Flame & Foreboding

Kelantha

There was a woman in the village that had made arrangements for us, who had posted inquiries and answered the responses, for neither my husband nor I could be bothered. It was to her home that I went in the murky darkness that night, after the intolerable discovery that my son was now a novice to the ways of faith. I encountered no one on the roadway and did not acknowledge any bloodlust in my veins as I came to the demure little house on the outskirts. It was past midnight and no lamps were burning beyond any of the windows, but the door yielded to my authoritative rap. There was a stirring, much muttering and cursing, and it opened, revealing her husband in his nightshirt, holding aloft a lantern by whose radiance he beheld me.

His eyes widened in alarm and he fell back a few paces before remembering I could not enter without being bidden. His wife appeared on the stairwell behind him, her steps slowing significantly when she beheld me. I must have been a sight, draped in a long black cloak with hair unbound about my shoulders, impervious to the cold.

�Invite me in,� I commanded in a low, menacing voice.

There was nothing but utter terror in that room, radiating even from the children at the head of the stairs, pressing their faces against the slats. Her husband crossed himself and continued to back away, the glow of his lantern receding. The woman drew her shawl closer about her shoulders and shook her head. My head tilted forward, eyes smoldering with an otherworldly glow, lips tightening in displeasure as I turned my attentions on the little boy at the head of the stairs. He fought my mental assault but was weak and his nimble body stood, hands leaving the railing. �Come in,� he whispered.

Before his mother had time for an astonished reprimand, I was across the threshold and had her by the throat. The others watched helplessly as I propelled her across the room, slamming her into the parlor wall so that her face fell into the moonlight slanting through the near window. �The French governess you sent for,� I said coldly. �She�s Catholic!�

My distaste in such a remark revealed a glint of teeth that made her tremble, transfixed by my macabre beauty. �I-I am sorry, Countess,� gasped the woman. �I-I did not know!�

�You should have asked!�

I turned as her husband swung the lantern at me, my hand connecting with its base and shattering it against the wall. Flames leapt to the curtains and scattered along the floorboards. My fingernails dug into his throat, sending him careening across the room. It was only then that resistance came to me, held in the hands of the same boy I had manipulated. He was no more than five, eyes burning with hatred as he held out an ornate iron cross, snatched up from the sideboard. He spat vile things at me, scripture that burned my ears like holy water, forcing me from the house as it burned to the ground. Flames licked into the night sky, spilling its occupants into the snow as they fled.

Lights flickered throughout the township, and a few brave souls ventured into the darkness to be of assistance, running with buckets of water to dampen the flames as they spread. No one took notice of me as I passed among them, blinded by my influence, but where there were many to choose from, I did not pause to take one. I returned to the castle, drawing off my cloak and flinging it onto the bed as I approached my husband, standing on the verandah. He turned as I approached, indicating the orange glow against the horizon.

�You have been ambitious tonight.�

�What are we going to tell him, Vlad?�

It was the first time I had spoken his first name, and he looked at me so strangely that I almost regretted it. Then his hand came out, resting against my arm. �I have always said the truth would be best,� he replied, �but it is made impossible now.� His fingertips traced the curve of my neck, falling to open the lace that concealed my wound. Imprinted in my delicate flesh was the impression of a cross, burned there when I had carelessly taken my son into my arms. Mihail had not understood why I thrust him apart again so rapidly, nor why fear had taken hold of me upon observing such a trinket.

His eyes softened as he drew me to him, lowering his lips to caress my throat. �I will take care of it, my love,� he vowed, and did. When next I chanced to encounter our son, the gift he had been so enamored with at its presentation was no longer around his neck. I did not like or trust his governess but she gave me no cause to have her �sent away,� and our son was enraptured with her. There was not a moment when he could not be located by her side, and it was with mild protestations that we were allowed an hour alone with him each evening. My husband would return during these intervals, most of the time his initial entrance unnoticed by his son; but it was such a night that I was restless and distracted, failing to notice when he alighted on the verandah after his death-defying ascension up the sheer wall from the gardens below.

Mihail, however, had witnessed everything. His interest was not immediately apparent, but the following evening I caught him examining the drop through the railing. This created concern within my breast, but none so much as when a few nights later, I bid my husband farewell and watched him climb head-first down the rock face, only to glance up at our son�s window. His face was revealed there, gleaming in the moonlight. A shudder passed through me as I withdrew, and when Dracula returned, I pleaded with him never again to make the perilous descent.

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