“Where do you think?”
It was rare that Walter was sarcastic with him. He must truly have annoyed the redhead with his decision to finally wage his war and claim this city. His question had, in truth, been a pointless one. He knew precisely where the illusionist was—off in the mayhem, wallowing in the slaughter.
“Fetch him from his revelries. I have something important he needs to do.”
Walter sighed heavily.
“Is this an inconvenience for you?” Vlad turned to look at the other vampire with a raised eyebrow.
“No, my Lord. Forgive me.” Walter placed a hand to his chest and bowed his head. “It is not my place to speak against you.”
“It is always your place to speak freely. You disagree with what I have done.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Walter looked up at him, red eyes that matched his own betraying the younger vampire’s confusion.
Vlad turned back to the city. “What I am doing here is cruel. Thousands will die. It is wrong. That is…entirely the point, I’m afraid.”
“I fail to understand.”
“I know. Fetch me Zadok.”
“Yes, Master.”
And with that, Walter was gone. He watched the red-winged bats soar off into the sky in search of his more hedonist kin. Zadok was in all ways a difficult creature. But for what was to follow, he would play a very important part. The Frenchman was loyal and valuable for his skills. He was worth the irritations he brought with him.
Most of the time.
Vlad watched as his disease spread throughout the city around him, growing wider with every passing second. The city would be his within the hour. Creatures stalked the shadows and the skies. Twisted abominations hunted their prey. Some resembled their previous condition of humanity to various degrees—and some did not.
By the time the clock struck midnight, the humans would be left only in pockets, sheltering for protection. They would be hunted down for sport. Only one would be spared.
One would be left to wander. Accompanied by his enemies as she may be, it mattered not to him. They would fall in time. But he had one mission for her in all this death—observe and learn. He would come for her in time.
While he was master of the hunt, how it ended would be hers to decide.
You met me in a dream. Now we shall see how you fare with my nightmare.
2
They undid her chains long enough to allow her to change into something more appropriate than the opera gown she had worn last night. She pulled on a dress meant for gardening, not for refined society, and pulled the laces of the bodice tight in the back.
Society is dead. No one will care if you do not wear a proper corset. She pulled on a pair of black silk gloves and did her long, dark hair up in a braid. She could not help but linger as she tied the bit of leather string around the end of it. Vlad preferred her hair worn loose. She cringed. Placing her hands down on surface of the vanity in front of her, she struggled with herself.
There was no resolving her turmoil. Not now, perhaps not ever. She left her hair braided and pulled on one of her fall coats. The weather had taken a sharp turn, fading from the balmy warmth of the summer into the chill of early winter. She did not know where the hunters planned on leading her, but she knew it would require her to be out and about in the city for a good length of time.
Comfortable shoes, a coat, and she was ready to go.
Go where?
To her death? To his? Or to both?
Still, the echoes of the dead and dying plagued her mind. The city was wounded. Many were likely now lost to the claws of the creatures that hunted the streets. The rest might be hunkered down in their homes, terrified and alone. They could not understand what was happening. They could not understand why.
The sun had been robbed from the skies. What else could they do but cower? Life had ceased its pattern. There were but a few constants in this world, one of them being the rise and fall of the very sun itself. But now, like every other shred of normalcy, it was gone.
All because she dared to love the creature who had stolen it from the skies.
She needed quiet. She needed silence from those around her. She would not get it. When there was a furtive knock on her door, she could sense that the hunters had grown impatient. “I’m coming,” she called. The light nature of the knock and the gentle soul across the wooden barrier from her revealed it was Bella.
Each of the hunters had a unique feeling. They burned bright from each other. Bella was sweet, light, and loving. Eddie was curious and resilient. Alfonzo was determined and headstrong. She found herself, despite everything, caring for each of them. They were only trying to do what was right.
She also wondered if she had not been deceived as they had claimed. If her mind had not been corrupted after all. Separate from Vlad’s influence as she was, caught in the tide of the stinking death and fear that surrounded them, she could not help but doubt the love she had for him.
Which was the lie?
Which was the mistruth?
Maxine opened the door. “I am ready,” she murmured to the young girl. That itself was a lie. All she wished to do was cower in the safety of her room and wait for the storm to pass. Wait for the demon himself to sweep into her room, gather her up into his arms, and take her to where she would be safe from such strife.
But she had never been one to turn her gaze away from that which was unpalatable. She was a creature born to bear the suffering of those around her. And, in her own right, it was her responsibility to experience every drop of blood as though it were her own. The city had fallen because she lacked the strength and conviction to try to destroy the monster when she had the chance.
No. She was not ready.
But she would march out those doors all the same.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Eddie stood with the length of chain in his hand. He looked at her, sheepish and apologetic as he always was, and held out the shackles. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Shutting her eyes for a moment, she held out her wrists to him. “It isn’t your fault, Eddie.”
“I know. Still feel like shit for it.” He clasped the shackles around her wrists, clicking them into place. He slipped the key into his pocket and picked up the end of the chain to wrap it around his hand a few times.
“I would ask to be set free, so that I might defend myself. But…I have no means of doing so. I am helpless.”
“Far from it.” Alfonzo grunted as he peered out the patterned glass that framed her front door. “Something tells me the monsters that hunt the streets won’t hurt you.”
He was likely right. If the creatures obeyed Dracula, then she probably had little to fear from their claws. But it was, in the end, the same trap.
For something whispered to her that the things that haunted the usurping night were nothing but extensions of the man she would have willingly invited into her bed had the hunters not attacked them. She had kissed him. She had embraced him and had believed, like the child that she was, that she understood him.
No. She had only fallen victim to the lie he had told so many others. He had only shown her a facet of himself, the piece of the whole that she had wanted to see. Or perhaps this is his way of showing you the rest of him. What if you can weather this and love him still? But how would that ever be possible?