Tirgoviste The Order of the Dragon

The Dragon Princes

     I don't remember if I was in shock. I can't really recall feeling anything at that moment. All the things I'd taken for granted as normal seemed to be shifting as reality, for the moment, turned completely on its head. I had released his chin and he turned away from me, sliding off the bed. He moved so smoothly, gracefully, I silently cursed myself for not having noticed it before. Normal people don't walk down walls. Normal people don't stab giant hypos into your neck in alleyways. Normal people don't speak in silent voices. I was psychic; I should have picked up on it.

     He was standing at the foot of the bed with his hands braced on the footboard, staring at the floor. I could sense a kind of despair coming from him. He was aware that I had violated his thoughts and it was causing him extreme distress. He had never experienced anything like that before. He was, for the moment, vulnerable and that was not a sensation he had felt for a very long time. It occurred to me to try to comfort him but his head jerked up suddenly and he turned toward the door. My senses began to alarm that I was in danger and I turned to look as well. Neither of us had to wait long. The large, wooden latch that was baring the door from the inside, lifted on its own and the doors were thrown open to crash against the wall on either side.

     Standing in the open doorway, were two massive-looking young, dark-haired men. As they advanced into the room from the shadows of the corridor, I could see that they both resembled my demon-angel. The first to enter was at least six-foot-five or so. He was built like one of those television wrestlers with wide shoulders and biceps as big as my thighs. He was dressed in a black, long-sleeved, button-up dress shirt that was untucked over a pair of black, leather pants with steel-toed boots. His long, black hair hung loosely around his face and was the same shade of black as my demon-angel.

     One look into that face and my senses told me that he had to be a relative. They simply looked too much alike. There was an obvious difference in size and this one looked to be older, maybe even older than me but still young. His eyes were larger and less deep-set than my demon angel. Yeah, this one had a softer, more beautiful-looking face. My demon-angel, on the other hand, was just flat out sensual-looking.

     The other one stood a few paces back and had a look of obvious concern on his face. He was about my height and muscular as well but clearly not as big as the first. This boy had the same shade of black hair, but his was cut much shorter, in a more modern-looking style. His facial features were slightly different as well. His mouth wasn't as full, his nose was a different shape and his chin had a more prominent point to it but the eyes were that same dark brown and the resemblance was there as well. He was dressed similarly to the first boy. To my surprise, he sent me a silent greeting and smiled at me.

     The big boy, however, was in no way friendly. He rushed forward like a charging bull, knocked my demon-angel out of his way, and grabbed me off the side of the bed by my neck, slamming me up against the wall. The candle, in its niche above my head, rocked and fell to the floor at my feet, sputtering out and sending up a plume of smoke that hovered near my face for a moment before wafting away.

     I had enough sense left at that point; to know that my life was in danger as if it hadn't been in enough danger before! I gathered my strength and "pushed" with all my energy at this immovable, bristling, angry, young man who was effectively strangling me as he lifted me up off the ground, by my neck, with only one hand.

     "Mircea! Stop, you're killing him!" shouted the concerned looking boy who had greeted me when he entered. I could see him move, in that strange graceful way and with inhuman speed.

     He wrapped his arms around the chest of the boy who was trying to kill me and pulled him back and away from me. When he released me, I fell breathless to the floor and lay gasping for air. I was aware that my demon-angel was beside me, trying to lift my head up off the floor but the angry boy grabbed him and yanked him away from me. As he began to yell in that strange foreign language, I struggled to use my gifts to translate. It was no problem to do it when the language was sent to me mentally but out loud, it was a whole new ballgame.

     "Milos, what in hell are you thinking? He's a witch for Christ's sake! You'll be bound to his blood for as long as he lives! You'll be a slave to it! Why? You know better. I've always warned you, Morsus has always warned you. What have you done?" he asked, grabbing my demon-angel by his arms and leaning down to look into his eyes.

     "Look at me!" he commanded and the boy he was holding, my demon-angel, the one he had called Milos, obeyed him.

     The red was gone from his eyes, the fangs I'd seen earlier were nowhere in sight. He didn't look like a menacing monster. He looked like a kid who was being scolded by someone he respected. He looked like a kid who knew he was in trouble and bad. I wanted to do something to help him but I didn't know what in hell I could do except to stay out of the way and hope the angry one called Mircea wouldn't notice me.

     The other boy had come over to kneel beside me on the floor. He took me by the arm and helped me to sit up against the wall. I was still struggling to get my wind back but I could talk now and when he asked me mentally if I was alright, I answered him out loud.

     "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got the air knocked out of me, that's all."

     I took the opportunity to look at the others. The one called Mircea had turned toward us and was glaring at me. His eyes had a kind of red cast to them, almost like Milos's had been earlier after he'd bit me. Milos, it seemed strange to me, to know what his name was now. He wasn't even looking at me. He had moved to sit on the side of the bed and was watching Mircea with a worried look.

     "Get away from him Morsus!" Mircea shouted at the boy beside me. "I'm going to find out who sent him here before I rip him to shreds!"

     "You're not ripping anyone to shreds! He doesn't even know he's a witch. I looked into his mind the minute I walked into this room. He thinks he has some kind of psychic abilities. He has absolutely no inkling, whatsoever, of how powerful he is. He wasn't sent here by anybody. He came looking for Milos and don't be mad at Milos either. You and I both warned him about the danger of drinking from a witch but neither of us told him what to look for. He thought he was drinking from a random drug addict. He believed he was doing the guy a favor and taking away the addiction," Morsus answered.

     "He took away an addiction and gave this boy another addiction even more dangerous than the one he had before! Now Milos is going to be addicted to him! And how can you be certain that no one sent him?" Mircea asked.

     "Am I not also a witch brother? Am I not the most powerful witch you know? Why have me around if you're not going to trust my opinion? You know what I say is true. Yes, they are both in trouble now but all we need to do is make a call to grandfather. He'll know what's to be done," Morsus answered as he helped me to stand.

     Mircea began to pace back and forth, the floor shaking with his weight and the force of his footwalls. For my part, I was terrified of him. I could sense incredible strength and power emanating from him. He was clearly the leader of the three and the oldest and although Morsus seemed to be the voice of reason, he obviously deferred to Mircea. Milos, my demon-angel, remained sitting motionless on the side of the bed and he still wouldn't turn to face me. I began to entertain the thought of asking to excuse myself from the room but Morsus turned toward me grinning and gave a sort of menacing chuckle.

     "Oh no, you don't! You two are in this together. Just try and leave him. You won't be able to stay away from him for even one day. You're just as addicted to his bite as he is to your blood and it's worse now that he's drank from you a second time. Not that it matters. Your fate was sealed that night in the alley."

     Mircea stopped pacing and turned to me again. "Just let me kill him then," he pleaded with Morsus. "Even if he really is as innocent as you say, the very fact that he lives will mean torture for Milos, he will never be free of the need for this damn witch's blood. He will just keep drinking from him until he kills him and then he'll have to live with that forever!"

     Mircea walked over to Milos, sat down beside him and wrapped his arms around him, whispering soothing words into his ear in their foreign tongue. I asked Morsus silently what language it was and he answered me that it was the language they had spoken in Wallachia or old Romania. It was a kind of Russian dialect that was no longer spoken in that or any other part of the world. He seemed surprised that I was able to translate it. There was so much more that I wanted to ask him but I sensed that it wasn't the time. I was dying to know how old they really were and I wanted someone to explain to me what all this meant. I wanted to know about what I'd seen in Milos's head when I trespassed there.

     I was reeling from the fact that the boy I'd thought was just a cute foreigner was a vampire and his two brothers were vampires as well. I was trying to wrap my head around all of it and hoping that Mircea didn't decide to kill me. Morsus, sensing my train of thoughts, sent me a mental reassurance that he wouldn't let that happen. I leaned back against the wall and waited quietly as Mircea continued to soothe Milos and whisper to him that everything was going to be all right.

     "We'll do what Morsus says. We'll call for grandfather. He will tell us what we need to do."

     Suddenly Milos jumped up and turned to face Mircea. "I want to keep him! I don't care if his blood enslaves me! This isn't his fault and I won't let you hurt him. He's mine and you're not going to take him away from me!" he shouted.

     It was the first time I'd heard him speak out loud and although there was a faint trace of the accent, he could speak perfect English. He sounded young and I began to understand that he hadn't been very old when he had become a vampire. I reached out mentally to Morsus for confirmation and he gave me an age, sixteen. I reeled again! God, he had only been sixteen? He looked older than that but again came Morsus's voice in my head, explaining that the muscular built was genetic in their family and that when Milos had been changed, it had enhanced what he already had to make him more desirable to humans. It was just part of the lure.

     Milos came over to stand in front of me, blocking me from Mircea who had begun to advance toward us. Morsus took Mircea's and pulled him back out into the hall. The door closed and I realized that Morsus was trying to talk some reason into his brother. It gave me the chance to try and talk to Milos.

     "So, you're a vampire and only sixteen? God, do you realize that makes me a pedophile?" I asked.

     He turned around to look at me and I was relieved to see him smiling. "I don't really think you could call yourself a pedophile. I'm technically over five-hundred years old, so that doesn't qualify," he answered.

     While his two brothers argued out in the hall, I took the opportunity to move closer to Milos and put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I trespassed in your head like that. I'd like to say it was an accident but it wasn't. I did it on purpose." I admitted.

     He turned to look at me. "Morsus was right you know. We are both in real trouble now. I knew you were a witch that night in the alley but I wanted to taste a witch's blood. I had been miserable for so long. You can't know what it's like to live the same life, night after night. It becomes unbearable. The world changes but we never do. I was looking for something new. I wanted something that would make life worth living. That something was you, it was your blood. You were in that alley looking for death. I was in that alley looking for life. We found each other. I refuse to believe it wasn't fate."

     I didn't know how to respond to that. He was telling the truth. I could sense that he had made a profound confession to me, told me something he had not admitted to anyone else, not even his brothers. But I had never suspected that he was as miserable as me. It certainly didn't show. I've always known that there are different types of misery, different types of desperation. I guess I wasn't ready to accept that he was vulnerable too.

     The door opened unexpectedly and Morsus walked into the room alone. "Mircea is going to contact grandfather. He plans to ask him how to handle this situation. I know grandfather has encountered this type of problem before. In the mean-time, you both stay here," he told us as he walked over and rubbed his hand affectionately through Milos's hair.

     "Don't worry little one. No harm will come to you. We won't allow it," he turned to look at me and smiled.

     "It's been too long since I was in the company of a witch as strong as you are. I look forward to seeing what you can do Alex but the night is almost over and morning is upon us. Rest now, when night comes again, things will be better," he said as he turned and walked out closing the double doors behind him.

     We were alone. I watched in silence, as Milos pulled back the curtains and crawled up onto the bed. He beaconed to me to join him. I did as he asked. He pulled the thick quilts up over us and as we lay back on the pillows, I felt sleep coming over me heavily. I was sure it was more of his spell but I saw no reason to resist it. 

     When I woke, it was not yet dusk. I didn't know for certain in this windowless room but my senses told me so. I sat up in the complete darkness and sent out a request for light. As each candle in the room softly sputtered and lit with the force of my mind, I relaxed just a little. I could still control fire and that, in my opinion, was my most potent ability. If that big son of a b***h decided he was going to try to take me out again, I would light him up like a Christmas tree!

     "Now you wouldn't really do that would you?"

     I jumped and looked around to determine where that voice, speaking in a heavy accent, had come from. Milos was still sleeping silently beside me in the bed. He looked like he was dead. I couldn't see any movement to indicate breathing but maybe they didn't need to breathe.

     "It's a sort of hibernation that comes upon us when we sleep," said that voice again. "Why don't you come out of there and talk to me?"

     I cautiously opened the curtains and stepped out of the bed to look around. There was a man sitting in an antique chair by the door. He was tall and stout looking with dark, wavy hair. His brown eyes were the same shade as Milos's. His skin was the same caramel color. He had a mustache and a short beard. He was wearing a black, tailored suit that fit him perfectly. He was obviously a vampire. He was also considerably older than the rest of them. He appeared to be in his 40's or so but it was difficult to tell. Overall, he was very handsome. He smiled at me and I felt instantly safe. I couldn't help but like this stranger. He exuded a warm feeling. I should have known better. If I'd had any idea who I was looking at, I would have fainted dead on the spot.

     "Come closer," he coaxed.

     I saw no reason to fear and walked across the room toward him. He gestured to a chair near me and I sat down. I desperately wanted a cigarette but I was afraid it might offend him.

     "Please, feel free. I don't mind at all," he said to me.

     I understood that he was effortlessly reading my mind. I also understood that no matter how hard I tried, I could not kick him out of my head. I lit a cigarette with shaking hands and took a drag hoping the nicotine would steady my nerves.

     "Come now, that paltry drug isn't what you really want is it?" he asked smiling at me.

     Just who in the hell was this man? I began to wonder earnestly. He had obviously been sifting through my head as I slept, probably already knew everything about me, everything I'd ever done. As if to answer me, he nodded yes.

     "You want to know who I am. Why don't you just ask me? Your thoughts are quite jumbled right now but you leave your mind far too unguarded. You know things that a human should not know. In the past, that knowledge would have meant death for you," he stated.

     "So does it mean death for me now?" I asked. "Mircea wants to kill me."

     "Don't be afraid of Mircea. He is quick to anger but when he has time to calm down, he is more rational. Right now, he's worried that I will be angry with him for allowing a witch into his midst. Honestly, I'm not sure how you got by Jupiter but that is a tale for another day. I suppose he saw the marks on your neck and knew from the description you gave him, that it was Milos who bit you."

     I wondered, for a split second, who Jupiter was but the Australian came to mind, and again, the stranger nodded yes. I wasn't totally unperceptive. "So who are you then?" I asked.

     "In the popular culture of your time, I am the one who is called Dracula. In my own time, my name was Wladislaus Dragwlya. But I have been called by many names. Tepes was the name given to me by the Ottoman Turks. I suppose you know that means "The Impaler". My Christian name was Vlad III Draculesti, Prince of Wallachia. My family name, Draculesti was a faction of the royal house of Basarab. We ruled the province of Wallachia as the Voivode Princes. Our allegiance was to the Holy Church, whose headquarters at that time was in Byzantium. I don't know how much history you learned but it was that allegiance that eventually caused the downfall of our family."

     When he paused and looked at me with an amused smile, I wondered what he found so funny. I realized a moment later, that the cigarette had fallen out of my mouth and was smoldering on my lap, inches from the crotch of my jeans. I snatched it up and shoved it angrily back into my mouth with violently shaking hands.

     Yeah, I had read that nursery rhyme. I knew all about that ancient history. As the realization suddenly hit me that I was in the room with the real Dracula, another realization just as startling occurred to me as well. "My God! You're the grandfather they were talking about last night. You're Milos's grandfather!" I gasped.

     "You're very perceptive Alex, but after all, you are a witch. That's to be expected. Yes, my son Mihnea was Milos's father. He was Mircea and Morsus's father as well. But Morsus had a different mother. He was Mihnea's bastard son. He was always a part of our lives, his mother was a powerful, gypsy witch who lived in the castle with us and was frequently consulted by our family. We didn't learn that Morsus was a Draculesti until the night I brought him across. When I tasted his blood, I knew. It was a shock to Mircea to learn that his best friend from childhood was actually his brother. You can imagine how difficult it was for them both to accept the truth."

     I sat silent and stared at this man across from me. There was no doubt in my mind that all he had told me was true. Vlad the Impaler Prince of Wallachia had sworn fealty to the Holy Church to keep the Ottoman Turks at bay and his lands free of their influence. His cruelty in achieving his aim was legendary. But to his people, he was still thought of today as a hero. He had been misled by the Prince of Hungary and imprisoned. Legends told that he was beheaded and buried in an island monastery. Obviously that part of the story was false.

     "Yes, that bit of fiction was made up by our allies to protect me so I could flee the country. If our enemies believed I was truly dead, they would have no reason to pursue me. I believe you should hear that long tale before we go further. It is important for you to know the truth of how we came to be what we are. I will give you an abbreviated version of the story. If you want to read the whole tale in full, ask Morsus to give you his diaries. He wrote it all down five-hundred years ago when we were living in Poenari Palace."

     I settled myself comfortably and lit another cigarette. I wanted to hear what this man had to tell me. I knew he possessed the answers to the questions I had wanted to ask Morsus last night. I knew he would keep nothing from me. I sensed his hidden strength. I was in the presence of the most powerful immortal in the world. Yet, I wasn't afraid. Vlad had a way of putting me at ease. It was foolish to let my guard down but I really didn't have any choice. If he wanted me dead, I would already be a corpse. So it was in this way that we started and he began his story.