Part 36

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Agatha hadn't exactly asked for permission before taking the jeep. If she had mentioned it to Dracula then he would have insisted on coming with her, and this was something Agatha needed to do by herself. In truth she needed some time to herself. The last few hours had been life changing and Agatha still wasn't sure any of it had truly sank in yet.

That she had apparently swapped to a six-monthly cycle was one thing. It was surprising, annoying even, but it was something that Agatha could deal with; she just needed to find a supermarket or a pharmacy and buy some hygiene products. Of course, whilst she was there Agatha could also pick up some condoms. Not that she was sure just yet whether she was even going to let Dracula within five feet of her, but if she changed her mind, it would be sensible to have precautions to hand.

However, all of that was overshadowed by her first kill.

Agatha just couldn't force from her mind the child's face. It was there every time she closed her eyes, accusing. She was a murderer. She had taken a life, the life of an innocent no less; vampire or not, the child had never committed a sin save that of hunger, and instead of protecting it the way she should have, Agatha had destroyed it...and she was not as upset about it as she should be, which was in her mind far worse a sin. If there had ever been better evidence that she should never be a mother, Agatha couldn't fathom it.

Then if that revelation of her own corruptibility wasn't enough, it had all been compounded by her fight with Dracula about it.

As she drove through the countryside, the fresh air did help to clear away some of her cobwebs, her disturbed night's rest and subsequent shock had not left Agatha's brain functioning at its normal efficiency. Now she was able to think without Dracula fussing over her, Agatha was able to let go of some of her irritation towards him. To concede that maybe her initial reaction to his, almost sensible request for her to stay behind whilst he dealt with it, was more influenced by her hormones then Agatha had realised at the time.

He loved her and Dracula showed that loved by being overly demonstrative and protective. Normally Agatha would have shrugged that off, and come up with several logical reasons, that would bring him to see things from her point of view. Or at least given them both time to calm down, they would have been able to talk things through, and consider each other's point of view a little.

She would even concede now she was alone, that Dracula hadn't meant to order her to stay put, he hadn't realised just how far his powers as her Elder went; in truth Agatha hadn't herself until she found herself in the very same situation. She had only heard about it anecdotally, almost as a whispered vampire legend. In some ways now she had experienced it for herself, Agatha realised it suddenly made a lot of other things clearer; how else would Gilles de Rais have avoided being offed by one of his own clan by now, if it wasn't for this Elder privilege?

Dracula hadn't meant to do it, he had apologised, and yet Agatha was still angry with him; more than anything else, more than when he laughed off her attempts to prove she could look after herself, more than when he popped the bubble of her cosseted view of the world. He was a killer, she was a killer, it was their nature, even if they chose to suppress it and cover it up with pretty words and practices. She needed to accept it, and worryingly Agatha knew she almost had. She still saw the child's face, still regretting her actions deeply but it was the ease with which it had happened that was really haunting her. She had just acted on instinct, preserving her own life without even a pause, for a moment there had even been a thrill from letting go...until she had been faced with the consequences.

Pulling up as the jeep entered the town, they had passed through on their way here. Agatha was only too keen to stretch her legs instead of driving further in and trying to find a parking space near the shops. She certainly didn't trust her own driving skills to accomplish that feat, no matter how she had ribbed Dracula for the same inadequacy. It didn't take Agatha long to find a pharmacy, and she pushed the door open to find several older women sitting, and waiting for their prescriptions, and generally gossiping amongst themselves; well older looking at least, they would have to be seriously long lived to be older than her at this point. They paused in their talk when they spotted her, a clear outsider in this small town, and worse a foreigner to boot.

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