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The Monster Unleashed Kelantha
The branches reach out to ensnare me, clawing at my face and hands. Were I human they would have drawn blood but feel no more than pinpricks to my fair skin. There is violence in the bushes behind me, thunderous pacing as the animal�s rage overcomes common sense. He is growing tired. His footsteps falter and then with a tremendous crash he plummets to the earth, panting heavily. The moon passes behind a cloud and that monstrous shape begins to shrink, fur replaced with skin, the burning rage in the eyes lapsing into misery. Turning back, my cloak an iridescent ripple in the darkness, I appraise him. Giovanni pants and gasps as he gazes up at me, both with loathing and pleading. �Do not torment me so,� he pleads. �I pray to God you will not torment me so!� �You have come to Transylvania seeking the blood of vampires,� I reply sweetly, crouching in the earth before him, near enough that were he to reach out he might grasp my hand. �You have yet to spill it. Come, my monster of the night, and fulfill your destiny.� He is growing weary. His heart thunders in his chest. Mine would be stirred too if it still beat, but it stands cold in my breast. I rise from the leaves and they give way with a gentle crackle. Silver shafts part the clouds and bathe us in moonlight. Giovanni claws the ground, every muscle taught and straining as he fights the beast within. He follows me in a blind rage, unable to control his master�s bidding. I do nothing without Dracula�s consent. He has grown weary of his puppets and wishes to destroy them. His rage is building and my strength waning. I have not blood enough to long flee his murderous claws, but there is not far to go. The gypsy never saw me. One instant I was there and the next sprang into the trees. He merely saw the wolf�s gaping jaws as they came at him. There was a tremendous echo from the gun as it fired, the silver bullet propelling the animal back several paces. His duty completed, the gypsy drops the gun and flees. I stand over it, picking it up with cold hands. He lies in a heap among the dead leaves, his soul soon to be at peace. Footsteps, running through the underbrush, a plaintive cry: Eduardo has heard the thunderous disturbance and comes to investigate. He drops beside his brother and I hear his wail of grief over a great distance. I do not remain, but know what Giovanni will tell him. Long does his lamp burn into the night and he pace in sunlight through the following hours, his curiosity growing with each passing instant. Seated in the great room where once I was but a traveler, devoid of mirrors or ornaments, I await the hour when we will meet and his questions be answered. I hold my own journal of days past, not written in since the night when Dracula made me his bride. A fire glows in the hearth. I stand up and throw it into the flames. A note is slipped beneath his door, and a lit candle left outside. Meet me in the hall of mirrors, it says.
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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