Tudor Rose [BoyxBoy]

Chapter 27 - Dreaming

Fitzgerald Murray was able to provide each of his guests a separate bedroom within his expansive manor, though Henri would have preferred to share a bed with Michael. Michael had made it abundantly clear that it would be out of the question for them to see each other during the night, as Van Helsing would be keeping a close eye on their movements, and it would be exceedingly dangerous to have their cover blown. So Henri sat alone in his room thinking of the dead and mangled body of Mrs. Murray. He thought of his own mother and the danger she might be in with Vlad Tepes alive.

He took off his coat, vest, and trousers so that he could sleep in just his white cotton shirt and knickers before crawling beneath the sheets. The mattress was comfortable, more so than the small twin bed he occupied at the academy. Before he could really consider the consequences of his and Michael's missing class, his mind was absorbed with the dark images of Vlad Tepes.

Though he had not been able to see him in the hedge maze, he had a clear vision of the progenitor of the Dracula bloodline now. He was wearing a black suit under a long cloak lined with red and gold patterned silk. His long curling hair was black and fell slightly in his face, which was handsome and mature, a short beard accentuating his strong jawline. He had red eyes much brighter than Michael's, unmistakably crimson. He smiled, aware that Henri was watching him, revealing long fangs stained red with fresh blood.

The image faded in a red mist-like haze before Henri heard the deep, sonorous voice ask, "You are the Valois, are you not?"

"Where is that coming from?" Henri asked aloud. He sat up in his bed, on his knees to reach the candelabra on the nightstand next to the bed. Before he could reach for the matches, the candles were lit. He searched the room with its light, but saw nothing.

"You sweet... innocent child," said the voice, now incredibly close. Henri tried to spin around to see him, but he was paralyzed. He felt cold breath on the back of his neck and a body moving against him. "It's sad he'll have to die because you're so very weak," said Vlad.

"What are you talking about?"

Henri felt fingers running through his hair gently before the pain of his head being jerked down came. From the corner of his eye he could see the bright crimson shining in the light of the candles looking at him, and the glistening fangs waiting to penetrate his skin. "You think Michael can protect you?"

"Yes," Henri breathed confidently.

"Then... where is he? Foolish boy. No one can protect you other than yourself. You mustn't rely on anyone else, even your lover..."

A chill ran down Henri's spine hearing his secret so objectively spoken.

"How can I protect myself from you?" asked Henri, trying desperately to move.

Vlad broke into uproarious laughter, and Henri wondered how Michael had not been compelled to come to him yet. "Has it not occurred to you that he hasn't come to save you because he can't save you... no... you know this."

"Just fucking drain me," Henri growled.

"Oh in due time, boy. When you come into your birthright, I will be there to have you, and that is a promise."

"Tell me how," said Henri.

"Not even I can do that," said Vlad. "But I'll give you a hint. It involved your blood!" he said this as he bit down hard on Henri's neck, causing him to cry out in pain.

Just then Henri woke up, sitting up straight in his bed, looking around desperately for a sign of Vlad Tepes. There was nothing but darkness. He felt his neck and shoulder for blood, but by the light of the moon pouring in from the window, he could see there was nothing. It had only been a dream.

Still, he would have expected Michael to have picked up on his distress. Even now, he was anticipating Michael's voice entering his mind to reassure him of his safety, but no such thing happened. He got out of bed and struck a match to light the candles.

He took the candelabra into the hall, which was dark except for the ray of light coming from the room at the end of the hall. Henri approached it slowly, aware of a thick tension in the air. His heart was pounding, making him feel vulnerable.

He pushed the door at the end of the hall open and dropped the candelabra to the ground.

"Henri, run!" croaked Michael from the clutches of Vlad Tepes. Vlad was draining him and Henri could see the light leaving his eyes as he weakly attempted to break away. This room did not belong to Michael however, it was Mina's. Henri saw that Vlad had already finished with her, and her body was laid out on the bed, her white night gown soaked a dark red.

Vlad removed his fangs from Michael to look up at Henri and smile through blood stained lips. The blood was dropped from between his teeth onto Michael, who now appeared to be dead as well. Henri fell to his knees, unable to breath or think or move.

Suddenly a powerful wisp noise broke the air and an arrow pierced Vlad's skull through his forehead. Vlad cried out in pain, releasing Michael from his grasp. Michael fell to his knees before his face hit the floor. Henri tried to crawl over to him, but he felt a power jab to the ribs and felt himself thrown across the room. Van Helsing had come brandishing a crossbow. He fired arrow after arrow into Vlad Tepes, until the vampire transformed into a swarm of bats that disappeared through the window.

"Silver tipped arrows," said Van Helsing as Henri picked himself up.

Henri ran to Michael's side, turning him over. He needed to have his blood to heal, but he could not feed him in front of Van Helsing.

"Is he dead?" asked Van Helsing. Henri did not know the true answer, but he nodded, choking back tears.

"M-Mina," Henri muttered. "Is Mina dead?"

He heard Van Helsing's heavy footsteps as the hunter approached the bed. He turned to watch as Van Helsing lifted her into arms. "The girl is not dead," he said through his thick German accent. He took her from the room, leaving Henri alone with Michael.

"Here," Henri said, holding out his wrist so that Michael could drink from him. He began uncontrollably sobbing, crying out the word "Drink," though Michael was not responding. Finally, he gave up and buried his face into Michael's shoulder.

Then unexpectedly, he felt an intense pain in his neck. Michael was alive, he was drinking.