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'THE WORKD AROUND HIM BEGAN TO COLLAPSE, AS THOUGH IT HAD CEASED ALL MOVEMENT, LEAVING HIM TO SPIN WILDLY INSTEAD.- His lungs felt as if they would cave in at any moment, like the air had turned to poison, each breath burnt, suffocated him.
His chest, a twisted memorial of torment, pulsated in agony. He was drowning, not in a sea but in the weight of his own anxiety. His body contorted, every inch spasmed by a deep desire.
"Blood..-I need fresh blood.." Vlad's voice echoed through the dinning hall. His eyes lit like the lanterns in his chamber as he stood before his loyal guardians. Stone clashed with stone as the gargoyles descended from the rafters above. "Fill it..-my vial, now." his command was sharp, laced with hunger as he shook with trembling hands the slender glass vial he kept in his gown.
He spun on his heel, his gaze sweeping the room, looking for a guardian without task. "Prepare my horses" his voice carried like the fury of a storm.
"I must be clean, I need to be beautiful" he murmured, his nails dragging across his skin, like a shapeshifter shedding its form. His chest was left raw from the scratches, pulsating in jagged rhythms, mirroring his tortured breaths "I need blood".
The bell rang sharp in the cold evening, its iron cry shuddering, piercing through his sensitive ears as he flinched. The hinges groaned as the heavy oak door opened. A nun, paler than the candle wax on the flickering light behind her, peered into the darkness. "What is it, my son?" She asked, her voice gentle but full of exhaustion.
Vlad stood in the shadows out of view, his cloak drawn tight around him. "I have no shelter" he said. "I have not eaten..for centuries." His voice faded as he spoke the last words. A shiver ran through his spine as he limped from foot to foot "and I am so cold".
A second nun emerged, their gazes met with a deep perplexity. They hesitated, torn between welcoming and refusing the dark visitor. However, it would be unholy of them to cast him away, no matter how unnatural his presence seemed. "I will escort him to the chapel.." one of the sisters finally spoke. "Please, come in".
The counts head hung low, not moving an inch, save for the slight curling on his lips, a smirk born not of enjoyment but something more sinister. His voice was smooth, lingering like a forgotten breath "thank you for the invitation".
"I will get you some hot soup and bread" the nun murmured beneath the vaulted arch as they crossed the threshold of stone. "You're most kind" Vlad replied, bowing his head. He hobbles towards the heart of the chapel where the last embers of dusk bled through the stained glass in hues of dying crimson.
When he was alone, slowly he loosened the clasp of his cloak. It fell from his withered shoulders like a shroud, coarse and colourless as a sack, whispering against the cold floor as it slipped away.
Beneath it, his frame was as pale as a moons marbling. His scalp bare of earthly adornment. Every last vein, dark and livid spread in ghastly lattice, as though some monstrous spider had claimed him for its canvas. His skin clung to him with a dreadful intimacy, sealing every hollow angle of the bones beneath.
His tongue snaked across his lips, like a serpent starved of sustenance, as his cold gaze rose towards the status of Christ upon his cross. The faint echo of the nun's returning footsteps sounded through the chapel. As she returned, a gasp stilled in her breath, she froze in her steps at the site before her. Vlad's bare form, every curve of his body out for her to see. Her heart, once steady now raced rapidly in confusion.
"Who are you?" She asked with a tremble in her voice. He rose from his hunched position, bowing before her with an impossible elegance "Count Dracula, at your service" he murmured, his voice echoing deep into the night.
The bowl fell from her hands, striking the floor with a wail, broth and bread bled across the ground as a gasp fluttered from her lips. "Thank you for the soup" Vlad said, his voice as smooth as velvet.
"But I require something richer."
His fingers lingered upon the slender neck of his crystal vial. A fragrance unfurled into the sacred air. "Don't worry, you won't catch fire" Dracula said, his lips curving with a tenderness that mocked her mercy.
The sister recoiled, her nostrils flared as she clutched her rosary tight, so tightly the beads pressed cruel crescent shapes into her flesh. The perfume was nothing common, nothing the sister had smelt before, it invaded her senses, a scent so hypnotic and intoxicating. It filled her lungs with the smell of dark roses and her blood with lilies that opened only beneath the weeping moons light.
"Your evil spells have no effect in the house of god" she whispered, summoning every shard of faith she could to resist the perfumes command.
"Oh really?" He says with a knowing smirk.
Then he turned, drawing nearer to the statue, "in the name of the father" he mumbled, his voice low. "The son" he wielded the vial as one might brandish holy water during an exorcism. "And the evil spirit" at that instant the gates of hell opened with flame. Lightening tore the sky apart, like white veins of fury.
The crucifix quivered against the nuns breast, not in defiance but in recognition of the higher power Dracula held.
The perfume thickened between them, and beneath it, sweetness lingered. It threaded through the air, invisible yet undeniable. Nuns began to pour into the chapel from the corridors beyond, their habits whispering against stone. They came in single files, as though bound by an unseen tether, drawing slowly inward by an unseen hand of Dracula.
"Come, my sisters" he called. "Look what god has made of you" his arms swept towards the statue, then back toward the sister's own pale faces. "Hearts of stone in dormant bodies. Suffocating under their own thick issue".
The sister who had spoken before stood rooted where she was, her rosary still clutched tightly in her trembling hands. At her feet, the bowl of soup lay forgotten. It's thinning steam long since vanished, the broth cooling into stillness.
"Let me free you from this prison" Vlad intoned, his voice a dark careless whisper as their eyes met. Thunder rolled in again, crashing through the night, the air thick with earthly scents. Around him, the nuns began to gather, their movements worshipful, their hands so delicate and full of trembling movement traced the outlines of his torso, the tips of their fingers grazed his bare chest, their breaths heavy, their eyes wide and bewitched. A low moan escaped them all, unwilling and complicit.
For a moment, he stood amongst them. Slowly, with an intensity that threatened to tear through the very fabrics of the world, the nuns pressed closer, their bodies anointed in feverish adoration. A few with faint resistance pulled away, yet his presence was an undeniable magnet. "Come on" his words laced with a darkness that could no longer be restrained. A howl of pure hunger broke from his lips as the nuns, like moths to flame, began to climb over one another in desperation, each wanting to be near him, to feel his cold touch and eternal embrace.
Amidst the tangled sea of bodies, one sister rose above, her headdress slipped from her brow, tumbling to the ground as her hair followed in a golden cascade. She stood there, her neck offered to Dracula with a fatalistic grace. His gaze fell upon her, tracing the delicate network of veins that pulsed beneath her skin. He saw his prey, her heartbeat echoing in the chaos of the room. Without another word, he moved closer, his teeth sinking deep into her tender flesh.
He no longer felt a cold grip of death. But instead the warmth of life coursing through him.
Maria's eyes snapped open suddenly, wide and wild as if the very night had tore her from sleep. Her chains rattled with a harsh clatter as she slowly sat up straight, the cold stone beneath her making her shiver. But it wasn't the cold that made her skin burn, it was something else, something closer.
The sounds of the hospital around her faded, the groans and whispers of patients disappeared. A slow, hungry smile graced her lips as she let out a shaky moan, partly in cry and partly in need. Her hands, trembling searched the floor, clawing like an animal, her eyes darting desperately around the shadows, searching for something, someone hidden just out of reach. Then, breathless, the words escaped her lips in a hushed whisper.
The door groaned with a mournful creak, the pale light spilt in from the hallways above, casting long shadows that danced across her delicate face. An audible cry of delight, a mix of joy and sorrow escaped her lips. She reaches out with trembling hands, her lips, soft as the midnight air pressed against the stones of his rings, a deep sense of respect in every touch, an act of worship.
"I found her, Master..." her words were as fragile as a dying ember.
Her gaze travelled, drawn to the figure before her, now reborn in youth, vibrant with the fires of life. He stood tall, draped in the finest of suits, rich in blacks and purples. "you've done very well" he praised, his voice low.
A joyous laugh escaped her, "Oh thank you, thank you."
Maria looked off. There, standing behind them like a shadow in the room was a young assistant. His eyes were hollow, dead, reflecting no will of his own. Her gaze flickered between her master and the boy "you deserve a reward".
"Oh come, come, my little boy" she coaxed him, her words dripping with temptation, beckoning him gently. Her slender fingers curling as though she were drawing him in. The young assistant moved, unsure of his own desires but as her command pulled him nearer, his steps grew closer. "Come closer" Maria purred, her voice full of authority. The boy kneeled, his knees shaking as he obeyed her in silence.
She parted his hair with a languorous motion, gazing upon the river of crimson that swirled beneath his skin. Her breathing shallowed, a soft, almost imperceptible gasp escaped her lips. She leaned closer, hovering with the tenderness of a lover. Her tongue flicked over her teeth, her lips parting instinctively. Then, with no hesitation, her teeth sank deep into his veins.
Helena sat before the crackling fire, its flames twisting and dancing like some forgotten, ancient ritual. Her thoughts swirled like the smoke rising from the hearth, her dreams, nightmares, fragments of memories and Jonathan's absence.
The fire flickered, her hand reached out and her fingers swayed with the flames. Something was coming, she could feel it deep within her. Or maybe, it had already begun.
Her throat began to ache, as though some foreign liquid slipped down it. She gasped, her hand moving instinctively to her lips, only to find the trail that now marked them. She studied the liquid that stained her fingertips, mesmerised.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, cutting through the silence. Helena shot to her feet, her heart racing. Quickly, she wiped her nose, her hand trembling slightly. "Tada!!" Maria stood before her, alive with vitality, dressed in elegant blacks, lace wrapped around her like the night itself. No trace of the sickness that consumed her just hours before.
"You're cured?" Helena asked, disbelief in her voice.
Maria smiled, her eyes dark and knowing. She pulled Helena into a tight embrace, her hands cold but comforting against Helena. "I'm cured! Indeed I am" she whispered, her voice perfect, smooth like velvet.
A sharp gasp escaped Helena's lips as she skimmed the delicate fabrics of Maria's dress, her touch lingering, searching for any trace of this sickness once more. Her heart swelled with relief "It's a miracle. I'm so relieved".
Before Helena could speak further, Maria interrupted softly "Don't worry. Evil is gone as quickly as it came. Let us not speak of it anymore" their hands met, linked and locked as if two lost souls finally reunited. Helena tilted her head, her lips curling into a smile "But how are you feeling?".
"in tip top shape" Maria replied, "and I am ready to celebrate my return in grand style".
"The hospital let you go?" Helena asked, her voice a blend of surprise and curiosity.
"I have so much energy today, I don't think he could have stopped me" they both burst into laughter, the sound of it light and carefree, like children caught in a secret. The two laughed Simultaneously. Giggling.
"Look what I have!" Maria exclaimed, riffling through her bag "put your hat on, we'll go together..".
"Where?" Helena asked with growing excitement. Maria's eyes twinkled as she pulled out tickets, letting them flutter in the air before Helena's eyes. "Three front row tickets for today's celebrations!" Maria twirled on her toes, her movements quick and fluid as if already swept away by the joy of what was to come.
"Three?" Helena asked, her brow furrowed.
"Oh yes, my friend i had told you about is in town and he is dying to meet you". Helena's mind raced, but she couldn't recall any mention of her mysterious friend. Still, excitement bubbled within and her curiosity piqued. "quickly go change!".
"But what of Jonathan!" Helena asked, her words laced with concern as her thoughts strayed to her fiancé.
"Who?!" she replied, her tone light, dismissing his name with the flick of her wrist. Before Helena could respond or remind her of the man she promised to marry, Maria spoke again "Now go change".
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Chapter 5.3 - Chapter 7 (TBA)
