Most of them stay dead...

Part 6

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Dracula could smell them before he could see them. His voice projecting across the room. "Finally...where have you been? What took you so long? I've been waiting here for hours!"

"You see what I was talking about Zoe. Alive or undead, it seems a universal constant that the male of the species never seems to develop beyond puberty; part of them remains that little boy, forever clinging to their nursemaids' skirts for attention."

Blinking in surprise, Dracula stood awkwardly from his perch on the chemical toilet, the only thing to survive his recent rampage. Watching as Zoe and Agatha entered his view. Zoe appeared much as she had a few hours ago, a little tired perhaps, but that happened to mortals. Agatha by contrast seemed full of pep; it was amazing what a century long nap, and a little blood could accomplish.

Frowning a little, as they both simply stared at him, like he was some sort of museum exhibit, Dracula almost felt a touch of nervousness. "Well you two seem rather chummy."

"Why wouldn't we be, we both share so much in common, starting with a deep-seated loathing for all thing named Dracula." Agatha replied with a toothy smile, waving Zoe off, she had this under control and the poor child needed some sleep.

Clutching his hands to his chest, Dracula feigned a swoon. "Dearest wife you wound me...right in the heart."

"Not yet but give me time." Agatha retorted, her smile growing as the door to the cage was opened, and she stepped inside, like the predator she was becoming.

"What a mess you have made...honestly you can tell you were raised with servants, tending to your every whim." Agatha mused, her trainer clad foot toeing the mangled remains, of what was once a steel chair.

Her gaze darting up when Dracula did not reply, with some witty bon mot, like he usually would. Instead he seemed momentarily speechless, his gaze locked downwards. A gaze which Agatha followed.

"Oh honestly, they are just legs. Everyone has them."

Shaking his head Dracula continued to stare, his gaze tracing the outline of her ankle and calf, even her thigh, from where it emerged from the edge of the white coat she was wearing. "Forgive me wife they are not just legs, they are your legs, and believe me I have seen enough to know, those are particularly exceptional examples...just how high up do they go...?" He added, fingers itching to get a hold of that coat, and uncover the secret for himself.

"Concentrate." Agatha snapped, throwing him the box she had been carrying, not surprised when he snatched it easily out of the air.

"What's this?...Chess!" Dracula exclaimed, his tone almost childlike in its excitement. "I never took you to be a sentimental woman Agatha."

"This is not sentiment Count! This is about settling a score. You only won last time, because you were addling my thoughts, and changing the board. This time I will beat you..." Agatha snapped, as she turned the table back up the right way, it was more or less functional, if no longer completely level; the chair however was completely destroyed.

"We can use the floor." Dracula suggested, happily squatting down and setting down the box, opening it and starting to set up the board. "Do you want white again?"

"No, you take it, you're going to need all the help you can get."

"Ooh fighting talk I like it, so what is the wager?"

"Wager?" Agatha frowned.

"Yes, what do I get when I win?" Dracula asked, looking up at her from beneath his dark fringe like an eager boy, it was almost endearing.