Last Daughter of the House of Belmont (Book II)

2

In the days that followed, the number of bodies seemed to multiply, until hundreds of bloody and mangled corpses were dragged into the workshop. All from the South, he realised quickly with a cold dread. Men, women; old, young, all of them were trussed up and thrown across the slab to be reforged into night creatures.

Hector wasn't nearly as capable as Issac was when it came to the towering monstrosities they'd forged for Dracula's crusade. All his creations were quite uniform, with only small variations between them. His fellow forge-master had once told him it was due to a complete lack of imagination. But as the bodies flowed in, his imagination certainly wasn't lacking - nightly, he was plagued with the gruesome visions of their final moments, and the horrifying flashes of himself through their deadened eyes. He would feel their fear and pain as their bodies were contorted into unnatural shapes.

What was worse, he had not seen Elizabeth since she shared her name with him. He had heard other guards whisper and gossip about her and heard a bloodcurdling shriek that had bled through the castle from below. His imagination had conjured enough gruesome images of her flayed form that he found himself clutching the cloak tightly around him, trying to block out the nightmares.

One night, during one of Lenore's visits, he'd managed to romance some information from her. According to the red-haired vampiress, Carmilla had reprimanded Elizabeth for trying to help a human in the dungeons. Elizabeth had tried to sneak healing herbs into the cells and was now being punished for her insubordination.

A week went by without seeing her, and then another; until he awoke in the early hours of the morning to a scuffle and the sound of a side table being knocked over. Bleary-eyed, he'd rolled from his cot and crept back into his workshop with a candle stick in one hand and a book in the other - too tired to question why he'd chosen those as his shield and sword. He cautiously stepped closer to the noise, his heart pounding in his chest, only to find the vampire crumpled on the floor with burns searing the flesh along her spine and scorched rags clinging to her body.

"Merciful Gods," he exclaimed, dropping the items on the floor in shock. He ran for her cloak to throw over her, trying to keep her modesty intact. However, as the cloak made contact with her body, a sickening sizzling sound echoed through the room, and she let out a restrained snarl. The smell of burning flesh quickly filled the air, and Hector covered his mouth with his sleeve to stop himself from retching.

There was something feral about her, like Lenore when she hadn't fed in a while. The eyes were dull and reddened, the skin pallid and sweaty, and the features were elongated and more animalistic in shape. Who knows how long she'd gone without feeding?

"Elizabeth?" he said quietly, not sure if he should approach her. His hand slowly reached out to touch her arm.

"Don't come any closer," she growled in warning, her teeth gnashing together. Even her voice didn't sound right; it was less human.

Every ounce of him told him to turn and run away, but he forced himself to take a step closer, his arm still outstretched towards her. A low snarl rippled through her as she watched through her bloodshot peripherals. He never would have dared to do that with Lenore, and she never would have allowed it, but Elizabeth had never hurt him before - she was always kind.

"Elizabeth," he said, his voice firmer this time and more confident. "You're safe." It was a lie. Of course, they weren't safe here. At any moment, one of those witches might decide to break down the door and enact whatever malicious thoughts popped into their heads. But it wasn't about the castle or the even room. He wanted her to know she was safe with him.

They sat in an uncomfortable, silent stalemate for a long minute, the vampire frozen on the spot and her eyes not leaving the outstretched hand - which had begun to shake and tremble from the strain. She knew Hector meant no harm, it was evident in his soft, pitying look. But her nerves were shot, and the mere act of breathing proved painful. She didn't know what had been done to her back, she just felt an excruciating pain that seemed to repeat over and over. It would heal once she'd eaten something and slept in her coffin - that damned thing. Everything healed swiftly now.

Tears rolled down Elizabeth's cheek, blubbering sobs soon following. Everything healed quickly now. The scar on her forehead. The calluses on her hands. The sobs were so forceful that they caused her back to reopen, but she couldn't stop herself from crying. The birthmark at the back of her neck. Vampirism had healed them all, or more accurately, it had erased them. Even her shoulder, which had given her so much trouble throughout her life, was sitting properly in its socket. Before she turned, she couldn't remember the last time the bone felt solid, but now even that was gone. Tiny pox marks, scars, dimples, spots - everything was gone, everything that made her Elizabeth was gone.

"I'm so sorry for what they did to you," Hector cooed, maintaining a distance, but letting some of his body heat envelop them as shivers racked her body. He wished he could do more to make her feel better.

Quickly spiralling, her mind strayed to the prisoners, and how they had cowered away in fear when she tried to help them. She'd been foolish to think that bringing some herbs to them, or offering a few measly flea-ridden blankets, would make her look like anything other than a monster; a vampire. They screamed and ran away from her, clawing their way to safety - one of them had even thrown rocks at her in an attempt to escape. It hurt worse than the burnings, more brutal than the lashings, and ate at her worse than the hunger.

All that could be heard was the sound of sobbing, a desperate, hollow sound that continued until the air in her lungs creaked and scratched its way down her hoarse throat until she could sob no more.

"Tell me about them," Hector said as he poured a glass of water and offered it out to the vampire. He also offered her a handkerchief, which was tucked into the side of his palm. "Tell me about you... about Elizabeth," he reaffirmed encouragingly. "What was her favourite colour? Did she ever fall in love? What was the most daring thing she ever did?"

There were many stories, so many painful memories - her first hunt, the day her brother bought her a pair of gloves with the last of their coin... the day Alucard taught her to dance. A pair of shining gold eyes suddenly appeared in her mind, and a new, tight feeling constricted her throat.

"Gold."

"What?"

"Her favourite colour was gold - not gold like rings or jewels, but gold like the sun shining through the windows, the kind of light you see just as the dawn sun rises."

"Gold like that?" he asked, his eyes staring out in the awakening dawn.

In the distance, the sun was just hitting the snow, sending out enormous bolts of yellow, red and gold-hued light in every direction, making the whole scene look like something out of a painting. The light was so bright that it was almost impossible to look at directly. He swore he heard the sizzling noise again, but Elizabeth didn't look away. Instead, the edges of her lips turned to a sad smile, and her eyes glistened with a mixture of black blood and tears.

Between the rays, she could see him. She could see the swirl of his hair in the breeze, the swish of his coat as he danced between the beams with that effortless grace that always made her heart race. She could see the bright white flash of his smile and hear the warmth of his voice again in her ear as he softly whispered her name. But then the clouds shifted, and the gold was gone... and so was he.