A Bargain is Struck

Kelantha's Diary

There was no heaviness to the sound of my tread. Not even the leaves stirred overhead as I passed, a shadow against the darkness. Although it was bitterly cold, no whisper of white issued from my lips, for no breath entered or left my body. I was one with the darkness, a void he had created that was filled only with his presence. Now I hunted restlessly, caring not for the weakness that would overcome me if I neglected to indulge my appetite. I followed the creature, the little round man who had once sat apart from me in the carriage nervously fingering a crucifix. I could still remember his beady eyes, suspicion in their depths as I stepped into the coach. He, an assassin of Rome sent to slay Dracula? It was incomprehensible, for much like Eduardo, he was a coward at heart.

No lighted windows glimmered as we neared the village, for all knew and feared us. They�d learned to contend with their wounded and dead, and possibly knew of the werewolf as well. He was not the man who�d sat apart from me, but was gnarled and lengthened, his limbs furry and twisted, a snout protruding from his face, an extraordinarily large wolf that moved with stealth and skill. I knew he sensed my presence but either chose not to acknowledge me or was unwilling to focus the full length of those terrible yellow eyes upon a woman he dimly remembered from long ago. I knew that Eduardo would die upon the sight of him, of sheer terror, his small frame crumpling as his knees buckled and his face fell into the soft earth. The thought brought a smile to my face, for as much as I�d striven to save life in London, I�d become accustomed to taking it here. The very woods of Transylvania called for blood, as though it were the life force of the ground on which I stood. Everything honored the presence of the count and I his mistress.

I chose a doorway and studied the rooms above, recalling the measure of other nightly censures. Often I would watch those in the village, never preying at random. There was a man I particularly loathed, the undertaker. He wore a grimy top hat caked with the earth carelessly thrown up out of the graves, his hands covered in gloves without fingers, the ends unraveling. I disliked untidy people and he was repulsive to me. They would appoint another poor fool to dig the graves. I went to the corner apart from his house, a murky place where a single lamp glowed behind a drapery. Focusing my eyes on the doorway, I called to him. He came, just as the others had: the baker�s son, the widow from the Three Gables, the church secretary, and the farmer�s boy. Just as Eduardo had come to me that very night, hesitant as he traversed the passage. There was a hypnotic quality to their step as they responded to my bidding. The door of his house opened, revealing a slender figment of light through which his distorted shadow fell. He came across the street. Overhead, in the rooms opposite, a curtain moved, no doubt his departure observed.

He still wore his hat, and I wondered if it ever left the greasy locks of his hair. I beckoned him into the shadows and he came, but as my hand gripped his lapels, the enticement waned. His eyes were opened and what he saw horrified him, for he could not remember leaving the safety of the house, or see anything beyond me before him. I must have been a sight, eyes glowing as red lips parted to reveal slender fangs. The shock came so deeply upon him that I could not keep hold as he fell to his knees, clasping his hands together as I bent over him, pleading for his life.

�I have done nothing,� he babbled. I had never before heard him speak, and the quality of his voice surprised me. It was very eloquent and soft, like the purr of a kitten or the last string of a harp. �Please, Countess, spare me. I have done good work for you and the master of darkness! I bury the dead; I do not ask questions! I will help you! I swear by the blood in my veins, that if you will allow me and mine to go unharmed, our household will ever be your ally and friend. You make use of the gypsies, should not others be granted the same?�

Although hunger overwhelmed me, his offer was enticing. My hand caressed the side of his hideous face, resizing the impulse to violently halt his rambling. �Most would not care to be indebted to Dracula,� I whispered. �What have you to gain, apart from this life that is so abhorrent to you?�

He licked his lips, for they had gone dry with fear. His eyes were wild. �I have no motives,� said he, �save for my family. Without me, they will starve. I am paid to dig graves, to bury bodies. There is no other willing to do this dreadful work. By the favor of the count, I survive, for it is he who places bodies into my graves.�

Releasing my hold on his lapel and standing to my full height, my cloak rippling in the cold wind from the mountains above, I watched as he, in heresy, continued to clasp his hands and bow to me. He was trembling beneath the tattered coat and then I felt something, an emotion I had not entertained in many months. Pity for the pathetic wretch before me, mourning for his wife and child in the weather-beaten home where no doubt little bread was put upon the table. In that instant I motioned that he rise, and he did so with obvious terror. Picking up his hat from where it had fallen, I did not allow him to take it.

�Vow to me,� I said, �that you will hold true to your promise, for your household to ever serve the descendents of Castle Dracula until the last breath is taken from their body.�

He accepted the hat weakly and vowed, and then I allowed him to go. He ran across the street into the shelter of his doorway and slammed it against me. Leaving the village, for I had no desires any longer, I entered the churchyard. I could not set foot inside, for all my Catholic upbringing, but found solace in its quiet graveyard where the dead lay undisturbed and roses grew wild over their headstones. My husband�s strange abhorrence for flowers returned to me, but I was undisturbed, passing through their midst and pausing to look at each engraving. With time there came a curious sound and I followed it, rounding the corner of the structure and coming to the side entrance to the great cathedral. A shadow crouched there and for a moment I did not recognize Giovanni. He was no longer the massive wolf, but the poor soul seen in the carriage, his garments in tatters. He held his face in his hands and wept, rocking back and forth in the earth.

I stood and watched him, feeling a strange mixture of abhorrence and empathy. The night must have truly been strange for my rage to be withdrawn twice. But as I had not fed, weakness came upon me. I do not know all that happened; only that Dracula came for me in the hours before the dawn. I was weak and drawn into his arms as he gathered me up, speaking soft reassurances. As we returned to the castle, I saw genuine concern in his eyes. Time was too rapid to sustain me now, for dawn approached in the east. My only means of survival was through his strength, and he gave it freely. I clung to him, feeling the blood pulse beneath my fingertips. Our lips met, tentatively at first but then with greater passion. All the quarreling of former days, the blind resentment I pretended to hold against him, was eroded away in that lingering instant when there was nothing but us in the everlasting candlelight.

He must have found it strange, as though remembering something long forgotten, for at first he was reluctant. I do not believe that humans feel things as strongly as we vampires, for they could not possibly envision such a marriage of minds and powers as ours. It was not vapid or momentary, but borne of an immortal link that is unfathomable to weaker minds. I only know that when the faint twinge of dawn came and we lay against the pillows together, still entwined in one another�s arms, I no longer felt weakness akin to mortal death. As we arose and he helped me to dress, gently tightening my laces, he said softly, �Do you agree about Eduardo?�

I knew he meant that I would leave him be and conceal everything of his brother�s fate, for reasons I did not yet understand or foresee. Laying my head against his chest and feeling his hands gently entwine in my hair, I whispered, �Yes.�

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