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His Immortal Kelantha's Diary
His arms held me through the endless night that was day to mortals, embracing me to a breast where a heart should have beat but was hollow and still, more terrifying than I had ever imagined. I was as a child newly discovering the world beyond the nursery, my only reassurance to cling to the thing that had created me, borne me into being with seductive violence. Desired resistance and submission waged eternally over my soul, forever condemned to hell for that which I embraced. I had accepted him, unknowing the full consequences of my choice, forever isolating me from mortality. I knew without full comprehension the fate of my tedious plight, that I could not be killed by normal means or pass of old age, but would retain an eternal youth through that which I loathed most, the taking of blood from a living being. If the count sensed any of these conflicted feelings in the tremor of my embrace, he made no acknowledgement as sleep came upon us, in our crimson-lined coffin. I had never noticed before, but he did not breathe as mortals, nor�I realized with horror�did I. My chest did not rise and fall as I drew breath into my lungs, for it was not needed. It remained constant, unified with the lack of a beating heart beneath my breast. My senses were heightened as much as mortality was hampered; I stared in wonderment at the candles, for they were no longer mere flickering flames but an ornament of wondrous light illuminated in individual shafts of glory. The house that had enthralled me was thrice as beautiful through the eyes of a vampire, and the count enhanced. I understood the subtle movement of his eyes, the paleness of his skin, for it matched mine; had a heart beat in either breast, it would have been the same for both, for in making me he had imparted the greatness of his fa�ade into me. I was as much a part of him as he was of me, a marriage of darkness. We slept deeply and of endless reassurance without dream or invention, as the sun arched across the sky and bled into twilight. When I awakened the count had arisen and candles glowed in the chamber around me, illuminating the space I had never before been encouraged to enter, beyond the locked door guarded by gargoyles. His verandah was open wide and the candle flames stirred with the icy wind sweeping in tranquil gusts throughout the room, moving the curtains above the coffin and reminding me of the night beyond the mountains. I was familiar with it, drawn to it with strange certainty, as if only then did I truly live. Silk trembled in my wake as I drew forth from the coffin, my hand falling into that of the count, and passed beyond the golden circle of light to the universe beyond. I felt empty, as hollow as the necklace that encircled my neck, faint from exhaustion that could only be defined from hunger. I was weak and he caught me before I could collapse, my eyes never leaving the wonderment of the wood beyond the castle, where I could see every leaf and stalk of grass moving in the wind. I leaned against him, feeling the reassuring embrace of his arms, but not even he could draw me from wonderment. �The night is yours evermore,� he whispered, and the words flooded through me with the strength of promise, bringing warmth to my tired limbs. �But you must first take it.� With one arm encircling my waist, he drew a cloak neatly about me. The darkness welcomed us as we left by the lower entrance, stirring me as nothing ever had. His senses were more practiced than mine and he found prey first, an unfortunate soul wandering the highroad with a tremor in every step. He�d come from the mill and knew the dangers of journeying home after the last rays of sun vanished from the mountain pass, but it could not be helped. Knapsack held tightly in plump fingers, casting furtive glances behind him into the shadows, he never saw Dracula coming. One instant he was beside me, the next the impoverished soul was knocked senseless with a violent blow across the face and crumpled into the dirt. Dracula stood over him, a long silhouette in a rippling cape, and held out his hand. I approached into the silver moonlight, staring in fascination at the man sprawled in the roadway. He was breathing in and out, his massive chest rising and falling, a feat I could never accomplish again. I knew the lore of vampires, knew what I had become and what I must do for survival, but the very idea repulsed me beyond comprehension. The count sensed my hesitation and knelt, drawing me down beside him, his lean fingers drawing the mass of golden hair away from the milliner�s neck. It glowed in the moonlight, and I could see the bloodlust reflected in his eyes; he was resisting for me alone, desiring to feed his pet and child before satisfying his own appetite. �He will feel nothing, Kelantha,� he reassured me, sensing the nature of my thoughts. I could not draw my eyes from his face, shining so ghostly in the moonlight, both beautiful and grotesque for the unearthly glow. �Mortality is nothing but misery, as you discovered in London. Death will be a release for him, if you need kill him at all. He is strong, and will survive.� Taking my hand, he swept it against the warm flesh, allowing me to feel the blood pulsing beneath my fingertips. A shudder passed through me of desire that I was unable to fight. I lowered my lips to the mortal�s flesh, erasing all thoughts of his family and life in the valley, attempting to sweep these from my mind as impulse and instinct took control. There are no words to describe both the beauty and horror of that moment as I felt his blood flow into my form, drinking deeply of thoughts as much as life. My skin was no longer ashen but grew warm beneath the touch of my husband�s hand, for then I knew him to be my husband. I bore the blood red ruby of his family insignia on my left hand, and he had created me in this newfound darkness. When satisfaction quelled my feelings of veracious instinct I drew back and knew the reassurance of approval and pride, for his eyes glowed fiercely in the pale face, and his lips parted to speak�but no words were uttered, for then we heard the sound. It was faint at first but constant, that of a horse bearing a rider down the roadway at a rapid pace. The man�s son, coming to seek his father at the risk of his life. I arose in a flutter of fabric as they came into sight among the trees, halting in astonishment at the sight that met him on the roadway. The young man observed his father�s still form in the shadows, and I standing at his side. He was enthralled with my beauty, but also terrified; he drew up the horse in uncertainty, unmoving as the count slowly moved toward him. It was over before the boy could draw frantic breath, and then I knew true fear and admiration combined, for Dracula was an articulate and masterful hunter. The boy felt no pain in his passing, but the beast he�d ridden fled into the night with animal screams of terror. I still stood in the moonlight, knowing the grave danger of our predicament, awaiting instruction from he who had compelled me into being. 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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