Prettiest Vampire

Chapter VI: Lilian and One Demon

A/N: This chapter starts out sounding much like the previous one. Please don't be fooled into thinking you've already read it!

Lori

Chapter VI: Lilian and One Demon

It was dark. Lilian walked through a gray mist, dressed only his nightgown. Dark figures moved nearby, shrouded by the mist, always beyond his ability to discern. It wasn’t safe out here!

He could hear the sounds of the sea, far off. That wasn’t right – he had been in the mountains, hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember. The sea, and his own footsteps. And something else. The deep tones of bells, perhaps?

Not bells. A voice. He could hear a man’s laughter; his voice came from all directions. He tried to listen to the voice, to find it. Over there, perhaps? Lilian ran from the voice, but it only came closer. This shouldn’t happen; he had to get away.

“Over here,” he heard the voice say, very close by. He must be close, but the fog was impenetrable. He turned from the voice, started to run, when out of the mist emerged a pair of eyes. The eyes burst into flames…

“Ghaaa!” said Lilian, choking off a scream as he sat up in bed. He quickly scanned the room, looking for the two young girls. But that was a dream, wasn’t it?

Lightning crashed outside, pulling his eyes to the balcony doors. Lilian wasn’t sure, but somehow he sensed as much as saw the figure of a man, silhouetted by the after-flash. A gust of wind blew the doors open, and the curtains flowed like spectral trails into the room. Another crash of thunder and lightning – this time Lilian was certain there was someone on the balcony.

“Lilian,” said the figure from the balcony in its deep, bass timbre. “Come to me.”

“Count Dodrescu?” said Lilian, unsure if he was completely awake. He stood from his bed and crossed over to the window. “Count? It is you! Please, come in. I’m sorry, I was in bed and I’m not dressed for visitors.”

“Do not apologize. In your night clothes, I can finally see who you are. Who you should be.”

“In these?” said Lilian. “All I’m wearing is…” He looked down to find himself in a flowing white gown. “… what am I wearing?”

“Do not be ashamed,” said the Count, taking Lilian in his arms. “You are a woman. Your body is that of a woman. That you should reveal yourself to me in this way is only natural.”

“Oh, hey, wait!” said Lilian, struggling in Dodrescu’s arms. “I’m not a…”

Lilian suddenly needed to recall something, something important. Someone told him something recently and he had to remember. What was it?

“You tell him whatever he wants to hear and you make the sale, understood?”

But something else as well…

“Do not disappoint him, because if you do, he will kill you.”

Of the two haunting memories, Lilian found the one of his Uncle Barnaby to be the scarier.  “I’m not… like that?” he finally said.

“Enough,” commanded Dodrescu. “The time for words has passed. Look into my eyes, Lilian. Deep into my eyes, and you will find that which cannot be expressed in words.” Lilian found the Count’s stare to be hypnotic. Impossibly, the flames that he thought he had only imagined were still there, but no longer out of control. He stared at the dancing flames and found he couldn’t tear himself away, couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, as the Count lowered his lips toward him.

To Lilian’s relief, the Count’s mouth ignored Lilian’s lips and landed instead on his neck. He felt a sharp pain, then nothing…

Time passed as if in a dream. Lilian and the Count spun through the gray mist, the Count leading in their macabre dance. Lilian was unable to speak, unable to respond in any way, except to dance. So tired, so drawn and weary and yet he continued to dance…

The Count raised his head, and smiled down at Lilian. Lilian had no strength, barely able to keep his eyelids open. Dodrescu lifted him, held him in his arms as if he were no more than a small child, or else Lilian would most certainly have collapsed to the floor.

“My Love,” exclaimed Dodrescu. “I feel you are dying, do you know this? But do not fear, for Death has no meaning for you. It cannot hold you, for you have been chosen. You are my Chosen, my First. And so for now Death must wait, for you have much to do.”

Dodrescu held Lilian cradled in one arm like a doll, while he pulled open his own shirt with the other hand. Then, with his long, sharp nails he sliced open the skin of his own breast, releasing a spurt of blood as he opened a vein. He held Lilian by the neck and pressed his mouth to the horrible wound.

“Take strength, my Love,” cooed the Count as Lilian choked weakly. “You must not die, not yet. You have so much to do, so much to prepare. For tonight you shall return to me, a fitting replacement for my lost Mirela. Drink, my Love, for tonight we shall wed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Okay, that last bit was kinda gross. But very traditional! Really, this is what vampires do. I looked it up.

Lilian is having a very long night. I wish I could say it was over, but not quite... "^_^"