Chapter 5: A Spritely Situation – Misha's story.
A Bloody Mess: The Stake is Mightier Than the Laptop
Often we leave out vital pieces of information when asking someone for a favour, only to find later the true scope of our mistake. It is usually only once it is too late that we realize a simple omission to make things easier can lead to a tragedy we never would have expected, and changes we hoped never to witness or undergo.
Fragment One: First Impressions
The yellow cab pulled to a stop in front of a run-down building and the driver informed his passenger that they had reached their destination.
"Are you sure this is the place?" came the startled reply.
He looked back at his passenger, then at the building. It was the right address, but it didn't look like the type of place a girl like her should be going. She was small, only a little over five feet tall, and pretty, but not overly so. She had an air of personality about her though, one that would make any intelligent fellow look past her appearance. "This is the address you gave me."
She nodded, her long blond hair flowing into her eyes as she did so. Her smile as she thanked him did not neglect her soft blue eyes, but filled them with a warm sparkle. She paid him, with a generous tip, and stepped out of the car. The cabbie called out to ask if she needed help with her bags, but she shook her head, claiming she could handle them herself, and that she trusted her beloved laptop Max in no hands but her own. Against his usual nature, he waited until the door of the house opened to allow her entrance before he left.
"Luce!"
Lucy embraced her best friend Darian, which was an awkward looking event due to the fact that he was a foot taller than she, and then stood back a step to look him over. He had black hair, slicked back with a generous dose of gel, and comforting doe-brown eyes. He'd been her friend for as long as she could remember. She was shocked, in a good way, to see what he was wearing though. "You don't look half bad in a suit," she said, grinning.
He smiled back, "You wouldn't look half bad without a suit."
She backhanded him in the shoulder playfully. "Enough talk, where's this friend of yours? I'd like to meet the man who managed to get you to dress up."
A strained, distressed look passed quickly over his face, "This way, I'll introduce you to him."
"Count Vladmir Blode, this is Miss Lucy Elizabeth Westenra, as requested," Darian said, bowing to the man who sat behind the large wooden desk.
Lucy studied him for a moment before stepping out around her friend. He was a pale man, with full red lips, and hair of the blackest night. His eyes too were black, but looking longer she could see that both eyes and hair had faint touches of true red. He wore a black suit, and a cape that looked to be lined with red satin. If she hadn't been thoroughly convinced that there was no such thing as a vampire, she would have accused him of being one. She offered him a hand to shake, but instead he took her fingers, drawing her towards him, and brushed his lips lightly over the back of her hand. She blushed, glancing away even as the part of her brain that looked after research, the observatory journalistic part, took in the fact that his nails were nearly as long and red as hers, quite a feat.
"The pleasure," he said with a deep accent as he eyed her, "is mine, I assure you. You have a most fascinating name, and an equally enchanting reputation."
"You obviously know more about me than I know of you."
He chuckled. "I asked for you especially. Now, if your friend will excuse us . . ." he said pointedly. Darian looked nervously from Lucy than back to Blode. Seeming to recognize something in the latter's eyes, he nodded and left the room, closing the door partway behind him and stood just outside, pensive. Blode walked to the door and closed it the rest of the way. "Please, Miss Westenra, be seated."
She sat in the chair across from where he had chosen to sit, on the other side of a large, dark wood desk, and sat the black bag containing her laptop into her lap. "I understand you wish to write a novel and have been having some troubles."
Blode nodded, "Yes, it is the English. I cannot write it."
"You speak it very well."
"My spoken words are much deceiving. I cannot write it well enough to make my point clear. But it is not just the novel I asked you brought here for. I needed to see you; it is your name you see. I knew a Westenra, and I wondered if you were perhaps a descendant."
Lucy smiled, "My name is a story to be sure, but more embarrassing than interesting, and I doubt I am related to the Westenra you know." She seemed to believe that her explanation was enough, but he wished to know all, so he prompted her to tell more. She took a deep breath before beginning. "It's quite simple really. Before my parents met, they shared a mutual friend who was throwing a vampire themed Halloween party. The week before the event, he assigned the costumes. My mother was told to dress as Lucy Westenra from the Dracula novel, and my father as the Blood Countess Elizabeth Bathory. They met, and nine months later they were 'blessed' with the bundle of joy that is me."
Fragment Two: Artistic Views
Sophronia Cattan set down her paintbrush and stood back to take in her piece. She brushed a loose strand of dark brown hair from her face, smearing red paint across her cheek. With an eyebrow raised, she stared at the picture, trying to figure out why she had painted it. A blond haired woman took up half of the canvas, a look of distress on her face. Looming behind her was a shadowy red figure, lacking defined features. Sophronia glanced down at her palette and realized she had finished the last of her red paint. “Shit,” she muttered, tossing her brush down on her work table.
“Soph? Can I come in?”
“Basil? What the hell do you want?” she demanded, opening the door to reveal him.
“Just wanted to show you your print, it's in today's paper. You got half a page!” He peered past her into her work room, “Hey, that's Lucy, you met her?”
Sophronia looked back at the picture, “Who?”
“Lucy Westenra, she's a writer. Pretty well known in certain dark circles. Writes on anything supernatural, fiction or non. So you haven't met?”
She shook her head, “And now that you've said that, I really don't want to. I've had my fill of 'dark circles'.”
Basil frowned, “Surely you're not still upset at me about that.”
“Basil, you have no idea what they put me thorough,” she sighed. “Anyways, just leave the paper on the table and show yourself out. I've gotta clean up all this paint.”
He shrugged, “Suit yourself.”
And so we reach the point where I stopped writing. What follows is a summary of what was to happen next. Unfortunately, while I do know what happens, I just can't seem to write it.
Fragment Three: Settling In With a Drink
Lucy starts to work on novel with Blode, who provides her with a glass of “wine from his homeland” which it is eventually revealed is spiked with his blood.
Fragment Four: Persistent Visions
Sophronia tries desperately to finish her editorial comic for the next issue of the paper, but finds that all she can draw is Lucy. Grumbling, she decides to go out and look for the missing novelist.