning souls. Malignant beyond description, its evil slithered outward and infected everything it touched. The ground trembled in torment around it. Souls, lured by its primordial song, were draped in molten Felfire as they mounted the temple stairs. As they approached, their forms warped, twisted, and were sundered. With flashes of light, their broken shards exploded and were absorbed into the stone. Joining with it. Her stomach churned at the putrid stench of ancient death. Fel drifted across the ground. It slid up her leg like an ethereal snake. Eldritch mist coiling her arms. She could feel it. Feel its power. Calling. Calling to her. Her name, whispered from deep within the flames. ¡°Senka¡­¡± She dropped down in front of the flame, her hands reaching for the Felstone, which beckoned her closer. As her fingertips met the eldritch green fire, the ground shook and enormous bells tolled from within the temple¡¯s black towers. The cacophony rang through Hell¡¯s twisted realms like discordant thunder. Souls screeched their torment. Demons plugged their ears to the sound. And Satan laughed a manic laugh which seemed as bitter as it was merry. She felt a sudden sharp pain bite into her cheek as he turned towards her, green flame dancing around his shoulders. His strange eyes burned with terrible desires. ¡°Senka!¡± She woke with a scream. And Vasilja¡¯s arms were tight around her. ¡°Oh, Vasilja,¡± she choked, her eyes rolling as she tried to fight off waves of vertigo. ¡°I had another dream.¡± ¡°What kind of dream?¡± Senka calmed as she stared up into the other vampire¡¯s concerned face and a vivid flash of countless tormented souls entered her mind. The putrid and unholy fires which fed on them. The Devil, his mad bestial gaze. The tainted corruption of the Felstone. Evil. Alive. ¡°I saw Hell,¡± she said. Voice soft. ¡°It was beautiful¡­¡± Chapter Twenty Senka rocked back and forth on the little bed. Knees up, humming a tune. To Vasilja, the tune meant nothing. But the younger vampire insisted it was the song of the Felstone. ¡°Well, it would make a terrible sonata,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°I wish you could have heard it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t need to, Senka. I¡¯ve been enduring it for an hour now. I think I could hum it back to you if you like. It¡¯s not terribly complicated.¡± A soft knock on the cabin door. ¡°Lady?¡± ¡°Dimiti,¡± Vasilja breathed. Slid the door open. ¡°At last. Please tell me there¡¯s some form of entertainment on this thing. I¡¯m almost to the point of tossing her out the window. Or myself. I haven¡¯t yet decided.¡± ¡°You¡¯re in luck, Lady.¡± His smile was the slightest curl. ¡°There¡¯s a trio who are travelling in one of the other cars. They¡¯ve offered to put on a performance tonight after dinner. Violins and cello, I believe.¡± ¡°Dimiti, you have no idea how happy that makes me. Senka? Will you get yourself dressed and wipe that muck off your face?¡± ¡°What muck?¡± ¡°You had your head out the window. There¡¯s smoke from the engine. What muck do you think? Honestly, you look like a beggar.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Have you checked on our luggage, Dimiti?¡± ¡°Twice, Lady. Nothing¡¯s been touched.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief.¡± She began to close the door. ¡°You should get some sleep, then. You look tired.¡± ¡°Thank you, Lady. Are you sure there¡¯ll be nothing else?¡± ¡°I think we can manage.¡± Thoughtful look at Senka. ¡°But if she¡¯s not here in the morning, there won¡¯t be any need to worry. I simply threw her off the train. Good riddance, I say.¡± ¡°Of course, Lady,¡± he said. This time letting the grin widen as he turned away. Shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth, he unlocked his own door and went inside. Vasilja turned. Noted the younger vampire still hadn¡¯t moved from her bed. Scowled. Clapped her hands. ¡°Senka! What are you doing? Come on!¡± It wasn¡¯t until she was seated in a fine, if a touch too soft, couch and nodding along to a perfectly adequate set that she allowed herself to relax. Shook her head as the waiter tried to push a glass at her. Leaned toward Senka, and whispered. ¡°Stop looking so bored.¡± ¡°I am bored.¡± ¡°Try not to look it. I don¡¯t sit around looking miserable every time you want to stop at a coffeehouse or wine bar or whatever wretched little hovel you want to roost in.¡± ¡°Yes, you do.¡± ¡°I do not.¡± ¡°You do too, Vasilja. And you complain. Loudly. At least I was being quiet.¡± ¡°This time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m hungry. That¡¯s all.¡± ¡°I know.¡± She touched the young vampire¡¯s hand. ¡°And you know I¡¯ll look after you. Just try not to ruin the evening for me.¡± Senka shut her mouth and slumped in her chair. Tried to lift her shoulders back, but failed to summon enough enthusiasm. The gathered guests, she¡¯d been told, were all fascinating people. Which translated as rich. One was supposed to be a prince, but she forgot which one. Another was a famous actress. There was also an American, a few sour-faced bankers, a man who said he painted butterflies, and an Englishman who spent most of his time complaining about the food. Everyone immaculate. Everyone charmed to meet her. She couldn¡¯t understand why these people nodded along with polite rapture on their faces. The violins were a banshee screech. The cello a groaning calf. Surely Vasilja would be scathing in her review. But, like the fascinating people with empty eyes, Vasilja listened with absolute attentiveness. Smiling dreamily if she seemed to enjoy a particular chain of notes. Lifting her hand and moving her fingers in time to the rhythm. All while Senka tried her best not to fidget. Her patience crawled inside like a nest of hot ants. Which chewed at her intestines and raced down her nerves. No matter how she sat, she couldn¡¯t feel comfortable. Nor could she leave. So, she waited. Just waited. And waited. While the violinists sawed and the cellist looked like he¡¯d fallen asleep even as his arms worked furiously. When it was over, the scattered guests gave a hearty round of applause which left Senka wondering if they were as excited as she was that it was over. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. The musicians bowed and made a discreet exit through the back of the car. Vasilja watched them go with a reluctant sigh. ¡°I really wanted to bite that violinist, Senka,¡± she said. ¡°Very much. In fact, I should like to spend some time travelling Europe one day biting them all. Their blood must be intoxicating. Especially the good ones.¡± ¡°Was he good?¡± ¡°Of course! Don¡¯t tell me you weren¡¯t listening. It was rapturous. Honestly, you have no taste at all in fine things, do you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Senka snapped back. ¡°You¡¯ve never let me bite a musician. But I often want to.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be snide.¡± ¡°Whatever that is, I¡¯m not being it.¡± Tugged at the cuff of her coat. ¡°I¡¯m being hungry.¡± ¡°Ladies,¡± a cheerful voice cut through Senka¡¯s moan. ¡°If you¡¯re hungry, my friend and I would be delighted if you¡¯d join us for dinner.¡± ¡°Eavesdropping is very rude,¡± Vasilja said, her tone softening as she looked up at the two young men. ¡°But we could possibly forgive you this once if you¡¯d at least share your names.¡± ¡°Archibald Larkin,¡± he said, with a slight bow. ¡°Please call me Archie. And this is Oliver Winchester. The Third, if you¡¯d believe it. His father felt it important to give him the numerical.¡± ¡°Stop it, Archie,¡± the other said with a playful slap to the shoulder. Nodded in greeting. ¡°Ladies.¡± Vasilja looked them both up and down, then smiled. Pushed her power outward with a gentle exhale of breath. ¡°I do apologise, gentlemen, but we simply can¡¯t eat with you tonight. My sister here has a touch of chill and will be needing to spend the evening somewhere warm.¡± She smiled wider. Red lips. Plush. Heat in her tone. Promise of intimacy with every word. ¡°It was a risk to leave our cabin this late in the evening, so we¡¯ll be retiring. I¡¯m sure we could make your acquaintance when we¡¯re closer to Paris? You are heading to Paris, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Archie said. ¡°That¡¯s where we¡¯re going. Right, Ollie?¡± ¡°Paris.¡± Ollie put a hand to his head. He swayed with the gentle jostling motion of the carriage. ¡°I feel very strange all of a sudden.¡± Vasilja stood, holding her hand out for Senka to take. ¡°Have a good evening, gentlemen.¡± As she drifted away, Senka twisted her lip. ¡°But-¡± ¡°Hush, Senka. Not right now. I¡¯m concentrating.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± She let out a soft grunt. ¡°That¡¯s alright then.¡± They moved to their own car before Senka glanced over her shoulder and saw the two figures following at a discreet distance. ¡°They¡¯re following us.¡± ¡°Of course they are.¡± Vasilja¡¯s brow was furrowed. She pushed her fingers to her forehead. ¡°We couldn¡¯t very well wander around with them if we¡¯re going to bite them now, could we? If they disappear off the train, someone might notice. And they might recall that we¡¯d been walking with them. We don¡¯t need that sort of attention. Now, hurry up and open the door.¡± ¡°Yes, Vasilja.¡± Pushing into their cabin, Senka made to close the door. Stopped when Vasilja held it. Her lip curling cruel. ¡°Let them enter, first.¡± The two young men entered in a daze, eyes unblinking. Only when Vasilja told them to share one of the small seats did they begin to look around. Ollie, squeezed in beside Archie, coughed nervously. ¡°Well, this is very comfortable,¡± he said. ¡°Yes,¡± Vasilja nodded. ¡°It is.¡± ¡°I must say, our cabin isn¡¯t quite so¡­ elegant¡­¡± Senka stood by the door, unsure where to go. Rising heat in her belly. Thirst in the back of her throat. Thirst which would never be quenched. But one she craved to feed. ¡°Vasilja?¡± She ran her tongue across the back of her fangs. ¡°Which one is mine?¡± Vasilja reached out and placed a hand on Ollie¡¯s cheek. He closed his eyes with a shiver of delight. ¡°I like this one,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s sweet.¡± Senka moved in front of Archie. Undid the buttons on her coat and threw it onto her bed. He swallowed, eyes tripping across the tight shirt she wore. The skin above her collar. Her eager mouth. Her glittering eyes. ¡°Oh, Lord.¡± She loomed over him. Pressed her nose to his. Then, deliberately slow, licked his mouth. Tasting him. With a satisfied smile, she dropped into his lap, legs either side of his hips. Ignoring Ollie¡¯s squeak as Vasilja wrenched him out of the couch and threw him onto the bed with uncharacteristic frenzy. ¡°I have to be quiet,¡± Senka breathed into Archie¡¯s ear. ¡°So no one can hear. That means you have to be quiet, too. Do you understand?¡± ¡°I think so,¡± he whispered back. Tried a brave chuckle as his night veered into a direction he¡¯d always entertained in fantasy but never expected to become reality. ¡°Good.¡± She slammed a hand down across his mouth, cutting off all sound. Shoved him further back into the couch so his head was pinned to the wall. ¡°Now. Fight me, Archie. Fight me before I rip you to little pieces!¡± He struggled. Cautiously at first. His mind was soaked in the charmed fog Vasilja had poured into his brain. Trained since birth to always act the part of a gentleman, he struggled to reactivate the switch which controlled instincts and reactions meant for survival. From the corner of his eye, he saw Vasilja hunched over Ollie. She¡¯d straddled his prone body and her head was buried in the crook of his neck. Ollie¡¯s arms were up, but not touching her. Like he was unsure what to do. It was, Archie knew, his first real encounter with the opposite sex. It should be a pleasant thing. An exciting thing. But something¡­ Archie¡¯s breath froze as Senka kept shaking him. As she growled into his ear. Something was terribly wrong. Then his eyes went wide as blood fountained with a wet hiss from Ollie¡¯s throat. Vasilja reared like a snake. Her mouth drooling crimson. She let out a lustful sigh and jerked open the front of her dress to let the blood rain down her pale skin. Opened her jaws and lunged, ripping into the side of the gurgling man¡¯s throat one more time. Like a shark. Worrying at its prey. Archie wrestled, then. With all his strength he thrashed at the young vampire. Bucking hard, he tried to throw her off. She pushed him down. Harder. Her grip like steel. He managed to get one hand free ¨C or did she let him? His punch slammed into her side. And she absorbed it without sound. Second into her chest. Not enough force. He couldn¡¯t get a decent swing. But he knew he had to. Ollie¡¯s blood spurted again. A final rush of red which splashed across Vasilja¡¯s bared chest. She turned to stare at him, mouth open. Fangs drooling crimson down lips. Chin. Breasts. Smiling, Vasilja turned her gaze back to Ollie¡¯s corpse. Gently, she lowered herself back down and suckled at his throat. He screamed, but Senka¡¯s hand was still muffling his cries. What little sound made it through was drowned in the fierce chugging roar of the engine. Tears of desperation as he struggled. Tried pulling her hand off his mouth. Couldn¡¯t. Her strength was astounding. And with each passing second he felt less and less oxygen making it into his lungs. Senka¡¯s eyes blazed with unholy need as she glared down at him. Body grinding into him. The raw sexual need of her should have made his body respond, but the horror had driven him beyond that. ¡°Hit me,¡± she moaned. ¡°Hit me!¡± He went berserk. It had happened once before. When he was at school. A bully had pushed him into one of the pools. Nearly drowned him. He thought he¡¯d been infuriated then, but this time he utterly lost it. She was a monster! A demon! He had to escape! Had to make it- She clawed him. Nails raked across his face, gouging long deep lines into skin. She slapped him, the impact rattling his jaw as she hissed; ¡°I said, hit me!¡± Both arms free, he rallied his strength and tried one more time. He knew this would be his only chance. If he just get out from under her¡­ His skin crawled as he realised she wasn¡¯t even struggling to hold him down. He looked up into her eyes to find the hunger had left her gaze. Instead, she stared at him with disappointment. ¡°You¡¯re useless, Archie,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯d hoped for so much more.¡± She lunged. Fangs ripping into his throat like knives in a savage snap of jaws. Blood gushed. He cried out. For his mother, of all people. A mother he hadn¡¯t seen in five years. He cried for her. Cried until blood poured through the punctures in his neck and down his throat. He couldn¡¯t breathe. It bubbled in the back of his mouth. She straddled him tight, planting her mouth across his. Sucking at the blood which he coughed and choked up. Sucking at the last breath of life which left with it. Spasms ceasing, Archie¡¯s last thoughts were of a tree near his home. A tree on which he¡¯d tied a rope when he was a boy. He¡¯d swung on that rope. Back and forth. Creak of rope. Singing a song he could no longer remember. The words just weren¡¯t in his memory anymore. And, with a final brutal tearing of flesh, neither was he. Vasilja watched Senka try to drive her face deeper into Archie¡¯s gaping throat, and smiled. Blissfully content. Glancing down at the rivers of blood sliding down her own skin, her frustration at the burden of having to make decisions seemed to slide away from her. ¡°Oh, Senka,¡± she purred. ¡°I think you were right about trains. They¡¯re so romantic.¡± Chapter Twenty-One There were two of them. The first lifted the blind, allowing sunlight to fill the corridor. He peered out at passing hills and trees. A village in the distance. Blur as the train shot past a small farm. ¡°Nice day, don¡¯t you think, Aubrey?¡± Conversational. ¡°Keep your voice down.¡± Vernon resisted the urge to club the other man across the back of his head. Since leaving London, he¡¯d endured a constant atmosphere of barely restrained contempt from Aubrey, who considered himself far too aristocratic for Vernon¡¯s acquaintance. Loudly, Aubrey had demanded someone else be partnered with him. And been refused. He¡¯d then demanded a separate cabin on the train. And been refused. Instead of braining him, Vernon scratched his moustache and took a half-step back. He glanced left and right as Aubrey attempted to pick the lock. Vernon had expected to be ordered around like a common lackey and, as such, had expected to be doing all the dirty commoner work. But instead Aubrey fancied himself to be some kind of aristocratic burglar. He seemed to have a romantic view of criminals which Vernon found both disturbing and hilarious at the same time. Aubrey scratched and twisted his tools. Shifted on his fat little legs and thrust out his ass like a fool. Vernon resisted kicking it. Had to look away to fight that urge. The steward would be doing his rounds shortly. Moving from cabin to cabin. Ensuring spoiled first-class prats like Aubrey had their mineral waters topped up and a small glass of something hedonistically appropriate on the way. Stifling a sneer, he looked down at Aubrey again. Who was still peering hard at the lock. Fumbling with the pins. In fairness to the rich prat, he wasn¡¯t usually that bad at it. But nervousness always made him slow. Vernon¡¯s fingers itched to take over, but there was no way he was going to spend the trip home listening to Aubrey whine on and on about how inappropriate it was for one of the working class to interfere with his noble pursuits. For Aubrey, this whole thing was an adventure. One which had proved more exciting than most. They¡¯d never seen a real vampire before. This would be their first. It was, to Aubrey, a mission of utmost importance. More than a strike against evil. It was one he hoped would provide the first step to gaining admittance to the highest levels of their Order. He¡¯d never quite believed his name wasn¡¯t enough. It had been enough for the Freemasons. And the Templars and Rosicrucians. And another fifteen secret societies Vernon knew about and two he was reasonably sure the other man had invented to increase his self-diagnosed aura of mystery. Aubrey was no doubt anticipating the chance to sit with brandy in hand and feet up by the fire while regaling younger members with tales of the time he¡¯d picked a lock on the Orient Express and staked two murderous vampires all on his own. Because there was no doubt in Vernon¡¯s mind that Aubrey would leave him out of both his report and future tales. Truthfully, Vernon couldn¡¯t care less about glory. He didn¡¯t care what the Order¡¯s mysterious leaders wanted. He cared only that the vampire scourge was extinguished as soon as possible. Then, and only then, could his late wife rest in peace. ¡°Come on. Aubrey,¡± he murmured, suddenly impatient. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time.¡± ¡°Will you quit distracting me? This is hard enough as it is with the train bouncing around like this.¡± Of course. The train¡¯s rhythmic motion. Always an excuse. ¡°Do you want me to do it?¡± ¡°No!¡± Aubrey hissed. ¡°I want you to keep your bloody mouth shut and your eye on the corridor!¡± Once more, he resisted bringing his club down on the round balding head. The snap of the lock, when it came, was a welcome relief to them both. Aubrey lifted himself up. Dug a hand into his coat and pulled out a long precisely carved wooden stake. Mallet in the other, he nodded. A tip of the hat to the lower class lamb who was about to head into the room first, no doubt. At least, until this tale was retold. At which point, the lower class remained a gibbering mess outside in the corridor while the valiant son of a bankrupt lord did all the dirty work like the elite gentleman he was. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Vernon grimaced. Still didn¡¯t care. He preferred to be first. And damn Aubrey and his petty ambitions. Damn them all. He¡¯d only come to kill vampires. He eased the door open with his shoulder and entered the darkness. A leather curtain had been pinned to the window, blocking all light. First thing he did was light a lamp by the miniscule desk. ¡°Hurry, man,¡± he hissed. Aubrey scrambled to get inside, pushing the door shut behind him. ¡°Wait,¡± he huffed. ¡°I want to kill them. We had an agreement, Vernon.¡± ¡°To Hell with your agreement. We don¡¯t have time for your foolishness. You take the one on the left. I¡¯ll take the right.¡± ¡°I want the one on the right.¡± ¡°What for?¡± ¡°Just do as I say!¡± ¡°Fine.¡± They shuffled around each other, bumping against the small twin cots. On top, the vampires lay. Wrapped in canvas bags. He thought of pulling the leather away, but decided he didn¡¯t want to make too much more noise in case the big old man had returned to his room. They hadn¡¯t seen him all morning. But, with Paris so close, they had to take their chance. It had to be today or not at all. And, despite their conflicting reasons, neither man wanted to let these two monsters slip through their fingers. Vernon pulled a knife and slit the canvas carefully, revealing the vampire¡¯s pale face. In the mute light, he couldn¡¯t help but marvel at her features. She was almost angelic, he thought. No sign of the corruption which infected her. None at all. Behind him, Aubrey had slit the canvas open and let out a grunt as he pulled it further down to expose the vampire to her navel. Hands shaking, in fear or anticipation, he reached and grabbed hold of her dress. Then, shockingly, tore it open with a jerk. ¡°Aubrey,¡± Vernon hissed. ¡°What the fuck are you playing at?¡± ¡°Got to see her chest properly if I want to get her heart,¡± Aubrey said. His voice was thick and the words tumbled out of his wet lips. He put the mallet down and placed a hand on the young vampire¡¯s exposed breast. Thumb rubbing her nipple. ¡°She¡¯s so cold. Honestly, if her tit wasn¡¯t so soft, I¡¯d think she was frozen solid...¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be disgusting, man.¡± ¡°What? It¡¯s not like she¡¯s a lady or anything. She¡¯s not even human. In a few minutes, I¡¯ll have this stake right through her and nobody would know she was even here. They turn to ash, remember? Nothing left of them. Just ash. All traces gone. It¡¯ll be like she was never here.¡± ¡°Just stake her and be done with it, then.¡± He turned away, unable to stomach the sight of the fat man¡¯s pudgy fingers across that perfect porcelain skin. It was abhorrent. ¡°They¡¯re in torpor, Vernon. They don¡¯t know we¡¯re here. We could yell in their ears and they¡¯ll never wake up. That¡¯s what he said, right? Van Helsing? He said that. They might as well be corpses.¡± ¡°Aubrey,¡± Vernon kept his voice calm. ¡°If you think of doing more than simply striking that vampire with the stake in your hand, I swear to God Almighty that I will kill you right here and damn the consequences.¡± ¡°How dare you speak to me like that!¡± ¡°And how dare you contemplate acting out what¡¯s in your sick mind. I won¡¯t have it. You try it, and I¡¯ll kill you. And that¡¯s the absolute last we¡¯ll speak of it.¡± ¡°Fuck you, Vernon.¡± The fat man snatched his mallet. ¡°When we get back, I¡¯ll-¡± ¡°Say nothing. Because, if you do, I¡¯ll tell my side. I know who the others will believe.¡± ¡°No one would believe you! You¡¯re just¡­ Just a¡­¡± ¡°Yes, I know very well what you think I am. I know you tried to have me thrown out of the Order more than once. But it seems Van Helsing values my skills over what¡¯s left of your tarnished family name.¡± He lifted his own stake and pressed the sharp tip against the vampire¡¯s sternum. Right above the heart. ¡°Now. Do it.¡± Without hesitation, he lifted his mallet. Brought it down with a determined grunt. He heard the explosive blast. And a crunch which sounded louder in his ears than anything he¡¯d ever heard. It left his brain ringing as though he¡¯d been standing beneath a cathedral¡¯s bell as it rang and rang. Blood sprayed across the wall in front of him. So much of it. He stared at it in shock. It wasn¡¯t the vampire¡¯s blood. It should have been, but it wasn¡¯t. It was his own. How was his blood pumping from his chest like that? And why couldn¡¯t he breathe? Nerveless fingers dropped the mallet. The stake rolled free of his fingers and clattered to the floor between his legs. ¡°Aubrey¡­?¡± He wheezed, struggling for air. The fat man was struggling, too. Wrestling with the old man who¡¯d kicked into the room. Aubrey¡¯s mallet smashed into the old man¡¯s cheek. But it didn¡¯t stop him. He kept coming. Vernon dropped onto the floor beside Aubrey¡¯s legs. Leaning against the table under the window. Hand against the hole in his chest, he watched his blood flow steadily between his fingers. Saw the mallet crack across the old man¡¯s forehead. Sent him wheeling back. Arm came up. Vernon tried to shout a warning, but could only spit blood. Aubrey drove into the old man, slamming him into the door. A hinge popped loose. The old man brought the revolver down on Aubrey¡¯s bald head. Should have dropped him, but Vernon could have told the old man Aubrey had a thick skull. The fat man snatched a jug from the side table. The base hit the old man¡¯s chin. Rocked his head back as splinters of porcelain rained down around their scuffling feet. Crunched under boots, the shards were quickly lost into the rug. A fist darted into Aubrey¡¯s nose. Blood. Then the old man let out an angry roar and used his heel to kick the fat man back. Aubrey crashed into the bed. Bounced sideways and dropped between Vernon¡¯s knees. His head shot up. Pig-faced, but feral. He saw the last lights in Vernon¡¯s eyes begin to die. ¡°No,¡± Aubrey whimpered, scrambling to face the old man looming above. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me. I¡¯m a gentleman! A gentleman, I say.¡± ¡°Aye? A gentleman, is it?¡± ¡°I have money. Titles.¡± ¡°All nice things, I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°My father would pay you more money than you¡¯ve ever dreamed of, I swear!¡± Aubrey flinched as the old man glared down at him. ¡°You can¡¯t. You can¡¯t kill me! I¡¯m a fucking gentleman!¡± ¡°Ah, go fuck yourself, your Lordship.¡± The old man pulled the trigger. Again and again until there were no bullets left. Then, growling in pain, he tossed the revolver on the closest bed and snatched a towel, which he pressed to his bleeding face. Someone rushed up the corridor. Hammered on the door. Dimiti sighed. Pulled it open and nodded to the steward. ¡°It¡¯s okay now,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s all over. Nothing to get excited about.¡± The steward peeked over Dimiti¡¯s shoulder. Saw the two bodies. The blood on the wall. His face went pale. Dimiti reached out and dropped a battered hand on the other man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Aye,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s a bit messy to look at, son. But I¡¯d be real grateful if you¡¯d get me something to clean it up with.¡± The steward bobbed his head. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± He paused. ¡°I¡¯ll get you some ice, too. And bandages? I have some medical supplies. For your head.¡± Wincing, Dimiti touched where the mallet had smashed into his skull. It was beginning to swell. His knuckles, too, weren¡¯t feeling so good. ¡°I¡¯d really appreciate that.¡± ¡°Are they¡­ Are they alright?¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± He looked at the two vampires, lost to the dark of torpor. Safe. For now. ¡°Aye, they¡¯re safe. Don¡¯t you worry none.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief.¡± The steward leaned back against the window behind him. Slowly drew the blinds down so darkness once more filled the corridor. ¡°I was worried when I saw those two get on this car. They didn¡¯t look right. Real shifty, they were. I¡¯m glad you got them, Dimiti.¡± ¡°You did just fine, son.¡± The old man gently closed the door. Stared down at the two corpses. Finally allowed himself to relax. Breathe. ¡°Just fine.¡± Chapter Twenty-Two Dimiti was snoring when Senka woke. Seated on the ground. Back against the door. Revolver in his lap. Knife on the floor by one hand. A mallet on the floor by his other. Bloodied cloth draped across his shoulder. A new wound, dry and crusted, across his chin. Another on his forehead. Lines of blood streaking down from the cut on his scalp. His old knuckles were bruised and swollen. The young vampire flew across the room, her panic causing her to shriek. ¡°Dimiti!¡± He started awake, hand diving for the gun in his lap. ¡°Eh?¡± Vasilja bolted upright, tense and ready. ¡°Dimiti! What happened here?¡± Dimiti knuckled his eye and gently lay the revolver aside. Tried to untangle himself from Senka. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Lady. Just a couple of Englishmen. Nothing to worry about. Have a care, Miss. You¡¯ll get blood all over you.¡± ¡°Couple?¡± She looked down at the stains on the floor. Frowned. ¡°And you killed them? Alone?¡± ¡°Well,¡± he shrugged. Touched a hand to his chin. ¡°They were only English, weren¡¯t they?¡± ¡°Are you alright?¡± Senka cupped his face, turning it this way and that to get a look at the cuts. ¡°They don¡¯t look too deep. Still, it must have hurt. And you¡¯re all bruised, too!¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said, his cheeks flushing at her attention. Eyes trying to look up and away. ¡°Really, Miss. There¡¯s no need for¡­ ah¡­ no need for fussing.¡± ¡°Get off him, Senka. You¡¯re making him uncomfortable.¡± ¡°How?¡± She glanced over her shoulder, a scowl beginning to form. ¡°Well, just look at yourself. Your dress is all open. Change into something else, will you? You¡¯ll give the poor man a heart attack.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Now angry, she jumped back, puzzled by the rip which exposed her to her belly. ¡°What happened to my dress?¡± Vasilja looked to the old man. Her eyes were calm, but glittering with potential fury. ¡°Dimiti? Did we miss anything we¡¯d want to get angry about?¡± ¡°No, Lady,¡± he said firmly. ¡°Kicked down the door just as they were getting started. Nothing happened before. If it had, I¡¯d have trussed them up and left them for you.¡± ¡°Good to hear.¡± ¡°You might like to thank the little fellow outside, Lady. He spotted them heading this way and came to get me right quick. He was very helpful after, too.¡± Vasilja nodded. ¡°Do you have his name? And perhaps a way to contact him? I¡¯d like to reward him for his assistance.¡± The old man winced. ¡°He told me, but I forgot. I¡¯ll make sure to get it again.¡± ¡°Please do.¡± She slid from the bed and began rummaging in her bag. ¡°Are we nearing Paris?¡± ¡°Aye. If you look outside, you¡¯ll see we aren¡¯t far from the edge of the city now. Should only be an hour or two before we pull in to the station.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ve time to get ready.¡± She sighed, watching Senka struggle to button her torn dress. ¡°Senka? Quit playing with it and throw it away. We¡¯ll get you a new one in Paris. There¡¯s no way you can repair it by wishing it to happen.¡± ¡°But I like this one.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s time to like another one.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s my hat?¡± ¡°That dreadful thing is hopefully lost for good.¡± She sighed at the younger vampire¡¯s sudden look of sorrow. ¡°Oh, stop that. It¡¯s in the little cupboard there. That¡¯s what it¡¯s for. Along with that awful coat. Must you wear it on our first night in Paris?¡± ¡°Well, I can¡¯t wear my dress, can I?¡± Vasilja shook her head in defeat. ¡°Dimiti, when we arrive, I want you to arrange a cab to take us to the Le Grand. I¡¯ve read it¡¯s located on the Rue de la Paix. Near to the Palais Garnier, which I very much wish to visit.¡± Senka tugged her dress off while Dimiti closed his eyes. Her voice was muffled by her dress. ¡°Oh, please, Vasilja. I don¡¯t want to hear any more violins.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°It¡¯s an Opera House. You shall be witnessing your first opera. You should be grateful. But, if it makes you feel any better, there is a coffeehouse in the hotel. I¡¯m sure there will be plenty of wretched little layabouts talking about the allure of little girls or something for you there.¡± ¡°I thought Peter sounded very smart,¡± Senka said. ¡°And very worldly.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the point, Senka. They only sound that way.¡± She noticed Dimiti. ¡°You don¡¯t have to stand there like that, Dimiti. You may leave, you know.¡± ¡°Aye, Lady. Thank you, Lady.¡± ¡°Oh, Dimiti?¡± ¡°Aye?¡± ¡°We¡¯re very grateful to you, you know. I have so many things on my mind right now that it may not appear so, but I am. Both of us are. Aren¡¯t we, Senka?¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°Yes, Dimiti,¡± Senka said, turning to him. ¡°More than anything.¡± ¡°Senka?¡± Vasilja sighed at the nude vampire. ¡°Clothes. Now, Please?¡± Dimiti, left with a grateful bob of his head. Muttering the name of the hotel over and over so he could remember it. ¡°Do you know, I think I¡¯m looking forward to Paris,¡± Vasilja said. She began pulling off her own stained dress, airily wiping the old blood off her skin. ¡°The last time I was here, it was a frightful mess. There¡¯d been rioting and battles in the streets, and everyone was very angry. They¡¯d just started putting the nobility to the guillotine. I remember watching some of the executions. It was such an exciting time for everyone.¡± ¡°I want a guillotine.¡± ¡°Of course you do. Very sensible machines, they are. One big chop and off goes the head. If you¡¯re lucky. One or two needed a second try. I thought it most efficient.¡± She smiled fondly as she folded the stained dress and put it away. ¡°It was dangerous for us. Dracula was always moaning that someone would find out what we were. He wouldn¡¯t let us wander very far at all. But he needn¡¯t have worried. There was so much chaos that no one noticed when people went missing. And when their bodies showed up, the royalists thought the revolutionaries had done it and the revolutionaries blamed the royalists. It was most convenient. They take their political views very seriously here. I think that¡¯s why I¡¯ve always liked France.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard the men are exotic.¡± ¡°Exotic?¡± Vasilja spluttered, looking at her in honest shock. ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± ¡°Some of the girls in the village near the castle. They said French men were very exotic. And romantic.¡± ¡°Well, they¡¯re wrong. They¡¯re not exotic at all. They¡¯re French.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that exotic?¡± ¡°Not in the least.¡± She shuddered. ¡°When you bite one, you¡¯ll see what I mean. There¡¯s a decidedly uncouth flavour to their blood. They eat far too much garlic on the whole. And butter. It makes my stomach queasy.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°And they all seem very offended by the concept of bathing.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I mean, the English also don¡¯t like bathing but at least they do it every week or so. But the French? I swear most of them only ever saw a bath when they were baptized as children. Then they try to hide their stench by pouring on bottles of perfume which only makes it worse.¡± ¡°That¡¯s disgusting¡­¡± ¡°Exactly. Honestly, I¡¯ve never met a Frenchman I was genuinely happy to bite.¡± It wasn¡¯t long before the train slowed, the massive engine sounding like it was crashing along the rails. Heavy wheels screeching as it took a sharper turn. The two vampires swayed with its momentum. ¡°Vasilja?¡± Senka sat on her bed, buttoning her shirt. Pants across her lap. ¡°How are we going to find Luciferians without Franz?¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy. We¡¯ll make an appointment to see Dracula¡¯s banker. He¡¯s the Governor of the Banque de France. I can¡¯t recall his name, but he¡¯s very important.¡± ¡°A banker?¡± ¡°Of course. Bankers are like priests these days. They know everyone¡¯s secrets. It¡¯s often said that King Louis went to the scaffold without hesitation. That he held his head high and showed no nervousness at all. A truly brave man, they say.¡± She smiled mischievously. ¡°But every time he met his banker, he¡¯d quake in his very boots! Bankers, Senka. They¡¯re the closest a human will get to being one of us without actually drinking blood.¡± ¡°So, you think he will know some Luciferians?¡± ¡°Absolutely. If he isn¡¯t one himself. And, if he doesn¡¯t know them, then we¡¯ll simply have to shake his tree and see what falls out. I don¡¯t see we have any other choice.¡± She pursed her lips, muttering; ¡°Hailwic was much better at all this than I am.¡± ¡°Do you think there¡¯ll be vampire hunters, too? Waiting for us?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve no doubt there will be.¡± Her smile turned grim. ¡°Should we try harder to hide from them?¡± ¡°Hide? From that rabble? No, thank you. Anyway, Senka. I have an idea about that. Well, I think I do. I won¡¯t know for sure until we arrive at the hotel.¡± When the train entered the city, Senka pulled the window open and thrust her head outside again. Laughing into the wind, she ignored Vasilja until the other vampire gave up entirely on trying to pull her back inside. The young vampire stared open-mouthed at the street. Bright lights culled the evening darkness, dazzling her gaze as they rushed past buildings more taller than anything she¡¯d ever seen. Restaurants beckoned with promises of richest delight. Taverns brushed shoulders with merchant shops. The city felt alive in a way she couldn¡¯t describe. It was beautiful. It was cruel. A cathedral to excess. And it stank, she thought, of horseshit. Pulling her head inside, she shook her head in wonder. ¡°Why don¡¯t they clean up after the horses, Vasilja?¡± ¡°This is what cities are usually like, Senka. They¡¯re mostly very dirty.¡± ¡°But it seems worse here.¡± ¡°Paris is a city of bankers now, Senka. Many of the richest men in the world congregate here now. They build beautiful buildings. Magnificent architectural wonders for us to enjoy. They produce divine opera. Art is in every valued space.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain it.¡± ¡°Of course it does. If you have that many rich people, then you¡¯re bound to have a great many more poor people. It¡¯s just the way it is. And who¡¯s going to look after them? They can¡¯t look after themselves.¡± She waited patiently in her small armchair for the train to reach its destination. She flicked her fingers in irritation. ¡°Perhaps, with some effort, it could all be fixed. But from whose pockets would the money come to do so? The public purse? I think not. That has always and will always be a secondary banking industry for those in power. The filth and corruption in a city like this will accumulate layer by layer. You can¡¯t always see it, but you can smell it. Nothing will change that.¡± ¡°But they had a revolution. You said so. They overthrew their monarchy, didn¡¯t they? Didn¡¯t that change anything?¡± ¡°Ah, Senka. I¡¯ve seen revolutions,¡± Vasilja said softly. ¡°Many times. Hailwic saw many more. In France, it used to be that a man would lead his people because he was chosen by God. They called that man a King. It was proven he was fit to lead because God spat him out of some poor woman¡¯s womb. These days, a man is proven to lead when his family have paved his way with earthly riches. He¡¯s still spat out in the same manner, but now it¡¯s not God¡¯s work. It¡¯s his own. Nothing has really changed, Senka. Nothing at all. I suppose, if I thought about it, revolutions simply removed God from the whole mess. A good thing for us, but it didn¡¯t do them much good in the end.¡± ¡°That¡¯s very bleak.¡± ¡°I know.¡± She glanced out the window and chuckled softly. ¡°Try not to think about it. It¡¯ll only depress you. What would you like to do tomorrow? Tonight will be spent getting our hotel rooms ready I should think. But, tomorrow, we shall have Paris to ourselves. Before we hunt your Luciferians, we shall enjoy its fruits for one time at least. Even Hailwic would be disappointed if we didn¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°I want to bite a Frenchman.¡± The younger vampire tilted her hat as the train jostled her on the bed. ¡°I know you said they don¡¯t taste very nice, but how will I know if I don¡¯t give one a try?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a good attitude, Senka. A very good attitude. I approve of it most wholeheartedly. I hope you remember it when I take you to the Opera.¡± ¡°Did Hailwic like the Opera?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the point.¡± ¡°She didn¡¯t!¡± ¡°Hailwic had all the sophistication of a village peasant.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell her that.¡± Vasilja¡¯s eyes flicked towards the ammunition case by the door. She sighed, struggling to keep sorrow from her undead heart. ¡°I do hope you get the chance, Senka.¡± ¡°I will.¡± ¡°Then I can¡¯t wait to tell her all about how you thought her having a collection of swords was very old-fashioned when everyone in the world has evolved to using a firearm.¡± ¡°I never did!¡± She scrunched her face and squinted dangerously at the other vampire. ¡°You¡¯re making that up. That¡¯s lying, Vasilja.¡± ¡°Senka,¡± Vasilja sounded shocked. ¡°What a thing to suggest. I never lie. I simply put forward an alternative perspective.¡± ¡°Of what? I never even mentioned her swords!¡± ¡°You just did.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t!¡± ¡°What did you just say?¡± ¡°I said I never mentioned them.¡± ¡°Then, you mentioned them.¡± ¡°You¡¯re confusing me.¡± She growled. ¡°I don¡¯t like this.¡± ¡°Well, Senka.¡± She allowed herself a cunning smile. ¡°You are, of course, always allowed your own perspective. That¡¯s what a city like this is for¡­¡± Chapter Twenty-Three ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± Senka let Vasilja lead the way. Her eyes gave up looking around the hotel lobby and instead drifted down to her hands. ¡°Everything is too white. It¡¯s too white.¡± ¡°A lot of hotels are white,¡± Vasilja said. ¡°I think it¡¯s because they¡¯re obsessed with marble. Even when they don¡¯t have any marble, they like to emulate it. Marble¡¯s very popular now. It must be a Greek thing. Or Roman. Although, I think Hailwic would tell me it¡¯s Italian.¡± ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s horrible.¡± She looked unimpressed. ¡°I think I prefer the train. It was nice and red.¡± ¡°You only like it because it makes you think about blood.¡± Senka made a face. ¡°I¡¯m not that simple, Vasilja. I also liked the last hotel. It was grey, like our castle. But at least they had paintings to make it pretty.¡± ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re right, Senka. I didn¡¯t think about it like that. Perhaps a few artworks here might make a pleasant difference.¡± Vasilja admitted. Then beamed at the young man moving out from behind the counter, throwing her power ahead of herself in a wave. He stumbled midstep. Caught himself with a mild shake of head. Smiled. ¡°Ladies,¡± he said. Bowed. ¡°Welcome to Le Grand.¡± ¡°My Name is Countess Vasilja Dracula.¡± Her purr made him smile and his eyes half-closed. ¡°This is my sister, Countess Senka Dracula. We apologise for the late arrival, but we require three rooms. One simply must be facing the Palais Garnier. I don¡¯t imagine it¡¯s important where the others face, but it would be appreciated if one was on one of the upper levels and the other closer to the ground as our companion is of an age where stairs might prove a distraction.¡± ¡°We have an elevator, Lady.¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t trust the things.¡± She smiled, a winsome smile which caught his breath. ¡°He¡¯s not as worldly as you or I. What did you say your name was?¡± ¡°Gilles, Lady. Gilles Foucheux.¡± ¡°Mister Foucheux. If you could arrange our rooms, we would be most appreciative.¡± She looked around. ¡°I would also like you to acquire two tickets to tomorrow¡¯s Opera. I don¡¯t mind what is playing, but we absolutely must have tickets.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°We would also like to be sure our rooms will not be disturbed during the day. We¡¯ve had a tiresome journey and would like to rest.¡± He bobbed his head quickly. ¡°This, too, Lady, can be arranged.¡± ¡°Excellent.¡± She turned as Dimiti made his way inside. The old man blinked at the finery. Shook his head. Then whistled under his breath as she waved him closer. ¡°Dimiti? What are you doing there? Please meet Mister Gilles Foucheux, Dimiti. If you require anything further from us, Mister Foucheux, we would appreciate you discussing it with Dimiti first.¡± ¡°Dimiti.¡± Gilles tried the word. ¡°Very good, Mister Foucheux. Now we¡¯re acquainted, which rooms will be ours?¡± ¡°Oh. Yes, Countess Dracula. I will sort it out right away.¡± She watched him skip to the counter and begin preparations. Senka¡¯s eyes roved up and down his immaculate suit. ¡°I want to bite him.¡± ¡°Of course you do, Senka. You want to bite everyone we meet.¡± ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a bad thing.¡± She frowned. ¡°Why three rooms, Vasilja? I don¡¯t think I¡¯d like sleeping alone.¡± ¡°Hush. It will become clear later.¡± She looked to Dimiti. ¡°Are our bags prepared?¡± ¡°Aye, Lady.¡± ¡°Bring them with us. I don¡¯t want any locals handling them.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°I want you to keep close to Mister Foucheux, Dimiti. Should anything occur, I¡¯ll need you to take care of things.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be like his shadow.¡± ¡°Not that close. We don¡¯t want him to fuss.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be discreet.¡± ¡°Of course you will.¡± Gilles looked up. ¡°Countess, would you sign, please? We must all sign the book, I¡¯m afraid.¡± ¡°Naturally.¡± She drifted over to him. She smiled again, the smile broadening as he blushed in response. Taking the pen, she dipped it gently into the ink before racing her signature across the paper. ¡°Thank you, Countess,¡± he said. A small cough to bring oxygen back to his lungs. ¡°I do not wish for any attention, Mister Foucheux. Do you understand?¡± ¡°No one will know you¡¯re here, Countess. I swear it.¡± ¡°And you will have my tickets for me by tomorrow evening?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep them with me to be safe.¡± She reached with a cold hand and ran a finger down the length of his jaw. ¡°You¡¯re a good boy, Mister Foucheux. There¡¯s no need for anyone to show us to our rooms. Do me one last favour, would you? Try not to eat any more garlic tomorrow.¡± He ducked his head. Face bright red. ¡°I will do as you require, Countess.¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Or onion.¡± Struggling to think, the young man nodded again. ¡°As you wish.¡± ¡°I do so wish.¡± She spun away. Pointed at Dimiti. ¡°Please take the keys, Dimiti. Senka? What are you waiting for?¡± ¡°Can we try the elevator?¡± ¡°If you must.¡± ¡°I must, Vasilja. Don¡¯t you think it sounds wonderful?¡± ¡°Not particularly. It¡¯s a box being lifted on a chain. It doesn¡¯t sound particularly safe to me.¡± ¡°Are you frightened?¡± The younger vampire smirked. ¡°Not for myself. But I¡¯d rather not lose Dimiti.¡± She brushed the old man¡¯s shoulder with genuine affection. ¡°I like him.¡± ¡°Thank you, Lady,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re very welcome.¡± The elevator¡¯s door was open and a wiry old man stood within, suit crisp and shining with brass buttons. His neatly sculpted moustache glistened almost as brightly with wax. He bowed as they entered. Began closing the doors. Latched them. Smiled as he bowed his head politely. ¡°Which floor, Lady?¡± ¡°What floor is Senka¡¯s room, Dimiti?¡± ¡°The third, Lady.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°My name?¡± Chuckled nervously. ¡°Juste, Lady.¡± ¡°Take us to the third floor, please, Juste.¡± The elevator rose slowly, but with a smoothness which left Senka giggling by the time they stopped. Thanking the old man, they slid into the hall and stood waiting for the elevator to go back down. ¡°Remarkable,¡± Vasilja said at last. ¡°Not quite as bad as I thought.¡± ¡°I want one for the castle.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need one. You can just fly up the stairwell.¡± ¡°So?¡± ¡°That is not a sentence, and does not deserve any further response.¡± She leaned toward Dimiti. ¡°Which one is her room?¡± ¡°Second on the left.¡± ¡°Excellent. Could you make sure the bags are left in mine downstairs. But make sure you keep Hailwic with you. Don¡¯t let her out of your sight. She¡¯d be dreadfully upset if we lost her.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep her with me all the time, Lady. I swear it.¡± The room¡¯s furniture was blue velvet and gold trim. The bed looked soft and inviting. Senka made to jump on it, but Vasilja took her arm and dragged her to the window instead. Pulled the curtain aside and pushed her against the glass. ¡°Keep an eye on the street below,¡± she said. ¡°I want to know if there¡¯s anyone watching. Can you do that, Senka? Can you keep your attention on something for just a few minutes instead of getting bored and not doing it properly?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± she said drily. ¡°Just for you.¡± ¡°Dimiti? Lock the door behind you and take the key. We shan¡¯t be needing it.¡± ¡°Aye, Lady. Is there anything else you¡¯ll be wanting?¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. We¡¯ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow after sunset. No, wait. Could you arrange an appointment with the current Governor of the Banque de France?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do so first thing.¡± ¡°Let him know it¡¯s a matter of some urgency, and if that doesn¡¯t get him excited you may tell him we¡¯re thinking of taking our money to another bank.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll tell him.¡± The old man shuffled out of the room, leaving the two vampires close to the window. Senka squinted through the glass as Vasilja¡¯s gaze searched the building opposite. ¡°Does anybody look interested?¡± Senka shook her head. ¡°I didn¡¯t see anyone.¡± ¡°And I can¡¯t feel anyone in the shadows.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°One can never be too sure. This is where Hailwic was always more reliable. She could talk to the rats, or something.¡± ¡°What are we doing, Vasilja? Why did you get three rooms?¡± ¡°I thought it prudent.¡± She smiled wickedly. ¡°I would expect any hunters will have a difficult time guessing which one we are staying in. This simply increases the likelihood they go to the wrong room. I would expect them to work methodically, so to take the rooms on the lower levels first. This hopefully will alert Dimiti.¡± ¡°What if they come here first?¡± ¡°We can¡¯t plan for everything, Senka. We can only make their job more difficult and hope for the best.¡± ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡± Senka¡¯s shoulder slumped a little. ¡°I wish I could think like you do. I always feel so stupid around you.¡± Vasilja gently slapped her hand. ¡°Stop being so morose. We each have our gifts. And, speaking of gifts¡­¡± Vasilja took Senka¡¯s arm and her expression grew mischievous. ¡°Tell me, sister. Don¡¯t you feel like biting?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you say I always feel like biting?¡± ¡°Is that an answer?¡± ¡°I think it is.¡± ¡°Then, let¡¯s go find something delicious.¡± ¡°Something young? Something which wriggles?¡± ¡°If we can.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been so long since we did that.¡± The thought made her sigh. ¡°I miss Hailwic.¡± ¡°Me, too. I¡¯m getting a headache from making all the decisions. It¡¯s very frustrating. Now. Fetch your bag, and let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°My bag?¡± ¡°Of course. We can¡¯t stay in this room. If the hunters get the ledger, they could easily search three rooms in one day. Especially if they arrive while Dimiti is arranging our appointment.¡± Her grin stretched widely over her face. ¡°How long do you think it would take the hunters to search every room in the hotel, do you think?¡± ¡°Oh, Senka! That¡¯s brilliant!¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Hailwic would be proud of you, you know.¡± ¡°Do you think so?¡± ¡°Oh, I do.¡± Senka hugged her sister tightly. ¡°I know I¡¯m so proud of you.¡± ¡°Well.¡± Vasilja patted Senka¡¯s shoulder awkwardly. ¡°I¡¯m very humbled by your praise. Shall we go?¡± The two vampires slid through the window and into the night air, floating weightless and silent. Their bags in hand, they drifted from room to room, Vasilja pausing near each window. Stretching inside with her power. Grunting unhappily. Then moving on. ¡°We need to find somewhere,¡± Senka said. ¡°The sun will be up soon.¡± ¡°I know when the sun will be up, Senka. I probably know better than you how long we¡¯ve got. But we don¡¯t want just any old room, do we?¡± The younger vampire looked down at the street below. Bright lights shivered cold. Only a few figures walked the street this late and most of them didn¡¯t so much walk as weave. One crashed into some bins and remained where he was, singing at the top of his lungs about the joys of absinthe. A cat skipped away from him, crossing the street at a scamper. Tail flicking. It didn¡¯t look up. Senka slid onto a ledge and crouched, coat tails hung loose down her sides. Tickled by the wind, they slithered against the hotel wall. Two dark snakes. Her top hat tucked under her arm to stop it from flying away. She touched the back of her hand. Tracing the veins. They looked dark. In her dreams, they¡¯d glowed the most brilliant green she¡¯d ever seen. The same colour as the Felstone. She couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it. The closer they¡¯d come to Paris, the more she thought about her dreams. And the more she began to doubt them. Vasilja hovered just below, pressing her cheek against the window. Listening. Her power stretching into the room like an invisible tentacle. Teasing the dreams of sleepers. Peeling back their desires. Feeling. A magnificent power, Senka thought. And Hailwic¡¯s had been incredible, too. Hailwic could control bats. Rats. Owls. Cats. Even wolves. Creatures of the night, Dracula called them. It had sounded poetic when he called them that. She remembered when he took her along the ramparts and showed her the view from the mountains. She¡¯d heard the wolves howling in the distance. ¡°They hunt,¡± he¡¯d said. ¡°As will we. We are all children of the night.¡± His powers were even more potent. Along with the same powers as Hailwic and Vasilja, Satan had gifted him with control of his own form. He could become smoke. Become a wolf. Even a giant bat. He was, she¡¯d thought when she first met him, the closest to a god she could imagine. They all had powers. Except for her. ¡°It takes time to manifest,¡± Hailwic had said. ¡°It took me two hundred years.¡± ¡°It only took me two months,¡± Vasilja smirked. ¡°Maybe you are both just slow?¡± Looking down at Vasilja probing the room, Senka wondered if the other vampire was right. Was she slow? And were her dreams only na?ve fantasy? Fanciful desires of a fledgling vampire whose powers had yet to manifest? Would Vasilja resent her more if she couldn¡¯t bring back Hailwic? If her heart could still beat, it¡¯d be racing in her chest, she thought. Racing with fear. ¡°Senka!¡± Vasilja was looking up at her. ¡°What are you doing?¡± ¡°Thinking.¡± ¡°Well, stop it. It doesn¡¯t suit you. Come down here. This one is perfect.¡± ¡°How can you tell?¡± ¡°Because there¡¯s two of them.¡± ¡°Men?¡± ¡°No, Senka. Little ones. There¡¯s two of them. I told you I¡¯d find somewhere perfect.¡± Senka drifted down to her sister and took her hand. ¡°I never doubted you.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°No. Hailwic said you always find the best things to bite. I think she was right.¡± The young vampire smiled, showing her fangs. ¡°You¡¯re just not very good at finding music.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a nice thing to say.¡± ¡°Please open the window, Vasilja. I can¡¯t bear to think any more tonight. I really need to bite¡­¡± Chapter Twenty-Four It took two days to arrange an appointment with the Governor. He was a stocky man with an overgrown set of muttonchops clinging to his pallid face. Eyes which studied the two vampires with a look of reptilian detachment even after Vasilja prodded him with her power. His upper lids never quite opened, and the bags under his eyes seemed to droop so far as to almost envelope his cheeks. ¡°This is most irregular, Countess,¡± he said. ¡°Most irregular indeed. Our selection of investments has provided a steady income, which is proof Count Dracula¡¯s holdings have been meticulously maintained.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure they have,¡± Vasilja said. Waved a hand dismissively. ¡°But we wish to see some diversity into, let¡¯s say, alternate pockets of possibility?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯ve noticed there¡¯s been quite the interest in electricity. It looks promising.¡± ¡°A fad, I¡¯m sure.¡± His expression was one of distaste. ¡°I have it on good authority that it¡¯s scandalously dangerous. It has been shown that it can kill horses. Imagine the dangers it would pose to people.¡± ¡°Oh, I am aware, Mister Magnin. I truly am.¡± She almost scowled. ¡°But we believe it to be more profitable in the longterm than gas.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m, hearing, Countess. And my information comes from very scientific and reputable sources, I assure you. Everyone¡¯s hearing the same.¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯ve heard the opposite. Haven¡¯t we, Senka?¡± Senka tried to sit up straighter in her chair. Failed. Nodded. ¡°Oh, yes, Vasilja. Very profitable business.¡± ¡°You see?¡± Vasilja leaned forward. Rapped a hand on the old man¡¯s desk. ¡°Even my uneducated sister knows it¡¯s very profitable, Mister Magnin. So, we¡¯d like to see some investments in it. I have a list of companies here to start with.¡± ¡°I would need Count Dracula¡¯s signature, of course.¡± With a grunt he pushed himself back in his chair, as if to end the meeting. ¡°You¡¯re not listening, Mister Magnin,¡± she said. ¡°I do so dislike when people don¡¯t listen to me. Especially if I feel it¡¯s because they¡¯re not taking me seriously.¡± ¡°I cannot change the terms of our agreement, Countess, and our terms were quite clear. I can make no business arrangements without his signature.¡± ¡°Yet, you may accept mine when the need to withdraw funds is presented?¡± ¡°Of course. That is agreeable.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you find that agreeable, Mister Magnin, because in the morning, I shall be withdrawing the entirety of the Dracula funds and transferring it to another bank. I am currently investigating the Rothschilds. It sounds as though they have a more civilized understanding of the concept of profit-building.¡± The old man almost choked, his pallid face somehow getting more pale. ¡°But, Countess¡­¡± ¡°I will not hear it. Either you will divert our interests as I¡¯ve told you to, or I will divert the capital. It¡¯s your choice, Mister Magnin.¡± ¡°It seems you have me in a corner, Countess.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll find the Count left money matters to me, Mister Magnin. A sensible decision, really. He¡¯s actually quite useless with financial decisions. If he was any good at them, he wouldn¡¯t have had so many tax problems and be in the position he was when we met.¡± ¡°Well,¡± he said. Reptile eyes trying to judge her determination. ¡°Then, perhaps we could come to some form of arrangement after all.¡± ¡°That would be pleasant.¡± ¡°However, the agreement with the Count still stands. I need his signature.¡± ¡°I sense you have an alternative option?¡± ¡°There may be a way to satisfy both legal and financial obligations,¡± he said. His smile was rueful, but his gaze had gained some respect for her as he leaned forward. ¡°We could, say, withdraw funds from the Dracula account and, perhaps, deposit them in one of your own, Countess? Those funds could be used for the investments you request.¡± ¡°This sounds much more reasonable.¡± She looked at Senka, who shrugged. Bored. ¡°I will, of course, require another account for my sister. She has been authorised, I take it?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°Excellent.¡± Vasilja slapped Senka¡¯s forearm. ¡°Oh, do wake up, Senka. Protecting your financial future is of some importance, you know. You can¡¯t maintain a castle without income, you know.¡± ¡°Very wise words,¡± Magnin rumbled. ¡°You should listen to your sister, Countess.¡± ¡°I do,¡± Senka said. ¡°I don¡¯t really get a choice.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be loathsome.¡± Vasilja looked smug. ¡°Now, Mister Magnin. I trust the necessary papers will be sent to my hotel tomorrow?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°Excellent. Please have them left at the front desk for me.¡± ¡°As you wish.¡± He didn¡¯t look happy, but the vampire was content he¡¯d follow instructions. ¡°Then, I have another matter to discuss. One which requires discretion.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± He rubbed his muttonchops and settled more comfortably in his chair. Banking wasn¡¯t his favourite subject, and he¡¯d no doubt be passing off the paperwork to one of his junior assistants. Who, Vasilja hoped, would be more open to her powers. Gossip, however, was something he relished. And the tone of her voice was a lure on which he would be pleased to nibble. ¡°We¡¯re new to Paris. I haven¡¯t yet had a chance to introduce myself. But the Count, as you know, has always maintained strong ties within the Masonic community. He is also intermittently active within several philosophical societies.¡± He looked away with a slight cough. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know, Countess. Entirely not my business.¡± ¡°Of course not.¡± She tried again, pushing with her power. Leaning closer. Purring softly. ¡°Pierre. It wouldn¡¯t do any harm to share a name with me of someone, shall we say, high within the Lodge? I wish only to further extend my husband¡¯s greetings and enter into Parisian society with the right kind of people. You do know what I¡¯m talking about, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°It would be a serious breach of etiquette¡­¡± Vasilja¡¯s smile washed through him like a ray of moonlight. ¡°Pierre,¡± she crooned. ¡°I won¡¯t tell a soul.¡± ¡°Freddy,¡± he sighed. ¡°Frederic Bricaud. His is a powerful voice I¡¯m sure Count Dracula would wish to ally more closely to in these troubled times. He is a brilliant man. A man of clear purpose and a true desire to unite all men regardless of rank, or belief. Someone to be admired greatly, I think.¡± Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Of course.¡± Vasilja placed a hand on his desk. ¡°And would you be willing to write a letter of introduction for us, Mister Magnin?¡± As they left the banker¡¯s house, Senka gave her shoulders a shake to clear the pain of having sat for so long in the uncomfortable chair. ¡°I never thought I would see anyone I truly didn¡¯t want to bite,¡± Senka said with a wrinkle of her nose. ¡°But there he is.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a wretched creature,¡± Vasilja agreed. ¡°But that¡¯s bankers for you. Their souls are firmly in our master¡¯s grip and so they go through their daily lives with no real passion.¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just ask him if he knew the Luciferians? Why do we have to find this Mister Bricaud?¡± ¡°Because I couldn¡¯t control that old lizard enough. I couldn¡¯t trust that he wouldn¡¯t tell anyone when we were finished. I didn¡¯t want him running off to the local authorities the minute we left his house.¡± ¡°Would he really?¡± ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell. At the very least, he¡¯d use the information to gain some control over our finances. And we can¡¯t have that.¡± ¡°Mister Bricaud will know, though? Because he¡¯s a Freemason?¡± ¡°I think so. You see, Senka, secret societies are simply places rich people attend to find others who think in the same way they do. Freemasonry is very popular in Europe. It has been since the Revolution. Lately, the Lodge here in France has begun acting peculiar.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°I read some of Dracula¡¯s letters to Mister Magnin. The Lodge started admitting atheists.¡± ¡°Atheists?¡± ¡°Yes. Dracula naturally thought it was a good idea. Reducing the influence of Christians inside political circles would help us an awful lot. But it hasn¡¯t been very popular, as you can imagine. He might be a few decades too soon.¡± ¡°You think they¡¯re also accepting Luciferians.¡± ¡°I think some of them were already Luciferians, Senka. Why else would anyone want to let atheists into their Lodge? Their conversation is very limited as they¡¯re not very philosophical, you know. They tend to run out of ideas fairly quickly after mathematics. All the same, they dislike Christians as much as we do. The enemy of our enemy is our friend, or so it¡¯s said.¡± ¡°Then, let¡¯s go bite Mister Bricaud.¡± ¡°Not straight away, Senka. We¡¯ll need him to tell us where the Luciferians are, first.¡± When safe, the vampires lifted into the air and soared through the night sky. Senka¡¯s eyes picked through the dark below like an owl¡¯s, picking out those who walked alone down shadow-drenched alleys. Or who shivered under makeshift shelters. Lost. Feeble. Unwanted. These were easy prey. Safe to bite, as the city cared nothing for them. Vasilja paused above the townhouse belonging to Bricaud. Frowned. Senka followed her gaze, seeing nothing. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Do you know, Senka, but I believe Mister Magnin forgot to tell us something rather important.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°It appears Mister Bricaud is not just any normal man.¡± Her lips spread into a crooked grin. ¡°He¡¯s a priest.¡± ¡°A real one?¡± ¡°Yes, he does appear to be. His house has the smell of holiness around it.¡± Senka clapped her hands. ¡°That¡¯s perfect!¡± She reached into her coat. ¡°I brought the mace Hailwic gave me. She said it¡¯s very good against priests. I could try it out. Let me try it out, Vasilja. I want to bite a priest!¡± ¡°So do I.¡± She ran her tongue across her lips. Her eyes glittered. ¡°But we need to be careful, Senka. Very careful.¡± ¡°I can be careful. I promise.¡± ¡°Some priests have divine relics. Their crucifix might be blessed by the Pope, which makes it burn even hotter. If they¡¯re especially faithful, their prayers can hurt your ears. It¡¯s very unsettling when that happens, I can tell you. Dracula told me he knew one priest who could kill vampires just by touching them with his hand.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡± ¡°We should be prudent. We should go back to Mister Magnin. Have him find us someone else. It¡¯s what Hailwic would want us to do.¡± Vasilja hovered, turning lightly in the breeze. ¡°But I¡¯m not Hailwic. I must bite him, Senka. I must! He¡¯s right there, isn¡¯t he? And he¡¯s not inside a church. We must have him.¡± ¡°We must!¡± Vasilja let out a small kittenish moan. Then dropped suddenly toward the shadows down the side of the house. ¡°Quickly! Before Hailwic¡¯s ghost tells me I¡¯m being stupid and I start listening to her.¡± ¡°Wait for me!¡± They knocked on the door, Vasilja motioning Senka to stand behind her shoulder. ¡°Try to look bored, Senka. Like we¡¯re going to a recital. I don¡¯t want you to scare him off. And don¡¯t smile. Your fangs are showing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just excited, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Well, don¡¯t be. This is actually very dangerous. If I thought about it any longer, I¡¯d recognise the whole thing as a silly notion. We should leave. Yes, we should¡­¡± The door opened with a grumpy lurch. ¡°Yes? What is it? It¡¯s very late, you know.¡± ¡°Why, yes, Mister Bricaud. We were sent here on a matter of great importance by Mister Pierre Magnin. Are you familiar with Pierre at all?¡± The vampire oozed her power through the door, pushing with all her strength through the veil which clouded her own awareness. Frederic hissed inwardly, eyes widening as he guessed at their urgency. ¡°What is it? Have they rebelled at last? Has the Lodge finally split?¡± Vasilja kept her face expressionless. ¡°I do think we should discuss this a little more privately, Mister Bricaud. Perhaps you might allow us the courtesy of entering your home?¡± ¡°Of course!¡± He threw the door open and waved them inside. ¡°Please. Come inside. Come inside, ladies. I¡¯ll put a log on the fire. You must be cold. The weather has been most inclement lately.¡± ¡°Close the door quickly,¡± Vasilja said as she entered. ¡°There may be spies about.¡± ¡°Spies?¡± He shoved his surprised face outside and looked around, paying close attention to the bushes by his window. ¡°Is he alright?¡± Senka asked softly. ¡°He looks a bit strange.¡± ¡°Hush, Senka.¡± She stifled a giggle, whispering quickly. ¡°He¡¯s not a real priest after all. He¡¯s a Calvinist!¡± Senka blinked, glancing at the priest. ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see anyone,¡± he said. ¡°But a curtain moved across the road. That¡¯s Joachim. He¡¯s in league with the Devil. I know it. He watches me. But I watch him, too. I¡¯ve seen the depravities he engages in. Oh. Forgive me. That¡¯s not for polite conversation. Please, ladies. This way. I say, are you wearing a gentleman¡¯s coat?¡± ¡°We came in a rush,¡± Vasilja said quickly. ¡°And Mister Magnin thought it best to disguise us. You see? You didn¡¯t know she was a proper lady until she was close.¡± ¡°Very smart thinking,¡± he nodded. Pushed his eyebrows together seriously. The wart on his cheek wobbled above his well-trimmed beard. ¡°Very sensible. Always a planner, is Pierre. Always one step ahead.¡± ¡°Yes, of course he is.¡± ¡°Here. Take a seat. Would you like some tea?¡± ¡°No, Frederic. Or may we call you Freddy? Pierre said we might. We don¡¯t drink tea, you see.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you? Well, I have some brandy. Mineral water? It¡¯s supposed to be good for you.¡± ¡°No. We¡¯re in a bit of a hurry.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± He held up a fist. ¡°The fight.¡± ¡°Yes. The fight.¡± He bent down and tossed a small log onto the fire. It coughed out a few sparks before reluctantly smoking into life. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much longer we can hold things together,¡± he said. He sounded tired. ¡°The Lodge is breaking apart. Everyone bickers about every little thing. They fight tooth and nail over inconsequential things. Little things. Nobody can agree on anything. It will have to split. Everyone knows this. But who will keep the majority, eh? That¡¯s the real question. Keeping the majority. I think we were doing the right thing by bringing in the atheists. And I¡¯m sure you agree it¡¯s proper to allow women entry, too. It isn¡¯t right to exclude women. It just isn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a good man,¡± Vasilja purred. She glided across to him, reaching out with her hand. He flinched. Her cold sharp fingers caressed his cheek, sliding down past the wart and across the rough foliage of his beard. He smiled back awkwardly, eyes following her tongue as it wet her upper lip. ¡°Well,¡± he said. Nervous. ¡°I don¡¯t believe I am. Like all men, I am corrupted. Wicked. My mind is filled with dreadful ideas. Simply dreadful. Sometimes, I lie awake and find myself calmed by thoughts of utter depravity. Depravity beyond that which Joachim has been practicing. Beyond that which some members of the Lodge have admitted to me. Even the atheists. I fear I am lost, Lady. Destined to find not an ounce of salvation in His Grace. I- Why am I telling you this?¡± ¡°You are among friends, dearest Freddy,¡± she said. Moved behind him, arms sliding between his. Hands pressing against his chest. ¡°You can tell us anything. Can¡¯t you? You feel comfortable with us. We¡¯re here for you. Just for you. You like that, don¡¯t you? Being alone with us?¡± ¡°Oh, yes. You¡¯re very pretty¡­¡± His glazed eyes skipped to Senka, who stared back at him without expression. Waiting. Vasilja whispered into his ear; ¡°Mister Magnin said you know a lot of people in the Lodge.¡± He blinked, not quite shaking loose of her grip. ¡°I do! Well, I have to, don¡¯t I? To hold everything together, you see. It¡¯s important to speak with them all. Listen to their complaints, mostly. Try to keep them all steady.¡± He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s hard work, and I¡¯m not sure I can do it for much longer¡­¡± ¡°Do they tell you their secrets? Do you tell them yours?¡± ¡°Sometimes.¡± He chewed his bottom lip. Sweat beaded against his forehead. ¡°And would they tell you if they were, say, engaging in very sinful behaviour?¡± ¡°Some of them might,¡± he admitted. She turned him around, her arms sliding around his neck. She rested her head against his shoulder. Smiled. ¡°Tell me. Tell me who is kneeling to Lucifer.¡± ¡°All of them. Everyone is sinful. The whole world kneels to the Evil One these days.¡± ¡°I mean, which has actually told you they are. Which claims the mantle of Luciferian?¡± ¡°Oh, well. That¡¯s very privileged. They would not have told me under normal circumstances. I¡¯m a priest. Whatever secrets they share must never pass my lips.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a Calvinist priest.¡± ¡°Yes, but that hardly makes a difference.¡± ¡°Of course not.¡± She breathed into his ear. ¡°Tell me, Freddy. Give me a name. Give me a name and I¡¯ll tell you all about my sins. My sister, too. She has so many sins. More than you can count. I promise you, our depravity will devour you. They will leave you a quivering mess at our feet. Your soul will be corrupted with the knowledge of what we¡¯ve done. I swear it.¡± He shivered in her touch. Closed his eyes. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know any for certain.¡± He trembled. ¡°Joachim says he is, but I doubt him. He¡¯s always looking for attention. Many say they are, you see, but they don¡¯t practice it. Not truly. I¡¯ve only ever known one who would dare consider practicing those obscene and blasphemous rites for real.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± She pulled him close, pressing herself against his back. Winding her leg against his thigh. ¡°Who?¡± ¡°Well. Me.¡± Chapter Twenty-Five ¡°You?¡± Vasilja¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Really, Freddy? Say it properly. Did you just tell me you¡¯re a Luciferian?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a Luciferian, Lady.¡± He staggered away from her, clutching his head. ¡°I feel very dizzy all of a sudden. My head is spinning. Please forgive me.¡± ¡°Not at all. It must be very overwhelming. Senka, do let Freddy have your chair.¡± ¡°No, no. It¡¯s alright. I can stand.¡± ¡°We insist, don¡¯t we Senka?¡± The younger vampire stood and stepped aside. ¡°Absolutely.¡± ¡°Come, Freddy. Take your couch by the fire here. It¡¯ll help warm your blood to a delightful temperature.¡± Vasilja patted his shoulder. ¡°I do think people should keep themselves warm. It¡¯s very considerate to those of us who pay attention to these things.¡± He put his head in his hands and gave himself a shake. ¡°I feel much better. Thank you.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think about it too much.¡± She mentally pushed at him again, stepping behind the small couch and placing her hands on both sides of his head. Pressing fingertips to his temples. ¡°Think about more pleasant things, Freddy. Things which have given you so much pleasure over the years. Tell me about your Luciferian practices. Are they exciting?¡± Senka flinched as the smile darted across the man¡¯s face. Smile of a wolverine. His lips pulled back tight to reveal the sharp edges of his teeth. Eyes fierce and bright with sudden animal lusts, he made a wet chuckle in the back of his throat. ¡°Oh, yes. Yes, they¡¯re very exciting. It¡¯s sinful, Lady. Sinful beyond compare.¡± ¡°And you revel in it, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I do.¡± The smile vanished. ¡°I don¡¯t want to. But I came to the conclusion that I¡¯m not one of the saved. My soul is perpetually damned by the corruption of my depravities. I refused, at first. Refused to believe I could feel such things. Refused to think I could even participate. But, once I started, it all seemed so natural. I started to believe that some of us can never change. Our sin is too great.¡± Senka¡¯s mouth was dry as she watched the man talk. His face flitted from emotion to emotion. Lustful. Angry. Sad. Reeling in a circle of emotional peaks and troughs, his eyes rolled in their sockets. Stopping only when they found her. Then they¡¯d slide. Slowly. Up and down. Drinking her in. She let him drink. ¡°We want to join you, Freddy.¡± Vasilja leaned over him. Pressed her cheek against his. A little smile formed on her delicate red lips. ¡°We want to be Luciferians, too. We want to worship Him. The Master of Hell. We want to gorge on his delights. To dance in the fruit of his absolute devotion to the pleasures of flesh. Flesh, Freddy. Do you like that word? It conjures the most incredible feeling, doesn¡¯t it? Flesh. You like the pleasures of flesh, don¡¯t you? Imagine them. Savor them¡­¡± Her hands dived between waistcoat and shirt, drawing a moan from the old man. He tried to lift his hand to hers but couldn¡¯t bear to touch her skin. Instead, his hand remained frozen halfway there as his body shivered. Whether it was the promise of pleasure or primal fear of her true nature which made him freeze in place, his mind didn¡¯t know. Slowly, the words were strangled loose. ¡°I want to.¡± ¡°I know you do. And you will. But I need something first. To join, we need to know more about it, don¡¯t we? We need to know all about what you do.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve done it all,¡± he said. Dry mouth. ¡°Everything. Bestial and profane. There is almost nothing we do not do.¡± ¡°Really? And where do you get your ideas? From books?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Do you have any of those books? Here? In this house?¡± ¡°I do.¡± ¡°We¡¯re looking for a special book.¡± She looked up and nodded to Senka, who slid the grimoire from her coat and showed it to him. ¡°We¡¯re looking for one just like this. Do you recognise it? Have you seen it?¡± His eyes slid away. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Oh, you know of it.¡± She purred heavily. Voice husky like smoke. ¡°Yes, you do. This thrills me, Freddy. Thrills right to the deepest part of me. I need this book, Freddy. I truly need it. If you can tell me where to find it, I would show you sins you cannot believe. Sins which would chill your soul. Would you like to see them?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He cowered back in his chair, eyes rolling as he tried to see her. She skirted out of his view, though. A tantalizing promise. Leaving a trail of cold as her fingertips swept across his beard. They brushed the corner of his mouth and then drew a sensual line over his cheek. ¡°Please, Lady. Show me, I beg you!¡± ¡°The book first, Freddy.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°Where is it?¡± Soft. Fragile. Hurt. Her words pleaded to his soul. ¡°Please tell me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s blasphemous,¡± he warned. ¡°More than any other I¡¯ve ever read. Its rites are not fit for a lady. They¡¯re evil beyond words. I¡¯m not sure¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re not a priest of God, Freddy. You¡¯re a priest of Satan!¡± She stood proud before him, her hand gripping his shirt. ¡°Revel, Freddy. Revel in your freedom!¡± ¡°There!¡± He thrust a hand toward a small locked chest. ¡°It¡¯s in there! I have the key on a chain around my neck.¡± ¡°Show me.¡± He pulled the chain. A silver link. The key plucked loose from his shirt, followed by a small simple crucifix. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°Ah,¡± Vasilja said, moving back. ¡°How about you throw that little icon away, Freddy. You shan¡¯t be needing it. And then open the chest. Show us the book.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Hoarse. He dabbed at the sweat on his brow. Snapped the chain with a jerk and threw the crucifix into the fire. It made no sound as he shuffled toward the chest. Senka watched closely, whispering to her sister; ¡°I don¡¯t understand, Vasilja. How is he a Luciferian. I thought he was a priest?¡± ¡°Humans are always confused. Priests more so than most. Hush now, Senka. Please. He¡¯s on the edge of a precipice and I¡¯m using everything I can to push him over it.¡± ¡°This is it,¡± Frederic said, turning slowly. His hands held the book like it was treasure. Dark emerald binding. Silver pentagram gleaming on the cover. ¡°It¡¯s said the Devil himself penned it. That it was inked with the essence of damned souls. The rituals in here, are unspeakable. Even those who owned it before me wouldn¡¯t dare try them. And Luciferians in this city? Oh, they sing and they dance. They whore and they revel. Men. Women. Even children. They sacrifice a goat or a lamb. But this holds darker rites. Profane and foul. You can feel its power, can¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Senka, would you check if it¡¯s the same as ours?¡± She smiled as Frederic reluctantly passed the book to the younger vampire. ¡°Freddy. Would you mind sitting on the couch again? I like when you¡¯re there. I can keep an eye on you.¡± ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± He moved to take his seat, placing his hands in his lap. He smiled as Vasilja gently patted his head like a dog. Somewhere inside, he knew he should feel shamed by her gesture, but instead pride filled his heart. He knew she was pleased, and that¡¯s all that mattered to him. Senka flipped through the pages. Her brow furrowed in thought. ¡°Well, Senka?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± She placed both books side by side. Then slowly began turning the pages. Some were the same. Others were different. But each was a perfect half of a whole. She could feel it. There was no doubt. Its power called to her, filling her mind with a gentle humming song whose tune she couldn¡¯t quite hear. ¡°Senka?¡± Vasilja gripped Frederic¡¯s hair harder as impatience and anticipation fought their battle. The younger vampire nodded. Satisfaction like a warm trickle down her spine. ¡°It¡¯s all here, Vasilja. And I think we can do it. But we need defiled holy ground.¡± ¡°That¡¯s simple. We¡¯re in Paris. There¡¯ll be plenty of that. Won¡¯t there, Freddy? I bet Freddy¡¯s been using his own church for his naughty Luciferian practices, haven¡¯t you Freddy? Of course you have. No need to open your mouth, just nod and be quiet.¡± ¡°A priest to perform the rite.¡± Vasilja clapped her hands in delight. ¡°Freddy again!¡± ¡°And we need a child.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯ve seen at least fifty in the street on the way here. Is that where you find them, Freddy? In the street? They¡¯re bound to be a little smelly and undernourished, but I¡¯m sure our master won¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°Also, a dagger which has been used in Holy Ritual.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m very sure Freddy has one of those, too!¡± She beamed down at him. ¡°Aren¡¯t you suddenly more useful than we expected?¡± ¡°And a virgin.¡± ¡°But, that¡¯s nonsense, Senka. How will we find a virgin in Paris?¡± She snatched the book from the younger vampire. ¡°You must be reading it wrong, surely.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s just terribly inconvenient.¡± She sighed. ¡°We need a cab, Freddy. To take us back to Le Grand. Can you manage this?¡± ¡°I can, Lady.¡± ¡°Then hurry yourself. It appears we have much to do.¡± ¡°Am I to come with you, then? Is it true? We¡¯ll conduct this heresy? Enact the ultimate blasphemy of blasphemies? Outrage the Heavens? Bring the fires from Hell into the world?¡± ¡°Yes, Freddy. Why? Do you have a problem with that?¡± ¡°No!¡± He dropped to the ground and groveled at her hem. ¡°I would do anything, Lady. Anything at all. And I have wanted so long to try. But the risk! The risk was too great. The others, they talk about it. They whispered about it. Huysman has even hinted he witnessed it before. But I don¡¯t believe him. His stories are the stuff of poets. Overly fancy and vague on details. I dreamed of this moment, Lady. I would do anything¡­¡± Vasilja looked from the man crawling on his belly to Senka. ¡°And you wanted to bite him,¡± she said. ¡°Look at him. He¡¯s obviously going to be very helpful.¡± Senka squatted down next to him. Reached out and lifted his head. Peered into his shining eyes and looked unimpressed. ¡°You remind me of Franz,¡± she said. ¡°I wanted to bite him. I want to bite you, too.¡± He let out a nervous titter. ¡°If you like,¡± he said. ¡°I won¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°We are, all of us, damned. I¡¯m tired of fighting against it. Set me free, Miss.¡± She let him go. Growled; ¡°I want that cab.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go get it.¡± And scampered like a dog out of the house. Head swinging left and right as he searched the streets. ¡°Don¡¯t tease him, Senka,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s very easy to control at the moment. I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t unsettle him. I have a feeling he¡¯ll prove most useful.¡± ¡°I¡¯m nervous, Vasilja.¡± ¡°Nervous? Whatever for? Certainly, he has a head full of very unusual perversions, but what man doesn¡¯t? There¡¯s nothing to worry about, Senka. He¡¯s mostly a very reasonable sort of priest. He just likes to get involved with a bit of devilish pageantry now and then. That¡¯s all.¡± She hesitated. ¡°Of course, it won¡¯t be pageantry next time. There¡¯s a big difference between a lamb and a child, after all. But I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll manage.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mean of him. I mean of the whole thing. What if you¡¯re right? What if I¡¯m just being silly? What if it really is just in my dream?¡± ¡°You told me it was green. The Felstone thing. And the fires of Hell. You said they were green.¡± ¡°Yes. That¡¯s what was in my dream.¡± ¡°Well, I suppose I should tell you. I once argued with Dracula for several weeks after he introduced me to his journals. I argued because I found his descriptions of Hell. He said the fire was green, too. And I said it couldn¡¯t be right, because all the books I¡¯ve ever read were very clear that it was supposed to resemble the inside of a volcano. And they¡¯re just normal fire, aren¡¯t they? I was sure he¡¯d made a mistake.¡± ¡°Really? He said it was green, too?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t believe him, of course. It sounded like a joke. I hounded him about it until he got very cross. Then he threw me against a wall and lifted his hand and summoned flames of Hell. Green fire burned inside his fist, Senka. It was very hot and burned some of my hair. I didn¡¯t question him ever again.¡± ¡°He could summon Felfire?¡± ¡°Yes. There are lots of things Dracula can do. He just doesn¡¯t do them very much anymore.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°I think Hailwic knew. But she never shared his secrets.¡± ¡°You must have an idea.¡± ¡°I have many ideas. Lots of them, Senka. Some of them are even more silly than your dreams. I even have one which frightened me for such a long time. And it¡¯s why I was almost glad when he left the castle.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°He hasn¡¯t fed with us for such a long time. He didn¡¯t ever seem to leave the castle at all. Do you remember when you arrived? He¡¯d fly to the city with us and we¡¯d gorge ourselves? Dancing through the streets like it was a circus set up just for our amusement?¡± ¡°I liked that,¡± she said. ¡°I just thought he grew bored of it.¡± ¡°Bored? He¡¯s a vampire, Senka. Not just any vampire. He¡¯s the vampire. He¡¯s the only one of us who can make more. How could he get bored? Have you ever been bored of blood?¡± ¡°No, but I¡¯m not as old as he is.¡± ¡°Hailwic is not much younger than him, apparently. At least, it¡¯s what he told us. She was his first bride. And she never got bored. If anything, she wants more. You know how hard it is to stop her once she starts feeding¡­¡± ¡°But she doesn¡¯t seem to have much fun.¡± ¡°Oh, she doesn¡¯t play with her victims, of course. Hailwic was a soldier, Senka. Discipline and training were her life. She never felt the need to enjoy herself and becoming one of us didn¡¯t change her all that much. But that doesn¡¯t mean she doesn¡¯t fancy the thrill of a good hunt. You¡¯ve seen her at the end. She¡¯s like a wolf, she is. Always hungry, but more efficient than we are.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Dracula changed, Senka. I can¡¯t explain how, but he did. He stopped drinking human blood.¡± ¡°Then how did he survive?¡± ¡°He drank hers instead.¡± ¡°Hailwic¡¯s?¡± Senka looked shocked. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°I saw the marks on her arm. She tried to hide them, but I saw. And even though he stopped talking to us, he never turned her away. She went to him more often lately. She never admitted it, but I know that¡¯s what they were doing together.¡± ¡°Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was researching new ways to fulfil the Bargain.¡± ¡°And maybe he wasn¡¯t.¡± Vasilja shuddered. ¡°I don¡¯t want to presume, Senka. All I know is something changed, and when he left the castle I thought he was finally putting all that aside. I thought he was looking for another Bride. I thought she might be just what he needed to bring him back to us. I fear, however, that I was wrong. I fear he has betrayed us.¡± ¡°Betrayed?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s not talk about it. The very idea makes my stomach churn. Look. Here comes Freddy. Doesn¡¯t he run so delightfully? He¡¯s like a child with broken legs.¡± Chapter Twenty-Six Vasilja suppressed a smile as the old man began weaving together strings of obscenities. A long litany of heinous statements which cast doubts on the motives and methods of Christ¡¯s birth. On the sexual performance and preferences of God. And the validity of Mary as a virgin. His monologue crafted some of the most exquisite perversions that once or twice Vasilja raised an eyebrow in surprise at the unholy priest¡¯s imagination. Soon, content that he¡¯d blasphemed enough, the old man began to circle the woman on the table. He moved like a jackal with lust in his hips and joyous disbelief on his face. Fingers twitching as he brushed her long hair. She was a redhaired beauty, Vasilja thought. Pale freckled skin. Ribs a ladder down her slender torso. Mole on hip. Thin legs, placed wide apart. Fragile. Weak. Exposed. Body cleaned and washed for ritual. She might have been a lady, Vasilja thought, but her rough fingers and split nails were evidence of a pitiful and insignificant life inside a clothing factory. The old man dusted her with wet ashes from an urn. Holy wafers charred and burnt then mixed with blood and spit. He sprinkled it across her breasts. Paused to reach out and grab each bosom with gnarled hands. Kneading them roughly as he worked the ash into soft skin. ¡°I baptise thee in Lucifer¡¯s name,¡± he intoned. Moving his hands even lower. ¡°I baptise thee in Lucifer¡¯s name¡­¡± Vasilja smiled, amused by the erection beneath his robe. Plain to see there was nothing else he was wearing beneath. The delirious woman moaned when he began rubbing her belly with the dry mixture. It was, she thought, almost comical. The rituals Dracula had led were more pagan. Simpler. There was less melodrama. Why Hailwic had chosen this particular ritual to hunt down, Vasilja didn¡¯t know. If they¡¯d returned to Castle Dracula, perhaps they¡¯d have found another. His journals had been missing, but surely his lesser grimoires were still in the castle. He couldn¡¯t have taken them all. The woman rolled her head, the laudanum beginning to wear off. The little boy looked unconcerned. Perhaps he¡¯d been in a church before and seen rituals performed. Most likely couldn¡¯t tell the difference between a holy and unholy rite. He caught her looking at him and smiled. Lifted his toy at her. Showing it off. She nodded back at him, returning the smile as Freddy began climbing onto the table between the woman¡¯s legs. His weight made it awkward. The robe lifted too high, showing rough hairs streaking his thighs and buttocks. Vasilja winced. ¡°I baptise thee,¡± he said again, words rushing loose. Voice slurring as he felt the woman stir. ¡°In Lucifer¡¯s name.¡± He thrust his hand out and Senka handed him an iron goblet, which he raised high above his head. ¡°Lucifer! Prince of Darkness! We dedicate this sacrifice to you. We purge it of its purity. We revoke its ties to Heaven and corrupt its innocence with Absolution. Great Satan, we beseech thee! Bear witness to this, the Revelation of her Sin.¡± He drank from the goblet. A heady mix of spices, wine, and the ashes of biblical passages from the Old Testament. To be honest, Vasilja hadn¡¯t cared enough to listen to Senka¡¯s description. The woman stirred again, one arm shaking as the unholy priest grabbed her hair and lifted her head. Put the mug to her lips and poured the remaining contents into her mouth. She gagged, but swallowed enough to content him Then he pushed the goblet back to Senka, who tossed it over her shoulder. It bounced with a sharp clatter before hitting the wall and caused Dimiti to look over his shoulder. Saw everything was fine, so he turned back to the door, peering out into the city¡¯s gloomy streets. Frederic huffed a few more obscenities. Voice gruff and excited. Groped the young woman¡¯s breasts as he obviously worked himself towards the ritual¡¯s gruesome climax. Nervous sweat dribbled off his beard. He placed the knife against the woman¡¯s thigh. Wiped his face dry with his sleeve. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. And read aloud from one of the grimoires. A harsh and guttural string of gibberish, she thought. At least, it sounded enough like Latin to appear a gross parody of the language. Dracula had used Sumerian, she remembered. And Hebrew. It had sounded a lot more organised and sensible. She tapped her knee with a finger. Impatient now. Hector waved at her. She waved back. He was so little, she thought. Had she ever thought of being a mother? Before Dracula had found her? Had she entertained such thoughts? She couldn¡¯t recall. She¡¯d been part of a Devil¡¯s coven. Not witches like Senka would know them. Worshippers. Devotees. There were three other women. Two crones and a young girl with dirty feet. That¡¯s all she could remember about them. Dirty feet. And a lot of blood. Frederic placed the grimoire to his left. Took the second grimoire and continued from that. More mumbled streams of perverted Latin. His pronunciation seemed a bit harsher than it should be. Did he understand the meaning of what he was saying? She assumed he didn¡¯t. But if it bothered him, he didn¡¯t show it. His cheeks were flush. His eyes roaming the young woman¡¯s naked body as she opened her mouth and let out another long groan from somewhere deep inside. A groan which almost had the strength to become a wail. Vasilja realised she¡¯d forgotten to ask for the woman¡¯s name. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She¡¯d have to ask Frederic later. Senka moved around the altar. Eyes glinted in candlelight. Lips drawn back, fangs bared. Slowly, she took off her coat and tossed it across an abandoned pew. Then her shirt. Stripped down to nakedness, her powerful shoulders flexed. Frederic almost forgot what to say as he caught sight of her, but miraculously didn¡¯t misspeak. And was able to maintain his composure enough to hold out both arms to the younger vampire. Who bent slowly and took the boy in her own. Then held him out. Reluctantly. Vasilja smiled as she understood Senka wanted the boy for herself. There is a beat, Vasilja thought, to life. A thrumming beat whose rhythm can be heard to those who have an ear for such things. Vasilja fancied herself as one such person. She could hear the beat of the drugged woman¡¯s heart. Slow. Steady. Rising rapidly now and then as her brain surfed the rise and swirl of laudanum¡¯s special kiss. And there was the boy¡¯s beat. Soft. Faster. But maintained. He had no fear. She¡¯d told him not to be afraid, and her control endured even as Frederic took him from Senka¡¯s hands. He had no thought other than how much he wanted to be a good boy. His gaze was innocent. Steady. Trusting. Still holding his ridiculous toy. Senka moved to stand at the woman¡¯s head. Placed hands on either side, flat on the table. And licked her lips. Anticipation coiled inside the young vampire like a snake. An adder. Bunched and ready to strike. Frederic, his life reaching its zenith, was a rushing crash of blood as his veins flooded with adrenaline. Fear and lust merged, forming a miraculous state of being in which he reveled in the evil works he was conspiring to achieve. This moment was something he¡¯d been waiting for. A moment of complete and utter abandon as he threw aside everything which had constrained him. Threw it aside and held head high, and the boy even higher. One hand reached down. Grabbed hold of the knife. A knife which had once been blessed but was now corrupted with evil. By chance, the boy, held upside down by his feet, was looking at Vasilja. One eye wide. The other still burdened by the ugly wart. He smiled. Waved his toy. And two things happened in one epic crescendo as the music of life abandoned the gentle and sublime rise to descend into the catastrophic chaos of a chorus birthed in the fiery maw of Hell itself. First, Dimiti bellowed incoherently and began firing his revolver at someone rushing up the stairs toward the church. He kicked the door shut and slammed the bar in place. Shouted; ¡°It won¡¯t hold them long!¡± Second, Frederic slit the boy¡¯s scrawny throat. Blood sprayed across the old priest¡¯s chest and he quickly turned the wriggling body around to aim the gushing flow onto the writhing body of the drugged woman. Who began to mew as blood wet her pale white skin. Vasilja leaned forward. Smell of fresh blood overpowered her senses. Senka, standing close, let out a cry of triumph as she was hit with a spray of crimson. It splashed her face. Riddled down her cheek and neck. Breasts. Arms. Belly. Howling in glee, the young vampire hadn¡¯t noticed Dimiti¡¯s cries. Or the loud explosive shots of his gun. Or the answering blasts which put splintered holes through the wall. Frederick, too, was deaf to the world. ¡°I baptise thee in the blood of the innocent! I crown thee in the blood of the innocent! I defile thee in the blood of the innocent!¡± He tossed Hector aside, smearing the woman¡¯s body with the boy¡¯s blood. Covering every inch of her pale white skin. His lustful fingers squeezing. Hector landed with a crash among the abandoned pews. His whimpering cries were wet gargles as the little body fought for breath through his slashed windpipe. Blood bubbled out of the ruthless cut. He arched his back, lungs searching for air. Failed. He struggled mightily for a few moments, but his body shivered quickly into stillness. The little ones, Vasilja sighed regretfully, didn¡¯t have enough blood to last long. Frederic, lost to the ritual¡¯s hedonistic lust, pushed his robes aside. Took handfuls of the woman¡¯s flesh at her hips. And thrust inside her, not knowing this occurred at the precise moment Hector¡¯s heart beat its final beat. Wouldn¡¯t have cared if he had. In that single moment, carnal lust dragged his reason across coals which flared and burned with the fires of monstrous and inhuman instinct. Any last shred of empathy the man called Frederic may have felt was lost to him. Consumed within the primal beat of a ritual so obscene it should never have been conceived. He grunted. Didn¡¯t manage more than a few clumsy thrusts before he completed fouling her womb. Then scrambled to grab the knife as more bullets smashed through the door. He didn¡¯t look over his shoulder. A bullet screamed past his ear, but he didn¡¯t hear it. He raised the knife. Shouting wildly in clumsy latin. Arms wide. The Devil¡¯s laughter pounding in his ears. Music of damnation at its most ruinous. Dimiti smashed a window and began shooting out into the dark. Reloading as quickly as he could. Eyes wild. And Frederic¡¯s voice screamed, loud and clear as he brought the blade plunging into the chest of the woman he¡¯d so eagerly defiled; ¡°Satan! Satan! Satan!¡± Blade slammed home. Sheathed in innocent blood made corrupt with the most diabolical sins. Silence. A deafening rumble of silence. The kind which left breaths caught in lungs. Then a rush. A scream. And the door boomed as something heavy hit it from outside. ¡°Lady?¡± Dimiti called. ¡°They¡¯re almost through!¡± Vasilja stood. Sighed. Looked to the altar. Senka, red with blood from her hair to navel. Head bowed across the bloody wound. Sucked deep. ¡°Senka? There¡¯s really no time for that.¡± The young vampire¡¯s head whipped up. Eyes, black as night, chilled Vasilja¡¯s core even colder than it had been before. They were not Senka¡¯s eyes. Not anymore. ¡°Senka?¡± And the young vampire¡¯s eyes began to burn with fire. They boiled and bubbled, spitting sparks and molten gore. Not just any fire. Green fire. Felfire. And Senka began to laugh. And laugh.