Feline Savior

double-edged, sharply-pointed blade and a hilt long enough to grip with both hands, yet it felt light as a feather. The blade's metal flashed and shown like silver, but had a texture like the cobalt plating on her father's plaque, suggesting toughness and strength. Within the fuller were stamped a set of characters, spelling out a word or name: Caledbwlch.

  She snapped her attention back to Mandy when she heard her scream. She had gripped the cat with her free hand and was pulling it off her head. Her face was ravaged by claw and bite marks, making her look like a revenant that had been killed in a devastating accident, and she tore skin loose as she ripped the cat free. In a fit of rage she threw him at the sarcophagus. Mr. Mistoffelees hit the side of the stone coffin and fell to the floor, but tried to stand to attack again. Mandy aimed the Beretta and fired; the three rounds slammed into him, tearing through his chest, and threw him against the pedestal, where he lay still.

  "No!!" Fury exploded in Differel. Screaming, she rushed at Mandy, raising the sword above her head. Mandy turned and fired, but in her haste her aim was off, and the bullets whistled past her ear. She chopped the sword downward and sliced through Mandy's lower arm; hand and gun dropped to the floor. Mandy gave a bloodcurdling shriek as she raised what was left of her arm and gripped it below the wound with her other hand. Differel swung the sword back and slashed the point across her midriff, cutting through cloth, skin, and muscle as blood sprayed through the air in an arc, splashing across the floor and Differel's body. Mandy gasped, her eyes wide with shock, clutched at her stomach, and doubled over, dropping to her knees. Differel ran around to one side of her, raised the sword again, and brought it down on her neck, chopping cleanly through it. Mandy's head dropped off and rolled on the floor as her body fell forward and collapsed.

  Differel stood over her, panting, and felt satisfaction fill her core. One less enemy to threaten Queen and Country. Nor did she feel any remorse; her aunt was long gone, and she bore only hatred for what had replaced her.

  Coming back to her senses, she looked around. No more guards appeared, but that didn't mean she was out of danger. She turned and scooped up the Beretta. There were three shots left; not much, but better than nothing. She then ran back to the Vampire and dropped down beside him, placing the weapons on the floor to either side of her legs. He had fallen on his side, and despite his weight Differel managed to shove him over onto his back. He was still alive, but unconscious, and as she examined him she saw his hair fade to white as wrinkles appeared in his face. She didn't know what that meant, but she guessed he was losing power. He needed something to reinvigorate himself, but what?

  She grimaced. Blood, obviously. And there was only one source close at hand.

  She untied the sleeve covering the wound, but then hesitated. She wasn't sure if what she intended was a good idea, but she didn't see she had much choice. Grasping the handkerchief, she closed her eyes and grimaced in anticipation, then ripped it off her arm.

  The pain was intense, worse than she expected, worse than when the bullet grazed her. She cried out, squeezing tears out of her eyes as she balled one hand into a fist and pounded on her thigh.

  "Bloody hell!!" After a few moments, however, the pain subsided enough that she could concentrate on what she was doing. Looking at the wound, she saw it was bleeding profusely, with blood trickling off the underside of her arm. She leaned over the Vampire, and with her other hand pulled down his jaw to open his mouth and held her arm over his face, letting the blood drip into his mouth. For the first several seconds nothing happened, but then his tongue began to lap up the drops while they were still in the air. She wasn't sure how much he was getting, but it seemed to be enough, because the wrinkles disappeared from his face and his hair darkened to iron gray again.

  His eyes snapped open, and he took in everything at once. A look of shock crossed his face and she saw him tense.

  "It's all right. Drink; take what you need."

  Panic seized his features and he tried to pull away from her. Irritated, she grabbed the collar of his shirt.

  "Idiot! I said drink. That's an order, Servant!"

  The panic drained from his face and was replaced by a look that progressed from astonishment to respect to gratitude. He raised his head, but instead of clamping his lips over the wound, he licked it with his tongue. It was an odd sensation. There was no pain, only a kind of tingling, and a warmth that settled in and spread throughout her upper arm. More interesting was the strange feeling she sensed deep at the bottom of her abdomen, a kind of fluttering itch, like butterflies in the stomach, only more intense and pleasing. She had never felt it before. It was exciting and disturbing all at once; she wanted it to stop at once, and she never wanted it to stop ever. It seemed to her as if something had awakened, something inevitable and important, but for the time being she had no clue what it was.

  After a couple of minutes she began to feel lightheaded. She realized she had shed too much blood, and she leaned back on her haunches, covering the wound with her other hand. The Vampire got to his feet and helped her stand, but then he knelt down on one knee before her.

  "Thank you, My Master." Despite his lean build, his voice was a deep bass that that seemed to roll and boom like thunder.

  "Who are you?"

  "I am the Voivode, Vlad the Third, Tepes Drakulya, Late of Wallachia."

  She grinned. "Count Dracula."

  "So your ancestor, Abraham Van Helsing, named me."

  "How do you know that?"

  "It is in your blood. You have his Bloodline; you are of the Van Helsing Family, though it is somewhat diluted from last I tasted it."

  "I don't understand."

  "Every generation, when the new heir takes control of the Family, he gives me some of his blood, so that my bond to the Bloodline may be renewed and strengthened. The last one to do so was Miles George Arbuthnott."

  "He was my grandfather."

  "Yes, two generations; that seems about right."

  "Is Vlad your given name?"

  "Yes."

  "My name is Differel Isolde Churchill Pendragon."

  "Differel is an unusual name."

  She grinned in a sheepish manner. "My father was an amateur mathematician. He once told me that an integral is the area under a curve, hence it implies wholeness, whereas a differential is the measure of how the curve changes at any point. He said he wanted me to be constantly changing, always learning and adapting, never whole, complete, or finished. So he named me Differel, as a cognate to integral, to imply the meaning of differential."

  "It would seem your father is an intelligent and perceptive man; I would be honored to meet him."

  She frowned and lowered her head. "He's dead." She glanced at his crypt on the wall.

  Vlad bowed his head. "Then you are my sole Master, Sir Differel, and I am required to serve you, until you die, you release me, or I am destroyed."

  "Hmph." She favored him with a wry smile. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a girl."

  He lifted his head, a sour look on his face. For a moment, Differel's gut turned to ice. Did I say something wrong? Then she realized it was the same kind of look Aelfraed gave her whenever she said something he thought was out of line.

  Vlad stood and looked down at her. "Biologically, that may be true, but you are no mere female. You have the strength and will of all the Van Helsings before you, back to Abraham himself. You have the power and authority to command me, even if you are not yet worthy of it. Therefore, you are My Master, and you deserve the honor of a proper title, social convention be damned."

  "Don't move!"

  Differel jumped, but she recognized the voice. Vlad blocked her view of the door, and when she looked around him she saw Mr. Holt standing just inside, his assault rifle raised to his face and aimed at the Vampire. As she watched, Aelfraed and Mrs. Widget entered behind him.

  Vlad turned and crouched, ready to engage him. She panicked. "No, wait, stop! He's a friend!"

  Everyone looked at her, and she realized
they didn't know who she referred to.

  "I mean you all are!" She put herself between the two opponents and faced the Vampire. "Vlad, stand down."

  The Vampire made no move, but he remained ready to attack.

  "Do as I say, Servant! Stand down!" Vlad gave her a disappointed look tinged with irritation, but he relaxed and straightened up.

  She looked at Holt. "You, too, Lance Corporal. At ease."

  Holt lowered the rifle to his chest as Aelfraed and Mrs. Widget exchanged concerned looks. "Madam?"

  "You heard me, Mr. Holt."

  He dropped the barrel so it pointed at the floor. "Yes, Madam." As he nodded he also managed to look disappointed, and confused. Though he still gripped the trigger handle, he lowered it down to his side.

  Her head suddenly swam and she lost her balance. She started to fall, but Vlad caught her and picked her up, holding her in his arms.

  "I...I think I've had...enough for today."

  The three Humans rushed up to her, but while Aelfraed and Holt kept their distance from the Vampire, Mrs. Widget came right up to him. She made a cursory examination of her arm, and then turned to the others. "She's badly hurt, and going into shock. We need to get her back to house immediately."

  "Allow me," Vlad said. He cradled her in the crook of one arm, then grabbed Mrs. Widget around the waist and pulled her against him. Differel's vision went black, and she felt a wave of dizziness and an intense, ice-cold blast. She thought at first she was passing out, but her vision cleared and she saw she was in the manor infirmary.

  Vlad let Mrs. Widget go. She had a shocked look on her face, but it quickly turned to anger. She stepped back and slapped the Vampire on the face.

  "Don't ever do that to me again!"

  Vlad gave her a mocking leer. "Of course not."

  Differel giggled. "She's not a mere female either, so watch your step."

  "Yes, Master."

  Mrs. Widget led him into the ward and instructed him to place her on one of the beds. She then went to collect what she needed to treat her.

  Differel looked up at Vlad, who stood to one side, watching her. Now that the crisis had passed and she felt safe again, concern for her condition came to the forefront. "Am I going to be all right?"

  "Do you wish to be?"

  She frowned at the odd question. "Of course."

  "Then be so."

  Now she felt irritated. "Talk sense, will you?"

  "You can be whatever you desire to be, provided you have the will and the strength to fight for it. You have both, so if you want to be all right, you can be so. It is entirely up to you."

  Despite the convoluted wording, that did make sense. She also realized he had made her mad on purpose, to drive away her fear and doubt. "Hmph. And I suppose part of your job is to needle me whenever you feel it necessary."

  He grinned at her. "Of course."

  She smiled and closed her eyes. "Well then, just be aware that if you make too big a nuisance of yourself, I'll put you back where I found you."

  "Yes, My Master," she heard him say, moments before she dropped into unconsciousness.

  When Differel awoke, she found herself still in the infirmary bed. The first thing she noticed was the IV line in her right arm, delivering a blood transfusion into her veins. Turning her head, she looked at her left arm. There was a proper bandage over the wound. She reached over to touch it, and felt the stitching under it.

  "How do you feel, Madam?"

  She turned to her right and saw Aelfraed standing over her.

  "Tired," she replied, and then her stomach growled. "And hungry."

  He smiled with relief. "I'll have something brought down."

  "How long have I been out?"

  "Since last night; you lost a fair amount of blood."

  "What time is it?"

  "It's now noon."

  "Has the manor been retaken?"

  "Yes, but there was nothing to retake. The creatures that attacked us were gone by the time that I, Mrs.