Every Rose Has It's Thorns

Chapter 9: To Thrall or Not to Thrall

Goosewing awoke to the realization that he was laying on a small bed, his head resting on a plump pillow. Around him were stone walls that reminded him of ancient ruins, not his cozy dirigible.

"Ah, Dr. von Goosewing. It is good to see you back in the land of the living - so to speak." The butler calmly gazed at him from the chair near his bed, his hands preoccupied with a newspaper.

"Duckula?" Goosewing gasped, sitting up quickly.

"You mean, Count Duckula. I'm afraid you've just missed him. He has barely left your side the entire transformation, but the moment you began to stir, he fled down the hall," said Igor, his gaze flickering to the open door.

"Fled down the hall? Wait... What transformation?"

The butler's calm golden eyes focused on him. "Why doctor... Do you not remember the state you were in following the fight with Count Duckula's family? You were bleeding out on the floor. If I may be so bold to say, sir - Nanny and I were quite impressed with your sudden display of heroism. Presenting your own lifeblood to break our dear count's trance - Truly a noble and loving sacrifice. Quite unexpected of a vampire hunter."

"Bleeding?" Goosewing pressed a hand to his side, the memory of pain coming back to him. He was startled to find himself shirtless, his feathers and flesh undamaged. "You said there was a transformation? Duckula healed me?"

The butler laughed, his voice echoing the walls of the small bedchamber they were in. "Healed you? Evilness, no. He did much more than just heal you, doctor. He made you a thrall!

"A thrall?" A chill ran up the hunter's spine. Thralls were the dangerous, immortal servants of vampires. Capable of withstanding the light of day, but just as evil as their masters. "He made me a servant?"

"Of a sort," Igor sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "He granted you a longer life, as the first Count Duckula did to myself and Nanny. However, our Count Duckula is not as powerful as the first, due to his lack of blood drinking the majority of his life, so you are certainly NOT a true immortal. I would wager that your own life will come to an end soon after the current Count Duckula had passed on. Without a weekly helping of his blood, your body will be quick to wither away."

"Verdammte!" (damn it) the hunter swore, pressing his hand to his mouth. He was already imagining the bitter, metallic taste of blood on his tongue. "Are you saying that I have to be drinking Duck's blood to stay by his side?

The butler scoffed loudly, his gaze narrowing in distaste. "You may be his lover, but to refer to the count in such an overly-familiar way..." Igor's face fell, and he grumbled under his breath. "Nevermind. Count Duckula truly believes he is in love with you, so you will, no doubt, get away with all manner of things from this point onward."

Goosewing ducked his head, his cheeks burning from embarrassment. "Duckula is in love with me? Truly?"

"Why, of course our little Duckie-boo is in love with you. He was moping about all week long before his uncle Vlad arrived. And when you was dying in his arms, he swore to heal you, and keep you as his own," said Nanny, bashing her way through what was once the door.

"Yes, well, he was in a possessive state of mind, once he'd dined on von Goosewing's lifeblood. It was such a rapturous moment - to see his bloodshot eyes and gleaming fangs. My heart was aflutter with wonder as he slit his own wrist, and held it to your mouth, doctor. Even in your near-death state, the master's healing blood began to change you from the inside out.

"That little boo-boo on your side healed right up, it did," Nanny interrupted, jostling the mattress as she sat down on the end. Reaching out, she patted Goosewing's leg from atop the covers. "Our Duckie-boo carried you back into the castle, and had us prepare this room for you. Why, his room is just down the hall on your left. Ooh, I imagine he's worrying himself half to death over you as we speak," the woman sighed.