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My feet hit the floor. I steadied myself as I lifted the great stake upwards, lifting Vlad up off the ground. His arms flailed as he struggled to escape. His blood showered down upon me as I elevated him above my head.

I was weeping, but I knew I must finish what I had started.

“Burn the blood,” I ordered the Brides. “Burn it now!”

Vlad twisted on the stake, roaring with pain and anger as he attempted to free himself. Then gravity gripped him and drew him down the long length of the stake. His blood cascaded down upon me and I slipped. I fell back onto the floor, nearly losing my grip on the great stake. As fate would have it, he slid down the golden stake and came to rest in my arms, fully impaled, his blood flowing over me.

I sobbed as I held him. I could feel his blood and power drain from him. The stake must have pressed hard against his heart, weakening him, for he hardly moved in my arms. His green eyes, slowly dulling, looked toward me as he whispered, “I should have known it would be you. ”

I pressed my lips together and laid my forehead against his.

Around me, fire sprang up as the sister’s grabbed torches from the walls and began to burn his blood. Destroying his blood would destroy his power. In a matter of minutes, we would all be free of him.

His body went limp in my arms as the blood continued to flow. His hair slowly began to have threads of silver running through it as his strong body began to wither.

Vlad gazed at me with an eerie calm. His hand struggled to rise and touch my face. When his cold, slowly shriveling fingers touched my cheek, I rested my face against them.

“I will my power to you,” he whispered. “I know you will go forth and be strong, my Countess Dracula. ”

I shuddered at his words as his power began to flow into me. Trembling, I wept as I was filled with his strength and power.

“My countess,” he whispered again. His voice faded as his hair continued to turn silver and dark gray. His features slowly became sunken and old before my eyes.

I gently kissed his forehead.

The fire hissed and spat around us, but I felt his blood as it flowed into my body, piercing my flesh like a thousand hot needles and snaking up over my skin to fill my mouth. His power filled me completely. I felt as if I would burst open with it.

Then. . .

I felt our bond growing faint as he grew weaker.

At last, his eyes began to close.

“Glynis,” he said in a mere gasp.

“Yes, Vlad. ” I answered, my voice thick with emotion.

“I love you,” he managed, then his eyes grew milky white and staring.

I buried my face in his hair and wept. “I know, Vlad. I know. ”

I held him until he was a mere husk, still living, but in a deep sleep far from the world of the undead and living.

When I finally raised my head, the sisters stood over me, torches in their hands. Cneajna, her neck a terrible wound, stepped toward me. Her expression was anguished, but determined.

“We should take his head and finish it,” I finally said.

“No,” she answered. “I will take him to the chapel and put him in his coffin. ”

I stroked Vlad’s white hair with my hand, and whispered, “He is dangerous, Cneajna. He will destroy all of us if he ever rises again. ”

She laughed. “No, he will kill us. He will not kill you. The one he truly loved. ”

Looking down into the face of my Master, now shriveled and old, I knew what she said was true. Perhaps I had known in my heart he loved me, but could not accept it because I hated him so very much. Lord, help me, but even holding him in that ballroom, I hated him. But, Lord help me even more, I felt a deep connection to him. I knew then that the one Astir had spoken of truly knowing me was Vlad, not Ignatius. And the one I loved, but destroyed, was Cneajna.

Smoothing Vlad’s hair back from his face, I felt the bittersweetness of my victory over him. Perhaps I do love Vlad in some odd, terrible way. I am not certain. But, in that moment, I wanted to sit with him one last time and talk to him. I wanted to truly understand him and why he had chosen me to be his Countess. But the time for that had now passed, and he was vanquished.

Cneajna slowly bent down and took him from me, avoiding the long, sharp end of the golden stake that stood out in ghastly fashion from his chest. Holding him as she would a child, she looked down at me coldly.