Page 54 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)

Feels like Forever

Silken sheets kept me snug and slow to wake.

Although warm beneath a heavy blanket, dull aches gnawed across every inch of my body.

When I tried to roll over, I winced, and stretched my arm out to find empty space beside me.

My eyes squeezed, still closed, as I frowned and felt more freely. Nope, Drake wasn’t in bed.

I forced my sticky eyelids apart, blinking several times.

Compared to the fortress, the darkness surrounding me was thin and easy to peer through.

A glance at the closed red and gold embroidered curtains confirmed that it was nighttime, or early morning.

How long had I been asleep for? Sighing, I sank a little deeper into the mattress of the four-poster bed.

At the center of the room was a light fixture whose visible bulbs became a comforting reminder of our return to the modern world.

Exposed wood panels lined the walls, and the elegant stone fireplace opposite the bed still glowed with embers.

Memories surged to the forefront of my thoughts despite wishing to delay facing everything that happened.

To distract myself, I focused on replaying more recent events.

Like how we’d gotten from the ruins outside Poenari Castle to this much smaller, and thankfully cozy, castle.

It hadn’t taken long for us to find a road, and a passing car whose driver was swiftly charmed into giving us a ride.

Exhausted and overloaded, the foreign voices filtering in over the radio had lulled me to sleep in the backseat.

I’d woken up briefly when Drake carried me inside this deserted castle.

Like something from a dream, the place was perfectly pristine.

Grandiose gardens and grasslands surrounded it, almost as ethereal as the vibrant fields of the Summerland.

Nobody was home, but that hadn’t stopped Drake from entering.

Blissful sleep had pulled me back under shortly after getting to the bedroom.

My mouth didn’t feel like sandpaper, so I must’ve woken up at some point to drink water.

Except my skin still felt grimy, and the idea of centuries-old dust stuck in my ratted hair finally encouraged me to get up.

I inhaled a hiss through my teeth while gripping the sheets to help leverage myself up.

Once I scooched to the edge of the bed, my hands fell onto my lap to relieve my aching shoulders.

The ring on my left hand glinted, reflecting the dying embers in the fireplace.

Curious, I wiggled my fingers. Somehow, the ring fit perfectly, but maybe that was woven into its magickal creation.

From this point on, as long as I wore the ring, no sorcerer could scry for me.

Since Drake wore the matching pair, he was truly free. For the first time since he’d died.

I could go home. Better yet, Drake could come with me.

Joy flooded my fast-beating heart. Sure, the monsters still knew the region where I lived, but what were they going to do?

Knock on every door until they found me?

The second we caught wind of the undead within our city limits, my whole family would be on alert, and we’d fry the fucks first.

Smiling, I moved through the thick scabs stinging along my forearm and the bruises smattered over my body. My disgusting sweat-and-blood-soaked clothes had thankfully come off at some point, which meant using the blanket like a cocoon to keep the chill off my skin.

I carefully tested my weight on my sore ankles.

Dried blood crusted my socks, but the sensation of the soft rug underfoot was a small reprieve.

My soles felt like I’d walked over hot coals, but I gritted my teeth and slowly stood.

Past the handcrafted wooden dresser and equally exquisite vanity, I approached the refreshingly plain door.

It opened with ease into a pleasant hall, and the long yellow rug that ran the length kept my feet warm on my walk down.

Latticed windows lined the right wall, with nothing to obscure the scenery of lush hills and swaying flowers dancing beneath pale moonlight.

A crescent-shaped moon graced the cloudless sky, illuminating the forest beyond the pastures.

It took effort to turn away from the view as I reached a series of stairs, leading down to the ground floor below.

I gulped at the thought of descending any more steps, but braved a deep breath before placing my palm along the thick banister.

Between the floors, a landing overlooked the story below, and my attention was drawn to the large portrait on the wall beside me.

I gripped the banister as my brow furrowed, taking a long look at the subjects. Damn, the resemblance was uncanny. An obviously wealthy family had been painted before a vague backdrop. The older man’s tidy beard had wisps of gray showing, but his eyes were painted nearly the same black as his hair.

Beside him, the woman seated on the stool was a head shorter, and her long brown hair was pinned back beneath the bonnet-like hairpiece she wore.

A little girl stood prim and proper in front of the woman, her dark hair formed into ringlets and her expression disgruntled.

On the floor sat a much younger boy, but he was dressed as exceptionally well as the rest.

Straight black hair touched his ears, but the look on his face seemed unusually mature for a kid so young.

It felt like a portal into another lifetime, and I couldn’t help but stare at every aspect.

From the early 18th century garb to the muted colors in the background, bringing out the family’s faces in bright contrast. What it must have been like to be alive then—

“I would offer you a penny for your thoughts.” Drake’s voice pulled my attention to the floor below.

“Though I am afraid I hold no coins.” No longer covered in blood, Drake stood barefoot at the base of the stairs, his black hair still wet where it lay flat just beneath his ears.

The clean black pants and button-up shirt suited his lean muscular frame, and I stifled a pang of jealousy.

What I wouldn’t do to get my hands on some fresh clothes.

“I was just thinking it’s a beautiful picture.” I faced the portrait in question, but soon felt his presence at my side even before he replied.

“It was in a time when we did not have flash photography,” Drake said. The glib way he put it made me smile.

“So, that’s you?” I pointed to the boy in the frame, glancing at Drake as he nodded. Except his gaze was equally glued to the picturesque depiction of his childhood.

“Yes. The Drake family were never quite royalty, nor kings of any nation. Though our family tree has stretched across the European continent, my branch in particular resided in Romania—Wallachia, as it was known then.”

“So, this place…” I vaguely waved around us. “This is your castle?” Now that I thought about it, it would be pretty bizarre to crash in some stranger’s home.

“It belongs to the descendants of my aunt, Adelina.” He pointed at the girl in the painting, his tone relaxed when he continued, “The man was my grandfather, Petru Drake. His first marriage had been to a woman named Lidia, who bore my mother. Lidia died not long after. From what, I am unsure, there were many ailments at the time. The woman here is Olga, and Adelina is her child.”

“And…nobody will look for us here?” I craned my neck to look over my shoulder, glimpsing the moon between passing clouds through the windows on the floor above.

“We will not stay long enough for them to have the chance,” Drake answered, recapturing my full attention.

“My forefathers owned several estates, and I doubt any of the Domnitori will have memorized where each child taken had come from. Even if they decide to search the records, ones I am uncertain even exist, we will already have left. Although they will be preoccupied with restoring the fortress first and foremost. And, now that it has been left open, they are most likely snooping through the bedchambers of Dracula.”

Images of Dracula’s antechamber flashed through my mind’s eye, and I glanced up at the portrait on the wall beside us while remembering the one hanging behind Dracula’s statue.

“What was your mom’s name again?” I whispered, embarrassed at the slip in my memory, but he didn’t seem bothered by the question.

“Ileana. Though she did not go by ‘Drake’ after I was born. The Domnitori only knew her as Ileana Petrescu,” Drake explained, and his brow creased.

“Dracula often chose his ilk from what he considered superior bloodlines, whether they be his inner circle or the children he stole for his army. I did not learn until after both of their deaths that it was most likely my birth mother who requested I be brought to the fortress.”

“Did Dracula know?” My voice came out rough, and I cleared my throat. “That Ileana was your mom, I mean.”

Drake’s eyebrows rose, speculative. “I cannot be sure. I never spoke with Vlad Dracula as an equal. None of us did.”

I bit my lip, remorse and regret for the actions of my ancestor churning my empty stomach. “How can you stand to be around me?”

“What?” Drake faced me, so confused that I could’ve kicked myself for not elaborating.

“Helsing killed them both, didn’t he? I wouldn’t blame you for being resentful toward my family for that. Even if it did happen centuries ago. You still had to live it.”

Surprise overshadowed his confusion, but kindness won out when his features softened and he took my hand in his.

“Much time has passed since then, and when I have grieved for the family I never had, it rarely included Ileana. I do not hold anything against you and yours. At the end of their existence, they were monsters. Regardless of who they had been before the transformation.”