There is a reason why Vlad the Impaler only remains a legend in his home country. Where else would be better to wake up in than New York City in this century. He must learn to adapt to the new ways, and get used to having a headstrong woman around.
...
That would usually be the most common description for Griffith Dalca. Nerd often comes next.
Coming from a family that one would always read about in the papers - society pages and the business section usually. Griffith's childhood has always been that of the manor-born: the most expensive private exclusive school for girls, her weekly allowance equivalent to a month's rent for a decent-sized apartment, summers spent either abroad or at their Hamptons home.
By the time she was about to start college, she got into Yale, with her stellar record and family name being a factor. After all, everyone on her father's side of the family attended that school.
On the night of her graduation from university, after what seemed like countless toasts celebrating her graduating at the top of her class, Griffith had been summoned to her grandfather's study.
Griffith made her way to the wing of the family's summer home accompanied by her father. "Why would grandpa ask to see me?" she asked him. "You'll know." was all he said as he opened the heavy oak door.
Her grandfather was standing in front of the french doors, observing the party being held in the garden below. It was a beautiful Wednesday summer evening in the Hamptons - the sun was just setting, painting the sky with dramatic colors. The hydrangeas and verbena were in full bloom - thanks to the gardener included on the staff their family keep on retainer.
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"Aaaah, Griffith." he said genially as he came forward and hugged his granddaughter. Hugging him back, he planted a kiss on Griffith's forehead. She inhaled the familiar smell of cognac and cigars.
"Graduating with Latin honors - I am so proud of you." her grandfather said as he handed an envelope thick with cash.
"Grandpa, this is too much. The gift you and grandma sent is more than enough." Griffith protested.
"Griffith, you have always been my favorite grandchild. Consider it pocket money to prepare for the next phase of your life." her grandfather said, pressing the envelope more firmly into her hands.
"What are your plans, now that you're done with university ?" he asked, lighting another cigar. Her father busied himself with pouring a glass of cognac from the drink cart in the corner.
"Um... I'm thinking of taking a month off to travel. I'm waiting for a response from the job applications I sent out. Then, once I've saved enough money, I'm considering getting my master's degree." she said, fidgeting.
"Let me know if you need help with those job applications of yours. Travel sounds good. Where do you plan on heading?" her grandfather asked.
What's with the questions? She thought to herself.
"Um... Sebastian and I were thinking somewhere in Southeast Asia. Go visit beaches and try out food. Maybe get an odd job teaching English or mopping floors to earn money." she said.
"None of this nonsense, Griffith. No grandchild of mine would be mopping floors, I'll have the accountant transfer funds in your bank account." her grandfather said dismissively.
"Well, you must be wondering why I asked you to come here. It's time that you step up for a task that has been delegated to our family in the Old Country since before we moved to the United States."
Griffith looked at her father, then back to the family patriarch. She laughed awkwardly. "Okay, this is a joke, right?"
Her father shook his head. "No, sweetheart. It's not. Maybe, you'll get lucky and the Count chooses not to wake in this era like what he did when it was my turn and your uncle's."
"The Count? What's this? The puppet from Sesame Street?" Griffin asked incredulously.
"None of your sarcasm, Griffith, please." her grandfather said.
"Now, let's put that History degree of yours to good use. Where did our family originate from?"
Griffith rolled her eyes inwardly. As far as she could remember, her family's history had been drilled into her and grandfather would randomly quiz her. Which eventually helped in school since she developed a sharp memory.
"Transylvania. In Sighisoara." she automatically responded. "We were a family that served one of the nobles, and was lucky enough to escape the Hungarian revolution."
"Very good. Now, do you remember what it is that must never leave our family's custody?"
"The Sicriu." Griffith responded. This is like, basic knowledge in the family, she's wondering what's with the questions. It all does not make sense. The word when translated to English means "coffin".
"What's all this about, Grandpa?" Griffith asked in confusion.
"This coming Saturday, you will be having dinner with your grandmother and I at our home in the city. A car will be sent for you. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of your party. After all, this is in your honor. Now, your father and I must speak privately."
Taking her cue to leave, Griffith wandered aimlessly around the mansion's halls. She wasn't really in the mood to get back to the party immediately since the guests are mostly friends of her parents and their equally snobbish children.
