"You did not know me last time," Dracul bragged, his voice filled with both menace and laughter, a strange combination. "I was quite disappointed to find that a Van Helsing could be so obtuse."
"That is an unjust accusation. I was drugged. Now, what do you want?" she asked, cautiously backing away. This was the monster of nightmares, the Prince of Darkness!
"Why, you're not dark at all," she noted. In fact, he was fair, with hair as golden as the sunlight—which of course hadn't set upon Dracul's head in over six centuries. Why hadn't she told her husband of what happened to her in the smoking parlor? Lust! That's why, she thought critically. She had been so wrapped up in her husband's lovemaking, she had pushed the strange meeting with this supernatural creature to the back of her mind.
Fool! she chided herself. Foolish, lovesick female, worrying about Asher's lack of interest when she should have been worrying about Dracul's.
The evil count laughed. "Dark enough, my little Van Helsing."
Staring at him, her eyes wide with fright, Jane saw that Dracul was quite handsome—a fact she found chilling. He was a vicious monster hiding behind a mask of perfection. "What do you want?"
"Why, I want you, my dear," he replied, his voice slippery-smooth.
"Why?" she questioned, her heart beating a staccato dance, threatening to pound right out of her chest. She had no stakes with her. She was alone, with no one to step in and rescue her. No father, no cousins, no brother—not even her husband, who was probably out carousing with that overblown neck-biting hussy Lady Montcrief. Really, the man was insufferable.
"Did you kill all those prostitutes?" she asked.
"Not all."
"And what of Lady Veronique?"
"She caught the eye of my cronies."
Jane shuddered. "She's a vampire now?"
All my training was for nothing, she thought hazily, gazing into the grisly hellfire in Dracul's eyes. She was going to die, and Asher was more than likely sleeping with some tart of the walking dead.
"Of course," he answered. "And soon you will be, too. Don't you see that there is a dreadful beauty in decay?" Dracul asked, his eyes full of dark insanity. "From destruction comes rebirth. As you will see. And even better, you are a Van Helsing. The major will be most distressed to find his daughter my eternal vampire bride."
Jane shook her head, backing away. "I don't intend to follow in Lady Veronique's footsteps." She came up against Orville's large feathered back. This was even worse than she feared. Dracul wasn't going to kill her: he was going to make her one of his infamous brides. Brides who drank the blood of little children, draining them and then throwing their small bodies into gutters or off castle walls, while the count cheered them on to new heights of depravity. She would spend eternity throwing up.
It was a black contrast to the thought of eternity with her husband. That would be a different matter, a marvelous thing as they explored the wonders of the world and each other's bodies. As they watched time pass and new inventions change the world, as new thoughts changed the values of the world, as new art changed the esoteric qualities of the world. Perhaps they would discover a new bird species, fly as vampire bats among them, soaring high and free. It would be a never-ending adventure.
Reality brought her back to the ground with a thud. Asher would never ask her to be his eternal bride. He didn't love her, she reminded herself.
"You have no choice as I can see," Dracul said, glancing around him.
"Don't you have three wives already? Wouldn't one more be a bit gauche?" Jane asked, her voice shaky. She took another small step away from the fanged fiend.
Dracul snarled, "I have only two presently."
"Have you lost one?" Jane had heard the three brides of Dracul were as famous as the Loch Ness Monster in the supernatural world.
"That is a question you must ask your husband!" the count snapped, his long white fangs glistening in the night.
As Jane stared at those sharp teeth, she felt a chill wind blow through her soul. Yes, eternity with Dracul would be a fate worse than death.
"Asher will pay for killing Yvette. She was special, that one," Dracul flared, his eyes now a brilliant scarlet. "I owe him for that, and for the time he maimed me with holy water." The vampire ripped open his shirt, revealing row upon row of melted flesh on the right side of his body, starting just below the collarbone and ending midway down his stomach. "He will pay, and dearly!"
In the blink of an eye, Dracul crossed to Jane, yanking her into his arms and away from the ostrich. Orville took exception as Dracul lowered his head, preparing to drink his fill.
Jane screamed and, seeing those long, glistening fangs descend, the ostrich attacked, pecking viciously as only an outraged bird weighing over three hundred pounds can do.
Dracul missed Jane's neck completely, caught off guard by the back-pecking bird. In the confusion, he dropped Jane. Instinct took over and she quickly rolled away, remembering her training. Silently she thanked her father for his many lengthy drills.
Dracul's fingernails became three-inch claws and he drew back to strike the bird. Jane, realizing his intent, threw herself upon his back and stuck her fingers in his eyes. The ostrich leveled a hard blow to Dracul's nose. A shrill howling filled the night as Spot, hearing his mistress's cries, ran from the house. Joining the fray, he leapt at Dracul's privates, latching on with a vengeance.
Dracul lurched backward. The enraged vampire cried out again, slinging Jane off his back, and Spot flew through the air to land in a soft green hedge. Jane herself landed hard on her hip and left thigh. She groaned, aching. Her leg felt as if an elephant had trampled upon it. She tried to stand, knowing she needed to be ready for flight or fight, but the pain was too great. Terrified, she watched in horror as Orville backed instinctively away. The perfidious Prince of Darkness threw back his head and howled in rage.
Apoplectic, his eyes a bloody red, his long claws clicking together in a furious rhythm, Dracul turned to rip the big bird into shreds. But, seeming to notice something from the corner of his eye, a blur moving with incredible speed through the darkness and shadows, the vampire hesitated.
Catching her breath, her fingers searching desperately for some kind of weapon in the grass, Jane watched curiously as Dracul liquefied into a white mist, blending with the fog. "Where's a good stake when you need one?" she grumbled. But soon the vampire vanished, a wisp of white in the brisk winds. Weakly she began to stand, was surprised when a strong hand helped her up.
"Jane?" Asher said, concern in his deep tone. "Are you all right? I heard you scream."
Asher willed his voice to stay strong. He had felt a fear like never before when he'd heard her scream. As he'd hurried to where the sound had originated, he'd kept seeing images of his wife:
The way she held her stake. The way she sipped her tea. The memory of all that… The way she had spilled brandy upon his coat. The way she petted her ostrich, or spoke kindly to his staff. The way she moved beneath him when making passionate, hot love, and how she seemed to understand all without him having to explain. No, no, they couldn't take that away from him. Or at least he prayed they couldn't. He had put all his energy into speed, knowing that it might all be up to him.
Upon entering the clearing, Asher had seen the incensed ostrich, the stunned dog and his calamity-ridden wife lying on the ground, and Dracul dissolving into mist. Asher thought his heart might stop beating forever. But then, like a puff of smoke Dracul was gone, and Jane was left sitting on the ground with an adorable if idiotic look on her face. Shakily, he hauled her up and tightly enfolded her in his arms.