One Week Later
Vladislaus had always found the superstitious notion that vampires cast no reflection in a looking-glass rather amusing. The undead were predators after all, inherently designed to blend in, going unseen if they so desired. It had always been a favorite parlor trick of his – a manipulation of the mind and nothing more. He was standing in front of a full-length mirror next to the armoire, studying his own appearance with slight detachment.
The man was still struggling to adjust to the de Chacier way of life – being up at odd hours in the late afternoon with the sun still high in the sky. For the last couple of evenings, he had had motives for rising earlier than normal – spending time with Francesca being the chief among them. But today he had no set objectives – no prearranged walks with Miss Chase in the gardens, no plans of combing through the family archives to better acquaint himself with the history of his intended and her family; and also very little time with his friend. Frankie hadn't exaggerated when she said they'd see little of her brother for at least a week post Lucia's arrival. The two had been absolutely scarce and Vladislaus found himself feeling oddly torn on the subject.
While he was grateful for his very minimal interaction with his ex-lover, knowing that she was in a continued state of entanglement with his friend was an odd occurrence. Was he jealous? Did he even care? He hardly knew. Perhaps if Francesca didn't insist on playing hard-to-get, he'd have less time to ponder the subject further, and – dare he even think it – more direction and purpose when it came to filling his evenings. His brow furrowed a little at the thought as he buttoned the front of his dark grey dress shirt in an unhurried fashion, noting the way in which his concealment charm gradually disappeared behind the freshly pressed cotton-blend material.
He had been relieved to discover that the necklace's magic had held when he had been "reintroduced" to Miss Ghilardi earlier in the week. Through divine providence, the woman hadn't seemed to recognize him – and if she had, her acting abilities had miraculously improved since he had seen her last. Although if Dracula was being honest with himself, that probably wasn't the case. For all of Lucia's talents, pretending – like discretion – had never been one of her strong suits.
Vlad smiled to himself as he turned a bit to one side to ensure everything was in order. Satisfied with his appearance, he started to close the door to the armoire when a commotion from out in the hall caught his attention.
Francesca's door had been hurriedly opened and then slammed shut, the rapid footfall only slightly muted by the carpet. The main sound that he picked up was that of a furiously beating heart.
What was Vesper doing in Frankie's bedroom?
He never had a moment to mull over the possibilities because there was a click and then a part of the wall on one side of his room began to move outward like a door, and the young dhampir came bursting in. Her eyes widened in surprise when she noticed him standing there, clearly having expected him to be out and about like everyone else in the house. But before he could question her on her sudden appearance in what was supposed to be his own private space, she slammed the secret door in the wall shut and dashed across the room.
"I'm not here!" Vesper insisted, eyes full of pleading as she fell to the ground beside his bed before sliding under it.
Instead of demanding further explanation, Vlad remained motionless, his stoic expression belying any bewilderment he may have felt. He attuned his ears to the rest of the house and the unnerving silence was soon interrupted by the sound of Georgine shouting Vesper's name from the gardens outside. The woman's voice carried almost unnaturally throughout the house as she made her way inside. Dracula turned slowly toward the bed where he could see the teenager's face peeking from behind the bed skirt.
"What did you do?"
"It was an accident!" she whispered, but before he could glean more information, she disappeared when Gigi's shouts grew nearer.
"Vesper! Vesper, where are you, you infuriating hurricane of destruction?!"
There was some shuffling about in the neighboring chamber as Gigi apparently tore through Francesca's room before a gentle knock came at Vlad's door. He answered the summons with a certain degree of caution, surprised to find Alayna on the other side. The woman's smile was pleasant, but the look in her eyes was full of apology.
"Good afternoon, Vlad. I'm terribly sorry for the interruption," she said, offering him a small curtsy.
"It's no trouble. Is everything all right? Your sister sounds a little..." he was interrupted by Gigi marching out of Frankie's otherwise empty bedroom, slamming the door behind her, "...vexed," he finished.
"Have you seen Vesper anywhere?" the eldest de Chacier demanded, making her way over to her sister.
Vlad could sense the dhampir's growing anxiety. There was a sadistic part of him that wanted to see what would happen if he revealed the girl's hiding place, but his thoughts – as they so often did of late – turned to Francesca, and he found himself lying on the teenager's behalf as if it were instinct.
"I'm afraid I have not," he confessed. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing that warrants this kind of temper tantrum," Alayna muttered under her breath, but her disapproval hadn't fallen on deaf ears.
"She castrated one of the statues in the garden," Georgine announced, holding out a set of granite testicles for him to see. "Again!"
"Again? This has happened before?" Vlad looked to Alayna for confirmation. The woman was biting her tongue to keep from laughing, apparently finding all of this most amusing.
"It's just that statue in particular. This isn't the first time he's lost his balls." Georgine's growl killed her sister's chuckled snort and the woman cleared her throat to regain her composure. "The statue of Apollo was one of Gigi's first major sculptures."
"It's almost three centuries old!"
"And Vesper's managed to accidentally maim his greatness a number of times in the past, ever since she was a small child. His nose, his fingers... though of all the appendages, his manhood is usually the one that takes the most abuse."
"Makes one wonder if there's some deeper psychological issue at play there," he suggested with a bemused grin and Alayna giggled in spite of her sister's disapproving glare.
"This isn't a laughing matter," Gigi snapped. "We will have more guests descending on us by the end of the week. I don't have the time to plan a party, entertain company, and repeatedly reattach Apollo's cock every time that demonic teenager decides to lash out against the patriarchy!"
"For the love of God, Gigi, would you fucking let it go? Some of us are still trying to sleep. The sun hasn't even set yet!" Rémy shouted from the down the hall, head peeking through his partially opened door. The man was in a state of undress, save a bed sheet wrapped rather flimsily around his waist. He scrubbed the lingering fatigue from his face with an irritable hand, scratching the scruff on his chin.
"Not all of us have the luxury of resting until dark, Reynaud!" Georgine snapped.
"Except for the part where you do have the luxury, you just choose to work yourself to the point of insanity, leaving the rest of us to suffer under your stress-induced tirades. You're the one that agreed to organize the summer masque, Gigi. No one forced your hand."
As the pair started to argue, Alayna sent Vlad an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry you have to witness this. Gigi's normally not this high-strung. She just has a lot on her plate right now."
"It's all right," he replied, although he only said as much so he would appear more forbearing than he was presently feeling. This quarreling had already begun to grate on his nerves.
"That stupid statue is hideous enough as it is. You may as well hand the girl a club and let her put the bloody thing out of its misery!" Rémy continued, clearly baiting his cousin now for his own amusement. Gigi raised the granite testicles into the air, ready to chuck them at the man's head when someone called out from the other end of the hall.
"I've found the cement!" Joséphine announced.
The chaos came to an abrupt halt as every head turned in her direction, the woman holding out a tube of glue in her hand for all to see. Marceau hadn't been exaggerating when he had called his wife an angel. If Joséphine's consistently calm and gentle demeanor didn't lend her an almost celestial distinction, her golden hair certainly did.
She always seemed to be wearing the most genuine of smiles, no matter the situation, her mere presence often being enough to soothe any hostility or tension in a room. The others' reaction to the woman made Dracula a little curious, but he was grateful for her arrival and the glorious quiet that followed.
Joséphine made her way over to her sister-in-law, extending her hand in a silent request for the broken piece of statuary, which Gigi relinquished almost immediately.
"There now," the blonde replied, a pacifying lilt to her tone. "I'll go fix Apollo, and you, my dear, need to find yourself a vein... or your husband."
"Or both," Rémy muttered under his breath.
Georgine punched his shoulder roughly in warning before Joséphine could chide him.
"That isn't helping, Reynaud. Go back to bed. You still have a couple of hours of daylight left," and she shooed him away with her hand before taking Gigi's arm as if to reassure her. She then looked to their guest. "I'm so sorry for the disturbance, Vlad."
"No apology necessary," he assured her with a cordial nod. Her smile broadened.
"Armand and Francesca are in the music room practicing at the moment, but they should be finished before twilight, so she can attend to you then. If you'd like, you are more than welcome to join Marceau and I in the blue parlor in the interim."
"Thank you for the invitation, but perhaps later."
"Of course. Alayna?"
"Yes, Joe?"
"Could you please find Vesper and inform the girl that she is not in trouble." Gigi huffed in protest but said nothing. "The poor dear is probably in hiding."
"I'll do my best, but you know how she is when she doesn't wish to be found."
"Then check the usual places for now. She'll probably show up as soon as Francesca is done anyway, but I'd like to have this resolved before then."
Alayna agreed and then excused herself, playfully smacking Rémy's arm as she passed before he could disappear into his room.
After everyone had departed, Vlad shut his door and turned to look back at the bed, sensing Vesper was still there, patiently waiting for the coast to be clear.
"They're gone," he informed her.
"Thank God," the teenager said with an exaggerated exhale, crawling out into the open once more. "I was really screwed for a second there. I'm surprised Gigi didn't call you out on your lie. I thought for sure she'd at least hear my heart beating."
"I was concealing it from her," he answered very nonchalant. Vesper's eyes widened as she watched him move back to the armoire to close the door.
"Really? You can do that?"
"There are a lot of things a vampire can do when they pass a certain age."
"The oldest vampire I know is Satanas and not even he can do that! How old are you, anyway?"
Vlad sent the girl a sidelong glance, but offered no reply, his attention returning to the place on the far wall where this surprise secret door had been.
"Why did you run into Miss Chase's room?"
"Instinct," Vesper replied rather candidly, making her way over to him. "I was hoping she'd be there to play buffer, but when she wasn't, I thought hiding in here was my next best option since you're a guest and Gigi would never barge in here to throttle me without an express invitation to do so."
"But aren't you a guest as well?" he asked.
"Ha! If only!"
"How did you know there was a door connecting our rooms?"
"I've always known it was there. I used to play in the secret passageways and tunnels beneath the house when I was a kid. I know them like the back of my hand." Vesper reached up to one of the panels and with a gentle push, there was a click and then the wall gave way. She opened the secret door more fully, revealing a dark and narrow corridor with another door on the other side, undoubtedly leading to Frankie's chambers.
Unable to resist temptation, Vlad stepped forward, crossing the distance in one long stride. Pressing against the door as Vesper had done, the wall moved and the soft light from Francesca's room began to break through the obscure darkness. The pair traversed the threshold together, although for a moment, Vlad forgot that the dhampir was there as he entered Miss Chase's private domain.
The room was large and elegantly furnished, the heavy drapes lining the massive windows on either side of the bed, pulled back to allow some of the sunlight in. There were the usual adornments and furniture, the overall aesthetic very French chic with its jacquard fabric and brocade designs, a color palette of queen blue and complementing neutral tones. There were vases full of delicate light pink peonies and roses cut fresh from the gardens situated throughout, and a tasteful chandelier in the center of the ceiling nearest the bed, the crystals tinkling softly as a summer breeze moved throughout the room from the balcony.
Sophisticated and refined – just like Francesca.
The thought of the woman had him smiling just a little, a faint curve of pleasure unconsciously worn. He absently caressed the edge of the bed in passing as he made his way over to the open balcony door to take in the view, deliberately keeping to the shadows.
It was still so strange to him, being up and about at this hour in the day, the sun still high in the sky, but this newfound re-acquaintance with the light was granting him a perspective he had been so long without. There was a clarity of thought and feeling in this place, perhaps made possible by the reprieve from the nightmares and troubles of a comparably darker Budapest.
Dracula had spent the majority of his existence comfortable, yet still admittedly confined in a state of eternal night. When he had begun his initial pursuit of his undying bride, he had assumed that together, they would continue to exist in this perpetual gloom; that they would maybe rule the night side by side. Instead, his growing relationship with Francesca had him yearning for more than just the familiar pull of darkness.
Cognizant of the teenager's lingering attention, he turned to look back at Vesper, expression now sedate.
"Are there any other such secret passageways?" he asked her.
The girl smirked mischievously.
"Of course."
"Show me."
----
For the next hour and a half, Vlad found himself making his way through a number of narrow corridors hidden away between the walls of the de Chacier home with Vesper leading the way. As she talked about the history of these secret hallways, showing him all the different vantage points and hidden rooms, he only half listened, having attuned his ears to the sound of music coming from somewhere in the house – a perfect marriage between a piano and a violin.
All this talk of Armand and Francesca practicing for hours at a time nearly every day, and he had yet to witness a live performance. Vesper seemed to sense his interest as she started to lead him closer to the source of the music until at last, the only thing that separated them from the music room was a wall.
Armand was a brilliant pianist, the rich sound coming from his Bösendorfer grand leaving Dracula's fingers to itch. At home in the city, especially during his eight months of banishment, Vladislaus had gotten into the habit of decompressing at the end of every evening by spending at least a half hour at his own instrument before retiring. But ever since their arrival in France, he had yet to touch those familiar ivory keys and in that moment, he became acutely aware of a kind of withdrawal running through his veins like a dull ache.
With every passing day, his desire for this woman had continued in its ascent, never wavering; only seeming to reach new and painful heights he never could have dreamed of. And with no outlet for him to relieve even just a fraction of that tension, it had begun to stew in the very heart of him, unresolved.
All of his usual modes of finding release had been denied him – music, sex, hunting, fighting. He'd need to find a replacement very soon, or his sense of restraint would surely snap. How desperately he was trying to adhere to Bernardini's advice – to proceed with caution, to exercise patience and restraint, to let Frankie's behavior be his guide.
But God in heaven, he could not endure this pace for much longer... not with the sound of that sweet, heart-wrenching music coming from the room beyond as she ran the bow over the strings of her violin with the precision of a master surgeon and the feeling of an ocean-souled poet. She must have sensed her unseen audience from beyond the wall, because Frankie, all while continuing to play, spoke up.
"Stop spying, Vesper," she called out with a bit of a laugh. "It's rude."
The teenager, suddenly sheepish, pulled away from the grated vent in the wall she had been looking through.
"Are you almost done?"
"Almost. Now get out of the walls!"
Vesper began to retreat down the corridor toward the exit that would lead them out, but for just a moment, Vlad lingered, tempted to peer through the vent into the room beyond. He resisted, however, and followed after the girl into the main hall where they resided until Frankie and Armand finished, eventually emerging from the music room.
"All right then... what was with all that commotion I overheard an hour ago?" the woman began as soon as she stepped out into the hall, her eyes falling first on the dhampir, but she stopped when she noticed that Vlad was also present. "Mr. Leinhart. I wasn't expecting to see you out and about so early."
"I've been making a concerted effort to adjust to the household's unusual time-table."
"There's no need for that," Armand assured him, as he stepped out into the hall. "You're our guest, after all."
"Truly, I don't mind," he replied, eyes still fixed on the woman in front of him. "Besides, if I had not been up, I would have missed all of the excitement from earlier," and he sent a sidelong glance to Vesper who blushed.
"Gigi would have skinned me alive if it hadn't been for Vlad," the girl announced, much to the surprise of both Armand and Francesca who sent each other a series of looks.
"I'm sure Georgine wouldn't have laid a finger on you," Armand said with a laugh. "She's just under a great deal of stress, though I've spoken to her a number of times on the matter. I told her from the start that she needn't bear the whole of this enterprise on her own, but she's been most insistent."
"A de Chacier through and through," Frankie commented with a smile.
"Yes. Once we make up our minds on something, it is near impossible to get us to change them. We are rather stubborn creatures, aren't we?"
"Some of us more so than others," she replied with noted cheek. She then returned her attention to the teenager before her. "So what was it this time? Apollo's nose or his balls?"
"The latter, I understand," Vlad explained. "Although Joséphine managed to diffuse the situation before it got too out of hand."
"Rémy was baiting Gigi again," Vesper added. Armand sighed.
"That poor woman. I think I may need to call in some reinforcements after all – consequences be damned."
"She'll be furious if you do that behind her back. Best to warn her first... and let her down gently," Frankie advised. "And have Joe in the room when you do it. That woman's presence is magic."
"Agreed. But before we do that," Armand turned his attention to Vesper and motioned with his head for her to follow him, "I believe you owe Georgine an apology, young lady."
"But it was an accident!" the girl insisted. "She thinks I keep breaking that thing on purpose, and every time I try to defend myself, she refuses to believe me."
"And that is her prerogative, but it is your responsibility to apologize regardless," he insisted, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as he led her down the hall.
When the pair had disappeared round the corner, Frankie's attention returned to Vlad who had been quietly observing her, his expression perfectly indecipherable.
"I hope the commotion isn't what woke you," was all she could think to say.
"It was not," he assured her. "I did manage to see your brother for more than sixty seconds, however."
"You mean he's actually still alive?" she exclaimed in teasing. "That's a relief! I was beginning to worry..." and the two shared a small chuckle before that tension started to set in once more, both suddenly becoming rather captivated by nearly everything else in that hall except for each other – the carpet, the paintings...
Frankie felt the prickle of awareness and turned to find his eyes on her again.
Dracula half expected her to flinch or turn away in embarrassment, but was pleased when she did not. His growing hunger for her became more and more visible in his expression the longer he held her gaze and Vlad was certain that there was no way a woman as observant as she could miss it. His eyes left her skin to burn, but Francesca, ever the model of self-mastery, never let on that she felt very much as he – hungry, achy, and wholly unsatisfied with the distance between them.
"I had no idea you played so beautifully," he said, voice low.
Her smile was one of modesty.
"After nearly two hundred years of practice, I would hope I'd be at least a fair musician," she replied.
"More than fair."
"You are kind."
"Rarely," he countered. "Only honest."
"Well, I fear I still have a good deal of practice to go before I get back to where I was a few years ago. But it's like riding a bicycle, as they say. Mostly muscle memory."
"Given your dedication, I'm sure you'll get there in no time at all," and the two slowly fell into step together as she thanked him for his compliments. "I recall you mentioning once that you were your aunt's protégé?"
"Yes. Aunt Cece had me take up the violin shortly after I escaped my captivity. It was one of the few effective forms of therapy I underwent when initially learning to cope with the trauma of what had happened. I had never expected it to be such a beneficial outlet for decompressing, especially."
"I know what you mean."
"Have you had the chance to try out the Bösendorfer yet?"
"No – I didn't want to presume that I had free reign to your uncle's instrument."
"Trust me, he won't mind. Especially if it will give you something to do while my brother remains otherwise occupied."
"You don't mind if I quote you on that, do you?"
"Not at all," she said. "I hope you're not too disappointed by Rémy's flagrant absence since our arrival – leaving you to fend for yourself like this. My brother has many virtues, but being an attentive host has never been a strong suit of his. He can be... easily distracted," and her attention moved briefly to the floor as if out of second-hand embarrassment for her brother. He watched as her expression grew more disapproving. "Something certain members of our extended family likes take advantage of regularly, I fear."
It wasn't hard to guess what she meant by that.
And he'd be a liar if he said he didn't appreciate her Uncle in particular's blatant attempts at getting the pair of them alone more.
Vlad had to fight the amused tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I don't know if I'd say that I've been entirely on my own. I've certainly enjoyed spending time in your company when you're available." He paused, giving way to a faint smile. "And, of course, Vesper has been most attentive," he added mockingly and she laughed at his little joke.
"I'm sure she has. Certainly a teenage girl isn't your first choice of company, though?"
"Admittedly not," he replied. "Your family has proven very congenial, though... thoughtful – Alayna especially."
"And how are the two of you getting on?" she asked, trying not to sound too interested.
"She's a good sort of girl."
"Girl?" Frankie repeated, clearly taken aback by his choice of words. "She's almost as old as I am."
"Age does not make a woman," he stated plainly.
"Do you not like her?"
"Still so eager for me to approve of her," he teased and the woman suddenly realized he had been baiting her and her eyes diverted downward as she became very fascinated by the carpet under their feet. They continued to wander aimlessly down the hall.
"She's important to me. And I also assumed that since she was more your type and given that she's taken such an interest in you that perhaps there was more there than you're letting on."
Vlad sent her a meaningful look, which she missed entirely. It was true, of all of Francesca's relatives, Alayna was the one he had spent the most time with since his arrival, but their conversations lacked the depth and openness he craved and usually when they did converse, the topic was on Francesca and little else.
"And what makes you think your cousin is my type?"
"She's charming and beautiful, gracious, sociable, attentive, knows her own mind but is also very compliant, has a genuine desire to please..."
"All amiable qualities," he agreed. "But that doesn't change the fact that at the end of the day, she isn't the one I want."
Frankie could feel the weight of his gaze as their pace slowed to a halt, his attention fixed on her person while her own eyes remained glued to the floor.
She knew exactly what he meant by that and he knew it, which is why she didn't insult him by questioning his words.
With some deliberation, she finally looked up to meet his gaze and bravely held it, though the devil knew what that man's quiet attentions did to her. Something about those frosty blue eyes always seemed to undo her in some small way – another section of the wall she kept around her heart crumbling here a little, there a little.
"And what is it exactly that you want?" she asked him, voice low, almost a whisper.
"At the moment?" he inquired a little playfully and every fiber in her being seized in anticipation. Where would he take this, she couldn't help but wonder. And would she be strong enough to resist if it went where she naturally assumed it was going? "Well...I do believe I've seen the majority of your family's estate, but I'm wondering if there are some things I haven't had the opportunity to explore. Are there any secret rooms or undisclosed locations you've yet to show me?"
My bedroom, was the first thought that skidded across her brain but Frankie quickly quelled that rebellious voice in her head. She decided to play ignorant to his not-so-subtle hinting.
"Well, let me think..." she said with a little bit of exaggerated deference. "You've seen pretty much all there is to see in the house..." There was a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes that she certainly did not miss and it made her want to smirk, but she abstained. "Then there's the gardens, the grounds, the lake, the hedge maze, the family plot, the town, the woods..." Frankie paused, her playful expression fading for just a moment. "Actually, there is something."
She beckoned him with a tilt of her head before heading off in the direction they had just come from and he followed after her in silence, curious as to where she would be taking him. When she brought him back to the hall just outside of the music room to reveal the hidden corridors he and Vesper had been occupying just moments ago, his eyes lit up in recognition.
"I already know about the secret passageways in the house," he explained as Frankie carefully opened the hidden door in the wall. "Vesper showed them to me."
"So she wasn't the only one spying, then?" Frankie replied archly before motioning for him to follow after her. "Don't worry – I'm positive she didn't show you everything. There's one passage in particular that I know for a fact she doesn't know about."
"By all means, lead the way."
Vladislaus followed after the woman for a short amount of time through the dark and cramped space between the walls, recognizing each and every turn she took until she revealed an additional hidden door at a seeming dead-end. Behind the door was an old spiral staircase that led up and up until at last they emerged, stepping out onto the roof of the house just as the sun had slipped behind the mountains.
The sky above them was on fire in brilliant hues of crimson and violet, streaks of light catching on the clouds and shining like veins of gold before they disappeared into the oncoming midnight blue to the east. The gusts of wind from this spot were strong and Vlad quickly understood why young Vesper hadn't been told of this location. It was easy to imagine the girl getting carried off in a single blow.
The sight before them was breathtaking, however.
From this vantage point, Dracula could see nearly the entire estate – the vast mountain range that surrounded the valley, the lush forest, the gardens down below... everything.
"This is the best view of the estate – well, at least the one that doesn't require climbing the summit of a mountain," Frankie explained.
"It's beautiful."
"And that over there, beyond the forest," she pointed, leaning in a little. "Do you see the spires? That is the old house."
It took him a moment to follow her gaze as the tips of the roof seemed to blend in with the trees, but when he noticed, he nodded, continuing to look beyond.
"Why hasn't it been torn down?" he asked.
"No one has had the heart to... it's one of the few things remaining of my mother and father that has stood the test of time. It was supposed to go to my brother and I after their deaths, but since neither of us are ever here long enough to warrant the cost of upkeep..."
"It's fallen into disrepair," he guessed, understanding immediately. "That's a pity. Alayna had showed me some of the old floor plans and photographs a couple of days ago. It's an impressive structure."
"It's even better in person."
"You'll have to walk me over there and give me a tour one of these days."
"Maybe," she said with a smile, distancing herself from him as she stepped closer to the edge of the small platform on the roof, as if doing so would provide her a better view. "I'd like to renovate the place at some point, perhaps after all this business with Augustine is finished."
"Does the house belong to you now? I thought I heard that it had."
"To both Rémy and I in equal parts, though he has no interest in living there. My brother has always been more of a city dweller."
"And you prefer the peace and quiet of the country?" he asked, though it was more of an observation than a question. He leaned casually against the frame of the door behind him, watching her closely.
"If I had to choose between the two, absolutely," she replied, looking back at him with a smile. "You know me. I like my privacy."
"I feel very much the same," he admitted. "I do love Budapest – the hustle and bustle, the noise, the culture..."
"The cuisine."
He chuckled at that.
"Yes, though it's not as it once was. But feeding in the city is certainly much easier than doing so in the mountains."
"I can't argue with that."
There was a natural pause in their conversation as the pair continued to look out over the scene before them, surveying the land in a comfortable silence.
"You know," Dracula announced, moving forward to stand beside her near the edge, "I had forgotten how much I had missed this kind of tranquility, the slower pace of life."
"It's an ideal pace when one is looking for a change in perspective," Frankie pointed out, eyes still looking beyond, but there was a newfound serenity in her countenance that he found he liked very much. He had never seen her so at peace before.
"I couldn't agree more."
"When you worked for our king, did you live at Castle Dracula?" she asked him suddenly, turning a little.
"Yes."
"What's it like?"
"Working for Dracula or residing in the icy fortress?" he inquired, leaning against the slanted part of the roof at his side so he could face her better.
"Both."
"Why don't you tell me about what you've heard and I'll confirm or refute?" he offered and she smiled a little deviously.
"Are you sure you want me to do that?"
"I wouldn't have proposed it if I wasn't."
"I know very little about the rumored castle in Transylvania," Frankie admitted, a boldness in her expression that only seemed to pull him in, "but when it comes to living with the man himself, I've heard he can be a little dictatorial; very accustomed to having his way and with little to no mercy for those that cross or disappoint him." She paused for a moment to take in his reaction, but was surprised to find him so stoic... so attentive. She continued. "Lucia once said that Dracula is exactly the sort of man you'd want as an ally. He'll defend and fight for what he believes in to the bitterest end, raise hell if need be for those he cares about – but that list of people is short. And if you get in his way or threaten those closest to him, not even God could save you."
Dracula was more amused than disturbed by her report, though he did cross his arms over his chest about half-way through her speech in an unconscious display of defense.
"Sounds just a little vicious when you put it that way," was all he said.
"I guess he would seem that way, especially if one was on the receiving end of his wrath," she pointed out. "But to some extent, I think if a person is to have a king at all, one would want someone who would be effective at protecting you. After all, this sanctuary state for our kind here in France would not have been possible if he hadn't fought as hard as he had for Budapest."
If someone had told Francesca a year ago that she would be partially admiring Dracula for his leadership skills, she would have died laughing. Yet here she was, examining the reputation that had so long disgusted her and acknowledging the merits that were there.
Vlad was admittedly just as astonished by this change as she was, though he gave no indication of being thus. He merely smiled, ever the model of patience and carefully restrained amusement.
"A fair assessment," he said at last. "For all his viciousness and wrath as you put it, I would agree. He is an effective king – or was, when he still had a throne. But Dracula has always prided himself on fully appreciating the weight of his responsibility as the father of our race." That smile of his faded somewhat as his thoughts took a more serious turn. "You cannot imagine just how much he has sacrificed personally to ensure the safety and continued veneration of the vampire, particularly amongst the other preternatural communities; what it's cost him to keep the peace between quarreling nests and nobles, making sure they don't slaughter one another. To him, the preservation of our kind has always been a top priority. No cost has ever been too great."
"And what of his reputation of handling dissension with extreme brutality?" she asked him, careful not to sound too critical.
"Honesty, loyalty, and obedience are everything," Vladislaus explained. "Those that were met with extreme brutality knew what the consequences would be if they betrayed their kind and their king. That expectation had been set from the start."
"I'm still not entirely convinced that the rumored level of violence was ever warranted," she countered carefully, aware that they were entering into uncharted territory.
"Perhaps, but it is the only thing most respond to," he admitted. "We vampires are not like ordinary humans, as you well know. We are unnatural beings living on stolen time. Nothing can permanently harm us save the meeting of true death, and so in order to instill the required sense of compliance that would ensure our very survival as a species, the consequences for insubordination needed to be harsh enough to keep everyone in line. If a precedent had not been set early on, we very well could have either completely exhausted our own food supply by eradicating humanity as a whole, or we could have been wiped out altogether at the turn of the twentieth century when the Knights of the Holy Order were at the peak of their power and influence. That is one thing our king has never and will never apologize for... and neither do I."
Frankie was silent for a time, visibly considering his words.
"Does he require such veneration and submission in all things?" she eventually asked him, her eyes watching him closely as she struggled to catch all of the nuances in his carefully guarded expression.
"Only in the things that truly matter."
There was a poignancy to his words that surprised her, layers of meaning that she wished she had more time to peel back. Why was this man so difficult to read? Was that just how he inherently was or maybe it was that concealment charm he always wore that was repeatedly throwing her off any scents she picked up? Frankie had so often prided herself on being able to read people with ease. It was one of the perks of possessing a heightened sense of empathy.
"I hear that he is also a very skilled hunter," she mentioned as casually as she could, moving the conversation along to something a little less tension-filled.
"Naturally, given his age and experience."
"I once heard that he is not usually a very patient man unless the occasion calls for it – say when he's trying to lure in his chosen prey. Is that true?"
"That depends entirely on the situation, I think; although I will admit he hasn't always been known to be the most patient sort. But if he truly desires something, he will do whatever is required of him to succeed."
"Has he ever failed in those kind of endeavors?" she asked carefully. "For example, if the object of his desire did not reciprocate his interest, or if there were extenuating circumstances keeping her – or him – from doing so?"
Dracula paused to consider the hidden meaning in her words. She was feeling him out. Clever girl. Get a feel for your opponent before agreeing to enter the arena...
"If there is a sliver of hope, then defeat is never an option."
His words sent a shiver down her spine, his expression piercing, intense...
"Tell me of Castle Dracula," she said next, shattering the intimacy with yet another rather abrupt change in topic. "Tell me of the infamous icy fortress. I've heard that it was carved directly out of the black rock of the Carpathians by the devil himself."
Vlad laughed openly at that.
"It was not made by the devil, although it was not exactly forged by the hand of man either," he explained. "It's certainly a formidable structure – the façade is intentionally striking. But like most monstrous things, there is so much more to it beneath the surface. Castle Dracula has some very beautiful grounds, though perhaps not nearly as warm and inviting as these," and he motioned to the gardens below them. "But it has been a refuge for many a vampire during the more precarious times of my homeland's history – the wars, revolutions, dictatorships, genocides..."
"Eastern Europe has always seemed to struggle in their quest for independence and peace," Frankie admitted with a degree of reverence.
"More than you could possibly know."
"It must have been hard being away from the place he called home for so many centuries to take up residence in Budapest."
"At first," he admitted, growing more and more accustomed to referring to himself in the third person, as strange as it was. "But those walls have since been tainted with tragedy and loved ones lost. I'm not sure he'll ever go back... at least not any time soon."
"That's a pity," she said, much to his surprise. "I should like to see it. I prefer the cold, anyway."
Vlad couldn't help but smile a little at her confession. It was easy to imagine her at Castle Dracula, standing on a parapet just as she was standing on this roof, an icy wind moving through her dark hair as she surveyed his home with the same kind of approval and tranquility that lingered in her eyes whenever she looked out over her uncle's estate.
"I suppose I can understand his being disinclined to return; however, now that I think on it," she continued, interrupting his private study. "I know it was excruciating just looking at those spires after my parents were murdered," and she motioned with a slight incline of her head toward the old house in the distance on the other side of the woods. "It's still difficult sometimes. But it must be even worse when you lose someone you were blood-bound to."
He looked away from her at that moment, though he noticed the return of her gaze in his periphery. Dracula didn't want her to see his weakness, the depths of pain in his eyes at the mere mention of his lost children. It had been almost forty years and still that hollow feeling in the center of his chest had yet to fill, a lingering dull ache that was so visceral, so consuming. God in heaven, would it ever stop hurting?
"I will never understand how my uncle has survived in this place, surrounded by Cece's memory, as well as my father's," Frankie replied with a heavy laden sigh. "He was born and raised on these grounds. No one knows these woods and mountains better than he does."
"Perhaps he finds comfort in being surrounded by the familiar," Vlad said with some deliberation. "To lose a loved one can be at times unbearable, but while Armand has lost much, he still has his children... and you and your brother. I think that if anything has given him the strength to cope with the passing of his wife, it very well might be all of you. Family... blood... it is everything."
"Yes, it really is." Frankie moved slowly over to where the man was standing so she could lean against the slanted roof alongside him, unconsciously mirroring his stance with her arms folded over her chest, eyes on her feet. "You know, I used to wonder why God saw fit to bless me with the family that I have, but I'm grateful. No matter what I've gone through, what horrors I've endured, they've always been there for me. We've always had each other."
"And isn't that what we all want?" he asked. "Human, vampire, werewolf..."
"We all want somewhere to belong," she finished in agreement, looking over at him sympathetically. He looked up at her then, holding her gaze with an intensity that took her aback when he added,
"And someone to belong to."
The wind seemed to still for just a moment as his words and all of their underlying meanings hung in the air between them.
Frankie's undead heart swelled at the implication, and she wanted to believe that what he had said he had said for her, that he meant everything he was not saying in that instant. Yet despite the delicious tension now between them and the way her body reacted when his eyes lingered on her lips, there was a resistance buried inside of her that she could not seem to banish – a hesitance, an insecurity, an underlying fear.
Did he mean the words he said or was he merely saying them because it was what she wanted to hear?
Could she trust him?
Did he love her?
If she could and if he did, what then? Would it be worth the risk? Could she ignore the danger, the darkness inside of her that had already been the cause of so much ruination and despair?
Frankie knew very well that if she collided with the man in front of her again, the fire would consume them both and there was a very good chance that it would destroy them. But there was also the very real possibility that that very same fire could offer her the rebirth she so desperately craved, the recognition of a potential buried deep with her, an untapped power, something unknown.
It was fear, however, that had her breaking the spell between them, her head turning away as she began to retreat toward the door, much to the man's chagrin.
"Come," she said with sudden timidity, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "We should probably head down for dinner before everyone starts to wonder where we are."