Felipe’s eyes narrowed and darkened. He extended his mouth wide, sending the five rows of razor sharp teeth and fangs clamping down on the prince’s neck, piercing his jugular vein.
Vlad could feel a long, hollow, thread-like tongue sucking the blood from his body—Vlad gasped for air as he began to suffocate. Vlad’s body went limp. Felipe had drained every drop of the precious life sustaining liquid from the prince’s body.
Felipe unfurled his wings, allowing Vlad’s body to fall the floor. Vlad Tepes Dracula III was dead. Felipe gazed for a moment at Vlad’s lifeless body. What had he done? He had come to offer Vlad help, not to kill him.
Felipe staggered backwards. Vlad’s memories began flashing before his mind’s eye: Vlad’s brutal captivity at the hands of the Turks, followed by a myriad of hopes, dreams, fears, and secrets.
Footsteps of guards fast approaching and Felipe found himself in a panic. He could simply vanish, but that would mean the enemies of Wallachia would gain control of Romania. He couldn’t let that happen. After all, it was his fault that Vlad was dead.
Felipe knew he had only one choice. He stripped Vlad of his royal garments and dressed himself in the prince’s clothing, while dressing Dracula in his clothing. Frenzied, sharp talons slashed Vlad’s face, shredding it until it was nothing more than globs of flapping, hanging flesh, making the voivod unrecognizable.
Dracula’s guards had reached the end of the hall and about to enter the parlor. Felipe transformed himself into Vlad Dracula’s likeness. Armed with Vlad’s memories and his likeness, Felipe was confident no one would suspect that was an imposter. He took a final glance in the mirror that hung over the fireplace, tweaked his thick mustache and straightened the crimson-colored, velvet, ostrich-feathered plume cap and fluffed his long black curls.
THE FAUX PRINCE
Lieutenant General Stefan cel Mare of Moldova was the first to enter the secret parlor, brandishing his weapon. He was followed closely by Major General István Báthory and Dracula’s bodyguards, a fierce militia of mercenaries and henchman that surrounded the room.
Felipe watched silently from the dark recesses of the parlor as Stefan searched the man’s body for a weapon. Felipe tried to probe the lieutenant’s mind, but all he could see was a black void. Luckily, he was armed with Vlad’s memories and knew everything there was to know about Stefan.
He was Vlad’s first cousin and a member of the House of Musat. His father ruled Moldavia for two years before being killed by his uncle. Stefan barely escaped with his life. He took refuge in Transylvania, seeking Vlad’s military protection. But most importantly, Stefan was loyal to Dracula, serving as his personal bodyguard.
Stefan inspected the fists full of black hair strewn over the body and floor. He then rolled the body onto its back.
The man’s throat had been torn out. His head and face was ripped to shreds—down to the skull and bone. His ears, lips, and nose were all gone. The right eye was missing, leaving nothing more than a hallowed out hole. The man’s left eye was left hanging out of its socket, suspended only by a mass of twisted, dried veins.
Felipe became anxious when Stefan continued searching the body and the floor. He stepped forward into the light.
“That’s odd,” Stefan said, turning around and catching a glimpse of Felipe, who was in Dracula’s likeness.
Does he suspect I’m not the prince? Felipe thought to himself.
Felipe tried once again to project his thoughts to Stefan, but he could not bend the lieutenant’s will. This baffled Felipe since most humans he had encountered thus far, with the exception of Diomira, had succumbed to his hypnotic powers.
Could Stefan be a brujo?
“What’s so odd, Stefan?” Felipe asked in Vlad’s voice.
“Given the severity of this man’s injuries, he should be lying in a pool of blood, but I cannot find a single drop, not even on his clothing. It’s as if the body has been drained completely of blood.”
Felipe raised his eyebrow and gave the lieutenant an accusing look.
“Stefan, how did this trespasser get into my castle?”
The lieutenant stood up.
“I do not know, Lord Dracula, but I can assure you it won’t happen again.”
Felipe pulled out a short sword from his side scabbard and seized the nearest guard, slashing the man through the heart, killing him instantly. Felipe removed the weapon from the guard’s chest cavity and cleaned its blade using the lapel of the dead guard’s uniform. Once the blade was clean, he allowed the soldier’s body to fall to the floor. Felipe turned to Stefan and held the sharp tip of his steely blade to the lieutenant’s throat.
“This had better not happen again or you will join the dead. Now, get rid of these bodies and leave me.”
Stefan took a deep breath and swallowed hard.
“Yes, Lord Dracula.”
Felipe withdrew his weapon, placing it back in its scabbard.
Stefan turned to the guards. “All right, men, you heard the prince, get these bodies out of here.” He bowed and left the parlor, closing the door behind him.
Finally alone, Felipe settled back on the sofa and relaxed. Vacantly, he watched the dying flames flutter about in the fireplace.
This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said in a strained whisper. “If only Vlad had listened to me.” He stood abruptly and began nervously pacing the floor.
Felipe glanced back at his reflection in the mirror, only it wasn’t his reflection. After making several absurd facial gestures in the mirror, Felipe fought the urge to transform into his true form. Just how long did he plan on keeping up the ruse? Perhaps until Wallachia was stable and the Ottoman Turks were defeated, then Stefan could rule. He owed Vlad that much, at least. At any rate, Dracula was the perfect disguise. Felipe could unleash the vampire without detection. Given Vlad’s sadistic nature, no one would dare question the voivod.
He curled his thick mustache upwards, making his appearance even more sinister.
“Vlad, you certainly were one ugly son of a bitch!” he mused. Felipe turned away from the mirror and walked to the center of the room. “My father always wanted me to be a politician. Well, Father, you finally got your wish,” he said, stretching out his arms. “Behold! I am now the Prince of Wallachia.” He stretched his arms wide and burst into a fit of mad laughter.
EPILOGUE
There was a soft knock on the parlor door.
“Vlad?” a woman’s voice called out. Slowly, the door opened and a dark-haired woman stepped into the room. Gaps in the drapes let in streams of morning sunlight, illuminating the woman’s silk, powder blue nightgown. The dark-haired woman ran straight into the Felipe’s arms, kissing him.
Felipe was taken by surprise by the outpouring of passion displayed from a woman he did not know. He glanced back at the mirror that hung over the fireplace and there he saw Vlad’s likeness staring back at him. He was glad he had not changed back into his true form. Felipe pushed back the woman’s long, wavy hair and looked into her bright, shining face. Relying on the prince’s memories, the woman’s name was Elisabeta—Dracula’s wife. Felipe gave Elisabeta a warm smile and brought her in close. He kissed her long and slow.
“Oh, Vlad, I was so very worried when you did not come to bed last night. You always tuck our son in for the night. Stefan told me about the intruder in the castle and that you killed him. Are you hurt, my love?” she asked, as her hands searched Felipe’s body.
Elisabeta,” he said, cupping her chin. “You should know me better than that. I’m all right,” Felipe said in Vlad’s voice.
Suddenly, Elisabeta drew a dagger from her thigh holster and placed the sharp blade to Felipe’s throat.
“Imposter! You’re not my husband. Oh, you may look like him. You may even sound like him, but you’re not Vlad.”
Felipe shape shifted into his true form.
Elisabeta’s eyes widened.
“So, it is true,” she said, still holding the dagger to Felipe’s throat.
>
“How did you know I was an imposter?”
“Stefan said he noticed something was different about my husband. So I had to see for myself. Vlad would have never allowed me in this parlor. He would have run me through first. And Vlad never kissed me like that.” She blushed, lowering her eyes.
Felipe’s mouth quirked with an arrogant smile.
Elisabeta’s hand began to waver.
“Dear lady, if you are going to kill me, then kill me. If not, kindly put away your weapon.”
Elisabeta drew back the blade from his throat, putting the dagger back in its holster.
Felipe’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the woman’s thoughts. Elisabeta loved Vlad and was completely loyal to him. She was a good woman with a heart of gold. Felipe’s eyes then turned blood-red. He placed Elisabeta in a hypnotic trance and projected his thoughts into her mind.
“Forget all that you have learned about me. I am your husband, Vlad Dracula, the prince of Wallachia. You will give me your undying love and loyalty. Reassure Stefan that his fears are misplaced. Do you understand?”
Elisabeta gave Felipe a glassy stare and nodded.
“Excellent. Tell Stefan, I shall like a word with him.”
Just as Elisabeta was about to leave the parlor, Felipe grabbed her by her waist, leaned in and gave her a sensual kiss on the lips.
Elisabeta staggered backwards out of the room in a hypotonic daze.
Felipe walked over to the mirror. “So, the lieutenant thinks I’m an imposter. Well, perhaps I should try a little harder to persuade him that I’m not.”
With a wave of his hand Felipe shifted back into Vlad’s likeness, and waited for Stefan’s arrival, a smile curling around his lips.
About Author Idalita Wright Raso
I grew up in Ohio. I am an established news reporter/photojournalist with the Lake County Gazette in Jefferson, Ohio. When I’m not writing, I enjoy acting in various local community theatres. Eye of Saturn: The Daughters of Saturn Book One is my debut novel.
Ever since I can remember I have had a deep interest in astrology, astronomy, mythology, science fiction, the occult, and horror. My love for writing came after reading Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher.” My love for vampires came the moment I read Bram Stoker’s “Dracula.”
My vampire series incorporates the classic gothic vampire with a dash of magick, mythology, and sci-fi—interweaving the genres into one horrifying vampire tale.
While writing the Eye of Saturn series I created a language called, Solsatihel—the language of Saturn. The inspiration for the language came as a result of listening to the 2005 NASA's Cassini-Huygens spacecraft audio recordings of Saturn’s intense, radio emissions. The recordings had eerie whistling, frightful whooshing, and haunting warbling echoes.
I am a member of the Great Lakes Association of Horror Writers and I am currently contracted with Solstice Publishing.
Connect with Idalita by visiting her on Facebook: www.facebook.com/Idalita-Wright-Raso Twitter: http://twitter.com/idaraso, or Website: http://idalitaraso.webs.com
* * *
[1]Naturales Quaestiones VII. 4. 2. Seneca [In a states that “In the beginning Kronos the Titan ruled the entire ether; his star the far-seeing gods called ‘the shining one.’” Manethonis Apotelesmaticorum libri sex, ed. C. A. M. Axtius and Fr. A. Rigler (Cologne, 1832), p. 64 (Bk. IV, lines 14-15). Cf. Proclus, In Timaeo (ed. E. Diehl, Leipzig, 1904), vol. III, p. 169.]
Eye of Saturn (The Daughters of Saturn Book 1) Page 31
