Prettiest Vampire

Chapter X: Lilian and Many, Many Demons

Chapter X: Lilian and Many, Many Demons

Midnight. The sisters entered the castle through the tower window, gliding down to land lightly on the floor where they deposited Lilian in a taffeta, silk and satin heap. Lilian’s legs were like rubber, but somehow he managed to crawl from the Sirens, stand, and run, straight into the arms of Count Dodrescu.

“There is no need for fear,” said the Count, holding and comforting Lilian. “Shed no more tears, pretty one. No one here will harm you.”

Lilian knew this wasn’t true, but he wanted to believe it and was powerless to do otherwise, so he took comfort in the strong, reassuring arms of the Count.  Lilian wrapped his arms around the Count’s neck, as if he were holding onto a life preserver in a storm.

“Do you see?” said Dodrescu reassuringly as he led Lilian across the floor to the center of the large, circular room. “You are perfectly safe here.”

Lilian began to calm down, and loosened his grip on the Count as they walked together. In the center of the room was a circular board, an old table top, except it was hanging vertically from the ceiling by sturdy chains. Lilian looked at it curiously, wondering what its purpose might be when Dodrescu grabbed him by the arm, lifting him off the floor and chaining his wrist to the top of the table.

Lilian was taken completely by surprise. He tried to reach for the shackle with his free hand, but Dodrescu grabbed it and soon had it pinned to the other side of the table.

“What are you doing?” Lilian shrieked. “You said I was perfectly safe!”

“I apologize for that,” said Dodrescu, crossing to the side of the room where a number of chains hung from the ceiling. He selected one, unwrapping it from the post which held it. “It may be that I exaggerated somewhat when I said you were ‘perfectly’ safe!”

Dodrescu pulled the chain, hand over hand, and Lilian yelped as he felt the table lift from the floor. His feet now dangled as he hung from his tightly secured wrists. Ilinca and Daciana then approached him, each grabbing a leg and spreading them wide, securing his ankles to the table with metal clamps and chains similar to those which fastened his wrists.

“Here, let me fix your pretty dress,” said Ilinca. She straightened Lilian’s dress, and fixed it at his knees as best she could with his legs spread wide. Meanwhile Daciana fixed a wide leather belt around Lilian’s waist, securing him tightly to the table top.

“Why are you doing this?” cried Lilian, now completely helpless. Ilinca had found a comb, and was attempting to fix his hair which had been blown about rather badly on their flight.

Dodrescu secured the chain to its post once more. “Believe me, the chains are for your own security. You will understand very soon.”

Dodrescu approached Lilian, now helplessly bound. As he crossed the floor he pulled out a small, razor-sharp knife. Lilian stared in horror as Dodrescu approached, but the Count did not use the knife to kill him. Instead he made a small nick in each of Lilian’s wrists, then his ankles, and a tiny cut below his ear. A small trickle of blood dripped from each wound as Dodrescu returned to the chains at the side of the room.

Dodrescu selected another chain, and pulled on it. Lilian screamed as his feet were raised, and he found himself hanging from the underside of the table facing the floor from a height of about five feet. Ilinca continued to work on fixing his hair.

Dodrescu approached the table again. Reaching into his pocket he removed the tooth, the relic of his beloved Mirela. Kissing it one last time, he placed it in the center of the table.