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Dawn of the Covenant Dracula
We alighted at Marseilles.
From an outer perspective, it must have appeared vaguely ridiculous. We had left Madrid without a single backward glance. Nor did we quit the city in the cover of darkness, employing stealth and speed as the means to our end. The whole of Europe stretched before us, withholding none of its magnificence, a fact we were both conscious of and mutually disregarded. We found ourselves in the south of France by some unspoken agreement, arriving at the sun washed shores of the Mediterranean. Kelantha stepped down from the carriage with the same regal deportment she had entered it with, knowing instinctively which villa was ours, and spent the next three nights watching the ships dock in the harbor. It would have been alarming on any account, the sudden change of temperament, the lack of spirits that kept her seated at the window passively. And yet it never alarmed me to find her in this placidly silent state, so little changed from the evening before. I did not urge her to come out with me every night; I knew she would not wish it. I expected it. Doubtless this too would have been alarming, but it is the truth. There was perfect understanding at Marseilles. Only one night served to interrupt, and it was when Kelantha expressed the most rational of wishes. She wanted to feed. It had been days since her last hunt, during which she had nothing, not even the slightest desire to fulfill her most basic need. Now that the hunger had awakened, she seemed reanimated. Besides, she continued, she had seen nothing of the city beyond its ships; there must be a cathedral at least. Dispensing with the shawl she wrapped herself in at the window seat�for the night was warm, she claimed, and she would have no need of such an encumbrance�she promptly left. Only it was not night, it was barely four o�clock. That Kelantha�s ability to tell afternoon from evening had waned did not alarm me; that she was stirring out of doors two hours before her customary time did not alarm me. The very desire to feed, the most logical thing she could have done, disconcerted me far more than anything else could. She would find her way around the city quite well on her own, I knew. I merely dreaded what scene would be there. I found her in the marketplace, huddled near the ground, her hands clenched tightly. Near her was the torpid form of one of the shopkeepers. There was no life left in his cold frame, yet he had not been drained of blood at all. Kelantha was trembling as if unbearably cold�or violently disgusted. She drew nearer to me, refusing to look at her barely touched prey. Wordlessly, I draped my cloak around her and offered my wrist. She drew away at first, but the hunger won out. She took it gently, her teeth lightly piercing my skin, drinking only moderately. I was grateful she could at least drink, that the hunger and the disgust would not war against each other in the months to come. If there were only hundreds of questions in her mind, it would have been understandable.
Yet, looking back, I wonder that I needed to tell her at all.
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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