Vlad Rises

Upon Desponia’s return from the walls, she spotted Luminita handing sugared almonds to a group of children. Desponia caught one of the gypsy’s arms and the children scattered.

“Come, Luminita, we’ve unfinished business with Maria and her assistants.”

Meanwhile, Claudia and Patience were nervously attending Maria’s instructions.

“I’ve never been asked to work at night before,” Claudia said.

“I’ve heard his lordship roasts his victims on a spit before he devours their flesh,” taunted Patience.

Maria came from a storage room carrying a bolt of cloth. “Are you two at it again?” she said, turning to Patience. “What good is it filling your sister’s head with ideas?”

“No good at all, my lady; she’s just as frightened as ever.”

“Oh, stop!” Claudia cried, running to a window. “The sun is falling.”

“Enough with the banter!” cried Maria. “His lordship has need of our services. No harm will befall us. Prepare for the gypsy’s fitting.”

Just as Maria spoke, Desponia, followed by Luminita, came through the door.

“My girls are quite nervous, ma’am. None of us have stayed the night before.”

Claudia wrung her hands. “Oh, dear.”

“Do not wander the castle,” Desponia said. “Stay in your chambers. Complete Luminita’s wardrobe, and you will have safe passage in the morning. You’re being well paid.”

“Yes, my lady.”  

Vlad stirred in his coffin. He pushed the lid aside and sprang to the floor, heading to a robing room for a change of clothing. The youthfulness of his six-foot-four-inch height belied the passing centuries in his eyes. Both a gentleman and a storm of destruction, he might outrun a racehorse or leap upwards of two stories. At close quarters, his actions were undetectable; he covered shorter distances in subdivisions of a second. A victim’s blood sustained him for a week.

Having done with Maria and her assistants, Desponia and the gypsy sat on marble benches in the great hall awaiting Vlad’s arrival. Desponia pulled her knees to her chest, her transparent garment falling along the curves of her shoulder while a servant girl stroked Luminita’s hair with a brush of boar bristle.

“How much longer can we wait?” complained Luminita.

As she spoke, a rumbling was heard. 

“It is he,” Desponia said.

The brush dropped from the servant girl's trembling hand as she glanced around the hall.

“What is wrong with you?” Luminita asked.

“She is frightened by the approach of our Lord, as are many,” Desponia said. “You have nothing to fear, girl.” 

“Yes,” repeated Luminita, “You have...”

But just as Vlad appeared, Luminita trembled as much as the servant girl.

Desponia dismissed the servant girl who ran from the room, covering one side of her face so as not to look at Vlad. 

He had entered through a passageway at the backside of the hall, but his entrance might have come from any of the castle’s numerous corridors.

Desponia smiled at the arresting image he struck. The weave of his clothing was unknown on earth. Desponia had acquired the material from Olympus's stockrooms. The cut of his trousers and jacket was crafted in collaboration with the finest Italian tailors. 

His figure was equal to an Olympian god in stature and breadth, unchallengeable. He held a cane by its golden handle and leaned forward on it as he scanned the room.

“Greet your master,” Desponia said.  But Luminita’s eyes remained frozen to a spot on the floor.

“I cannot.” 

“Why is that?” 

“I’m afraid.”

“Nonsense.”

Desponia led Luminita by the arm towards Vlad.  When they reached him, Luminita lifted her head and gazed into his face, a confirmation that the life she had known was at its end.

“Well, I was sure that I saw you speak last night, Luminita. Has so much changed in a day?” he asked.

“Answer, then,” urged Desponia.

“Perhaps you'd like to play a board game?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Well,” Vlad said, taking Luminita’s arm, “We shall walk these long corridors until you’ve grown accustomed to my presence.”

With that, Vlad led Luminita to the closest corridor, tugging her lightly along as they disappeared together.

An hour later, Desponia heard the gypsy’s laughter as she and Vlad returned to the hall.

“It seems your gypsy is near exhaustion,” Vlad said as he escorted her to Desponia’s side.

“We’ve yet to finish her wardrobe, Vlad . . . I’ll see to it.” It’s time we retired Luminita. The seamstresses will be along shortly.”

Vlad left the hall in search of Ehrlich. This was a moonless night, and he much preferred it. He found his man overseeing the arrival of two heavy wagons with steam trunks and crates suitable in size for Vlad’s daytime accommodations.

Ehrlich sensed his master’s approach but stayed the course, waiting dutifully for the great thump on the back he’d grown to expect. So much was this the case that Ehrlich’s wife, Luna, was reluctant to predict Ehrlich’s mood were Vlad to overlook the ritual. When it came to strength, it was common knowledge that Ehrlich had single-handedly wrestled a horse to the ground.

As Vlad approached, he called, “How goes it, Ehrlich?”

Silence from Ehrlich until the blow landed.

Thump!

“All goes well this evening, Sir, but I expected a stouter blow!”

“Nonsense,” Vlad said. “A lesser man would have flown into a curtain wall. What provisions have you made for our departure?”

Ehrlich removed his hat.

If it pleases, Sir, it generally takes ten days to reach Constanta. The first leg takes us to Bucharest, a journey that spans a full six days.  From Bucharest, we travel an additional four days to Constanta.  A three-mast Venetian bus awaits us on the northernmost quay in Constanta’s port. The ship is your property, but we have employed a company to provide its maintenance. She carries a crew of fifty. Her sailors are loyalists to the name of Dracul. We arrive in Constanta by carriage and wagon no later than three hours before sunrise. We can make the quay with two hours to spare. Loading times will vary, with a maximum of forty-five minutes. I will oversee the loading.  Lady Desponia has taken care of the details for which I am not qualified.  The two large crates will be swung on board and lowered into the ship’s holds. Once these are in place, pending your approval, the crew will be given doses of rum. From then on, they have no business in the hold.

“By punishment of a lashing,” interjected Vlad.

Ehrlich hesitated. “Yes, sir. It’s a three-day sail across the Black Sea to the port of Batumi.

“Have I left details out, Sir?”

“None, Ehrlich. Perchance have you met the gypsy?”

 Ehrlich rolled his eyes in consternation. “With all respect, I cannot abide such lovliness as is hers.”

“Have you been charmed, Ehrlich?”

Ehrlich nodded his mossy head and blinked his eyes. “Charmed, indeed. Charmed in every respect. I wonder what artistry of the heart creates such as she. Her eyes shine as if the fire of stars were about their interiors.”

Vlad searched Ehrlich's face for signs of levity and found none.

“I might add, your Lordship, that Ulysses himself did not suffer a siren with better trepidation as I have with the appearance of  your gypsy.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Vlad asked.

“Only that I fear for the gypsy’s life.”

“By the gods, Ehrlich, you’re either a well-rounded rouge or a monk! Not that it's more than an annoyance, but the roads between Bucharest and Constanta are for treachery. Ambushes and throat-slitting are the common themes. There is upheaval in Romania. The bandits are prone to murder as a matter of course, whomever they can more than those they’d rather target.  Any trick is fair play, and there are a hundred attack methods. Good sport for Onyx."

“Who is, Onyx? Ehrlich asked, and just as he spoke, the wolf materialized before him.

“What black art is this!” Ehrlich shouted, grabbing a pitchfork and then rushing forward in defense of his master.

Vlad warned him off.

“Stay your hand, Ehrlich, and tell no one what you have seen.”

“You only need to say so once, sir.”

“Good evening to you, Ehrlich,” Vlad said, turning toward the great hall in search of Desponia. He found his lady in her gilt chamber, stroking Luminita’s hair as she slept.

“You treat her as if she were your child,” Vlad said. “

“If only she were,” Desponia said, “If only she were. I have loved many mortal women, but none so childlike as she.”

“Perhaps you would reconsider having me change her.”

“And let her grow old as the others have? Let her grow sick and bitter, witness the loss of her beauty? Let her innocence turn to greed? Perhaps.”

“We leave tomorrow night. All is prepared. Accompany me,” Vlad said, reaching out. Desponia took hold of his wrist and pulled herself against him. “Accompany you where?” 

“Our place is the Grotto.”

 “Then lead me.”

They walked together through the castle corridors, down the steps, and descended to the shimmering grotto. Desponia faced Vlad and slipped out of her clothing.

“I have you in my clutches,” Desponia said, thrusting her hips against him and biting his ear. “Lamia is upon us,” she wishpered . . . “F**k me.”  

Later that evening, Vlad and Desponia climbed the battlements, scaling a wall together under the rushing moon. Gaining a clear view at a castle's window, they stood silently together, overlooking Transylvania’s night realm, its darkened forest, and the mysteries within.

Desponia touched Vlad’s hand, seducing him with the lure of evanishment.  They spilled down the tower wall together, an organic, viridescent vapor spreading along the forest floor, mingling with insects, swirling in fox dens, settling on swamp ooze, and pouring into underground caverns, finally rematerializing in a clearing where they called their wolf pack.

Desponia sat on a fallen tree, watching Vlad disappear into the shadows with the pack’s leader.

"He will hunt with no other," she murmured. And then she called the other pack members to sit at her side and listen to her goddess songs in silence as she explained the meaning of the natural world to them. Finally, Desponia warned them against greed. “Vlad and I will be away for the coming months. Keep to the forest. Leave the villagers to their own devices. Do not attack their animals even when they have strayed.”

Two hour passed. Vlad slipped out of the forest, carrying a deer carcass, the alpha male close at his side. Desponia’s wolves licked their chops and bristled.

“I suppose this marks an end to my lecture,” she said lightly.

Vlad placed the carcass on the ground, stepping back while waiting for Desponia to release the wolf pack.

She stood and walked to the deer carcass, looking into the film and glitter of its faded eyes, the reflecting white orb deep within. She turned to admire the source, glancing up at the night sky and the moon passing overhead.  She stepped backward, then knelt before the carcass, blessing its body and the life it had known, and released the pack, watching as they fell upon it voraciously.  She turned to Vlad. “It is time we were on our way.”

And then they ran together, flying through the forest, covering the distance they’d wandered at an impossible pace. The castle loomed up ahead, silhouetted against an open sky. They leaped over the crags, climbed the curtain walls, and tumbled over the parapets. Ehrlich waited in the courtyard, watching with admiration.

Vlad hastened through the great hall, lifted the bolt, and sank into his coffin, traveling once again to the edge of the universe.