Page 101 of Lucy Undying (Dracula #1)

101

Moab, January 27, 2025

Dracula

They have him hidden in a lifeless house in the lifeless desert. He hates this country and the western states more than anywhere he’s ever been. Too much empty space. Bloodless and meaningless, any history deliberately destroyed.

But they have his own ancient grave dirt here. He needs to rest after what that thing did to him. His mind recoils from the memory of weakness, the knowledge of how close the small vampire was to—

No. She wasn’t close. He was caught off guard because of his pleasure. He would have destroyed her, had they let him. Had they not interrupted him.

And now he’s here, with talk of keeping him safe. As if he needs to be kept safe. As if he is not the thing that the world needs to be kept safe from!

As soon as he’s regained his strength, he’ll kill everything in this house and go back on the hunt. He’ll find you once more and cleanse you. He’ll make you worthy of him again. And then he’ll set a plan in motion. He hasn’t enacted a good plan in so long. He’s gotten soft and lazy through the ease of his life here. That was the demon’s trap, her brilliant ploy.

But he hasn’t forgotten his old tricks. He can convince them he’s nothing more than a sophisticated man. Convince them he’s happy to be taken care of. After all, he once focused long enough and planned well enough to buy a new home in a foreign land.

Though that relocation is what got him here in the first place.

He cannot, will not dwell on it. His dirt calls to him. He’ll sleep, and when he awakens, he’ll begin his plot to find you and destroy the vampires here once and for all. Then he’ll be finished with this loathsome country. He’ll go home. He’ll become himself once more. Grand and terrible, awe-inspiring, inescapably important.

One of the pathetic vampire servants is saying something at him. He makes an effort to pull the words out of the air and process them.

A visitor? he responds. Cold revulsion seizes him. It’s the demon vampire, it has to be. He can’t speak to her, not in this weakened state. But he can’t let her know that. Let her in, he commands.

She’ll see that he can barely hold interest where she’s concerned. He goes back to his drink, focusing only on the blood and restoring what was stolen from him.

But instead of the demon, a human man walks through the door. There’s something wrong inside him, an imperfect infection. Behind him are three women.

Not women. Three vampires. But still women, scarcely worth his attention. Why are they here? He waves to dismiss them, but he’s not even through the gesture when he sees who’s standing behind them. The small vampire, the thing that attacked him. Delivered right to him!

Hold her, he commands. But no servants come scurrying.

He blunted his senses by focusing on the blood. A frantic scan now reveals there’s nothing else moving in the house. Nothing but these four vampires and their familiar. He can still feel the damage in his neck, slowly weaving itself back together. A reminder of how close she came to ending him. Closer than anyone ever has. He has to leave, has to—

He blurs, but is slammed back by an invisible barrier. The force of it makes him stagger and fall into his chair.

“Dawn,” says one of the vampires, smiling at him like an old friend. “We waited, just for you.”

Fools. They’ll be weak, too. But they don’t look weak as they file into the room, blocking all avenues of escape. He’s never fought without the freedom to shift into untouchable forms. He’s a predator and has a predator’s fear of injury. Better to flee and fight on his own terms than risk being hurt again.

Besides, there’s something repulsive in their faces. Not only the lack of vulnerability, the absence of soft life to sink his teeth into. But…

Confidence. They each move like they know exactly what the outcome of this will be.

No. He won’t allow it. It’s disgusting, they’re disgusting, but there —that scent. He calms down, soothed. They’re his. He made them. They already belong to him. He just needs to remind them.

He focuses on the small one who tried to kill him. He bends all his centuries of control and violence toward her, pinning her in place with his will. No matter what tricks or ploys other vampires might have, no one has taken as much as he has. And what he takes, he keeps.

The waves of his dominion flow out from him onto her. Her eyes go flat and distant, remembering some long-ago time when she answered that call and invited him in. Little does she know that, once invited, he can never be kept out. She’s his. They all are. They want to be.

I am your master still.

Her eyes fill with tears as she gazes on him. He’s won. He always wins. He is inevitable.