The Unwilling Hostess

Kelantha's Diary

It had been a month since the letter was sent, and I anticipated no response. It would be borne into my mother�s hands and there narrowly prevented from being shredded only by the intervention of father, who would wrestle it forth with violent opposition and read his daughter�s slanting penmanship. Even it, I noticed, had changed. It resembled what it once had, but was more fluid and sensual. The count had influence over me in all things, even unto a simple task such as writing. My internal self resented this, for as much as I loved him, I did not desire to become only his minion, his pupil in the ways of our dark world, a wife to be pampered and petted. It was this that gave me independence and while at times it angered him, his temper was hardly a match for mine. We would scream and curse and rage, and while his slender form seemed to increase to twice the size and his cape would flourish with each hand movement, I had the fire of enthusiasm running in my veins. Finally when the affair became too much to bear, and one or both of us had not flown out into the darkness to avenge our fury on unsuspecting passerby, he would become utterly calm and tranquil, his features composed and eyes like two flames in the darkness.

�Kelantha,� he would say softly, the vowels purring off his tongue. He would then open his arms commandingly and I would come into them, knowing not what force drove me to obedience. I would stroke his lapels and caress his neck, feeling the touch of his hand on my back and the soft tones of his voice as he whispered to me in Transylvanian. Not all quarrels ended thus, and at times he attempted to control me. This happened only once. After wielding his vast influence and coercing me into obedience, I made one last defiant stand. When he returned, his constitution improved with blood, he found one of his gypsies lying dead in the center of his room. The blood had been drained, and I stood nearby in the shadows.

Never have I seen him so mutually grief-stricken and enraged at once, nor do I ever wish to encounter such violence again. It was not the first nor last of our quarrels. I desired to submit but my inner will resisted; I was still very much the woman I�d been in London, only now my classroom was the night itself, and my professor a master that no mortal could conceive.

It was in the midst of these trials, in fact in the presence of one of our quieter evenings, when Eduardo arrived. He came innocently into our house, never imagining that the devil languished in the four walls. I anticipated that Dracula would send him away again, but he welcomed the guest to remain. So long had my husband kept to a bitter solace that the newcomer perplexed me. I thought Dracula a solitary man not inclined to human company, for those few fools aside from the gypsies that encountered him on the road often made a bitter end. The presence of the Italian was therefore curious. He was hardly the sort I would have expected Dracula to entertain; one rapid bite and we might have been rid of him forever. There were moments in his presence when the urge was overwhelming. He had one prominent vein on his left arm and once, as he washed in the basin and spoke to me eagerly in my native tongue, I saw the blood pulsing through it.

He must have found it odd, for I gazed so steadily at his arms that he blushed and rolled back down his sleeve. He was terrified of me. Dracula seemed not to care. He kept up a pretty fiction in which we were both expected to play, and I governed in my role as countess with the utmost decorum. I was baffled over this abnormal request until I came to understand my husband�s morbid sense of humor, that Eduardo, in all his utter foolishness, amused him. While I�d never held anything but abhorrence for the little man, this made me dislike him all the more, for Dracula played with him as a spider might a fly caught in his web. Devious games of this nature were not beyond me, for in the months since my rebirth, I had often participated in them. Where other vampires might have struck with violence, I used cunning. My victims wholly trusted me, never anticipating the fate I had in store for them. Eduardo was simpler prey than we normally targeted, for Dracula was disinterested in him much of the time, and amused the most with his irritating presence in the house.

He had come searching for his brother, a foreign banker of notoriety. I�d never heard of such a man but as my husband implied I was to give no sign of this, held my tongue. I was not imprudent in expressing my concerns with having such a man in the house. �What explanations are we to give him,� I hissed that first evening, having escorted him politely to his chambers, �for our daily absence?�

Dracula was not, as I was, bound by darkness. He could appear in daylight at will but only when clouds were rampant in the skies, and he avoided direct light. I�d forgotten what true sunlight was, how it warmed the skin and brought cheer to a weary soul. I would never know such again, for my light was darkness now, candles illuminating an eerie setting. He smiled and came to me, wrapping me into his arms in the strains of a waltz. There was no music but we danced to an invisible quartet, holding one another intimately although I did not like the malevolent, delighted gleam in his eyes.

�My darling,� said he, �you are clever enough to deceive him.�

Both flattered by his faith in my abilities and annoyed with this thrusting of responsibility, long after I fed I stood in the moonlight beneath the castle and pondered. Our guest was awake much of that first afternoon, pacing. Neither my husband nor I heard him, for we slept deeply until twilight crept through the draperies. Eduardo was, by this time, feeling very abandoned. We�d left food and drink for him, but his nerves were in such a state that he hardly touched it. I sensed this and when night was complete in the castle, lit by a thousand candles, called him to me. It was not with a voice but a sensation, the lure I�d become aware of, one that men responded to when I urged. It had brought many a man out into the night where he otherwise might not have trod, and just as assuredly felled Eduardo�s step in the corridor.

I was in the library, waiting, books spread out before me. The lamp was burning low and I appeared a ghostly shadow in the darkness, clothed in preparation for shortly going out. The spectacles so often employed in the past as means of discouragement for predatory men were perched on my nose as I restlessly turned the book�s pages. Somewhere deep in the house a clock ticked, for what purpose I know not, for there is no time in our world. Then I heard it, a soft footstep in the corridor. I continued to call to him, urging him to come forth. The door creaked as it swung open and his face peered carefully into the room. He caught sight of me and for an instant was overcome with mingled relief and uncertainty, for he sensed I held no love for him.

Looking up as if I�d just noted his entrance, I gave him a smile. My husband was not so stinting and often reassured his nerves in just such a manner, but my turn of the lips prompted immediate response. �Why senor,� I said, �come in. You must forgive us for neglecting you today, but I fear it is necessary. My husband has sent word into town, and is making inquiries after your brother. If he ever came to this part of the country, we shall soon know of it. But come, and be seated. You must have explanations, and I am elected to give them to you.�

He did not note the tone of cynicism in my voice as he came forward and sat apart from me at the table. He�d just noted my spectacles and was staring at them keenly, as if they humanized me. I could hear his heart beating from where I sat, a steady rhythm pulsing against his ribcage. I closed the book and set it aside. �I�d wondered,� he ventured finally, in fluent Spanish, �if it had all been a dream, or if I�d come to an unoccupied castle in the darkness.�

�It is not a dream, although it seems so. You must forgive us, Senor, but your arrival is untimely. Had but another month gone by, we might have devoted ourselves entirely to you, but we are engaged at present in scientific study. There is a particular kind of flower common to this part of the country that blooms only at night. In order to study it, we must be out at at inhuman hours. I�m afraid we�ve grown accustomed to sleeping the day away.� I said the last apologetically and he nodded understandingly�a bit too promptly, I thought. I truly disliked him, sitting in one of my favorite chairs, with his hands splayed across the polished table.

�I am sorry to be an inconvenience,� he began, but I hastily stopped him.

�You are none at all, and we beg your patience. The count is doing everything possible to assist you, but we ask you forgive our absence during the day. You are welcome to roam the castle at will, or you may find a nocturnal pattern suits you more. Our mountains are glorious in moonlight.�

I swept my hand toward the open window, unaware that it was bitterly cold and my guest shivering; his eyes followed to the majestic peaks beyond and was entranced, as I�d known he would be. It was explanation enough to pacify him, and we said no more.

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