The little village of Forgotten Hollow stood in the mountains above Windenburg, almost unchanged for four generations. It was a favorite destination for hikers and tourists who visited for the old architecture and the slightly sinister history. It was said that four generations ago the town had been wiped out in a terrible disaster, leaving only one survivor - Count Vladislaus Straud I. The reclusive country nobleman had gone on to rebuild his little community, as well as making a fortune investing in the mountain lumber mills which served the growing city.
A statue honoring this famous figure stood in the village square.
Miranda wondered why no one ever commented on the fact that all of the equally reclusive heirs, down to the current Count Vladislaus Straud IV, looked exactly like their forebearer. Somehow, she supposed, people found it easier to accept an uncanny family resemblance than the fact that Vladislaus Straud had already been an ancient vampire when he'd first claimed Forgotten Hollow as his own almost two centuries ago.
Of course, Miranda realized, apart from the odd speculative article about her beauty regimen, people didn't really seem to question the fact that these days her mom looked more like her sister than her mother. She still wasn't entire sure how old Gwen really was. 
She was distracting herself, Miranda thought. Trying very hard not to think about the quiet old houses, the prominent mausoleum in the old graveyard... and the vampires she knew without any doubt slept in the dark beneath them.
She tried to stay calm and confident as she took the long winding path up the hill to where the sprawling house that was Straud Manor loomed over the village.
No one had seen Vladislaus Straud since she had confronted him before the Glimmerbrook Gate, years ago. She assured herself it was unlikely that he lurked in the shadowy depths or sinister towers of the old mansion.
"You know what I love about this place, Bluebell?" Miranda said, as she approached the manor gates. "The simple, understated elegance of it."
You know what they say, Bluebell chimed. If it ain't baroque, don't fix it.
"That's terrible," Miranda laughed.
A whispered Word opened the doors silently and easily. Another Word kindled flames in the candles, bring light to the manor's dark interior. The place smelled of dust, mildew and a hint of dry stone and cold earth... the scent of the grave.
You're letting your imagination get the better of you, Miranda thought. Still, as the heavy doors silently swung shut behind her, she was reassured by the feeling of the Moonwood Wand, tucked into her jeans.
"Well, we're here," she whispered to Bluebell. "Let's have a look around."
Carefully, she checked the cobweb draped dining room, no doubt long disused even before the disappearance of the master of the house. The ancient kitchen was covered in thick dust. Its wood burning stove and old icebox would, she thought, no doubt be of fascination to historians but were of no help to her.
Turning from them, she found the spacious sitting room and its shelves of books. Carefully, she searched through the musty leather tomes. There was far less dust here, she noticed with a chill. 
"This is it," Miranda whispered suddenly. "The Ultima Vampirica... this is it!"
Good, take it and let's go, Bluebell chimed softly.
"No," Miranda breathed.
No? What do you mean no?
"He's been here," Miranda replied quietly. "Even if he's not sleeping here now, he's been here recently. Look at the dust, the fresh candles. If I take it, he'll know it's gone. He'll come looking for it."
If you don't take it, and he finds you here...
"It's a risk," Miranda allowed, "but not as much as if would be if he knew someone had stolen it."
You mean to read it here, Bluebell chimed.
"I do," Miranda said, calling light from the candles. "Watch my back."
--------------
"I think... yes, I think I found it," Miranda said some time later. "Blood, wolfsbane, garlic... this... wouldn't this be toxic to a vampire?"
Bluebell swooped low, looking over the page herself.
It will burn out their dark essence, the fairy chimed. Only the mortal parts of them would remain.
"That doesn't sound like much of a cure," Miranda mused.
The Old Families were trying to protect themselves. Stripping the vampires of their dark essence, of their powers, would do that.
"But an older vampire, or a powerful one, would be full of the dark essence," Miranda said. "This would probably kill them."
Bluebell was silent.
"We didn't make this to cure them," Miranda said at last. "We made this to kill them."
They killed you... drained your blood and your magic to feed their own.
"After we created them. Enslaved them," Miranda said. "Even their vampirism... we created it by carelessly experimenting on them. We did this."
Again, Bluebell hung silently in the air.
"It's Claudette all over again," Miranda sighed. "What she did was wrong... but she wasn't wrong about the arrogance, the prejudice, of the Old Families. We've created these enemies... and Straud created his. From what Snow told Mariah, he created Ms. H. Her hatred of him drove her to turn Mariah, to get to me... a weapon against me, and I'm a weapon against Straud. All this hate... and we started it. There has to be a better way to end it."
If you extended the hand of friendship to Vladislaus Straud, Bluebell chimed, he would bite your wrist and drain you blood and magic. His hatred is too old and runs too deep.
"I know," Miranda sighed, "but there still has to be a better way."
You have Mariah's cure.
"And for her, it will be a cure," Miranda said, "because she won't be steeped in the dark essence yet."
And you have the weapon.
"No," Miranda said. "Maybe it can be one, but I won't use it like that. I won't. There has to be a better way."
-------------
No comments:
Post a Comment