No Stranger In Your Dreams (Dracula RP)
I know that my face Is only too familiar to your sleep I can see it in your eyes And I can tell by your body heatWhy are you taking so long? You need to come and find me, honey To set your mind at rest And let your dreams run free….
It was an ordinary day in a long line of eternally ordinary days.
He awoke (still strange to do, waking with the sun), performed his morning ablutions, dressed, ate (or drank, as it were), and left his home for the day.
It was the weekend, thankfully, which meant a reprieve from the university. It was currently summertime, and while he was not teaching a class, his work on prepping for the the fall semester, as well as work on his latest book, kept him preoccupied.
And bored.
He hated thinking so, but it was glaringly obvious that he was bored. Not to mention horrendously lonely.
Of course, there were many things to enjoy about living the eternal life.
For centuries, he had watched as humanity destroyed itself again and again. And not just by war. (Although those were pretty spectacular. As a man of war, he never could have dreamt the scale that mankind could conduct war on. Or the sophistication of it.)
On an evolutionary scale, humankind was good at trying to filter itself out. With the advent of technology came a host of new ways in which to suffer and die. It was horrifying and fascinating, and like a driver stuck in traffic, he was unable to look away.
But he did have an appreciation for the dawning of the technological era. He enjoyed many of the modern marvels the world had to offer in the twenty-first century. Information at the touch of your fingers. Instant access to any and all music ever written. Transportation back to his home country that did not involve weeks of grueling travel. The re-heating of fresh blood in two swift minutes.
But for all the conveniences life now offered the citizens of the world, Vlad still knew himself to be a relic. And amusing himself with the peoples of the world who died in eighty years had long ago grown tiresome.
He had stopped caring about caring about people long ago. It hurt too much to lose them. It was better to find his amusements, and his pleasures, then let go before they passed out of his life.
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“In dreaming, the clouds methought would open, and show riches ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.”
“The Tempest.” Mina named, amiably rolling her eyes that he deliberately chose Shakespeare.
“I find that dreams often lure us. Whether it is with promises of good or bad, but ultimately this temptation is only to reveal some deeper truth to us that our waking mind is desperate to conceal.”
Mina met his eyes for a couple beats, turning over his response in her head as it pertained to the theme of the dreams: the mystery of him.
He almost sounded like he was warning her when he added, “Sometimes the concealing is for one’s own good.”
The sudden change in him confounded her. He couldn’t possibly know what she’d been dealing with all these months, yet he seemed to take her dreams quite seriously. What did he mean by that?
She thought they’d been getting on pretty well- too well, admittedly, given their professional relationship. Perhaps he had just realized this. Perhaps he was regretting asking her to come along, deciding that they’d better not complicate things. Had she gone too far with the flirting? He was definitely attracted to her, but… maybe he was careful, conscious where she was reckless. And of course, he was right-
“I must go now…But I look forward to seeing you in class.”
Watching him rise to leave felt like a shot to the heart, but to her credit, she let him go gracefully.
“Yeah, sounds good! Thanks for… this.”
With a smile, she did her best to remain poised and unaffected, but that searing gaze made her falter with its weight. Was it possible to die from mixed signals?
That instinct deep within her rebelled with discomfort at the thought of letting him go and she reassured it; two more weeks until classes start. Two more weeks until she’d see him again. Then maybe she’d have an answer to all this lunacy. For-friggin-ever from now.
“See you later.” She managed.
“Until then….Mina,” he murmured.
As he turned to go, she was sure she saw his eyes light up; literally, like the tapetum glow of a nocturnal creature.
Baffled in every way, she watched him leave.
~
After her first training at the university library, Mina made a B line for Cole Hall; it was the ivy-covered, Gothic building at the very edge of campus, hiding in the shadows of the oldest oaks.
As she waited to cross the road to get there, she thought she’d felt her phone vibrate. Weird- she never kept it on that setting since it sapped so much battery.
It happened again in a few moments. Finding the notification bar empty, she blew out an annoyed breath and pocketed the thing.
Just ten steps later, when she stood before the doors of the Hall, the haunting chorus of the song “Shum” by Go_A erupted from her jacket.
“-the hell?” She muttered. Adjusting the bag over her shoulder, she stepped away from the doors and fished for the phone for a third time.
~CALLIE~
“Hello?”
“Hi Mimi.”
She smiled despite the use of the hated nickname.
“Hey Lili,” She rhymed. Even with the age difference, Callie was more like an older sister than a cousin to her; and pretty much the closest relation Mina had.
“So how’s it going over there?”
“Good! It’s going good. I meant to call you last week but… it’s been a whirlwind.”
“No worries, girl! I can’t imagine picking up my whole life and moving across the ocean.”
“Its a looot, let me tell you. I had my first shift at the new job today, I really like it so far. On my way to my first class right now.”
“Oh dang, today’s the day, huh? That’s great. Can you understand those Brits ok?”
Mina brought her cousin up to speed on life in London and Quincey’s health, pacing under an oil-lit street lamp as the sun began to sink. She was about to say goodbye when Callie asked,
“What about The Cunning? Any interesting things pop up since you got there?”
“Umm…” She paused, toeing a rock on the path as she thought about how to respond.
Early on in her life, her cousin had noticed her proclivity for sensing things many people couldn’t. In fact, Callie was the only one who seemed to believe there was anything special about it. Mina, for her part, didn’t spend a lot of time wondering if it was special it or not; she was just grateful that trusting herself came so easy. The feeling- “The Cunning”- wasn’t just a weak hunch; it was usually certainty, and it had never steered her wrong.
“Not really…” She hesitantly lied at first, following up with, “Well. It does feel good to be here. Like I was always meant to come. Feels kinda right.”
“Yes Mimi! Love to hear that. I’m so glad it’s going good for you there- still hate you for leaving me though,” she whined. “You took Quincey and now I’ll have to get my own cat.”
“We’ll be back for break, Li. Quince was actually really good on the plane.”
“Fiiiiiine. I’ll let you go for now. Learn a lot and call me later this week, alright?”
“Will do.”
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
XxX
After a pit stop in the girl’s room to check the mirror, Mina braced herself and pushed through the doors to the lecture hall.
Seeing Vlad absent was both relaxing and alarming. Had she missed an email?
No… the room was almost full.
She chose a middle seat a few rows back from the front of the room; sort of a visual representation of her non-committed interest. The first couple of rows were full of whispering, giggling girls, anyway.
Sinking into the ancient pine desk, Mina wondered if he really believed what he’d told her in the café; That some truths were worth not knowing… or if he was simply trying to discourage her from going down that dangerous path they’d discovered together.
Either way, the dreams had not complied to his warning, successfully “luring” her further.
The night they parted was finally peaceful; as though her subconscious was rewarding her with rest, having achieved the goal. That inner instinct, The Cunning, seemed satisfied for now.
But most nights after that had been steadily more interesting.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t remember many details; just feelings, glimpses here and there, as though from behind a silk curtain. And she really didn’t mind the turn they had started to take.
Until last night’s opus.
Vlad’s face was not only revealed to her in this one, but for the first time, he was close enough to touch.
And she did.
She remembered him outstretching his hand vertically, palm to her, and she slowly mirrored it.
A pleasant warmth spread from the contact throughout her body and she could see from his content expression that he felt it too.
She noticed how much smaller, softer her hand was against his, perfect where he had scars- except for the small callous she had on the side of her middle finger, the one she’d built from so much writing. Even in dreams, the tiny detail was so real.
He admired her silently, enjoying the contact. A kind, indulgent smile played on his lips as she observed their differences.
Mina guided their hands gently to the side, fingers leaving his to trace thick, marble veins up his forearms, gliding over one broad shoulder and coming to rest for a moment on his pec- he was shirtless?
Drinking him in, her eyes traveled over his well-defined chest, up his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed, to the short, dark hair covering his jaw. Her hand followed lightly up his neck to feel the softness of his beard, enthralled with his every beautiful detail. He looked down at her with the gentlest gaze.
“Mina…”
Her eyes rose up to his, obediently. Matching the voice to the face was a special kind of satisfaction she had long awaited.
“Yeah?” She replied softly, happier than she could ever remember being.
Gingerly, he took her chin between his thumb and index finger and looked pleased when her eyes fluttered shut at the contact.
“Ready?”
She didn’t know what he was talking about but agreed without hesitation.
So Vlad kissed her, and now Mina knew bliss- a feeling so good radiating from her heart that she had to be dreaming.
Only then, something was off.
After a few moments, the fiery connection she needed like oxygen left a strange, strong taste in her mouth and when she pulled away, she touched her now-dripping lips.
Her hand came away glistening red with fresh blood, and then she awoke to the sound of Samsung’s generic alarm clock.
Well. It had been unnerving to say the least, but what’s a couple seconds of hell when you’re in heaven?
She shut down on that line of thought and tried to make room in her mind for actual class as she organized her desk just how she liked it; her favorite inky pen, text book, then journal right on top, iridescent hydro flask in the corner.
He came in as she was zipping up her bag, and she trained her expression into a hopefully-not-awkward greeting smile, more appropriate for a student to wear in his presence.
Totally cool. Totally chill.
But as he addressed the class and began his introduction, the feelings from the market crept back up. When he found her in the crowd and their eyes finally met here in real life, it hit her with a vengeance.
Seeing him again was at once deeply relieving, like a soldier come home from war- yet at the same time, worse than any exam he’d be giving her.
The sudden, weird pain blooming in her chest was so intense it was difficult not to rub it. She wanted- no, it was a need- a need to be where he was, to not be farther from him than this ever again.
It was an immediate, unexplainable knowledge that she had waited forever and would not endure being separated from him any longer.
Even if he thought it wasn’t for her own good.
It was absolutely frightening.
But The Cunning insisted: something higher connected her to him. Beyond the dreams, beyond the chemistry, beyond their very will. This wasn’t some mere crush or basic thirst. There was no squashing this down or pretending it didn’t exist, professor/student relationship or no.
This was instinct, something she could feel the way prey could feel its predator in the woods.
Except she was willing.
And now that he had found her, she was going to stay right there for the taking.
It was at that moment that Mina Murray knew she was done for.
The lecture hall was located in the basement, surrounded on all sides by stone walls bathed with the warm yellow glow of wrought-iron sconces. The chamber was eerily silent as he addressed the class, their attention rapt.
“This is PTY503, Poetry in the Age of Romanticism,” he said, his voice resonant and strong in the chamber. It was somewhat of a new offering, this course, and thus he did see a few familiar faces in the crowd. He spared a few more favored students a pleasant smile, and tried not to smirk at the ostensibly eager ladies sitting cross-legged in the front row.
“If this is not the class you signed up for, I suggest you wait it out, otherwise you might just begin a hunt and we will have no recourse but to give chase as you escape.” His playful act was met with several appreciative chuckles, the ladies in front laughing louder than most. He gave a toothy grin in return, glad to have broken the ice somewhat.
He felt most at home here, and it showed. His “older” colleagues had told him so over the years, professing that they did not understand how a young man such as himself should wish to waste his prime teaching years at a university in a quiet town. “Why not London?” they asked with bemusement. “Or America, for that matter?”
But what these men failed to understand was that Vlad had seen, and even taught in, these places. The world was not new to him, and he would experience it all tenfold. But this institution, for the first time in a long time, felt like home. The gothic collegiate architecture with the Tudor leanings, the active nighttime scene, the quietude and serenity - he was truly in his element.
People would not suspect him here. Aside from Van Helsing, of course, but one in thousands were odds he liked. He would not raise suspicions in a town of this size. He could keep to himself, his schedule, his proclivities, and no one would be the wiser. He had years of practice in that department, after all.
The only other place he might feel so comfortable would be at his ancestral home: high up in the mountains, where the air was unpolluted and crisp, the water clear, and the game plentiful and unafraid.
But the ghosts were there in multitudes, and so he did not return.
But perhaps Mina might appreciate the peacefulness of a remote life, he thought idly as he looked around the room, sizing his students up. He turned towards the chalkboard, and paused.
As if he summoned her with his thoughts alone, she was suddenly there, her clever eyes watching him. That familiar, hot current passed through him, his limbs suddenly heavy and weightless all at once. His senses were overcome one by one, his very self dedicated to the study of her. From a distance he could appreciate the damning blue of her eyes, the pertness of her nose, the rosy apple of her cheeks. He longed to reacquaint himself with the honey of her tongue, the supple flesh of her lips, the fluttery brilliance of her hands. He missed the single source scent of her skin, mixed in as it was in this sea of evaporating oils.
He was greedy for all of it, and felt the breadth of this absence in the span of only a few seconds. But he remembered himself quickly, and carried on, breaking the forged connection between them.
He began to outline the syllabus for the semester, the breakdown of grading, and the expectations for class. He advised that his students practice avid participation, lest they incur his judgement. He would never be one of those professors who lectured to students who dumbly listened and took scribbled notes, repeating key words without comprehending the ideas. He required engagement, a back-and-forth dialogue. He wanted his class to be a conversation. He keenly felt the attention of his students, and soaked it up like a sponge cake at afternoon tea. Call it the vampire in him, but he required something from his students, some kind of sustenance that would only be fulfilled in this setting.
The class continued on smoothly and without incident, up until the very end.
The sun had set hours before, the street lights around campus waking up a long time ago. The narrow, tall windows above their heads allowed very little light to enter the subterranean chamber, making it virtually impossible to see any of the action taking place outside.
But for Vlad’s nighttime vision…
His gaze was just darting towards the last, and highest elevated, row of the room when a sharp action caused his eyes to swing towards the windows. A thin figure slammed against the glass, their movements jerky, but muffled by the thick glass. He watched with morbid fascination and a dawning sense of dread as their assailant grabbed a hold of the individual by the shoulders and bent their head towards their neck in a telltale, deadly move.
“Class dismissed,” he uttered hoarsely, hardly aware of how perturbed and abrupt he sounded. Without waiting for the students to exit, Vlad did so, nearly running out of the room to get outside.
He took the stairs like a bat out of hell, side stepping the others who were climbing at a more leisurely pace. He hit the landing and broke into a near-jog, his skin itching with the restraint he practiced. He would have liked very much to use his supernatural speed, but he had the wherewithal to know that too many human eyes were present and despite humanity’s ignorance, there was no doubt they would notice such a thing.
He rounded the building to the wall where his classroom was, and stuttered to a stop. There, crumpled on the ground with their back to the window, was the victim from before. Vlad rushed over to their side.
“Call for help!” he shouted to a nearby girl, who started chittering to her friends nervously. He didn’t wait for the response before falling to his knees beside the victim.
With tentative fingers, Vlad felt for a pulse on their wrist, noting with trepidation that their skin was icy to the touch. It was a young man, small and waifish in appearance. His dark skin gave no indication that there had been any kind of blood loss, but it was impossible to think overwise. He had seen with his own eyes, after all. There could be no doubt…
Only, when he peeled back the collar of the young man’s shirt, there was no blood. Nor was there any disturbed skin, or marking of any kind. They were perfectly intact. The prone figure stirred suddenly, their eyes meeting Vlad’s with naked fear.
He screamed, pulling away with a vengeance. “Demon! Demon!” he shrieked with unholy mania.
Vlad pulled his hands away hastily, holding them up in the universal gesture for surrender. “Please, I’m not-”
“Demon!” the boy continued to shriek, looking around with wild eyes.
The girl from before came rushing over, one hand pressing her phone to her ear, the other tugging on Vlad’s shoulder. “Hey, back off! He’s scared, he needs space!”
Vlad fought against the primordial instinct to throw the girl, hand included, away from him, but he resisted. He cleared his throat, stepping several feet away. He watched warily as the girl crouched down next to the boy, asking him in subdued tones if he needed medical assistance. The boy looked at her in confusion, and after a moment, replied that he did not. The girl helped him to his feet, and together they walked back into the building.
But not before the boy cast one more frightened look over his shoulder at Vlad, his dark, pupil-drowned eyes shooting an accusation.
The dark-haired professor stood with his arms hanging limply at his sides, staring after the student blankly. He couldn’t bring himself to leave that spot. Overcome as he was by the unfathomable reality of his situation.
He would have sworn up and down that the young man was being attacked by a vampire. He recognized the body language, knew it intimately. Hell, he had even seen the bone-white draw of fangs descending towards very-breakable skin, and yet the boy hadn’t had a scratch on him! It was confounding.
Aggrieved, he took a single step back towards the building, but stopped immediately when an all too familiar scent hit his nose.
Master…
It was the scent of wet soil, the decomposition of animals and plant matter. He almost recoiled in recognition, a growl building in the back of his throat.
So, the old man had been in town that day. He hadn’t been imagining things.
But what the devil did he want? To be sure, he resurfaced every fifty years or so to torment Vlad, but hadn’t he had his fun just twenty years prior? It had been the reason he had left Hungary, after all…
Mina’s face scattered across his mind’s eye, but he quickly smashed that line of thought. There was no way the Master could know his Mirena had reincarnated somehow. It was impossible…!
But is it? His mind offered in sibilant tones.
He shivered, an uncharacteristic chill cascading down his spine. What was that expression? As if someone had walked over your grave…
It would be an empty one, but perhaps the sensation would be all the more intense for it. No body to absorb the impact of footfalls upon the ground.
These morbid musings had stolen his attention so intensely that he didn’t even smell Mina until she was directly behind him. He turned sharply, his thoughts of the Master falling away like dust motes in the wake of her sunshine.
“Miss Murray,” he said at the last moment, preventing himself from uttering an incorrect name. “Forgive me, I seem to find myself somewhat spooked just now.” He cleared his throat, running a calming hand down the front of his charcoal jacket to ease himself. He took a few breaths to adjust, ignoring the physical reminder that he did not need to, but only did to maintain his human persona. He folded his hands before him, widening his stance just slightly. “I trust our first class lived up to your expectations?” he asked, his smile hinting at teasing. He kept his gaze steady, resisting the temptation to look in every dark corner of campus for his immortal foe.
The passion with which he guided the class rippled through the entire room, captivating his students and making them truly care about each word echoing off the chalk board toward them. Even Mina had gotten lost in his unique perspective on the poetry, her mind wholly on what he was asserting, and not on the quiet anxiety hugging her sternum.
But like the flip of a switch, it happened again.
He dismissed class so abruptly, most barely had time to blink before he was taking the steps two at a time to get up and out of the arena.
Mina sat confounded for a moment, before the sound of binders zipping pushed her into action. She stood, hastily gathering up her things and stumbling toward the exit as well, not stopping to pick up her good pen as it clattered to the floor.
She wasn’t totally aware of what she was doing in that moment, chasing after her strange teacher; she only knew that something was wrong, something akin to what had happened when he’d been with her in the Café. She intended to discover the cause of his sudden metamorphosis.
Not the sort of learning opportunity she had expected tonight, but exactly the one she had been hoping for, alarming as it might be. Now, at least, she knew it wasn’t her fault.
Once outside, she scanned the walkways, hair whipping back and forth until she felt sure that LEFT was the correct direction. Moments later, she found him standing by the windows of the classroom. As the retreating students passed, she overheard their hushed conversation about the campus’s Safe Ride Home shuttle.
Confusion and frustration lined Professor Townsend’s handsome face.
“Profess-?”
Before she could finish, before he had even turned to see it was her- he greeted her by name.
She blinked, taken aback.
At her visible concern, he explained, “Forgive me, I seem to find myself somewhat spooked just now.” He cleared his throat, running a calming hand down the front of his charcoal jacket.
“I trust our first class lived up to your expectations?” That warm smile didn’t quite reach the gloom in his eyes.
“Um… yes.” The smile she returned was not without effort either, unwilling as she was to take the attention off of his erratic behavior. "I’m actually most excited about the first selection on our reading list.“ After a polite pause, she added quickly, "Professor, are you alright?”
The urge she felt to drop the tedious formalities and ask for answers point blank was jarring; such was her strange comfort and familiarity with him. Instead, she hugged her books tighter and took a small step toward him, searching his eyes in the dim light as though she could take a short cut through their Earth-colored depths and finally arrive at the answers to all she wondered about him.
“I am, Miss Murray. Chalk it up to a bad night sleep, I think.”
Lie, the Cunning warned.
Mina studied him for a moment.
“Have I given you my nightmares?” She teased, though her voice was soft; careful and curious.
He chuckled at the implication she had infected him, and she noticed how, for just a second, his gaze brushed down her body.
“You needn’t worry about that, my lady. Your nightmares are no match for me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STUDENT-PARTICIPATORY STUDY
EXTRA SENSORY PERCEPTION
The Psychology Dept is conducting an 8-week study
Volunteers will receive 1 credit hour
Please contact Dr. Abraham Van Hellsing at [email protected]
Study begins October 13th
Brekker Hall, Room 11b
Mina pushed through the doors with the flyer in hand, glancing around for the building directory. It lead her to the ancient bronze elevators, their Art Nouveau décor decidedly out of place among the 1970’s style of the rest of the hall. The doors lazily wheeled open and she pressed the smooth, well-worn glass of button number 9; the highest floor.
She watched the oxidized metal needle gradually move from left to right as the elevator ascended and wondered how many other students had signed up; how many other young people felt like they could sense things their peers couldn’t, how those senses manifested for them, and if it were similar or different than her own Cunning.
The credit hour was tempting, but what Mina really wanted out of this was some answers. What was known about this sort of thing? Could it be controlled? How seriously did psychologists even take it?
But she’d never even talked about it with anyone aside from Cici, much less volunteered to admit it on record or subject herself to a study. And that was the thought made her start to pick at her nails.
“Miss Murray!”
Dr. Van Hellsing was waiting for her in the hallway when the elevator doors opened with the sound of a real bell chime. Instead of shaking her outstretched hand, he bent over it and gave it a quick, polite peck. Dropping it, he ushered her in, pushing the door lightly behind him so that it didn’t shut entirely; just enough to keep their conversation private. “Come in, come in, please sit down. I am delighted you have joined.” His Dutch accent was heavy and charming.
Hellsing’s office had floor-to-ceiling windows that let in plenty of sunlight. The walls were lined with shelves of rather boring-looking, dusty tomes, and a heavy, old, wooden desk was in the center, atop of which sat an Emmeralite banker’s lamp, a multitude of journals of varying sizes and the same standard issue PC all the professors on campus had.
Mina sank into an arm chair that looked like it had witnessed the construction of the university.
“It sounds very interesting, Doctor. Am I the first one here?”
“In fact my dear, you are the only one who has signed up,” His expression was regretful, but optimistic. “So… obviously we cannot do the study as originally planned. However, I was hoping you would still be willing to participate on a smaller scale?”
Blinking, Mina hesitated a moment before replying, “Oh. Well. I do find this stuff fascinating but… what did you have in mind?”
With an enthusiasm that Mina found rather comical, Hellsing sat down in his rolling chair and pulled himself toward the desk with great, graceless stomps. she stifled a laugh.
“Your responses to the questionnaire make you the perfect candidate for another study I have had on the back- burner, as you say."
"Uh oh,” she joked, shifting as she waited for him to continue.
“I am most intrigued by your experiences Miss Murray. The dreams you’ve had, this instinct, the decision-making compass you describe is completely in line with my studies. I would be most indebted to you, if you would agree to help me test a device I have recently completed.” At the raise of her eyebrows, he added, “Noninvasive of course…”
The doctor stood from his chair and went over to one of the cabinets to their right, turning the key and sliding it open. He brought out a large black plastic case and laid it on the desk before them. Unlatching it from both sides, it opened to reveal gray foam padding surrounding what looked like a very expensive piece of technology, about the size of a video cassette player. Several wires were attached, ending in circular biosensor patches, and a large flat screen sat across the top of the rectangular body.
Hellsing began excitedly explaining the complicated inception of the machine before stopping himself, apologizing, and sticking to the basics:
She gathered that, essentially, the device could provide insight as to the brain function of those with extra sensory perception. The subject was to wear the biosensors on specific areas of the body which would inform the reader of things like vital signs, certain types of brain waves and which area of the brain was in use. The machine would then report the data to the computer for analysis and compile it into something readable for the doctor.
“I would be giving you several fictional scenarios, Miss Mina, that you would mentally and emotionally navigate through, and as you do so, we would be detecting your mental and physical reactions, how you are using your judgement, what part of your mind is in use and why this tendency develops majorly in some people, yet not all.”
He continued with an elementary explanation of how it all worked, what he hoped to gain from studying people claiming to possess these skills, what sorts of papers he could write (omitting names, of course) and how it might advance the topic in scholarly circles.
“You will be directly involved in the process from start to finish, and all data is yours to keep. I would just have to ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
To all of this, Mina agreed, and Hellsing very happily took down her information to immediately populate her record with the credit hour.
“You will see, Miss Mina, no matter what results come up, this will be a truly fun and wondrous endeavor!”
“I think so too, Doctor. What do you call this thing?”
“Oh yes. This is the Lucidity Under Consciousness Interpreter. I call her LUCI."
The incident that had occurred a few days ago had shaken him, but not enough to interrupt his normal routine. The hauntings of his mentor turned nemesis were nothing new. He had plenty of experience in managing the harassment without conceding his existence to it.
The semester had barely started, and thus it was of the utmost importance that he cement a routine and stick to it, as to not engender any suspicions about his nature. He gave lectures, held office hours, and made every required appearance at faculty meetings. He even went out during the daytime, albeit outside of critical hours and when the sun was long past it’s zenith in the sky. He knew the campus well enough to find places to hide from the sun if necessary, and he never resorted to any of his abilities when students, faculty, or staff could be present.
His “Brides” visited him, but few questioned it. The school was large enough that the foot traffic of students from one part of campus to another was hardly notable. And if it was, it was no wonder. Students of all presentations had shown plenty of interest in him over the years, as had members of the faculty. He was fine with these sort of rumors circulating. They were certainly better than another kind.
Although he rarely engaged in risky behaviors (such as directly preying on students or using his abilities on them), he did engage in behaviors that might, in the strictest sense, be considered out of the ordinary. His many years in academia had led to his mastery of many subjects, putting him several years ahead of even the most erudite (and senior) members of the faculty. It was hardly their fault. Immortal life lent itself towards the pursuit of knowledge, if only to stave off the boredom. His thirst for knowledge also had the added benefit of allowing him to keep up with the times, thereby decreasing the chances that anyone discover his timeworn origins. Thus, he would presume to approach professors outside of his department, sourcing his various degrees as the excuse for his interest in their work. Subjects in the sciences were of particular interest to him, as he was always searching for the means to destroy his nemesis once and for all.
While he had sought many professors out in the past, the one he often tried to avoid was Van Helsing. The man had a keener eye than most, and though Vlad hated to admit it, he was unnerved. Few could resist the Slavic professor’s charms, his easy way of deflection and his subtle use of suggestion to influence minds. Van Helsing was one not so susceptible to these tricks. Many times, Vlad had caught the man staring for a second too long, something a little too discerning in his expression. It made the beast inside of him raise his hackles, the senses pointing to one very obvious conclusion: danger.
But for the study he had seen advertised around campus. He could not deny his curiosity about what the man was working on. Van Helsing was lauded throughout his community, despite his eccentricities, for research that few others would dare entertain, let alone receive the funding for. It impressed him, to say the least, and had the very real opportunity of providing entertainment that little else at this venerable establishment could afford.
Which is what led him towards the Psychology Building, a place Vlad rarely visited. He waited until the sun was in low in the sky, the tall, gothic spires of the campus affording enough cover from the harmful rays for Vlad to travel with relative ease. He kept a pleasant smile on his face, greeting those members of the faculty he recognized with a slight nod of his head, otherwise kept his eyes on his destination. Without giving his better instincts the chance to abandon his scheme, Vlad approached the designated room, pausing to give a brief knock before opening the slightly ajar door.
“Abraham, forgive my intrusion.” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening infinitesimally.
Her scent hit him first, as it usually did. It was the unmistakable smells of sunflowers, sage, and thyme: the aroma of her garden. The middle notes were that of her boudoir: roses, lily of the valley, and paraffin. And underlying it all was the smell of the mountains: cold wind, granite, and freshly-turned earth.
The smell of death was absent, to his very great relief. He often perceived death all around him in all Her forms, the unmistakable notes of rot and decay, yet Mina did not carry any of these. He only detected life, the things that thrived in the sunlight.
Unlike him.
Van Helsing looked up with a start, peering somewhat foggily at Vlad through the lens of his sensible wire frames. “Ah, Professor Tepes,” he said, blinking away an expression of apprehension that Vlad could not help but clock before settling his features into something approximating congeniality. “I was not expecting you. Did we have an appointment that I’ve somehow forgotten? I would not put it past me, my mind is so very addled these days.” He ended his sentence on somewhat of a nervous note, valiantly attempting to disguise his disquiet at Vlad’s sudden appearance.
“We did not,” Vlad returned, his focus on Van Helsing. Despite his very great desire to look at Mina, he kept his gaze forward. “I had the frivolous notion to trespass upon your territory,” he said with only the slightest hint of irony, “After seeing the advert around campus for your latest study. I must admit that it intrigued me, so much so that I could not resist the impulse to ask you about it.”
Van Helsing released a small chuckle, a brackish, congested noise that was more of a cough than a laugh. “Would that more students held your interest.” He gestured to Mina. “To my great disappointment, only Miss Murray here has nibbled at the proverbial bait.” He chanced a look at Mina with kind eyes, patting the top of her hand gently. “Not that I am not grateful, my dear. I believe we shall continue on famously, you and I.”
Vlad finally allowed himself the pleasure of turning his gaze to Mina, finding her eyes, huge and blue as cornflowers, already tuned to him. His lips quirked slightly at their corners, his focus boring into her. He attuned to her, dropping his voice to an impossibly low decibel that could still be heard by her. “Well met, Miss Murray.”
A fierce zing of pride struck him when she kept her composure and nodded slightly at him in greeting. “Professor.”
Van Helsing observed the interaction, doing his utmost to read the situation and intimate their relationship. Vlad had the very great impulse to smirk, to flirt outright with Mina in front of the aging Professor, but kept his composure. “You two know one another?” Van Helsing asked, unable to keep a note of trepidation out of his voice.
Vlad’s eyes lingered on Mina for a moment longer before he returned his focus to Van Helsing. “Miss Murray is registered in one of my classes,” he shared, leaving it at that before changing the subject. He circled their chairs, approaching the contraption that was sitting on Van Helsing’s desk. “A very curious piece of machinery you have there. This is related to the extra sensory perception study?”
“Ah, yes,” Van Helsing replied awkwardly, waving a hand vaguely at the equipment. “Very preliminary model, you understand. I have developed it myself, and as I am no engineer, I am still working out some of the kinks.”
At the word ‘kink’, Vlad slid his eyes towards Mina’s lap, quickly raking his gaze up her body before covertly schooling his expression once more. “One would not know any differently, Abraham, to see it as it is now,” he complimented. “May I?”
Van Helsing’s smile was hesitant, yet his voice held all confidence. “Please.”
Slowly and with diligence, Vlad proceeded to lightly examine the machine, noting each of the components wordlessly. He nodded with appreciation. “You are collecting biometric data associated with brain function? Heart rate, oxygen levels, etc.?”
Van Helsing nodded.
“Have you considered a camera?” he asked, straightening, his hands clasped behind his back. “To monitor change in facial expression, pupil dilation, that sort of thing? I understand the biomedical community has made some good progress using AI to collect this data in long form. Perhaps you could engage the faculty in that department? I have some contacts there I am sure would be happy to be made available to you.”
“A fine idea,” Van Helsing said, nodding in contemplation. “It would certainly make my job as the analyst simpler by outsourcing some of the observational inputs. What say you, Miss Mina?” Van Helsing queried, turning to face Mina. “Would you be comfortable with such an addition?”
