Prettiest Vampire

Chapter III: Demons

Dodrescu advanced another step, but stopped to consider. Was it possible? This did sound like Mirela, to foolishly try to destroy the steel towers with nothing but her bare hands. His speculation was interrupted as Ilinca cried out again.

"She burned!" Ilinca cried. Dodrescu silenced her with a glare, then looked again at Daciana.

"Tell me now the truth!" he demanded.

Daciana nodded, and licked her dry lips. "The towers were much bigger than we imagined. We flew around them, and Mirela knew she could not destroy them. Then she grabbed a wire, hoping to wrest it loose from the tower, and she screamed!"

"She screamed!" cried Ilinca, but was quickly silenced by glares from both the Count and Daciana.

Dodrescu looked back at Daciana. "You did nothing to help her!" he accused.

"Not true!" she said as she raised her hands again to fend off a blow which did not come. "We tried to reach her but could not! Whenever we got close we were knocked back, sent falling to the ground like stones! Look at our injuries if you do not believe us!"

"And then she burned!" screamed Ilinca. "She screamed, and burned like the sun in the sky! She screamed forever, and burned with the flames of Hell!"

"She burned, high on the tower, until there was nothing left but ash to blow away on the wind," said Daciana desolately.

Dodrescu slumped to the floor, all the fight gone from him. "So it is true?" he said miserably. "Mirela is gone, nothing left but scattered ashes?"

"We found this," said Ilinca, fishing a handkerchief from her sleeve and handing it cautiously to the Count. "We thought you would like it."

Dodrescu accepted the tiny bundle and slowly unwrapped it. Inside was a small piece of jawbone, blackened from fire and smoke. The Count stared at it for a long while, then sniffed it, drawing its scent deep within him. This was his final proof.

"It is true!" he wailed. "Mirela is truly dead!" Dodrescu sat back on his heels and kissed the jawbone while Ilinca and Daciana looked on.

Ilinca glanced over at her sister. She gave her a look which asked, "Did we get away with it?" Daciana replied with a shrug of her shoulders. The two sisters moved over to where the Count sat on the floor, one on either side to comfort him in his time of agony. Daciana waited an appropriate length of time, then spoke.

"Count Dodrescu, you are our Master, and our Mistress is dead. It is only appropriate now that you choose."

"Choose?" said the Count, shaken from his internal thoughts. "What is it you would have me choose?"

"One of us," explained Daciana. "Mirela was your First, but now she is dead. So now you must choose another. Who will it be? Ilinca, or me?"

Dodrescu looked at the two Harpies and considered the option with horror. He was their Master, yes, but only because Mirela had wanted them. They were both beautiful, and he was pleased to have them. But the Harpies were too strange in their thinking. The idea that one of them should be his First was appalling. Neither of them could ever replace Mirela.

"I will not choose!" shouted Dodrescu as he stood.

"You must!" cried out Daciana as the sisters rose to face their Master. If Dodrescu did not choose then killing Mirela was meaningless. She did not care who was Mistress, she or Ilinca, but it had to be one of them. She would not be servant to anyone else, ever again.

"We are both beautiful," added Ilinca.

'Beautiful yes, but raving mad,' thought Dodrescu. Aloud he told them, "I will make no choice. It is too soon! Now leave me alone."