Not Everything Dies (Princess Dracula)

by John Patrick Kennedy

  “You certainly enjoyed yourself,” Elizabeth said.

  “It was marvelous!” Ruxandra gushed. “I’ve never heard anything like it. I’ve never even thought there could be music like that!”

  Elizabeth looked at the servants. “Leave us.”

  The anger in Elizabeth’s voice made Ruxandra self-conscious. She stopped talking and looked at the floor. The servants left without a word.

  “She snubbed us a third time,” Elizabeth said. “She left without speaking to us or asking that we meet again. It was a grievous insult, one meant to demean me in the eyes of Rudolph’s court.”

  “Oh.” Ruxandra felt her pleasure at the evening diminish.

  “Worse, no one had the courage to challenge her by speaking to us! No one!” She stomped across the room, her hands clenching and unclenching. “Not one person dared come near because of that greedy little bitch!”

  “Greedy?”

  Elizabeth rounded on her. “Do you think Rudolph is targeting me on his own? No! It’s her, and it’s people like her who are making him pursue my land.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You?” Elizabeth snapped. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

  “I . . . I don’t . . .” Ruxandra felt her eyes growing wet.

  “Oh, my dear,” Elizabeth’s tone changed in an instant, and the desire in it made Ruxandra’s knees tremble. “Don’t be sorry for enjoying this evening. Your passion was wonderful to watch.” Elizabeth cupped Ruxandra’s face in both hands. “You are a beautiful creature, Ruxandra.”

  They kissed, long and deep. Elizabeth’s tongue slipped between Ruxandra’s lips, and the feel and taste of it was immediately, madly intoxicating. Her hands wrapped around her waist, and Ruxandra felt new melodies arise—similar to the music from the concert. Where she was touched, her body sang. Their mouths pressed hard, and their bodies pushed close. Elizabeth’s hands roamed Ruxandra’s back, from the nape of her neck to the cleft of her buttocks. Everywhere they went they left trails of heat and song.

  Ruxandra let her own hands wander down Elizabeth’s back, and she was rewarded with a gasp. Elizabeth pushed her mouth harder against Ruxandra. One hand left Ruxandra’s back and slipped up to cup one of her breasts. The touch made Ruxandra’s flesh burn with pleasure.

  She reached up and took one of Elizabeth’s breasts in her hand. They were soft beneath the cloth of her dress, so much softer than Neculai’s chest.

  Who?

  “Stop,” Elizabeth gasped, pulling Ruxandra away from the memory. “Oh please, please stop.”

  Ruxandra did so, and Elizabeth stepped back. Her face was flushed red, and she was panting with desire. She smiled at Ruxandra, and Ruxandra knew that if Elizabeth were to devour her on the spot, she would not have minded in the slightest.

  “We must stop”—Elizabeth’s eyes were gleaming, her body trembling—“because I want so much to continue.”

  Ruxandra shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I will not take you here.” The wave of Elizabeth’s hand took in the entire drawing room. “I will not have our first lovemaking be rough and tumble on the floor of this room.”

  “Our first . . .”

  “Oh, my sweet, sweet girl.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and stepped farther away. “I promise to teach you all about love, but not tonight. Tonight, I must sleep, so that I may face Rudolph in the morning and protect my lands.”

  She stepped forward again, caught Ruxandra’s hand, and kissed it hard. “Will you forgive me?”

  “Oh yes.” Ruxandra moaned the words as Elizabeth’s lips caressed her skin. “Always.”

  “I’m so glad.” Elizabeth dropped Ruxandra’s hand. “Good night, Ruxandra. I will see you tomorrow.”

  Elizabeth retreated into her bedroom. Ruxandra stared after her, the feeling of Elizabeth’s hands and mouth still reverberating through her body.

  Is that love? Why does it seem familiar, yet not familiar at all? There is no one like Elizabeth.

  The picture in her mind was of her friend in her beautiful gown and cloak, hair dark as night, jewels not as bright as her eyes, her face sweet and rosy with desire. She knew it wasn’t the whole story, but it was the one that mattered—that drew her like a flame.

  She turned to go to her room and realized she was in no way tired. So she wished herself unseen and slipped out of the Stallburg and into the night.

  The air was cold against her skin but not enough to make it unpleasant. The night was darker now. Few people wandered the streets, and few torches burned anywhere. Ruxandra didn’t mind. She could see clearly, and she wanted to see everything. She walked in ever-widening circles around the Stallburg, learning the streets the way she had learned the forest.

  Every building was a revelation. The way the stones were cut, the way glass hung in so many windows. The way the buildings crowded one on another. Everything was new and exciting, and the rhythms of the concert seemed to dance through the darkened city.

  She was so enthralled that she forgot to stay unnoticed.

  “Pardon me, miss,” a man’s deep voice asked behind her. “Spare some change for a poor beggar?”

  Ruxandra turned. The man was squat and wide and well fed. His right hand was behind his back, his hat in his left, pressed over his heart. He bowed deeply.

  “I’m sorry,” Ruxandra said. “I don’t have any money.”

  “That’s too bad.” The man looked up, a gleam in his eye. “I’ll have your dress, then.”

  He threw the hat at her to divert her attention and charged. His hand came out from his back, the knife in it slashing toward her face.

  Only Ruxandra wasn’t there anymore.

  He spun, saw her, and launched at her. Ruxandra moved.

  When was the last time I ate?

  The Beast was sluggish, but the first feelings of hunger danced in her stomach.

  The man leaped at her again, and Ruxandra dodged again. The man swore and spun.

  Memories of the wolf pack, of challenging the leader, of other wolves seeking to supplant her filled her mind.

  Ruxandra growled.

  The sound came from deep in her chest. It was an animal noise, not a human one. It made the man freeze. Then he grinned and launched himself at her once more.

  The man was bulky and slow compared to Ruxandra. His movements were predictable. Even so, he was strong, and several times he nearly caught her before she grabbed his right hand in her own.

  He kicked at her and smashed at her hand. She pulled him to keep him off balance and leaped onto his back. She sank her teeth into his throat, and he shouted in surprise. She latched on hard to keep the blood from spurting out and staining her beautiful dress. The man struggled desperately, slamming her against the wall and reaching over his shoulder to gouge at her eyes. She drove her talons into his body to pin him to her.

  His struggling stopped, his knees collapsed, and he fell to the ground. Ruxandra released him and caught her balance. She swallowed the last of his blood and felt a tremor go through her. Then she realized what she’d done.

  A quick look showed her the street was empty, but it didn’t change the fact that a man’s body sprawled at her feet with two holes in his throat.

  Elizabeth will be furious . . .

  NOW WHAT DO I do?

  Ruxandra stared down at the man’s body. His face was frozen in a scream. His eyes stared wide in surprise and fear. Worst of all, he was lying where everyone could see him.

  Ruxandra’s eyes darted around looking for someplace—anyplace—to get rid of the body.

  If this were the forest it would be easy, but here?

  The moat was her first thought, but even if no one saw her dump the body in, surely they would notice his corpse floating on the surface. There was the river itself, but she needed to cross most of the city and get over the wall to get there.

  If I cut his throat and dump him in the moat, everyone will likely assume he died and bled out there.

&n
bsp; She picked up the man’s knife. It was heavy, and the blade looked keen and sharp. Strangely, the idea of cutting into his flesh left her feeling squeamish.

  Yet I tore his throat open and drank all his blood. What’s the difference now?

  It took her a moment to build enough nerve to kneel on him and press the blade to his throat. It took more to start sawing. After three strokes the blade bit in, opening the flesh. She saw the muscle and the small bones floating in his throat. She saw the openings where breath and food passed down into the body. It was fascinating and repulsive.

  She stood, grabbed the bloodless corpse by its belt, and tossed it over her shoulder. It was easy. She wished herself unseen and ran across the city, the body bouncing and flopping as she went. The corpse’s bladder released, then its bowels, leaving a stench that made Ruxandra’s nose wrinkle. Both messes stayed in the dead man’s breeches, though they would soon start to leak through. She sped up.

  The city wall was tall and thick. She found a set of stairs and climbed to the top easily enough. She dodged three guards and slid down the rough, sloped front of the wall, and set the body gently into the moat. It slipped beneath the surface and out of sight.

  Ruxandra stood, her back against the wall, and she stared up at the sky. The moon was out of sight, and the stars shone like the eyes of old pagan gods—eyes that approved of her daring and her skill. She was practically gasping with exhilaration, at one with the wild night.

  I killed him and I hid him and I got away with it.

  It was different, fighting someone. It was thrilling and challenging. Not like killing the poor helpless girls in the cell or the old lady and the old man. It was like running with the wolves, or fighting the bear.

  But better.

  Ruxandra had been a hunter in the woods. She had liked it. The chase and the fight roused her in the same way the hunger roused the Beast. That sort of hunt was more than just feeding.

  It is what I was meant to do. Made to do.

  She grinned at the sky, her fangs bared. She wanted to howl like she had with the wolves. Instead, she extended her talons, climbed the wall, and slipped through the night back to her rooms, without waking a soul.

  “I need you here,” Elizabeth told her the next morning. “For the next two days I will be in discussions with many of the nobles. If they wish to see what I have been doing with the ladies of my gymnaesium, I need to be able to present you at a moment’s notice. Do you understand?”

  “For the next two days,” Ruxandra said. “Yes, my lady.”

  Elizabeth patted her cheek. “Good girl. I shall see you again as soon as these meetings are finished.”

  Ruxandra spent the following two mornings asleep and the afternoons playing cards. Since she had promised not to go out, she spent the evenings experimenting with her ability to feel others’ emotions.

  The first time, she opened her mind wide. Suddenly, she could feel everyone’s emotions at once, for miles in every direction. She cried out in pain, shocking Jana awake, and held her head until the feeling of being overwhelmed went away.

  The second time, she looked at Jana, asleep on Ruxandra’s bed. Contentment and happiness radiated from her, with a hint of fear at the very center. Ruxandra expanded her reach, taking in the building. She could feel fifty people she didn’t know, mostly asleep, some awake in passion, one awake in misery. She found Dorotyas and felt her anger and jealousy. She lingered for a moment, wondering if there was anything else, but found nothing interesting at all. She found Elizabeth’s servants and felt their fear and pain, their persistent weak prayer.

  By the end of the second night, she could control how far she reached and whose minds she looked into.

  On the third night, she was growing hungry again.

  Elizabeth said two days. This is the third.

  She slipped out the window wearing only her shift. Her feet were bare to better feel the ground. She made herself unnoticed and stalked the streets, listening for the sound of people and following them to a tavern where poor men drank together.

  It was a dangerous place if the smell of fear from the serving girls was anything to go by. Ruxandra stepped inside, still unnoticed, and opened her mind to the people’s emotions. Anger, happiness, sadness, and grief radiated from the men and women there. Some more complex, nuanced feelings that she didn’t have time to explore. She felt the pain of their injuries as well. The stump at the end of one man’s arm throbbed with memory of the hand that had once been there. Another man’s back burned with the flogging his master had given him.

  One man burned brighter with rage and hatred than any of the others.

  Still unnoticed, Ruxandra slipped through the crowd. People stepped out of their way to avoid her without wondering why. She found the man sitting in the corner watching the serving girls, with bloodshot eyes and a heart seething with hatred. Ruxandra stayed against the wall, unnoticed and patient, like a cat waiting on a rat.

  The woman who served his table, a young blonde thing with a low-cut blouse and wide eyes, was terrified. She kept out of hand’s reach of him, didn’t answer his questions, and avoided his eyes. The man’s eyes never left her, and when she told the barman she needed to step out, the man finished his drink in a single swing and followed her.

  Ruxandra slipped out behind him.

  The girl squatted in the alley, her skirts hoisted. Urine spattered on the cobblestones between her feet. The man watched her, and Ruxandra felt rage and lust and pure hatred coming off him in waves. He slipped up behind the girl and raised his boot to kick her over.

  It was as far as he got.

  An hour later, Ruxandra slipped through the dark streets toward the cathedral. She had glimpsed the steeple on the way in and was curious to see it up close. Jana had told her the other servants called it one of the greatest cathedrals ever built. As the night was still young and the cathedral was only a short walk from the Stallburg, there was no reason not to see it.

  Soon, she stood at the front door of Saint Stephen’s Cathedral, gawking.

  The steeple was taller than anything she had seen. The building was as long as the blocks surrounding it. The door was twenty feet high and mounted by an animal bone that was as long as she was tall. The towers flanking the doors were at least sixty feet high, and each was only half as high as the great steeple.

  I must get inside. I must see it.

  The doors were shut and locked, the windows all closed. She didn’t want to break anything to get inside, but she was desperately curious. She looked closely over the building, searching for an entry point. High up, near the top of the steeple, was a balcony. Two men stood there, looking out over the city.

  It would not be too difficult to climb, she thought. They wouldn’t see me at all.

  She tied up her shift, grinned, and jumped.

  Upon her return, Ruxandra told Jana where she’d gone. Her descriptions of the cathedral made the girl nearly squirm out of her chair with excitement.

  “It sounds wonderful!” Jana said as she helped Ruxandra get ready for bed. “I wish I could see it.”

  “Then go,” Ruxandra said. “I don’t need you during the day. You can go see it and come back after.”

  Jana shook her head. “Dorotyas will strap me if I go anywhere without my mistress.”

  “That’s not fair.” Ruxandra put her hand on her chin and thought about it. “If I go out after sunset tonight, we should be able to see some of the city before it gets too dark. Would you like that?”

  “Oh yes!”

  That evening, as the sun went down, Ruxandra led Jana out of the Stallburg and into the streets. Ruxandra wore a plain dress and cloak at Jana’s suggestion, and the two of them walked arm in arm through the streets.

  The evening light felt too bright and made Ruxandra squint. It was worth it, though, to see the delight on Jana’s face. The girl leaped around like a wolf cub, exploring one place after the next. Together they found an open-air market and browsed through the stands. Most
were already closed, but they saw chickens and fresh bread, winter apples and jewelry.

  The woman selling jewelry worked very hard to sell it to Ruxandra, but they had no money. Which is too bad, because I would have liked to buy one of those.

  They were leaving the market when the smell of lilacs caught Ruxandra’s attention. She turned, half expecting to see Neculai, holding the bar of soap he’d given her.

  Neculai?

  The image faded nearly as quickly as it came, leaving Ruxandra dazed. She sniffed the air, found the scent, and followed it to a small shop. Jana trailed after her, mystified. The door to the shop was closed. Ruxandra knocked at it without thinking. A woman opened it and looked Ruxandra up and down. “Yes, m’lady?”

  “That smell. What is it?”

  The woman frowned. “One of my perfumes, I suppose.”

  “May I see it?” Ruxandra asked.

  “We are closed for the day, m’lady—”

  “Please!” Ruxandra desperately wanted the perfume, wanted to put her nose in it and breathe the lilacs. “I’ve never smelled anything so good. Please, may I come in?”

  The change in her own voice startled Ruxandra so much she nearly fell over. Her words throbbed with power. She felt it floating in the air like the scent of the perfume, felt it twisting the woman’s will.

  The woman’s face went slack. She stepped back. “Come in.”

  Ruxandra hesitated, still struck by what she had done. The woman stared at her, waiting. Ruxandra stepped inside, Jana trailing her.

  The shop smelled even better inside. Fifty different scents competed for Ruxandra’s attention. She walked through the small, cluttered shop with its embroidered hangings and deep-shelved cabinets, watching the candle flames reflected in the mirrors and sniffing bottle after bottle. Then she picked up a small glass vial, and the scent of lilacs filled her nose.

  The water in the pond was ice cold and turning gray as she used the soap to scrub away the accumulated dirt of months. She hurried. He said he wasn’t coming back, but she didn’t want him seeing her like this.