I guess these people talk Romanian, but as I write this in English and don’t know any Romanian I use Old English for Old Romanian. I hope you are not disappointed.

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Fighting Evil 10

Vaguely, Alucard remembered being carried through the snowy night, cold wetness on his hot face. Then there was an undistinguished period of time in which he was completely out, then warmth and voices, but the warmth made him shiver, strangely enough, and Maria was talking to him but he didn’t understand a single word she was saying. He blacked out again, only to wake naked in a bed, hearing his own voice rave on in a language that had changed ages ago: "...promise thee, thou willst not suffer, I will not harm thee..." at least, he thought it was his voice, but it was so hoarse and raspy he almost didn’t recognise it. It reminded him of the time of the Blood, the period he had forgotten as soon as he could... blood... blood... there was a woman, pushing him back against the pillows. She was pretty, known, but what was she doing here in his tomb?

"Please calm down," she whispered softly, "you’ll start bleeding again." She wasn’t afraid of him. Why wasn’t she? He had killed his lover, only yesterday, or was it longer ago?

"What century is this?" he rasped, trying to get a grip on himself. He really couldn’t remember. How long was it ago that he met Trevor Belmont? Had it all been some kind of dream, an invasion of his mind by creatures like the Succubus?

"It’s the 19^th century, October 1802, can’t you remember?" He could, that was the whole problem. There were so many memories, he had been so many persons...

---

He came to with convulsive shivers rocking his body. Alone, this time. His mind was relatively clear, although a bit foggy with the pounding headache he still had, but he knew who he was and where and when. Alucard. I’ll probably be Alucard for the rest of my life. He sighed, and frowned with the pain of that simple action. Great. He had never been ill in his whole life and a visit to a puny little chapel screwed him up so bad he had to stay in bed to get better. Well, it’s always better than blood lust, he mused, pulling the sheets closer around his body, though if you satisfied that need, it wasn’t so bad at all...NO! never again. Not that. Never again. He closed his eyes and hoped he would get warm somehow.....

---

"Please do not touch me," he murmured. Maria looked up from the book she tried to read but was too nervous to concentrate on, and hushed: "Nobody will... o damned, you’re bleeding again."

"Don’t..." his skin was covered with a film of bright red sweat—or blood, whatever it was. Making calming noises, she dipped a piece of cloth in a water-filled bowl and carefully wiped it away, flinching as she did so. It was eerie to feel the cloth warm up so fast in her hands; not half as horrifying as her lover’s condition, but terrifying anyway.

"It’s all right. See? Now, we have to get some more fluids into you."

"Not blood!"

"Of course not. Water, or juice if you think you can manage that." He smiled, that strange, non-human smile he showed just before a particularly bad attack of Blood fever, and she took a step away from him. "Are you quite all right, Adrian?"

"O yesss," he hissed, "perfectly fine. I’m burning all over and there’s blood everywhere, but I’ve never been better. You were right, I was stupid." He nodded to himself, head held a trifle slanted as if listening to something she could not hear, and went on, using words she’d never heard before: "You said so with Flame, but thou were wrong, the lass was not a Hunter..." he shook his head, closing his eyes. "It was my fault! Mine. Maria," his eyes fastened on her face, blazing, "I never meant to kill thou. Thou must believe me!"

"I believe you." she assured him. "I know. I know everything."

"No, you do not." He hissed softly as she dabbed at his face with the cloth. It may not be fever, but the heat made him hallucinate and cold water, if it didn’t bring him completely out of it, did calm him down a little. His mumbling became softer and softer, until it died altogether: "Thou dost not know anything..."

Maria sat down heavily on the bed. He seemed to have been ill for weeks, but she knew it was only ten hours. Strange, how exhaustion and fear could stretch time. Tiredly she brought a hand to her face to push her hair out of her face and saw she still had the bloody cloth in her fingers. She flopped it back into the bowl.

Annette had told her Alucard was an adult who didn’t need her to watch him, but she was wrong; the poor man was so delirious he didn’t even know who he was at the time. Besides, it was for her own ease of mind rather than his, for she was afraid he would disappear into thin air as soon as she turned her back. His illness had three stages, as she called it: the shivering state, in which he was perfectly conscious but so cold he could only curl up in fetal position and wait until he got warm again; the fever stage, in which he sometimes got so hot his hair began to curl and the blankets began to smoke; and the final stage, which he had now reached: total exhaustion. She touched his face, relieved to find he had cooled down to his normal temperature. It could rise and drop within minutes, and had done so now, for the third time this day. Pyrogenetic powers indeed, she thought, playing with strands of moist hair. In the state he was in, she could do anything she liked, he was as good as comatose, or tomatose, as she used to say when she was small. A tomato was not exactly what came to mind when looking at Alucard though, there was nothing red and round about him. The only vegetable she could compare him with was leek, but she detested leek, and he had told her, promised her, he would not be a vegetable. She smiled, stroking the tiny braids she had subconsciously made out of his face and kissed him on his forehead.

"Sleep tight, my sweet leek, and get better. I’ll go and see whether Richter has woken up yet."

The man had crashed out as soon as he lay down, completely beat after the Blessing. There was nothing he could do to improve Alucard’s condition, but she felt the need to be comforted, and somehow Annette just didn’t do. She didn’t have the knowledge.

With a last look to the peacefully sleeping....creature, Maria tiptoed out of the room.

*

Richter awoke halfway the next day, still feeling drained. The ordeal had taken more out of him than he had expected, and he hadn’t even finished it! His first thought was Alucard, and he walked to the man’s room, not bothering with any other clothes than his peignoir to check on him. He found him fast asleep, and his sister in law in the chair beside his bed, equally fast asleep. It would be a shame to wake them now, so he went back to his room, washed, dressed and went down to kiss his wife good morning.

The first he met, however, was not Annette but his bouncy young son, who whooped with delight when he spotted his dad. Richter smiled; a good portion of child-devotion was exactly what he needed right now.

"Hello Riff." He called, sweeping the boy up in his arms, "What’ve you been up to today?"

"Mommy baked a cake!" Riff squealed happily, blissfully unaware of adult-problems. "An APPLE cake!"

"Did she now?"

"Yes, she did." Annette said. She walked into the living room, holding up a large spoon dripping with apple sauce. Riff wriggled out of his father’s arms and made a grab for it. "It calms me down, baking." Richter took her in a tight hug.

"I’m sorry, sweetheart." The woman buried her face in his neck.

"I heard him... scream," she whispered haltingly, "and I... I remembered... the castle, and the... Count..." she swallowed a sob, wishing she wasn’t such a cry baby, and tried to finish her sentence: "All the lost souls... and he did this because he wanted to. How could he do this to himself? How could YOU do this? You frighten me! How can you stand hurting someone like this?"

"I can’t." He answered quietly. "But he made it, didn’t he?"

"Until now, yes. But he’s been so ill... I was afraid he would burn up and disappear with the wind. Maria and I didn’t know what to do."

"Do you want me to take another look at him?" She nodded, and he hugged her again. "Don’t worry Ann, it’ll be just fine.

Have you chased the cook away or can I still get breakfast?" She smiled through her tears, nodded, and pulled him to the kitchen where it smelled wonderfully of apple cake.

*

Alucard had his talk with the Vampire Hunter between shivers and deliriums, and the only thing that became clear, was that he was not going to die, would get better as soon as his fire powers settled and would probably weight next to nothing because the holy water had done some serious damage to his insides. Whether the Blessing had worked at all, he did not know, and, he said, wiping bloody sweat from his brow, he did not care anymore. At Richter’s shocked expression he mumbled something about not being a Vampire anyway, and about fire purifying even better than water and that his father had denied his existence.

After that, he sunk back into his fever dreams and was unintelligible.

At least he was harmless, Richter thought as he forced worry and guilt down, and not in pain anymore. With his healing factor he would be healthy within a week. He hoped. He left the man sleeping in a tightly rolled up ball and tried to go on with his life.

*

"I don’t know." He whispered. He stood in front of the window, gazing out over the estate. The shirt he had worn in bed lay crumpled on the floor; he couldn’t bear wearing it, it scratched his skin and was moist with pink sweat. Maria was not here. Where was she? Had she finally left him to die in this hostile house?

He tried the door and found it, unsurprisingly, locked. So they wanted to keep him inside. They should have thought again. The window was easily opened, fresh air blew in his face. Goose bumps spread over his skin, but it was good to stand here and let the wind clear his mind.

Blood. They would keep it from him, well, than he would have to go and take it himself! With a soft groan he willed his human form to change, and it did, slowly, arms becoming wings and hair changing to fur.

Free! he thought triumphal, and the small white bat soared into the clear autumn air.

"Darling, you cannot beat the King with the Jack."

"But he got a sword."

"He has got a sword. Yes, I know, but the King’s still stronger. Only if you have an Ace of the High colour you can..." Riff threw down his cards.

"When’s daddy coming home ‘gain? He promised me we’d go hunting." Annette smiled. Hunting meant trying to catch squirrels; they’d never managed to catch one, but Riff was convinced he would succeed one day.

"Daddy is out with aunt Maria. They needed a ride. I think he’ll be home before tea. Until then, you’ll just have to wait." Riff kicked his legs, looking cross. Grown ups could be so unfair; EVERYBODY could see the Jack was stronger than the King. And dad had PROMISED him they would go hunting. And where had the long-haired man gone? He’d thought his father was going to help him, but now he had disappeared completely. It was not fair.

How long had he been ill, that his wings were so weak now? It couldn’t have been longer than a day or two, but every muscle was shaking by the time Alucard sailed into the kitchen. They’ve starved me, that’s why I’m so weak. The blood will heal me, it always does. No animals, they make me sick, no, humans, their blood is so sweet, how could I forget... There was only one person in the kitchen, a nice, fat, healthy woman in her fifties. The cook. Alucard giggled. Make me a dish, it won’t cause you pains, give me the blood, you keep in your veins. Bad poem, I used to be better. He fluttered round her a couple of times, but she was so busy kneading the dough she did not even notice him. Good. He let himself drop in her neck, bit through the layers of skin and fat and sucked.

The scream had the windows tinkering. Annette dropped her cards and sprang up like someone pinched. The kitchen. Riff grinned broadly; screams like these always meant vermin, rats, mice, frogs, beetles. All kinds of things he liked to collect. Happily he ran after his mother as she raced to the kitchen.

"What is it?!" The cook stood in the middle of the kitchen, one hand in her neck, the other wielding an enormous spoon like a barbarian would wield a morning star. Riff shrank back in terror.

"VERMIN!" she screeched, moving her bulk to the place where the unfortunate creature was lying now, "It BIT me! I don’t know what it is, but I will not...!" Then Annette saw the small white thing fluttering between the coals, and she jumped to the rescue.

"Don’t! Anna, that’s one of Maria’s birds!"

"That aren’t no BIRD, Madam. It BIT me!"

"Maybe it was scared." Fast as lightning she pushed herself in front of the massive woman and grabbed for Alucard. He seemed to be dazed—as he ought to be after a whack with the spoon. It did not stop him from biting however, and she almost dropped him again. Anna was right, he did bite... Oh Richter...she could actually feel him sucking the blood out of her. Riff pulled her skirt: "Mommy, what is it? Can I see it? Is it a bird?"

"Yes." Annette managed. Tiny teeth munched on the flesh of her index finger and she fled out of the kitchen; she had to get rid of him, he had to change back now, and then away with him. He had SWORN he didn’t drink blood, he had SWORN!

"Mommyyyyyy!" Riff screeched, following her as quick as he could, which wasn’t fast enough to keep up with her.

"Stay down there!" Ignoring the child’s protests she ran to Alucard’s room, but halfway the bat began to wriggle to get out of her hand. She squeezed her fingers close. O no you won’t! Blood dripped through her fingers and she winced, not of pain but of disgust and shock. Once in the room she immediately locked the door with one hand, fumbling with the key. Riff was NOT to come in! It was then that she noticed he had released her finger and was not only wriggling to get away but also convulsing, and it was the blood he was throwing up now that stained the bedroom floor. Annette sighed.

You poor bastard, she thought, sitting down on the bed and putting him down on her lap, you really can’t help it, can you? After a couple of minutes he stopped convulsing, lay exhausted on her knees. Without thinking she brought her hand down to ease him, but the moment she touched him he began to scramble backwards, fell on the floor and tried to fly away. She stooped and caught him before he could.

"Don’t do that. Adrian, stop it! You have to change back. Do you hear me, you have to change back to human form." The white bat jumped out of her hands on the pillow and tried to hide under it. Annette shook her head.

"You needn’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you." The sudden reappearance of the man startled her, and she had to check herself to keep from fleeing. Bright golden eyes looked back at her out of a pale, bruised face.

"You won’t burn me? You won’t hit me to death with your whip? You won’t put a stake through my heart, or behead me?"

"Oh God, Adrian! What kind of person do you take me for?" He shook his head, pulled his knees to his chest and hugged the pillow to his body—which was naked, Annette suddenly saw. Of course, it made sense. He was blonde, and so would be the bat if he wore no clothes.

"I take thee for a person I bit while I’d given thee mine oath I would not harm anybody here." He rubbed his left temple, where a big bruise was turning bluer by the moment.

"You said it made you sick, and it did." He barked a laugh that was more a sob. Annette watched in shock as two tears streaked his cheeks, unnoticed by the man himself as he said: "And how much good will that do thee next time? I killed the woman I loved after swearing I would not harm her... an accident, of course, by accident, but I killed her, and I could not even stay to bury her..."

"You killed a woman?" Annette whispered incredulously. Alucard nodded. The tears dried on his cheeks.

"Yes. But she was only one of.... I don’t know how many. I tried not to kill them, I hate the taste of death, but what father did with them I do not know. For Flame I stopped the Blood... not that it helped her a great deal." He raised his face, and his expression was so strange, so wild Annette moved away from him. How could she have thought he didn’t look like his father, it was the Count from tip to toe, madness hidden by a thin layer of manners. How could Maria love him? She made one last effort to calm him down: "But you turned away from your father. You helped killing him, you beat Evil...."

"Evil!" Alucard spat, "What is Evil but what people make of it? When a she-wolf wears herself out to feed her cubs she’s a Good creature, when she attacks the people who try to catch her and kills them she’s an Evil beast. In your precious Bible—yes, I know all about that book—it says that it is a sin to kill your fellow men, but now I’ve killed my own father I am considered a hero. It’s insane!"

"If you think it’s insane, why did you do it?!" Annette cried. "Nobody forced you to kill him!" His shoulders slumped over the pillow.

"....hurt Maria." he whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"I could not let him hurt Maria." He smiled faintly. "He was crazy, Vlad Tepes, my father. And he would have hurt her. Was he Evil, my father? I don’t know. He was cruel, but he’d always been cruel. I used to think my mother’s death was nothing to him, but now I know better."

"Your mother was burnt, wasn’t she?" Great tact, Annette, keep it up. Maybe you’ll push him over the edge if you go on like this. Alucard only nodded though.

"Yes. I was there, saw her burn. I could have saved her, you know, and I tried, but she stopped me. She stopped me..." Annette leaned her back against the wall, trying to follow his pattern of thought.

"She stopped you from saving her?"

"Yes..."

"Why?" She wished he wouldn’t look so helpless, it made her feel sorry for him.

"I don’t know. I... can’t remember. Something she said about humans and a hard lot..." he frowned, chewing his lower lip. "She died, and father never even talked about her. How did I hate him. How I despised myself for being his son... but it was so much easier to forget and let it rest.

I’ve always called it lust." Again he jumped from topic to topic, and Annette desperately tried to follow him.

"What? The Blood?"

"Yes, the Blood. It hurts, you know, if you don’t satisfy your need. So much easier to take what I need, to do as he says. But the Bloodlust won’t let itself be kept once it is released, as Sylvia knows, dear Sylvia. When she died I lost the last of my soul. And I thought I could get it back. I was a fool. Such a fool." He seemed to pierce her with those burning eyes of his, pools of insanity. Slowly Annette began to move to the door.

"Don’t you understand? I thought the Blessing could make me whole again, but I’ve never been broken!" He laughed once more, without mirth, a bitter, dark laugh that rasped Annette’s ears. She had no idea what he was rambling on about. She doubted he knew himself.

"What do you mean, Adrian?"

"My mind!" he went on without answering, "It’s all in my own mind. I’m not two halves, but one twisted whole. He was right, I cannot change my blood, I never was a Vampire at all. I just have to come to terms with my mind!" Annette bumped her back against the door. He did not look at her, though, he was listening to the weird voices in his own head. And nodding excitedly.

"I need to think," he said suddenly, to her, and she jumped with fright. If Vlad had been crazy, his son wasn’t far behind him. "I need to think." And with that he changed, once more, in a bat, and flew out the window.

To be continued in F.F.11

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Author’s note: confused? Good. I realize I did not follow the script completely, but come on, Dracula, dying peacefully, saying he’s sorry when his darling sonny slays him and says his loving wife didn’t want him to hurt humans? BS! First, Good old Drac had to have been a vampire before he took Lisa as his lover, for how could Alucard have vampiric powers if he wasn’t? So he had to have been a blood drinker when he met Lisa already, and if you think he is the same Dracula as the one from the previous Castlevanias, that’s the only thing that makes sense. How could she expect him to take another diet when she died? Love’s great, but she simply asks too much! Second, Vlad’s supposed to be a villain, and villains don’t say they’re sorry.

There, that’s out. Sorry if I insulted devoted Castlevania-players. By the way, if you have any comments, do mail me at chameleon@kitty-oosten.demon.nl

Fighting Evil 11

"This was a good idea." Maria said, inhaling the fresh air, "Sometimes Ann can be surprisingly wise." Richter chuckled.

"You really shouldn’t think so little of her. The only reason she’s afraid of Alucard is that she was a imprisoned by his father."

"I know. But he never harmed her." A squirrel ran up a tree branch and launched itself straight into her hair. She yelped, then laughed and pulled at the fluffy tail. The animal chattered and angrily put his little paws on his tail to pull it back. Richter smiled. He held out his hand to the rodent, but it hissed at him and snuggled close to Maria’s neck.

"It won’t come near you, my friend, you know that," the woman teased, "they only come to me."

"They will only lose their flees on you." he slapped his forehead. "Damn, I forgot all about Riff! I promised him I would go hunting with him." Maria sniffed, petting the squirrel.

"Just as well. The boy’s way too small to learn such a cruel sport."

"Aww, we never catch one anyway, and he loves it. You know what little boys are like."

"Actually, I don’t. But I can imagine.

There, little fellow, go back to your tree. No, I haven’t got anything to eat in my hair.

Well, if you promised Riff to go hunting, I suppose we’ll have to go back, don’t we? What time is it? Close to four o’clock, I think. Tea-time!" Her brother-in-law agreed, and they turned their horses to go back home.

Annette sat at the table, pale faced, looking at her right hand. As soon as she heard the sound of hooves and the voice of her husband, she sprang up and opened the door. They were laughing, talking about...flees? She walked out to them, was greeted joyously.

"He’s gone." Was al she said. The smiles died on their faces.

"Gone? Where? How?"

"Why?" She shook her head. Maria ran inside, feet pounding on the stairs. "Adrian! Adriaaan!"

"What’s happened?" Richter asked, taking in his wife’s livid appearance. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. "Did he harm you?"

"No! Yes, but he didn’t hurt me...he bit me.."

"He BIT you? Where, in you neck? Ann, where...?"

"No, here, in my finger. Come inside. I’ll tell you." Maria came down just as they sat themselves on the couch, Alucard’s big black cloak under one arm.

"Where is he?"

"I don’t know. He said he had to think and flew away; I think he’ll be back when he’s cleared his mind."

"What happened?" Annette waved her hands.

"If you’d let me finish my sentence you’d have known already! He...There was a scream, in the kitchen. Anna. I thought she’d seen a rat, but she said she’d been bitten by a bird. The bird turned out to be a bat. A white bat. Adrian. So I took him with me, and then he bit me. It didn’t hurt me a lot, but...He was sick after that, and tried to get away, but I made him change back, and we had a very confusing conversation.

Did you know he killed a woman named Sylvia? Anyway, suddenly he exclaimed he had to come to terms with his own mind and flew away. Just like that." Gratefully she squeezed Richter’s hand. "He frightened me."

"I can’t believe it!" Maria cried. "One afternoon I am not here and you let him escape!"

"Maria! behave yourself! I’m sure he’ll return as soon as.."

"He’s ILL! Half of the time he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about! How can you be so...unfeeling!" She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. A second later the front door slammed shut.

"Damn it!" Richter swore. "Stupid girl, I’d better follow her. God, I’m sorry Ann." He kissed her quickly and ran after Maria, leaving Annette on her own in the sitting room.

*

They searched until dusk, calling his name and looking everywhere, but they did not find him. By the end of the day, Maria was so cold and tired she began to cry with desperation, and Richter judged it time to stop.

"He could be anywhere. It’s no use looking for him now, and you’ll only catch your death this way."

"But it’s freezing! He’ll freeze to death and then I’ll never find him."

"So will you." Richter said softly. He took the cloak out of her hands and spread it over her shoulders. It only made her shiver more. "Look, we won’t win anything if you get pneumonia, and it’s too dark to see anything. Maybe he’s returned already." At that, she brightened a little.

"That’s possible, isn’t it?"

"Of course. And if he hasn’t, we’ll just have to wait for him to come back on his own. We can go on searching tomorrow." She nodded, rubbing her icy hands. Richter took them in his own bigger hands to warm them, pulling gently. She came with him docile enough.

Dinner past in silence. Riff was angry because everybody had forgotten him, Maria was tired and agitated, Annette felt guilty and was afraid for her son, Richter wanted to battle something, preferably something that would fight back. Fiercely. Nothing but trouble with the Tepes family.

"I will be in my room." Maria announced when she got tired of playing with her food.

"We’ll warn you if there’s any news." Annette said. Her sister nodded. Her footsteps were heavy as she went up the stairs.

"You do understand I don’t want to stay here while he’s roaming outside, do you?" Richter nodded. He took a sip of his wine.

"Of course. Where will you be going, your father’s?" The spoon fell on the table and hit her plate with a clunk. Richter was surprised to see her face was white with shock. "What is it?" She threw down her napkin. "What is it?"

"I thought..." She looked at Riff. "Go and play with your toys, darling. Go on, you’re excused." The boy ran off. Annette fastened burning eyes on her husband. "I would have thought you would choose for me! You promised me you would never hunt again..."

"Annette, please! you know I can’t kick the man out just like that! He saved my life!"

"And he’s ruining mine! He BIT me, he scared me to death, he bit Anna! What if he bites Riff? I will not have that creature in the same house as my son and I won’t leave my home!" Richter slowly counted to ten.

"I’m sure it will work out. But since he is not here, it is impossible to tell him you want him to leave. Be reasonable. It was an accident. He was ill. It won’t happen again."

"HE wasn’t so sure." Annette replied stubbornly. "HE said he killed people before by accident. And the last time I saw him, he wasn’t ill, he was plain crazy. Richter, Blessing or not, I want him OUT. I just won’t take the risk." Richter Belmont pressed his lips together until they formed a thin white line in his handsome face. He placed his cutlery neatly on his empty plate and leaned back.

"I will bring you to your father’s house first thing tomorrow. Take Riff with you, he’s safer with you. I will pick you up again as soon as he’s gone; after I’ve done for him what I can." Annette was speechless. Her hands quivered with anger.

"Fine!" she snarled, and stood with such abruptness her chair toppled and fell over. Even in her fury she was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than usual. Nevertheless Richter sighed deeply when she had gone and wished he had never married. Women!

*

In the woods, hidden in a hole in the ground, Alucard watched the snowflakes fall down on his uncovered paws. He had flown until his heart began to stutter, then changed into a wolf and run until his mind was empty and his body gave out. Now he floated in a pleasant not-knowing drowsiness, enjoying the warmth of tired muscles. It did not matter the snow was covering him entirely; as a Dhampire, the weather could not harm him.

Dhampire. Cursed blood. No. Not cursed. Unholy yes, cursed no. It was clear to him now. Annette’s blood had helped after all. What he had called a curse all these centuries, was simply his heritage, and in itself, it was as much a blessing as a curse. He was able to fight Evil, just as the holy warriors, just like Richter. Why would he want to change? To be no longer a danger for the humans he did not care about? The only reason to have himself purified was Maria, and not for himself. The man he grudgingly called his father had been right, be it in a fever dream, he WAS a fool. How could he be himself if he lost what was the base of his existence? His blood, the Bloodlust, his shape-shifting powers; it was what made him himself and trying to change that would end him as surely as it would end the ‘curse’. He would have to live with his own imperfections, it was that simple. Maria had said it all the time: you didn’t hurt me. Somehow he could control himself better with her, better than with Sylvia. Better than with Annette. He was painfully aware he would have killed her if he would have been in his human form. Bats had small stomachs, were full sooner than humans...

He rolled over, blinking at the snow. He felt a bone deep exhaustion pulling at his mind, as he had felt ever since the Blessing, and he sighed. As far as he knew nothing else had happened than that he was in constant pain from his burned insides...but who knows, he suddenly thought, maybe something has changed. I haven’t been to the chapel after it, and Richter said he didn’t finish it because he could not bear torturing me anymore. If I can get into that chapel without passing out, then maybe...I can’t change my body-functions and I’ll be a blood drinker for the rest of my life, but maybe I can restore my soul after all. Excitedly he bounced to his feet—and sank down again. Blast, what the hell? He pushed himself up, a little more careful this time, and slowly began to walk back to the mansion.

For the first time in his life, Adrian Tepes was confronted with the limitations of his almost Omni-capable body. It shouldn’t have surprised him after the strains he had forced on himself, but he was surprised, more, he was appalled. In all these years the only thing that had never let him down was his own physical strength, and now he finally came to appreciate the rest of his character that was the very first thing that let him down! God, but life could suck! And now he was thinking of inconveniences, the fact that the cold could not hurt him didn’t mean it was comfortable to wander around in nothing but his hair-fur. He longed for his cloak and boots—and Maria, lovely warm Maria with her moss-green eyes and her small pink mouth. Maria, who was as brave as any Hunter. Maria, in whom he had more faith than in Richter. A small smile broadened his maw. First his cloak, then Maria, then the chapel. He began to run.

The moon was already on her way down when he finally sank against the wall under his chamber. God, but he was tired. Holding this form began to become hard, which meant his strength was as good as exhausted. Well, he’d known that for a while, so that wasn’t much of a surprise, but that did not make things easier. To spare his strength he temporarily morphed back to human form and closed his eyes, panting. Breathing hurt now, the weakness made him dizzy. Perhaps he ought to eat something; he hadn’t eaten for three days and the molten snow he had licked from his snout wasn’t enough by half to sustain him.

Stop whining, get in. Inside you’ll find everything you need. Good. He braced himself for this last task, willed flesh to shrivel, bones to stretch, muscles to shrink. Bat was more difficult than wolf but he made it into his room, collapsing on the bed when he was inside. Immediately he became human again. Just to lie here, not to move, ever again...no. Maria. Not easy to get up with muscles shaking so much he very nearly lost his balance. Creaking doors, why was it so quiet? Was it so late? Her door was locked. Strange, his own door had been open now. The cloak was gone too. Great.

The sound of a clock chiming startled him; one chime. One o’clock or half past something. He did not care. But a knock would wake every living soul in this house: Hunters had sharp ears. Sighing deeply, he released his hold on reality for one last time, let go of mass and, as mist, streamed through the keyhole.

Unfortunately, that was the last thing he could take. He succeeded in getting out of the hole before he changed back, but that was about it; he hit the floor with a hard thump and blinked out.

*

It could not have taken more than half a minute, but it was enough to wake, rouse and startle Maria. He came to with his head lying in her lap, being kissed very thoroughly over his whole face.

"Where were you?" she whispered in between kisses, "I’ve been so worried. Are you all right? Where were you? We’ve searched everywhere—God, you’re cold! Are you all right? How did you get in?" He smiled wearily at her questions. Women, all the same. They just couldn’t let a man rest for a while.

"I flew. It’s cold outside. I do not know where I was. I’m sorry I caused you worry." A maximum of answers in a minimum of words. He silently congratulated himself, but Maria wasn’t finished with him yet.

"So you should! Do you have any idea how much you scared us? Just disappearing like that without a hint about where you were going?" Alucard closed his eyes and smiled contented. How he loved to hear her speak. He curled himself around her as closely as he could and made a soft, purring sound. Maria stopped berating him. It was no use anyway; the man wasn’t even listening. Besides, she was too glad he was back again to be angry, and looking at the dark circles under his eyes and the hard lines of his jaw-, collar- and cheekbones he’d had his share of difficulties as well.

A knock at her door made her look up. Richter’s soft voice: "Maria! are you awake?" So he had heard the thump.

"Yes." she hissed back. She looked at Alucard, but apparently he had fallen asleep, so she shrugged. "He’s back."

"He’s back? Is he all right—are YOU all right?" She smiled, invisible for her brother-in-law. O, she had never been better.

"Yes, we’re both fine. He’s cold and tired but unharmed...go back to bed, Richter, I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Come on, go, before Annette wakes up. We’ll meet you in the morning." He sighed, but as she made no move to open the door there was nothing else he could do but return to his bed and the beautiful, frigid woman in it. At least the Count was safely here. A wide grin split his face as he thought of possible reasons why Maria wouldn’t open her door, and he shook his head, blushing. You’re one sick, frustrated puppy, Mr. Belmont! I’d better make up with Ann before I die of neglect.

-

"Come, let’s get you into bed. It would help if you moved your legs. Adrian, would you please wake up, you’re chilling me to the bone!" That woke him up long enough to allow her to push him to the bed, pull back the covers and crawl in next to him. Romantic as that was, it certainly was not comfortable; he was so cold he sucked all the heat from her body.

"How did you get it into your head to go outside like that." she scolded softly, rubbing his arms to warm him and her hands at the same time, "Why didn’t you come back sooner?"

"I couldn’t fly..." he replied sleepily. "Too tired.." Too weak. If it was one thing Maria wasn’t, it was a fool. He had told her changing took a lot of energy; he must be starving.

"Can I get you anything, then? Lord knows you could use something to eat."

"No, thank you. If you don’t mind I’d like to sleep now. And tomorrow..."

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow...we’ll see." Maria smiled. She patted his chest, then pushed him onto his side and lay down herself, front against back, like spoons.

"Yes...tomorrow we’ll see. Good night."

The only answer she got was deep, regular breathing.

*

Relatively early the next morning, Alucard sat at the table in the dinner-room, wolfing down large quantities of toast with jam and coffee, dressed in everything he owned apart from his gloves. The black cloak hung over the back of his chair like a shadow made cloth.

"What is it?" he asked after swallowing the last piece of toast. Maria sighed and tapped her finger on the letter she had found on the table.

"Apparently you scared the hell out of my sister; Richter’s bringing her to my house. Don’t look so guilty, Annette can be a serious pain in the neck and since you didn’t hurt her..."

"It’s HER house. She had the right to throw me out."

"Yes. but it’s Richter’s house as well, and I think he didn’t want to hear about it. Leave it to him to be muley and keep you here."

"Muley?"

"Mule-like. You have no idea of how stubborn he can be. Have you finished?" He leaned back, nodding satisfied. "Good. Now, what shall we do?"

"You’ll end the Blessing."

"Ah yes, that’s a good idea—what?!"

"You’ll end the Blessing. I know you can do it."

"You can’t be serious."

"I am serious. Listen, I’ve been thinking yesterday, and I think I’ve finally understood what I have to do to...to be what I want to be without losing myself. I need you to finish what Richter has begun, to cleanse the darkness of Evil from me.

Hush, I know I am not Evil, although I do not think my father would agree with me. But it is a fact I am dangerous to other people, people like you." He smiled, taking her hand in his much larger one, "People I love. The Blessing will remove the last of that taint—I hope. After that, it’s up to myself. And to you."

"Will you be screaming again, when I bless you? will you burn and suffer and bleed? For if you will, I won’t do it. Not because I don’t want to help you, but because I cannot bear to harm you. It must be female weakness, but I WON’T torture you because you think it’s right." Alucard flushed scarlet. He hadn’t been aware she had been anywhere near when he lost control.

"I’ll try to be silent." She shook her head, at a loss for words.

"Please?"

"Why? You’re fine to me as you are now."

"Then I’ll wait until Richter has returned and ask him. I cannot explain anymore than I already have, and if you do not want to do it, I understand, but it will be done. With or without your help." Curse the man and his stubborn hide. Maria swallowed, sighed, frowned and gave in. The small smile he gave her only made her feel worse.

*

The book still lay on one of the pews, next to the two chalices. A small piece of paper was stuck between page 432 and 433, with 51 pages to the end. Alucard smiled, though what for she couldn’t guess. She carefully laid down the whip, stolen from the chest where Richter had put it, and looked at her fiancé, standing in front of the chains on the wall.

"Do I really have to tie you down?"

"Yes." He sat down, rubbed his forehead. It wasn’t so bad, this time. Migraine-like, agony, but not as scull-splitting as the first time he was here. Maria looked unhappy while she fastened the cuffs around his wrist, but she did it. She was a strong girl. She was also scared to death, but that, she didn’t show.

"There. Are you happy now?" He pulled her close, ignoring the chains, and kissed her. She kissed him back.

"Just do it, I know you can. Only a couple of pages; you should be finished within two hours."

"I hope so." Maria said softly, and then she took the book in her hands, switched into German and began to read the words aloud...

It was around noon that Richter Belmont gloomily turned the carriage into the lane to his house. He was glad he was alone, for he was sure he would have barked at every servant, any living creature, that was close enough to hear him. Annette was beautiful, sweet, and he loved her very much, but at the moment he would cheerfully wring her pretty neck. If she could only understand... But she could, and she chose to think different. Well, it wasn’t his fault, that was for sure. He only hoped it wouldn’t cause a split-up. One in the family was more than enough.

A servant came running out to take the horses from him, and he managed to only growl and not bark. He felt like killing something. Maybe he could finish the Blessing now, he certainly felt like doing that at the moment... But Alucard was nowhere to be found. Neither was Maria. He asked whether Anna knew where they were, but nobody had a clue. Damn it. What if they’d run off? That was exactly Maria’s style. Nervously he paced around the house, getting angrier by every step. Damn the woman! And damn the Dhampire! Where were they?

*

Slowly Maria closed the Schattenjäger-book. A small puff of dust blew in her face, smelling of ancient knowledge. She did not know how long she had been reading, but it had seemed much longer than two hours. How long had it seemed to Alucard?

He was half lying, half sitting, his back against the wall, humming softly. It did not sound like purring.

"How are you?" He winced, covering his ears with his hands. "Not so good, huh? Does your...it pretty obviously does. Sorry." She touched his face and was relieved to find it cool, if wet with sweat. "Do you think you can get up?" He smiled like a skull.

"No,...not...yet. Won’t survive throwing...up. Besides,...bad for...interior."

"You spoiled the rug anyway. Feel free to vomit." Alucard was not amused. She unfastened the cuffs, appalled to see the skin underneath them raw and bloody, and small, rapidly healing wounds in the palms of his hands from his fingernails. He hadn’t made a sound, apart from his humming, which he was doing still. Now she felt guilty; who knows how much it had taken him not to cry out if he had balled his fists so tightly he had cut himself like this?

"What is it you are singing?" she asked, pulling his head down in her lap. He murmured something vague. "What?"

"An old song...from my youth. It popped up in my head...can’t get it out. Children used to sing it..." He sighed, and she thought he had fallen asleep when he intoned in a horse voice: "

’O Lady, wouldst thou walk with me

then I will pledge my hearth to thee.’

‘Thy fire, Lord, I do not need

I have mine own that I must feed.’

‘O Lady, wouldst thou dance with me

then I will give my heart to thee.’

‘A heart is soonest broken

I ask another token.’

‘Then Lady, take this ring from me

then I will pledge my soul to...thee.’"

He coughed, moaned, coughed again. Maria heard him swear in the folds of her skirt. She was NOT going to feel pity, it was his own fault. She did NOT feel sorry for him. She tenderly massaged his temples and damned her feelings for the man. After his coughing fit he went on with his song, mumbling the words so she had to bend her head almost to his mouth to hear him.

"’Your soul, my Lord, a worthy thing

I accept thine offer and will wear thy ring.

thy mind I’ll consume and the r-riches you bring;

a queen I will be, with...thou as my king.’

‘Then Lady...wouldst thou know me...well

I’ll give thee my soul and take thine...to...hell.

The b-blood in...thy veins...will serve me well;

thou hast lost...thou hast....’"

"Easy, Adrian. No need to ruin your throat." But he went on with that bloody song, whispering it over and over again as if someone forced him to keep talking, and suddenly she understood what it meant. It was the story of Lisa, the woman the Warakivans had thought a witch and who had grown out in that song to the figure of a woman whose greed had been her doom. And her son knew it by heart. God, were they a twisted family!

The creak of the door started her; Alucard positively jumped as Richter stalked into the chapel. Lying with your head in someone’s lap was very nice, but only when you and that other person were alone. The presence of another man, especially a Belmont, was not what he considered snug. The Belmont in question had a vague impression of bared teeth and rising hackles before the pale features returned to being those of a man; a rather haggard looking man.

"What on earth are you two doing here?"

"We finished it." Richter was no fool. He understood what they meant. His mood darkened even further, if possible.

"You? You can’t do that, you are not a priest—what is my whip doing here!?" He made a grab for his weapon, cradled it protectively to his chest. Alucard smiled. Somehow his teeth were bigger than Richter could remember, and his eyes were definitely insane. He took a step backwards.

"Your whip, Mr. Belmont, is here to be held by me. If you would be so kind..?"

"Adrian.." Adrian rolled in one smooth motion to his feet, holding out his—healed—hand. He was still humming that awful little tune.

‘This time he REALLY lost his mind. Since when are his eyes black?’ The smile disappeared, and Count Dracula snarled: "Give it to me! Now!" And Richter promptly placed the whip into his hand. He could not believe he did it, his eyes bulged out, he began to sweat, his mouth fell open...but he did it, just like that. And just like that, Dracula was gone and Alucard was back, gripping the handle like it was a sword. His face was parch- white with pain, but he held it for more than a minute before he gave it back.

"Thank you." he whispered. "Now, if you will excuse me..."

He turned on his heel and slowly walked to the open door.

"He did it! We did it!" Maria cheered as soft as she could without exploding, minding the atmosphere of the chapel, "he held the whip! I Blessed him!" Richter took her by the shoulder to keep her from darting after her lover as he stumbled outside. She embraced him, giggling like a girl, whooping: "We did it, we did it!" nonstop. He could not disappoint her. So he smiled: "Yes, we did." and hid the blood dripping whip behind his back.

To be continued and concluded in F.F.12

Fighting Evil 12

Adrian F. Tepes, more commonly known as Alucard, sat with his back against the white brick-stone wall, trying very hard not to pass out. Yes, he had held the whip, and yes, he had survived once more, but all he wanted now was find a quiet place and sleep for a couple of centuries to recover.

He was vaguely aware of someone standing in front of him, talking to him. Maria, of course. Sometimes he doubted her having a brain; maybe he ought to put a plate on his chest which said: LEAVE ME ALONE. Sylvia had had that too, that irritating habit of ‘being around’ when all he wanted was solitude. Maybe that was the reason he killed her. Maybe some basic part of him had finally had enough of the eternal meddling of everybody and lashed out, freeing him of the last person that could—somehow—hurt him.

He did not think so though.

"What is it?" Thank God Maria did not throw the cliché ‘I wanted to know if you were all right’ to his head. She merely observed him, fingering her dress. He sighed, wishing he could send her away without hurting her. There had been a time when other people’s feelings had been unimportant, why weren’t they now? Somehow time and bitterness had made him afraid to hurt people—a laugh, really, as other people only seemed to live to make life harder for him. He tried to flex his fingers, but they still would not move. Great. He opened his eyes, already opening his mouth to tell Maria to go to hell...but she was gone. She had actually left. Adrian felt a flash of panic; had he spoken aloud, was she really gone, would she come back again? Cold sweat suddenly rolled down his face and he called her, called her back, but she did not return. He struggled to his feet, bumped his arm and almost went down again. His vision wavered.

"Maria, come back. Please come back. Please come back, please..." It was no use. No use. He looked at his fingers and was unnerved to see them shaking. ‘This is not me. This is NOT me.’ But who was it then? Alucard? Alucard was dead. Adrian? Who was Adrian, some whimpering fool with shattered nerves, the man he was now? And Adrian was Dracula’s son as much as Alucard was. Who of the two had fallen in love with Maria, Adrian or Alucard? He tried to laugh at his confusion, but the only thing he could do was cry, for what he was, for what he had been. He collapsed against the wall, weeping soundlessly, wishing, for the first time of his life, that he had died before his father.

The day passed slowly, twilight darkened into evening, and still Adrian sat outside, hidden in the growing shadows. Maria turned the cross over and over in her fingers; it shone in the fire-light.

"Then Lady, take this ring from me

then I will pledge my soul to thee." she sang in herself, then hummed it again, twirling the thing on its necklace. Then Lady, take this cross from me, I’ll love you an eternity. She bit her lip, enclosing the crucifix in her hand, feeling it warm up to her flesh. The eternity was there, but she wasn’t too sure about the love. His face had been so empty, not even cold, like the first time she’d met him, but totally blank, devoid of every emotion. She had won, but it could very well be that she had lost him forever as well.

"Do you think I should check on him?" Richter shrugged. With his wife and son gone and Maria silent he hadn’t known what to do with himself, until he had thought of the whip, stained with blood and a little scorched at the grip, and set himself to cleaning and repairing it. Accompanied by a bottle of whisky. He wasn’t drinking away his sorrow—there was no sorrow to drink away, only frustration—but it was nice to sit here with the fire in the hearth warming him on the outside and the liquor warming him inside. Leave it to Tepes to be outside in this bloody weather; he was happy here.

"I don’t know. I think he’ll come if he’s ready. Why don’t you go and see if you can tame Riff’s rabbit, up to now it looks more like a lion than a rabbit.

You used to have an owl; I’ve missed it for some months now."

"He’s dead. Grew old and died. I let him go two years ago." She smiled sadly. A lot of things had changed since then.

The fire danced when a gust of wind provided extra oxygen; the door swung open and Adrian stepped into the room. He was covered with snow and looked desperately composed, depressively somber and utterly...frozen.

"You look like you need a drink." Richter said. The other man nodded. He took the offered glass in a gloved hand, brought it to his mouth and emptied it. Richter filled it once more. Again he tossed it in one swallow.

"Make it a double," Maria suggested dryly, "then you don’t have to pour every time." Two pairs of male eyes glanced at her fleetingly and ignored her. By the time the Count sat down the bottle was more than half empty and his pupils so dilated his eyes seemed black.

"I hope I did not damage your...instrument?" he inquired with a slight slur in his words.

"No...not so badly. It’s easily mended."

"Oh. Good." He was, Maria realized, busy drinking himself into a stupor. She had never seen him drunk and it might be an interesting experience, but she did not particularly want to see it NOW.

"How about your hand?"

"It’ll mend as well."

"What do you mean? Did you wound yourself?" Adrian leaned his head back in his chair, staring at her through the fringe of his lashes. He was laughing softly; must be further gone than she’d thought. "What happened?"

"I held the whip, do you remember? I cannot do such a thing without paying the price."

"What-what do you mean? Can I...would you mind..." she moved over to him, took his left hand—again his left—in her own. Gloved. "Can I have a look at it?" He drained another glass.

"If you feel like it." She didn’t miss his flinch at her touch though, and she felt her stomach cramp in dread when the glove stuck to his palm. ‘Damn it, why doesn’t he SAY something?’ A sharp tug and the bloody thing came off, leaving his long-fingered graceful hand bare, and she gasped at the blackened, raw burn that covered most of the inside of it. He snatched his arm back, covered it with his right and said: "It’ll heal. It always does."

"It very well may, but you really should..."

"I do not think there is ANYTHING I SHOULD do at the moment."

"NO, you stupid fool, but life would be a lot easier if you would let me finish for a change! Don’t you DARE take it out on me!" She clenched her fists, trying to control herself. God, but the man could maker her angry! At least he was silent; she hoped it was not with red hot fury. "Let me put a dressing on it, and something to ease the pain."

She saw his throat work, heard the click when he swallowed. Please don’t let him start to cry. I can handle anything but tears. Damn Richter and his whisky, after such a long time of fasting it would make anyone sick. Don’t let him be sick. But he nodded, and immediately she decided to take him up with her instead of bringing bandages down. It was better if he was away from Richter. Better if she could get some sense into him.

"Will you come with me then?"

"Why don’t you give the man a break? It’s nice and warm downstairs, why take him to..." Maria used her expressive eyes to shut him up. "All right, all right. Go up, have a talk, make up. I’ll see you two tomorrow." Thank God for small mercies. Adrian made two attempts to rise and succeeded finally with Maria’s help. She shook her head, and he chuckled at the look on her face. It had been ages since he last drunk alcohol in so pure a form, used as he was to wine. Mostly because he did not like it, also because, with his strange digestion, the alcohol remained in his system for a much longer time than with ordinary people, which meant that if he got drunk, it stayed that way for at least a whole day—like the hangover. Not a thing he was really looking forward to. Of course he wasn’t drunk NOW, merely tipsy.

Once he was standing, the effects were less. Maybe sitting in the cold the whole day had made him a little rusty as well. The stairs was another business, but he made it without falling over or stumbling, although the floor was rolling under his feet.

"You are humming." Maria told him when he sat down on a chair near the medicine box.

"Oh." He answered distractedly, and went on with it. She giggled behind her hand, she couldn’t help it. Then she thought about the possible reasons why he was like this and she became serious again.

"Here, hold out your hand."

"What is this?"

"Aloe. Works for everything. Come here." She took a bit of the creamy stuff on the tops of her fingers, hesitated a moment and dropped it on his palm. Adrian flinched. Rubbing it in did not seem like a good idea. "There." She reached for a bandage. "Now, tell me, why did you hold it for such a long time, if it burned you so badly? Was it because of me?" He grimaced.

"No, Maria, it wasn’t because of you. I...I couldn’t let go. I just could not. I...I...Not so tight, please."

"I’m sorry."

"I cannot change anymore." She stopped, shocked.

"You can’t? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I tried, but...my arm refuses to cooperate. At all. It is...painful."

Knowing the man it was probably the same as having your bones shattered. He tended to understate things a little.

"Perhaps you...it could be that you are human now."

"No...the ability is there still, hidden in my bones. But I am so weary of it all..."

"You should have a good night of sleep, then you’ll feel better."

"Yes...you are probably right."

But she was not right. There was no way he could ever regain his strength after a single night of sleep. How could he tell her that it was not only his body that was tired but his mind, his soul as well, and that the thought of living with her now seemed like hell? When his mother died his sole reason to keep on living was to kill his father, and when he was dead there was Maria and his love for her, another reason not to kill himself. When she came back to him she brought with her a promise of a life without pain, but now he had that life, what was he to do with it? There still was pain, but his strength was gone. There was Maria, but how could he live with her when he did not feel human at all?

He fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and her arm lying across his chest, but his dreams were chaotic and wild, filled with fiery whips and pyres. In the early hours he woke up panting and kicking, hardly comforted by Maria’s caressing murmurs. She tried to make love to him but while his body responded his eyes were far, far away. In the end he drifted off again, pressed close to her breast yet miles from her mind.

The next day was the same; Adrian was sleepwalking through life and no one could reach him. Let alone he himself. He desperately tried to find himself another reason to go on, but the gloom refused to release him.

"Post Blessing Stress," Richter joked; nobody laughed. Maria waved her hand in front of his eyes; no response. She felt like shaking him until his teeth rattled in his head. What had gone wrong precisely, why was he withering away like a drying flower? He had promised he would not become a vegetable! She said that straight to his face, and finally some interest returned.

"What did you just say?"

"That you wouldn’t be..."

"...a vegetable. Yes, I remember. You made me promise in the chapel. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

"I’d rather live with you feeding off the cattle than with you lying like a vegetable in the Renard tomb. Yes, that was what you said." He smiled. "The tomb. Does your family really have a private mausoleum?"

"Yes..." What was he up to now? They were sitting outside on a bench close to the house, watching the snow-laden trees and collecting birds on their shoulders. Apparently they mistook Adrian for a part of the bench. Now he moved to look her in the face though, and they flew away. There was a hint of excitement in his tone as he said: "Is that tomb on holy ground? Is it sanctified?"

"Yes...no, it’s not on holy ground, but I guess it’s been consecrated. Why?"

"I used to sleep in a tomb..."

"NO! No, Adrian, you cannot go back...not now!"

"Why not? Maria, have you looked at me? Really looked at me? I’m nothing!"

"You are the man I’m going to marry!"

"I’m not a man! Can’t you see?" He grabbed her face in his good hand, forced her to look at him. "Can’t you see?" he repeated, a little softer, and she tried to see what he meant. Pale, beautiful features, a trifle sharper than they had once been; light eyes. Empty eyes. There used to be arrogance there, and mockery. Was that what he meant? She covered his hand with her own.

"But I love you. I don’t care if you’re not the man you used to be, as long as you are with me."

"I do." He let her go and resumed his brooding. Maria took a deep breath.

"What do you want then?" she inquired quietly. "Back to the safety of a tomb?"

"Yes."

"The Renard tomb."

"Any tomb. I can build one myself if you do not want me in your own. I do have the means."

"It’s not what I want, it is Annette who will make a scene. Although she sometimes can be surprisingly understanding. But...can’t you sleep in a house, we can buy ourselves a little cottage...?" He smirked, swaying to and fro with his left arm against his chest.

"I can’t. The presence of people awakes me. You did, some time ago. No, I have to be away from everything, somewhere dark and peaceful." Maria nodded slowly. She did not like this at all, but what could she do? Forbid it? Cry, scream, swear? It would not change his mind. Better to help him and get him somewhere safe than to give him up and never see him again.

"How long would you be sleeping?" she asked. He was still rocking.

"Not long. I know you do not have as many years as I have...although I’m no longer convinced I AM immortal. Not long. A few months, enough to heal and..."

"How badly ARE you hurt, Adrian? You do not speak of it, but there really is something broken. What is it? Your hand?"

"Among other things, yes." he replied evasively, not wanting to talk about the deep black abyss in his soul, the pain and the overwhelming sense of loss—a loss of something he did not even remembered having. "You wouldn’t understand. You cannot."

"Why not, because I am a woman?"

"Because you are whole.

The mausoleum might be a bad idea; it’s too close to people. Isn’t there any place in these surroundings where nobody ever goes, a swamp, or a forest...haunted ruins?"

"There is a huge forest in the north; the heart has never been explored. But you cannot possibly build a shelter by yourself, and if you bring workman they will know where you are." Adrian smiled tiredly. He looked tired as well.

"It does not need to be a tomb. A coffin will do just as well; as long as it is dry and secure. I will not have to be in there for longer than half a year—at the most. Perhaps I will wake up after a few days and find myself as good as new." He did not sound convinced.

"Will you at least show me where you’ll lie?"

"Of course. You will have to come and get me if I have not returned after six months." Six months! An eternity!

"Will it be so long?" The man turned back to her. He tipped up her chin with his finger and kissed her with more warmth than he had shown the last few days. Strangely enough that made her want to burst out in tears more than his cold silence had.

"Not if I can help it. Please Maria, don’t cry. You didn’t cry when I ran away from you five years ago, and then you did not know whether you would ever see me again; don’t start now."

"Then I didn’t love you." she was whining, and she knew it. Adrian sighed. As the sun slowly set the sky to fire, new snowflakes began to fall.

*

A big, comfortable coffin was not difficult to obtain, to Maria’s horror. Within a week she and Adrian drove a wagon-with-casket into the forest to find him a place to stay.

"It will be horribly cold." Maria said, hoping to persuade him to stay even now.

"When I sleep I do not feel cold."

"And wet; there’ll be snow."

"I shall find myself some shelter under trees."

"What about rot?"

"This is strong wood, and besides, I will be there only for some months, not enough for the box to decompose."

"And what about bears and wolves?" Adrian looked at her sideways.

"They will find me very hard to digest. I heal fast, do you remember?

Listen, I’m sorry I cannot stay with you, but it really is impossible. I promised you I would marry you and believe me, I will. But if I would stay with you it would be hell for the both of us, and I refuse to destroy what we have like that. It may sound hard, but you’ll just have to live with it."

"I will. But it that does not mean I should like it."

For some minutes they drove on in silence. Maria toyed with the crucifix, absently humming under her breath. O Lady, wouldst thou dance with me/ then I will pledge my heart to thee...

"Please, don’t sing.. that. It brings back unpleasant memories."

"You sang it in the chapel, when I purified you." He frowned.

"I did? I must have been further gone than I was aware. I hate that song..."

They had taken her away and ended her innocent life, ruined his youth, driven his father to insane hatred, damned their own souls; and they made a SONG of it! The first time he’d heard somebody sing it he hadn’t understood, then, when it dawned on him, he’d gone mad with anger. There had been a lot of other people’s blood thrumming in his veins, that day. A lot of deaths. Nobody had sung it for a very long time after that.

"Don’t sing it; forget it. It will not do anyone any good."

They had left before sunrise at five AM, they halted at seven PM. It was horribly cold and dark, and Maria snuggled as close to her lover as she could. His cloak covered her completely; after a while she fell asleep against his chest, happy with the situation if not the reason.

Adrian smiled as he looked down on her. He HAD something to keep him going after all; she was right here beside him. Flame returned to his thoughts, lovely Flame. She had been a barren, had a miscarriage at sixteen and could not get children after that. She had been safe. Maria, as far as he knew, was NOT safe. Until now he had not made her pregnant, which, he thought with a faint smile, was finally something realistic in their fairy-tale relation. Only in stories the girl got pregnant after one roll-in-the-hay. Or more than one.

He gently shook Maria’s shoulder, whispered: "We’re here." She blinked sleepily, looked around, turned her face back against his chest. She could feel his lungs expand as he sniffed they air and the satisfied sigh when he could not detect any human smell apart from her.

"This is the place?"

"Yes."

"Did you mark it on the map?"

"Yes." She leaned a bit closer, wanting to remember this moment, the feel of his body, the vague scent of soap and smoke that clung to his clothes. The crucifix cut into the soft flesh of her breasts.

"I’ll miss you." she said in a small voice. He answered with a hug. The self-made map was pressed into her hands, then he pulled away. In the flickering lantern light he seemed impossibly gothic, ethereal and unreal. The coffin fell with a thump on the frozen ground.

"I will accompany you back to the living world." Adrian said, unharnessing the horses. He had bought the wagon and placed ordinary horses in front of it so that they did not have to take the heavy cart back. "Or is it too cold for you now?" He shouldn’t have had to ask, he knew it was; it was freezing. "Good," he said, "then we’ll stay here until morning. Are you hungry? Eat something, I do not need anything."

So Maria ate what she’d brought, then snuggled close again. They sat in the coffin, hidden from the wind by the upstanding lid, warmly tucked in under a couple of blankets and their capes. Quite cozy, actually. Next to her, Adrian lifted his right hand. A soft, warm light played over his palm, then grew stronger until a small ball of fire hung a couple of inches above his hand. It lit the bleak interior like a lamp, providing heat as well.

"So you can do that still."

"Apparently so. Are you comfortable?" She nodded. The coffin was broad enough to sit in with one’s legs bent, long enough to shift and turn—if he would do such a thing when he slept—without banging one’s head, and because the lid was hollow it was possible to sit straight and not having to leave the thing completely open to get oxygen inside. It was, in fact, a lot better than the wagon and its meager cover. Maria only hoped the horses would not freeze to death with only a blanket on their backs. "Good." He mumbled, a little late.

She studied his profile, glowing dimly in the light. It was beautiful and haggard, eyes closed, impossibly long lashes throwing shadows on his cheeks and eyelids.

"Adrian?"

"Yes?" Drowsily.

"You do not HAVE to bring me back if you do not feel up to it."

"Don’t be ridiculous. I will not let thee...let you travel alone in this hostile forest."

"I have done so in the past. And I’m still alive."

"Yeeeessss." was all he said, and she knew he would not let her go alone.

*

She woke up somewhere in the morning, having to go to the bathroom. Urgently. One peek outside made her close her eyes, torn by the two choices: going out in the cold and relief herself with the chance of freezing her toes off, or staying here, warm and cozy, with and exploding bladder. In the end she disgustedly chose for the first option.

Adrian blinked owlishly when she came back.

"What on earth have you been doing?" he asked as she wormed herself as close as possible to his bare skin to warm up. He heard things rip in her numb fingers.

"Waste." He gasped when she put her icy hands under his arms. It DID wake him up enough to show proper interest in her condition.

"Oh. Shall I conjure another fireball?"

"Please." A second ball drifted into the right corner. Maria sighed, smugly. Not only was she thawing, she had also succeeded in thoroughly chilling the unpleasantly comfortable man beneath her. That should teach him, having no ‘waste’ to care about.

"You don’t mind me warming myself, do you?" she purred innocently. "The cold doesn’t harm you, hmm?" You wouldn’t say, she thought, rubbing her cheek against pebbled skin.

Adrian seriously reconsidered his plans. Maybe a couple of centuries wouldn’t be too long after all...

When the sun peeked over the horizon, they both clicked their tongues to the horses and began the ride back to the nearest town.

Maria chattered along. Wasn’t it a nice day, so clear and crisp and cold, perhaps it would snow again tonight, and wouldn’t Christmas be soon? Did he know how many trees went up in smoke on Christmas day, because of the burning candles people placed into them? She remembered a day, when she was young, that...on and on and on. Even to her own ears it sounded like false happiness. She wasn’t happy. She wanted to blubber and wail. She wanted to curl up and cry for hours on somebody’s shoulder. She forced her mouth into a cheerful smile and kept talking.

Adrian could have been a marble statue for all the signs of life he gave. Not a statue of a man, more something like an ominous bird, the kind you found sitting on the gallows chewing on the victim’s eye; something dark and unpleasant. Something like a gargoyle. She wondered if he had ever played hide and seek in his castle with someone, pretending to be a gargoyle and winning because he resembled one so much. She did not really feel like asking.

‘And I was so proud I could make him smile. Damn it, couldn’t he at least TRY to be human! This is not the way I want to remember him.’

As if hearing her thoughts, the Count suddenly eyed her with a determined expression.

"Can you braid my hair again?"

"Yes...of course. Why?"

"Because this time I do mean to cut it off, and a braid is easier than all those loose strands.

How fast does your hair grow, Maria? One inch a month? It’s halfway your back now; give me until it has the same length as the braid and then come and get me." Maria was puzzled.

"Why all this trouble? I can get you in six months without comparing my growth of hair with yours." He shrugged: "I read something like it, and I liked it. Humour me. Let me leave my strength in your hands." He was blushing slightly, and she smiled. Silly fantasies were not particularly feminine things, then.

"Fine, if you want me to." He nodded. They rode on, mood lightened. The snow squeaked under their horses’ hooves.

As the first tendrils of smoke blew into his face, Adrian stopped. Maria understood the motion and followed him as he dismounted. She pulled her gloves off with her teeth, gathered a fist-full hair between her fingers. If he had only wanted to do this to make sure she would remember this moment, he was succeeding. Every detail was forever etched into her memory; the sharp difference between blonde hair and black cloak, tiny molten snowdrops on his shoulders, her own red fingers struggling with numbness and grief.

She finally began to cry when he cut off a few hands of the plait, but this time she did not care anymore. She was a woman, and women were allowed to cry.

"Don’t." Adrian whispered, but his arms were protecting and strong around her, and he could just as well have ordered her to fly, because now she had started she was unable to stop. She tried, but she couldn’t. Worst was that she didn’t even know WHY she was so upset, since it would only be a short separation. Maybe the last stressful days had finally caught up with her.

Just what should one do with crying females? Comfort them? Not exactly his specialty. He tried to console her by saying he would come back, and she only sobbed harder; he said time would fly, that there still was Christmas to rejoice in, and she gave a loud wail; only when he told her her nose would look like a tomato if she went on like this, she laughed weakly, scrubbing her wet face with shaking fists.

"Sorry." she mumbled, "normally I’m not this sentimental." She sighed. "This is it, then? The moment of goodbye."

"Yes."

"How do you want to be w-woken? Eggs and b-b-bacon?"

"A kiss would be enough." He set the example himself, which nearly undid her again. Adrian made a mental note not to touch her again. What he had said was true, her nose DID look like a tomato as it was now. He didn’t want her to look like hell when she came back home; the last thing he needed was a Belmont revenge-party on his heels. With a click of his tongue he set the horse moving again.

At the edge of the forest, close to the town, they stopped for the last time. Maria had composed herself in so far that she didn’t break down in tears when they said goodbye for real, but her voice was thick and trembling when she actually talked. So she did not talk, only kissed him until her vision darkened with lack of air, and she had to release him. She knew he watched her as she rode down the road with the other horse beside her, and turned to wave when she was far enough to safely cry without being seen. He waved once, then only stood there, gradually disappearing into the shadows.

The last time she looked back he was gone, white face and all, like he had never been there at all.

*

*

THOUGHTS

*

‘I’ve always been very good at suffering. Elizabeth used to tease me with my unhappiness, saying I was a spoilt child who needed a good beating. She also said I would not be happy if there wasn’t something for me to moan about. I hated her for that, but now I think about it, she may have been right—in some things, that is.

THE END