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Katya was silent, but from the smoldering passion in her eyes as she gazed upon me, I knew that I was not yet done dealing with her.

Chapter 10

The Journal of Countess Dracula

June 12, 1820

The first night of our journey to Buda passed without incident. Katya fell asleep soon after the conversation waned. Magda remained awake, staring out the window at the darkened landscape with a somber expression upon her countenance. Astir, much to my surprise pulled out a sketchbook and pencil from a leather satchel beneath his seat and began to draw Katya as she slept. I watched his fingers nimbly move over the paper as the image of the girl began to emerge. The fallen angel was undeterred in his sketching despite the rocking of the carriage. When he finished drawing Katya, he began to draw Magda in her repose. By then I was bored, so I pulled out the novel Vlad had purchased for me before our last journey and settled down to read.

As night ended and dawn came, the shutters were drawn over the windows. The darkness within the carriage was more opaque than the blackness of the night.

I felt sleep tugging on my eyelids and set aside the novel. It was a silly bit of fluff about a young aristocrat attempting to marry an aloof older man. I found it annoying at times, but I easily grew bored during long, grueling journeys and the story was somewhat entertaining. Removing my bonnet, I set it upon my lap so I could rest my head against the back of the seat to sleep.

I noted that Astir continued to draw despite the darkness. I pulled upon my power, letting it fill my senses and my eyesight grew keen. Leaning toward him, I saw my own face on his paper. Unlike the drawings of Katya and Magda, my sketch did not portray my present circumstances. I was depicted as slightly disheveled with my hair unfettered as I gripped a dagger and struck out at an unseen opponent.

I felt a cold chill wash over me and I shivered. “Is this one of your prophecies?”

Astir continued to draw with deft movements of his pencil. An expression of horror was being etched onto the charcoal rendering of my face. “Perhaps. ”

“Is it or is it not?” I demanded.

“I am inclined to believe it is,” he replied.

“So who am I fighting? Who is here?” I pointed at the empty space that would hold the image of my opponent.

Astir set down the pencil and tilted his head to regard me. “That is the mystery of it. I don’t know. In my vision I see you like this. . . ”

“You’re attempting to frighten me,” I accused him.

“Not at all,” he said in a strangely distracted tone. “I find it quite disconcerting that I cannot see any further than your terrified face. ”

“You’re teasing me. This is nothing,” I decided.

His eyes sparked with flames for a mere second, and then he shrugged. “Perhaps it is symbolic of your temperamental spirit always chaffing against convention. ”

I wanted to believe that was true. I also wanted to believe that the sketch was nothing more than Astir teasing me, but I felt disquieted whenever I looked upon the illustration.

“I do not like it. Destroy it,” I ordered.

“I think not. Maybe one day I shall finish it and discover who your opponent is,” Astir answered in a firm tone, closing the sketchbook to stow it away. “Sleep now, Countess. The sun climbs ever higher and it is time for you to sleep. ”

“I’d rather not,” I retorted, cranky with exhaustion and disturbed by his sketch.

But before I could say another word or think another thought, I was asleep.

Later-

I was roused briefly from sleep while the horses rested and my companions disembarked for a meal. I was aware of Magda covering me with something made of cloth that smelled of Astir and his haven. She whispered that I was safe and to not be afraid. I could not fully awaken, but I could hear the door open and feel the carriage wobble as my companions disembarked.

Struggling to bring my mind fully out of its slumber, I found myself caught between the world of dreams and reality.

“All is as it should be,” Vlad said.

“You’re not here,” I whispered, not sure if I spoke aloud or only in my dreams. I attempted to open my eyes, the rich fragrance of jasmine filling my nostrils. In the dreaming world, my eyes opened to see Vlad’s shadow at my side. “I vanquished you. ”

“For now,” he agreed. “How like me you are. . . your enemy vanquished, your rivals trapped and starving, and you safely on your way to Buda. Impressive for such a young, naive English lady. Ah, yes, but you are no longer Lady Glynis Wright, are you?”

“Leave me,” I answered wishing I could awaken.