TRANSYLVANIA.
THE HOME OF MILIA AND ROMINA IN GIOAGIU, NEAR SIBIU.
EARLY NOVEMBER, 1452.
The cousins returned again the next day. The younger sister gave her name as Milia. She and Dracula grew close in a very short time. At the same time, Stephen rode with him each day to see Romina.
On this day, Stephen was in even higher spirits than usual. Things had developed quickly with Romina and he felt quite taken with her. He had always had a way with the ladies and had enjoyed an abundance of lovers over time. His striking good lucks and irrepressible charm had attracted no end of willing partners. Yet now as he rode the quiet road to Gioagiu with his cousin, he felt contented at life with his new love.
Dracula was too wrapped up in thoughts of Milia to even notice Stephen’s great mood. He had far less experience with women than his cousin, and only two meaningful relationships. Neither had lasted long and it worried him now that he had found Milia, if that might end the same as the other two. He feared Lucy intervening again as she had done with both Ayshe and Natalia. What if she intervenes on this occasion? Will she ever allow me to find happiness?
“You are deep in thought, dear cousin,” Stephen said, reaching out to give him a nudge in the arm.
Dracula broke from his reverie and turned his head to look at Stephen. “What? Did you speak?”
“Your mind was far away. What is the point of being in such high spirits if I have no one to share it with?”
Dracula offered him a faint smile, his mind still on Milia. “I have a fair notion as to why you are this way.”
“But of course, my dear Vlad. What else can raise a man’s spirits to such a lofty height, other than a good woman?”
“Sitting on one’s throne, perhaps?”
“Oh no, dear Vlad. You have it all wrong. And that is a thought for another day. Today we think only of our women. Our thrones can wait.”
“You think of nothing but women, cousin.”
“This is true. I cannot deny it. You need to train your thoughts on your woman more should you want to keep her sweet.”
“I had tried, but some miscreant disturbed my line of thought.”
Stephen laughed at his cousin’s expression. “They are wonderful creatures, the fairer sex, yet they drive man to do many strange things and behave in the most peculiar ways.”
“I would have to agree with you on that score.”
“The beauty of a woman is that no two are the same. They are all different. It follows then that to be a successful lover, you cannot make love to any two in the same way.”
“You think not?”
“Trust me on this, cousin. They are all different and we must treat them as such. Would you make to love Milia the same way you would a wench in a tavern?”
“No, I imagine I would not.”
“That is precisely my point,” Stephen said, his voice rising in both tone and volume. “But not only that, women differ in so many ways. God, in His great wisdom, built them differently from each other. That which we most desire may come in a variety of shapes and sizes. And you shall not always find the location as the same from one woman to another.”
Dracula gave his cousin a stern glance, but did not speak.
Stephen did not notice and carried on. “They react differently too to the things we do. What might be good for one may not be so good for another. So, we menfolk must listen to their every sound, every little sigh and groan. That is, if we wish it to last.”
“I understand this much.”
“Good, my dear Vlad. Yet this is only half the battle. If you wish to keep your woman for any length of time, then you need to make her as happy out of the bedroom as you do while you are in it.”
“You mean waste all my coin on her and lavish her with gifts?”
Stephen laughed again. “I fear you know women better than I first thought. Never be afraid to let a woman know your true feelings for her. If you do not, then another may do so in your stead.”
“That is what I hope to do.”
“I think it a good idea, cousin. I imagine the effect it has shall be the one you most desire.”
They stopped at the house the two girls owned. It stood apart from the others at the start of the village. With its pretty gardens, their home hinted that they enjoyed a good living.
Buzan and his man tailed them there. They arrived in the village a few minutes later. There, they saw the horses of the two cousins tethered in the usual place. Buzan did not foresee too many problems in getting the task done.
The girls were thrilled to see their lovers. The two couples paired off almost at once.
“Have you missed me?” Milia asked Dracula. She helped him out of his clothes the moment they were alone.
“Oh, let me think,” he teased, a wry grin across his face.
She stood up on her toes and kissed him. He was not the tallest of men, but stood six inches over her. To her lover, she was perfect in every way. Her long black hair flowed all the way down her back. It highlighted her large brown eyes and smooth olive skin. She had Italian blood and it showed.
Milia slid her light dress up over her shoulders. It fell to the floor so that she stood naked before him. His heart skipped several beats. She was the image of beauty, not a blemish on her skin. He thought that God must have made her Himself, a true labour of love. When she flashed her dazzling smile, it melted him to his core.
He gazed at her breasts. She may have been slight in stature, but they were perfectly rounded and full. Romina shared the same build, though she was taller. It led him to think they must both take after their mother.
Her brown nipples stood firm and erect. He ached to run his tongue slowly over them and taste them. His eyes moved down to and along her slender thighs. He gazed at them, and then at her tiny feet. She stepped towards him, her arms outstretched.
He kissed her small hands and stroked her arms as he lay her down on the bed. Her daintiness held such appeal for him. They kissed with real passion, stroking and touching each other for the longest time. He grew hard in her hands, bringing a smile to her face.
“You have missed me.”
Her smile electrified him. His breath caught again in his throat when he kissed her and felt the softness of her lips. In that moment, he knew he was completely in love with her. He had tried to fight it, but could deny his feelings no longer. All that she was consumed his whole being.
“Do you love me?” she whispered.
It was as if she could read his thoughts. He looked deep into her eyes, almost afraid to speak the truth. But with her, there was no way he could avoid it.
He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he managed. “I do love you.”
She rolled onto her back for him to climb on top of her. When he parted her thighs with his and touched against her opening, a quiet gasp escaped her mouth. She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him again. Her tongue slowly traced a line across his lips.
One thing worried her. “What should happen if I take with child?”
He had made no secret of who he was. She was only too aware that he was of royal stock, and she just the lowly daughter of a weaver.
“Then I shall marry you,” he said, his face showing the sincerity in his voice. “And make ten more.”
“You would marry me?”
“Yes, my love. I could never deny my heart.”
“And if I do not take with child? Would you marry me then?”
“Yes, my Milia. I could never be happy without you.”
Her chest heaved with the butterflies in her stomach. They prevented her from drawing a full breath. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “I am in Heaven,” she said, letting out a long, happy sigh. “I never believed I would find a love the same as my parents shared.”
“Nor I,” he said.
“I ask for a reason. I would want to die if I took with child and you left me.”
He stroked her face with the most gentle of touches. “Oh my sweet Mi
lia. I could never leave you.”
They made slow and tender love. His feelings were so strong he was afraid he would burst. When they came at the same time, it was intense and powerful.
She sighed long and hard when they lay on their backs beside each other. It was a happy sigh that hinted of deep satisfaction. “Oh, sweet God, that was the best it has ever been.”
He did not answer. His body tingled from head to toe. He closed his eyes so that he could savour the moment, and the feeling.
She turned on her side to face him. Her long hair fell down over her breasts as she twirled his between her fingers. From the day they had met, she liked that it was almost as long as hers. “I adore long hair in a man,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“Then when I rule again, I shall have every man in the land cut his hair short.”
She laughed. “Yes, you do that. But keep yours as it is. I shall only ever have eyes for you in any case.”
“And I you.”
“What? You would have no mistresses?”
“Not a single one,” he vowed. “I can only ever want you.”
“Listen,” she said, putting a finger to his lips.
He moved her hand away. “What is it?”
“It is raining.”
They looked to the window to see the heavy rain outside. The house was one of the few in the village to have a second floor. He admired the design of the shuttered windows, which hinted to him that her father had made a very good living before he died.
“I love the smell of the rain,” she said, getting up from the bed.
She tiptoed over to the window and opened the shutters wide. The cool night air caused the drapes to flutter. Milia closed her eyes and leaned with both hands against the pane. She loved to feel the cool air against her skin. “Can you smell it?” she asked, closing her mouth to take deep breaths through her nose.
“Turn around,” he asked her, his tone soft and showing the deep love he felt for her. “I want to look at you.”
She turned around with hands on hips, swaying from side to side in the coy fashion that aroused every fibre of his being.
“My God, but you are beautiful,” he gasped.
She smiled. “Yes, and all yours.”
“God was surely showing off when He made you.”
He heard a slight snapping sound. She lurched forward, unsteady on her feet. At first, he thought she was fooling with him. “What are you doing?” he asked, with a nervous laugh.
She looked across at him. In an instant, he saw the pain etched across her face.
“Milia?” he said, fear in his voice. He crawled across the bed towards her.
He watched her collapse to the floor, falling onto her back. Fear gripped his every nerve as he looked over the edge of the bed. Her eyes stared up into space. From her breast he saw the unmistakable end of a crossbow bolt.
“No!” he screamed, scrambling off the bed to be at her side.
He lifted her up in his arms and held her to him, choking and screaming. Her body was warm, but all the life in her was gone.
Stephen burst into the room naked. Romina did so too, and stood at his side. A second bolt thudded into the door just inches from his nose. He froze with fear, but managed to drag Romina to the floor with him.
Dracula broke down in tears, his lover still in his arms. He cried in a way Stephen had never seen or heard a man cry before. “We were going to be wed,” he sobbed. “We were going to be wed.”
He choked out the words. The other two then realised that Milia was dead. Romina screamed, putting her hands to her face in shock.
“We have to get away from here!” Stephen yelled. “Someone is trying to kill us!”
Dracula barely heard his cousin speak. His grief consumed him.
“Vlad!” Stephen screamed at him. “Come away!”
He grabbed a hold of his cousin and dragged him crying from the room. Romina sat on the floor in anguish, the agony in her heart almost too much to bear. Stephen did not give her a second thought. He dived past her to retrieve Dracula’s sword and clothes. “Get dressed!” he ordered.
Dracula slumped against the frame of the door. He showed no desire to leave his lover’s side. When Stephen slapped him hard across the face it spurred him into action.
“Come and get dressed! We have to get out of this place!”
He finally came to his senses and pulled on his clothes. By the time Stephen joined him again, his eyes bulged with rage.
“We have to exercise care,” Stephen said. “There is a crossbow trained on the house.”
“I care not,” Dracula said with abandon. “If I die, I die.”
He descended the stairs and raced out through the front door. Ten minutes had elapsed since Milia’s murder. In that time, a storm had descended over the area. Lightning flared across the skies and lit up the countryside all around. The rain continued to belt down. It drenched him in moments.
“Come on!” he screamed, holding his hands aloft. “If you want so much to kill me, here I am!”
Stephen stepped out beside him. Unlike his cousin, he had his sword drawn. The Saxon appeared through the rain, and trained his crossbow on Dracula’s heart.
Dracula screamed at him like a maniac. “Come on then, you bastard! What are you waiting for!”
Buzan lurked on the roof of the house. He jumped down and landed with a thud just behind Dracula. The lantern that glowed above the front door, swayed from side to side.
The cousins did not have the time to react as Buzan moved in behind his target. He coiled his right arm inside Dracula’s to stop him from reaching for his sword. With his left hand, he pressed a blade to Dracula’s throat. He was about to cut it open when a woman appeared before them.
She stood there less than ten feet away, her eyes fixed on the two men. Buzan stopped when she raised her hand. He still held Dracula firmly in his grip.
Dracula did not attempt to break free. He saw her too, but waited for his assassin to put him out of his misery. It did not surprise him that it was Lucy.
The other times when she appeared it was only ever to him. But on this night all four men could see her clearly.
Her long black hair stuck to her head, drenched through. The rain glued the dress she wore to her body in the same manner. It allowed them to see her in her entirety.
She looked straight at Buzan, her eyes glowing red and not their usual black. Stephen sensed the evil in her at once. He stood frozen to the spot, unable to move. Buzan kept the blade pressed tight to Dracula’s throat. He waited to see who she was and what she wanted.
“Leave him be!” she ordered, in a masculine voice. “As you once were, he is one of mine!”
Buzan pulled the blade away and stepped to the side. “Master?” he asked, walking up to her.
He kept going until they stood almost face to face. She put a hand on his forehead and forced him to his knees. The Saxon raised the crossbow to fire. When he did, she turned her head sharply and glared at him with her piercing red eyes.
Her action made him turn it around until it pointed at his face. Stephen saw him fighting against it with all his strength. Her will was too strong and he pushed it against the underside of his chin. He pressed the trigger and fired the bolt up into his own head.
The bolt ripped through his mouth. It tore parts of his tongue out before slicing clean through his brain. The top of his skull exploded in a shower of crimson. Lucy watched him drop to the ground. She then returned her attention to Buzan.
“It is good to see you again, Master,” Buzan said. Her image left him transfixed. “It has been so long.”
The whole scene confused Dracula. What is he talking about?
“You would hurt one of my own?” she said in a snarl, her face full of hate.
“Forgive me, Master,” he pleaded. “I did not know.”
By now her eyes were blazing. “You know the penalty for this.”
“Please, Master!” he begged, to no avail.
<
br /> She pressed her hand harder against his face. Buzan screamed as wisps of smoke appeared between her fingers. He clawed at the air with both hands and dropped his knife. It did nothing to relieve his pain. Her hand burned through the outer layer of his skin. Soon he grabbed her wrist in an attempt to free himself.
The skin on his forehead melted down into both his eyes. His hair caught fire and his nose dissolved. Still she pressed harder. He screamed louder as his flesh gave way like the snow against a blazing sun.
In time, she withdrew her hand. He clutched at what was left of his face. The two cousins recoiled in horror. All that remained of it was two rows of blackened teeth. He collapsed to the ground, his arms and legs flailing wildly. His struggle for life ceased, his brain smouldering in the pit of his skull.
Lucy paid him no heed. She and Dracula stared hard at each other. He saw that her eyes had returned to their usual black hue.
“Why did you not let him kill me!” he screamed at her.
“You are my special one.”
“Damn you! Why allow me to endure this pain? I wanted him to kill me!”
“No,” she said, her voice calm again. “It is not your time. When it is, I shall come for you.”
She turned away to leave, but he called after her. “Lucy!”
Her head rotated a full one hundred and eighty degrees. She did this although she continued to walk away. “Yes?”
“Who sent this man after me!”
“Why? What does it matter?”
“Tell me!”
“It was John Hunyadi,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Stephen looked at him, feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. “Your father spoke the truth, Vlad. It is the path to decay that we walk.”
Dracula dropped to his knees and cried. He looked up to the skies and screamed, with his arms outstretched. “Hunyadi! I swear, I shall kill you!”
The Dracula Chronicles
Vlad Dracula
The Lamb of God
(Prequel to For Whom the Bell Tolls)
Book 1
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Bound by Blood
The Dracula Chronicles: The Path To Decay Page 26
