Princes of the Undead

Part 18

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As usual it was raining.

Staring out of the tiny plane window, Count Dracula took in the familiar London landmarks. The sensation of flight still hadn't lost its novelty for him. Yet the tension in his stomach, had more to do with his destination, than any lingering nerves.

England.

In the last two years, Count Dracula had kept his visits to this island infrequent and brief. To anyone who dared to ask why he was 'home' so infrequently, Dracula would remark, why stay in one place when there was a whole world to explore. It was an explanation he almost believed himself. Besides it wasn't like he was a native of this land, his real home was slowly being restored, at eyewatering expense, after the destruction in the bombing campaigns of the last major war.

Still England was his clan's official base. It was here any of his turned kin were repatriated to, no matter where in the world he might have encountered them; and Dracula had no doubt there had been many. Despite some people's attempts to neuter him, Dracula had never really taken to the clinical feeding approach, and when certain incentives had been removed; well there was no longer any reason to give up something he so enjoyed.

Perhaps it was petty and part of him did wonder if she resented him for it...for them. All those pretty young things, Dracula had sent to swell their ranks; he had made certain to only pick the ripest fruits from around the world. His kin sent back here, for her to deal with. Another little cruelty of his, a little revenge, insisting on the reassignment of Agatha Van Helsing from the retrieval squad. Agatha might have scorned the idea of bearing his natural children, but Dracula could ensure she spent the last years of her conscripted service, teaching and mothering his turned kin.

Dracula might even look in on them, if the whim struck him. Not because he wanted to see her again after all this time, but to see her suffering; to see if the sentence he had handed down, in any way equalled the sentence she had imposed on him. For no matter where he ran, no matter the beauty he shared his bed with, or the fine meals he enjoyed; Agatha was still there in his dreams, haunting him by her very absence.

The plane touched down lightly on the runway, sidling quickly off to one of the smaller hangers for private aircraft. There was a black town car waiting on the tarmac, the driver exiting the vehicle the moment the aircraft came to stop. Opening one of the back doors for a familiar face...no not Frank...Mycroft, the adopted addition to his clan that had proved a wise investment.

Mycroft stood and opened a large black umbrella, walking over to the plane.

"Sir you are free to disembark." The pretty blonde stewardess, who had spent most of the trip over from Florence flirting with him, and then at his suggestion, spent an interesting half an hour over the channel, showing off her rather impressive abilities. She passed him his coat from the cupboard, before also slipping him a piece of paper.

"My number...just in case you were feeling lonely in town and fancied some company." She added with a bashful smile, that Dracula knew was probably well honed by now.

He doubted this was the first time, she had tried to hook a wealthy sugar daddy. Still she might be worth a bite later. If he hadn't still been stuffed from last night's party, he might have indulged in a little in-flight snack, and not just the entertainment. Still he was nothing if not a gentleman, and Dracula accepted the paper, with a roguish wink that caused her to colour for real this time.

Jogging off the plane, Dracula gratefully ducked under the umbrella that Mycroft extended to cover him.

"Good flight sir?"

"It had its compensations." Dracula answered with a glance back at the stewardess, who was still watching him; saucy minx might be worth calling after all.