To Spite Another God Pt. 06

Jonathan Harker woke in the embrace of the grave.

He scrambled upwards, and rather than crushing weight and suffocation, he moved through the soil and the earth as if it was nothing more than air. His palms swept through the material and he found himself moving up like a cork in a bathtub -- until at last, his head emerged from the ground. There, his control failed him, and he sank back down into the darkness. Then he managed to weakly kick, his head emerging again for a short gasp. He could see the silvery shape of the moon overhead, and gleaming red eyes looking down at him -- frightening enough that he froze, then sank again.

This time, a hand reached down, into the soil, taking hold of his face, then sliding down to his neck, then his shoulder. Once it found purchase, the hand drew him upwards and Jonathan popped out of the soil and sprawled upon his back, gasping heavily. His head rested in a soft lap of silky fabric, and fingers caressed through his hair. "Jonathan? Jonathan, you're okay!"

Jonathan blinked -- and through the gloom of midnight, his eyes saw his fiancee. Mina was looking deeply concerned, her eyes...glittering red...like rubies. Her fangs, hooked over her lower lip, tiny exclamation points against bloodless flesh, her ears coming to narrow points. Jonathan groaned in horror and despair both -- the feeling mingling in his belly with the impact like a blow. He had tried so hard...and he had still failed.

"No..." he whispered.

"It's not that bad!"

Another familiar voice drew his eyes -- and Jonathan yelped as he saw that Lucy Westenra, Mina's close friend for years, was perched upon a gravestone. She was dressed in a frilly red dress that seemed as unsuited to perching as a workman's coveralls were suited to a high society ball -- and yet, she not only perched, she did so with a complete lack of concern towards falling nor her dress. And, as he looked at her, he saw that her dress was entirely clean and unruffled. And that she, too, had become monstrous, with glittering red eyes and chalk pale skin and a voluptuous eagerness that made him want to scramble backwards. He managed to get his feet underneath him -- and then realized that, ontop of these horrible creatures having replaced his fiancee and her best friend, he was also naked.

"Ah!" he cried out, stumbling backwards -- then tripping over a gravestone. As he crashed down, he groaned and rubbed his head.

"...how...did he even manage that?" Lucy asked, her voice soft.

"Jonathan, please, you must remain calm," Mina said, standing up and hurrying to him as he rolled onto his belly, and then started to scramble away.

"Stay back!" he said, getting up and running to the trees.

Mina called out. "Jonathan!"

Jonathan ignored her. He turned and he ran, and he ran, and he ran. Trees slapped at his features and he stumbled upon roots -- crying out as he fell forward, his palms sinking into mud as easily as if it were water. He fell, then actually fell more into what he thought might have been water or air. He struggled, choked on dirt, and managed to scramble free again -- stumbling against a tree. In the darkness around him, he found nothing but terrors...for he saw everything clearly, as clearly as if it had been a bright day. A tiny sliver of moonlight, dappling along the leaves like a brush of bright, glittering paint cast enough glowing illumination for him to see every gnarl of bark, every scowling face in the trees. And worse, it allowed him to see the wolves. There were two of them -- one silver, one black -- and they paced him as he sprinted away, panting and gasping.

He heard the rushing of paws-

He turned!

The wolf, the silver wolf, was upon him, his paws slapping against his chest. Jonathan stumbled backwards and once more plunged into water -- no, into the Earth itself, as if the ground in this horrible place was trying to drag him down. He kicked his legs, struggled, and came up again, gasping desperately for air as he saw that he had reached the edge of the forest. But the silver wolf had paced him, emerging from the ground without a ripple or distortion. It was as if the wolf was not of this world, but rather, some kind of horrid apparition.

That is, until it chomped down, firmly, upon his ankle. The teeth that locked against him did not break his skin, but he could hear the growling of the wolf -- and swore that he heard a voice as well, speaking in his mind: Stay still, Harker, you idiot!

Jonathan kicked with his other foot as hard as he could, crying out in desperate terror. To his utter shock, not only did his foot connect a glancing blow with the silver wolf, but the silver wolf was torn from him like a twig caught in a hurricane. The wolf let out a single ungainly, shocked yelp before hurtling backwards and striking a tree with the force of a cannon-ball, shattering the tree apart into a haze of splinters.

Jonathan didn't question his salvation. He simply scrambled up and sprinted again -- and the wolves did not chase him. He glanced back -- and saw the black wolf had paused by the silver, and was nosing at it.

Jonathan looked forward, and saw moments too late, that he was approaching the edge of a delve -- where a thick furrow of roots thrust from the side of a worn away hillside, revealing a smooth curve that went down towards the tilled fields and the fallow plots that were used by farmers around the world. He tripped on his own feet as he tried to stop himself, but then he was tumbling down -- and this time, the earth did not embrace him. He struck the ground, rolled, and felt every agony of rock and branch against his shoulder, his back, his naked buttocks, before at last, he cracked his head against a rock and saw nothing but a white flash and a long, agony of pain.

He heard the sounds of barking -- but they were the friendly, low wuuf of dogs, not the panting, soft growling of the wolves. And then a light shone down on his features and a voice spoke in a tongue he didn't recognize, though it was female. He opened his eyes to slits and groaned, softly. The figure knelt down and then spoke again -- and to his shock, he almost understood her...and...then she said, quietly: "Are you okay? Did you escape from the Dragon?"

"What? Dragon?" he asked, quietly -- and realized that he was speaking Romanian.

"Here, hold this," she said, firmly, and pressed a wooden cross into his hand. Jonathan held it -- and felt neither discomfort nor burning. He opened his palm, and the woman nodded, lowering the lantern that she had been shining down upon him. Looking up at her, he saw that she was a tough, brown girl with green eyes and a narrow, angular face. She looked as if she had seen a great deal of the world -- and beside her, there were two heavy set sheepdogs that looked as if they could crack his skull between their jaws.

"Well, you're not one of his spawn then," the woman said. "Come up, before any try the salt..."

"Salt?" Jonathan asked as she helped him to his feet -- and then he realized, he was naked before a woman, a woman who was neither his wife, nor...well, anyone that he knew! He clapped a hand over his crotch and she let out a little bark of a laugh.

"Yes, salt. You must be from Little River," she said, chuckling and shaking her head. "They are far enough from the Dragon, they can get away with cloves over their doors -- the line of salt has been blessed. It keeps the land from accepting the devils." She paused. "And you know, I have seen it before."

"R-Right..." he stammered, following after her, his hand still clasped over his crotch.

From the woods, the two wolves watched as Jonathan and the farmwife headed for her home, quietly, crouching in the brushes right before the line of salt that marked the edge of Dracula's territory.

Quietly, Mina whispered, growling with her wolfish mouth: "What do we do?"

"We watch, this is going to be hilarious," Lucy said, cheerfully.

"Hilarious!? Do you know how much of his vitae he used powering that kick?" she asked.

"It was pretty impressive for someone like Jonathan," Lucy said, laying down on her silvery paws, her tail wagging happily. "And he picked up Romanian faster than us."

"He was here as a human, remember?" Mina started to pace back and forth. "His new vampiric mind would work on the memories of Romanian he heard." She whined, then pranced back and forth in agitation, which provoked a wolfish giggle from Lucy. "It's not funny!"

"It absolutely is, Mina dear," Lucy said. "What's the worst that happens?"

"His bloodlust takes over and he drains her dry?" Mina muttered.

"Oh. Right." Lucy paused. "Well, we'll keep watch then. If he drains her, we can swoop in with album vitae and restore her!" She chuckled. "Any other worries?"

Mina paused at the line of salt, pawing -- then jerking her paw back. "...this line was laid by a human with enough faith to actually damage us with this superstition," she muttered, quietly. "The priest here is more dedicated than some."

"Hm...that is an issue. We could always seduce him in his bed," Lucy said, grinning wolfishly.

"Or, alternatively, we can..." Mina paused. "Get Jonathan out of there and explain things to him."

"That went extremely well last time," Lucy said. Then her ears flicked. "You're worried about something more than just a priest and some farm-wife?"

"Jonathan is my spawn," Mina said, resuming her pacing, her sleek black fur glittering in the moonlight. "And he's a vampire now and...he may be...well, he may be..."

"Jonathan," Lucy said, as if that described everything that Mina had been trying to encapsulate in her hemming and hawing.

"But he's still a vampire," Mina said. "And she was a lovely looking woman."

"...are you worried that Jonathan Harker, your Jonathan Harker, is going to seduce another woman?" Lucy asked, sounding mildly shocked. Her ears flicked back, then she stood and then flung herself forward, her head resting right against the back of Mina's neck, bearing her lover down to the forest floor and laying atop her while letting out a happy chuffing noise. "Oh my god, Mina! You fucked Dracula, you owe Jonathan at least a little bit fun!"

"I-I'm not jealous!" Mina whined, her ears pinning back. "I just...I don't want him to be hurt..."

* * * * *

"The name's Sharon," the woman said as Jonathan sat before the crackling fire, a rough spun cloak draped about his shoulders. He was sitting before the fire more because he thought that he should, not because he actually needed it. He had...not precisely felt cold while running through the woods -- but now, he knew for a fact that while he did feel warm, he didn't feel it as a relief. Which wasn't to say that it felt bad, or anything of the like. If anything, the fireplace felt better upon his skin than it had ever done before. It was as if he was being caressed gently by silken hands -- if anything, the covering that rasped against his shoulders and his back was more unpleasant.

"Jonathan. Harker. Harker, Jonathan. I mean. I am...that's my name, Sharon," he said, glancing back at her as she prepared something in the small kitchen that made up the left portion of her cottage. Her huge dogs were laying upon her bed, their eyes closed, their paws resting under their jowls. Andrada chuckled, quietly.

"That's not a Romanian name," she said.

"I'm from England," he said.

"I have heard very strange things about England over the past few weeks," she said, cocking her head. "...you speak my language very well. I mistook you for a native, you know."

"I...thank you? I'm...terrible with languages," Jonathan said, blinking a bit, while the woman walked over. He found himself unable to look away from her as she approached. With her shawl off, she was dressed in simple homespun, homespun that she filled with remarkably attractive curves. Her breasts were fuller than his fiancee's, and her hips were wider and...Jonathan couldn't look away. There was an intent, eager hunger inside of him that he had felt before -- but never directed at another woman, and never one he had just met, and never...never like this. He gulped, while she chuckled, throatily.

"How did you get away from the Dragon?" she asked.

"Well, I, ah, I woke up it...it was the queerest thing, I woke up...in a coffin, I think, and...t-there were more of those awful creatures around me -- and then I ran, then I fled, and...I got away, and I stumbled down into your field, then you found me...a-and that is the least amazing part of the past few weeks. I haven't even gotten to the..." he trailed off. "T-To the rest. That...that can wait until I know that you believe the rest of it..."

"Of course I do," she said. Then she draped a necklace about his throat, drawing it taut, so that the white flowers pressed against his skin. Jonathan felt a sudden strange shift inside of him -- as if he had been reverted, or reduced. And yet, he felt no weaker than he had before...it was so baffling that his main reaction was to furrow his brow as her fingers went to his shoulders, and then she shoved him off of the stool.

Jonathan yelped as he sprawled onto his back, the cloak hitting the ground about him as the woman grinned down at him.

"So, vampire, here is how this shall work," Sharon said, her voice soft. "I live here, at the edge of this village, because it is the worst piece of land that is not completely within the Dragon's purview and because I am a Jew." She bit her lip. "I have lived here alone, ever since my husband was conscripted and never returned -- and in this time, I have never once been attacked by your master or his spawn."

Jonathan stammered. "I-I'm not a vampire!"

Sharon knelt down, her skirts curling up around her thighs as she sat down upon him, pinning his belly against the floor. "Explain this then," she said, putting her hand down. Her thumb shoved into his mouth and rubbed against his canine -- tracing the length of it. Jonathan's eyes widened. "Explain why you don't need to breathe, why your heart does not beat, why your ears are pointed, why your eyes are red." She shook her head, then muttered. "Fakakta, you are really really really slow, aren't you?"

Jonathan gaped up at her, his eyes wide as saucers. "I...c-can't be...a..."

"I...honestly did not expect that I would have to be convincing you of this, but yes you are a vampire!" Sharon said, sitting back so that her full weight rested against his belly. She shook her head. "I thought I'd be moving on to the exchange."

"Exchange?" Jonathan blinked.

"Vampires are incredibly strong," she said. "I've heard the stories. Well, if you wish me to not call the Priest...and while he may hate me, I know he hates your kind more..." She grinned. "Then you will use that strength for me?"

Jonathan's mind reeled. I'm...a vampire? He tried to feel his own heart beat. He tried to hear the thunder of blood in his ears. The only thing he felt was...an urge. The firelight danced along Sharon's neck, highligthing its color. His canines...his fangs throbbed and he felt himself growing increasingly short of breath -- the panting slowing, until he was not breathing at all, and his lungs did not burn, his brain did not scream for air. There was nothing but the awareness of the throbbing, flowing motion underneath her neck. Jonathan's palms slid along the floor, trying to push himself upwards...

But instead, he felt her weight keeping him firmly against the ground.

"I...thought-" he started.

"Garlic," she said, chuckling. "You're...very bad at being a vampire, aren't you?"

Jonathan struggled, but Sharon kept her weight on him, and he found that he was quite pinned against the floor. He slumped back, his head bonking against the wooden floor. He winced. "Ow." Sharon giggled. "Fine, what exchange do you want?" he grumbled, trying to not think about how her thigh was very close to his face -- and his mind kept going back to the fact that a thick, heavy vein ran along that thigh. He could imagine kissing the skin under that skirt...

"I have an entire field I cannot use because it is so rocky," she said, huffing. "With that field to lay fallow, I could plant legumes in the second, and graze properly -- I'll be able to actually buy some pigs or maybe a cow-"

"You want me to do yardwork!?" Jonathan gaped at her.

"Of course," she said, grinning. "In exchange, I don't tell the priest about you and I will keep you secret from the other vampires, who clearly weren't about to let you escape. A fair trade."

Jonathan gaped at her.

"And you're not afraid?" he asked.

Sharon chuckled. "I was, at first, when I saw you, a vampire, sprawled there on my yard. But you quickly disabused me of that." She shook her head. "So, do you accept the trade?"

"I like her!"

Jonathan and Sharon snapped their heads to the doorway, where...

Lucy and Mina stood there, peering in. Mina was dressed as he recalled her -- in a white shift that left her feet bare and exposed, her body looking hauntingly beautiful in the thin orange light that reached the doorway from the fireplace. Lucy, meanwhile, had dressed herself in a man's outfit, with a bright red jacket and flamboyantly puffed collar and wrists. Her leggings were so tight that he swore he could see the outlines of her...he jerked his eyes back to Sharon, stammering. "Take the necklace off, I shall try and protect you from them!"

"Jonathan?" Mina said. "Please. Be. Quiet." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mrs...what...is your...uh, family name, Mrs?"

"My last name matters for the tax collectors and the headman and not much beyond that," Sharon said, putting her hands on her hips as she stood. She turned to face the two women without a single hint of fear. "You may stick with Sharon. Are you the vampires who...turned him?" She paused. "Are you...Verona and Aleera?"

"No, actually," Lucy said, cheerfully. "I'm Lucy Westenra." She bowed. "Trying a new style, do you think it suits me?" She grinned, showing her fangs. "I could come in and show you..."

"Lucy!" Mina huffed, while Sharon snorted.

"You know, the last time a vampire tried to enter, she was at least more subtle about it," she said, while Lucy giggled. "And you?"

"Wilhelmina Murray," Mina said, curtsying with her shift. "That is my...ah...that is my..." She paused. "Fiance. Possibly former fiance."

"Possibly!?" Jonathan spluttered, scrambling to his feet -- then hastily whisking the cloak around his hips, to try and conceal his shame. Lucy winked at him -- indicating that she had not only seen, but enjoyed seeing. Jonathan's cheeks flushed.

"We need to talk a lot!" Mina said.

"No, we don't," Jonathan said, glaring at her. "You turned me into a vampire!"

"Hey, she saved your life by doing that," Lucy said, putting a hand on Mina's shoulder.

"Only because she took it in the first place!" Jonathan said, the memories of the previous night flashing into his head.

"She was fighting Martians!" Lucy said, her other hand going to Mina's chest, drawing her close, as if to protect her from Jonathan's words. "She beat two tripods by herself, without backup, using nothing but her bare hands."

"...Martians?" Sharon asked, sounding completely lost. "I..." She paused. "D-Do...you three want to continue this, ah...outside? It ...honestly is not my business."

"That sounds delightful," Mina said.

"No," Jonathan said, frowning.

"Jonathan?" Mina asked.

"You can't enter without her permission, can you?" Jonathan asked, the memory jogged loose -- either something that Dr. Van Helsing had told him, or something he had been told in his first visit to Romania. He didn't know where, but he didn't care. "That means you can't take me off to that castle of the damned!"