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A Race Apart Dracula's Account
Opening from obscurity, fiercely opaque eyes
fastened a resolute gaze that not only held my own but also commanded
it, delving deeper into the labyrinthine shade and dissatisfied with the
lack of response. One
impatient movement from the reborn immortal beneath a prison of silk
caused the drapes to flutter slightly; even the candles flickered in
reply as the atmosphere altered momentarily.
Her acute awareness of this new sense of authority showed in the
indigo spark glinting in her eyes, even as her curiosity was piqued to
its utmost. Turning to me in supplication, she silently implored to be
told, her need for answers directed toward the one responsible for a
regeneration she still did not understand. Near to her as I was, I felt the weight of her spirit under the
burden, the despair of ignorance unbearable for one so knowledgeable. Seeking only to soothe her, I began singing, the sibilant accents
and full vowels of Romanian soft, gentle, reassuring. Her restless form relaxed tranquilly until she reclined
contentedly, undisturbed as I quietly slipped out of the room. She was not asleep�merely persuaded into a rest that would
prove beneficial for the inexorable moment of enlightening. I repaired to the library, where she would be sure to appear, and
awaited her entrance. At length she approached the doorway, still attired in the bewitching gown of ebony and crimson, an otherworldly beauty despite the question dampening the glow of her eyes. Offering my embrace, she fell into my open arms with such intensity I began to rock her like a small child, whispering in my native language to calm her. But her senses were alert, increased considerably, and she noticed for the first time what escaped her before. As she raised her gaze to meet mine, she was excruciatingly conscious of the utter stillness within my cold frame, just as her own self was no different. When at last she spoke, hesitancy clouded her words as one who both fears and requires the necessary diagnosis. �I tasted it,� she said abruptly, shuddering at the remembrance, �I felt death deplete me of my life, my youth, my promise. Darkness overcame me until I could do nothing but surrender to the forces stealing from me, draining my very soul. I recall with perfect clarity the moment life slipped from my grasp, when I abandoned myself to the hold death had on me, yet past it was no miry chasm, no fearful hereafter. There was only beauty, the soft wealth of the night, and you�you were there.� She paused to collect her thoughts, launching them into one query: �I realize this is a science beyond what any university is aware of; beyond alchemy itself and the transmutation of metal. Count, I must know�you must tell me how it is I am with you now, how a transfer of blood can attain a height I dare not guess.� �Of course I shall tell you,� I acquiesced. �You are reborn, immortal, a creature of the night that finds refuge in the stillness of evenings and opposition from searing daylight. I have made you as I am that time may never sever our union. We are a race apart; nothing you desire will be outside your reach, Kelantha fair, my consort and my pride.� �A race apart,� she echoed, �It hardly seems real. No human is granted complete happiness; how could any of us hope for immortality?� �You speak truly,� I answered impassively, gently disengaging myself from the embrace and approaching the bookcase. Choosing a volume of Transylvanian history I had shown her months before, I turned to the very page she attempted to read before I had intervened. �Though you omit the Change that has taken place. We are not human, Kelantha.� Handing her the book, I retreated to the shelves lining the walls with the words of the greatest minds throughout the centuries, musing on human vanity in attempting to document what was utterly beyond their ability. I had acquired a great familiarity with the volume, and knew what Kelantha was perusing as certainly as if she had read it aloud. �More decidedly evil is the nosferatu, or vampyre, in which every Romanian believes in as firmly as he does in heaven or hell�� The book was shut with alacrity much sooner than I had expected. Kelantha�s countenance had paled further, were that possible, her aspect both incredulous and anxious. �What is this saying?� she asked quickly, her voice rising to an alarmed note. Crossing the room to where I stood, she placed the book into my hands and pressed, �What are you saying, Count?� �This is immortality,� I reiterated, �I am the nosferatu. This is our eternity, an existence untouched by time or the world. This is your Choice.� �This cannot be possible,� she objected. �Why, it is no more than mere legend, mere folklore�a mockery of advanced science.� �Is this a mockery?� I stroked her face lightly, the same visage that was ashen with death hours earlier and presently luminous. Taking her hand and guiding it to where my heart unnaturally stood still, I asked, �Am I merely a legend?� I could almost pity her then, for Kelantha so nobly reasoned with the unbelievable assertion and the proof of her own experience, she seemed caught between despair and fascination. The latter was evident even as she lowered her eyes, for an immortal life held a charm for her precious little could discourage. Returning the book to its place, I resumed, �I would remind you, my dear, of your own persistence. You can hardly regret gaining what you have spent the summer�nay, the course of your life�searching for. �The awakening can be ours forever,� an eternity at my side�that is not so undesirable, is it?� She might have remonstrated had something else not caught her attention, for the first rays of dawn were rising slowly over the forest. Rest was essential and could not be compromised, for neither of us had slept since her transformation. I drew the curtains tightly and turned toward her still unrelenting form.
�Darling, nothing would please me more than to continue our interlude, but even folklore allows a vampire must shun sunlight, its mortal enemy.� Leading her down the corridors, I approached the room Kelantha had never previously entered. The sight of my bedchamber held her in a curious sense of awe, for the large black coffin underneath deep red draperies demanded her gaze. Holding my hand out, I said imperiously, �Kelantha, come to me.� Repulsed, she backed away slowly, shaking her head in wordless denial. �There is no time for refusals!� I exclaimed, my impatience rising even as the sun advanced toward its meridian. �You have made your decision, and this is what comes of it. Come.� She would not look at me as she tentatively climbed in, retaining my hand only until she had reclined as comfortably as she might. I lowered myself beside her, closing the lid before the dawn seeped through the heavy drapes. Kelantha trembled ever so slightly before finally losing her fears in sleep. My hand lay on her arm, a cold but constant assurance, which she neither acknowledged nor rebuffed. This fan fiction is for enjoyment purposes only. You may not reproduce, duplicate, or otherwise quote the written text without written permission.
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