Dracul (20 page)

“Vampire blood has the power to change victims into vampires. It is so powerful, it can bring them back from the brink of death—but at the cost of becoming a vampire.” For a long moment, Constantine looks into my eyes in silence. I’m not entirely sure what he’s telling me, but I get the strong impression it’s not good.

Felix has been standing patiently just behind me during this entire conversation. Now he clears his throat. “What are you saying?”

“When my brother returned to our kingdom after my father’s death, he had my coffin exhumed. He found me clinging to life, dormant, all but completely dead. Based on what he had learned in his captivity, he knew he had the power to bring me back to life. He had to act quickly, because there were many in the vicinity who still wanted to see me dead, and if they’d have found me otherwise, they would have taken advantage of my helplessness and finished the job. I still had open wounds from being attacked. All Vlad had to do was slit his finger and let his blood flow into me. It brought me back to life, but it also made me a vampire.”

“The undead,” I whisper, grappling with what he’s said.

It fits. I don’t like it, but it fits.

Felix doesn’t seem nearly as ready to accept the explanation. “But you still took on the form of a dragon just now.”

“And I can still breathe fire,” Constantine acknowledges. “According to Vlad, there were records of experiments and their results in the magi’s book. At some point previously, experiments had been conducted in scenarios similar to my case, and their results recorded. Although a dragon-turned-vampire might retain certain dragon features, it became essentially vampiric. Most notably, the offspring of a dragon-turned-vampire and another vampire were simply vampires…indicating that the essential nature of a dragon-turned-vampire is that of a vampire.”

Felix speaks, which is good since I’m still absorbing all this information. “So the offspring of a dragon and a dragon-turned-vampire would be a demon?”

“Everything I know indicates that would be the case,” Constantine confirms.

I’m not going to lie. There was a moment in there, when I first saw Constantine in dragon form, when I felt a glimmer of hope. Like maybe…

Maybe…

Nope. Obviously not.

I tear off another bite of venison.

“You can still be friends, you know,” Felix insists. “You’re both immortal. You don’t have to live on separate continents.”

Constantine smiles a wry smile that’s similar to his smirk, yet at the same time, far sadder than his trademark expression. “I have known very few true dragons in my time. My father, of course, was a dragon, and he taught me most of what I know about my kind. He spoke of a thing which I had never experienced, which I wasn’t even sure was real. A male dragon will, in the presence of a certain female dragon, be overcome with a sense of attraction and affection so strong, it threatens to overwhelm rational thought.”

“The mate scent,” Felix identifies.

“In hundreds of years I had never smelled it. I doubted it was real. But one day, just a few years ago, the females of your family visited this castle. I had seen you here before many times, but you were much younger then. I hadn’t been around you in years. But when I looked at you that day, something filled my heart which I cannot explain.” Constantine looks into my eyes as he speaks. “That is why I followed you to Montana the first time, and why I kept my distance after that.”

“Is that why you spotted her in the doorway just now?” Felix asks.

Constantine nods. “I immediately sensed she was near. It took me quite by surprise. I can’t…” He lets go of my wrist and loosens his arm from my waist. “I can’t be this close to you. It only makes my feelings stronger, and more difficult to fight.”

“But if you’re my mate, and we can’t—how—what?” I stammer. “So I’m doomed to be single forever?”

“It’s a
potential
mate thing,” Felix corrects. “Look at Grandpa Elmir. He loved Grandma Faye, but she’s been dead for over forty years, and now he’s in love with Zhi. There could be another dragon mate out there for you.”

“Yes, there could.” Constantine’s eyes sparkle with hope. “Indeed, I may have found him.”

Chapter Twenty

“You found a dragon?” Felix voices the questions I’m too shocked to ask.

“Yes.”

“Where? How? How do you know he’s a dragon? And how do you know he’s a
he
?” Felix continues his barrage of questions.

“Actually, I met him long ago during the French Revolution—but I had not seen him in the last hundred years until just the other day. I originally met him through my nephew’s son.”

“Which nephew?” I picture the Dracula family tree I’ve studied in the course of my research.

“The demon.”

“You want to hook me up with a guy who’s friends with the son of a demon?”

“Have you met any demons?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then please, don’t rush to condemn them or their friends.”

“But you said he was tortured and…” I try to recall exactly what it was Constantine said. I can only remember I got the impression he was really bad. “You said he earned his reputation as a devil, whatever that means.”

“He was ambitious and powerful. He had wealthy, powerful friends, as did his son after him. Jean Lombard was one of them.”

“Jean Lombard,” I repeat the French-sounding name. “That’s the guy—the dragon?”

“Yes.”

“How well do you know him?” I’ll admit, I’m wary. It’s great news that we’ve found another male dragon on Earth, but having just suffered through the disappointment of thinking perhaps Constantine was actually a dragon, only to find he’s not, I’m not going to get my hopes up.

“I could tell you the whole story.”

“We have time,” Felix assures him.

Constantine looks thoughtful for a second. “Felix, why don’t you finish roasting the rest of that deer and bring it to the dining hall? We can sit and eat while I tell the story.” Constantine adjusts his hood to cover his face before heading across the courtyard to a large room dominated by a long table.

He grabs a pitcher from a hook near the fireplace. “Do you mind fetching water?”

“Not at all.”

I return from the well with the full pitcher in time to see Constantine using his cloak to wipe the dust from one end of the table.

Felix carries in the roasted meat a moment later and plunks it on the bare wood of the table. This may seem unhygienic, but we’re used to eating in the woods when we travel, on rocks or even on the ground, so gnawing at a carcass on a bare table is civilized by comparison.

Constantine sits at the head of the table. Felix and I sit opposite one another.

“Where do I start?” Constantine asks, gesturing for us to begin eating.

“You met Jean Lombard during the French Revolution?” I prompt.

“Yes. I suppose that’s as good a place as any. Historically, you know, one of the causes of the French Revolution was the disappearance of dragons.”

“My history books failed to mention that part,” Felix offers, his tone good-natured. We’re quite used to being written out of the histories, but it’s always exciting to learn that our ancestors were important, even if they’ve since been erased.

“History was written by the winners,” Constantine acknowledges. “Obviously, dragons were not a part of that. As you know, many of the attacks against dragons occurred during the Middle Ages. By the time of the Renaissance, those of us who remained were being systematically removed from power. Lies were spread about us, and even our own people turned against us.” His voice holds remorse, and he falls silent.

“Like the ones who buried you alive?” I ask softly.

“Precisely. Humans attacked and killed their dragons because they feared our power. But without dragons to rule, humans were left to rule themselves. This led to a great many abuses of power which, no doubt, your history books covered in detail.”

“And
that
led to the French Revolution,” Felix notes.

“Yes. You see, in spite of their claims to divine authority, the humans who ruled were essentially no better than any other humans. Unlike dragons, who had the power to protect their people, human kings were just as frail as any other humans, and often more flawed and corrupt than their peers. In frustration, those who were subjugated by these rulers began to band together to throw off their oppressors.

“It was an interesting time to be a dragon. We had fallen out of memory, or at least into myth. The upheaval and talk of personal rights led us to believe the few of us who remained might someday be able to come out of hiding. My nephew, Vladislaus Dracula, was pessimistic about our ability to make any real strides forward via political power, but he had high hopes that the biologically immortal could gain wealth and power through the new economic opportunities that were made possible during this time of upheaval. The Industrial Revolution was taking place during this same time, which opened up opportunities that had never existed before.”

“Vladislaus Dracula, the demon?” I clarify.

“Yes. The son of my brother, Vlad, and the Hungarian princess, who was a dragon. Vladislaus was a demon, but he always respected me—I think, perhaps, because he felt a unique connection to me—not really dragon, but not purely vampire, either. Vladislaus had a son with a woman who was a vampire of the first type. The rumor is that he had a human woman bitten so she’d become a vampire, specifically because he had not found a woman strong enough to survive bearing him a child—and not for lack of trying.”

“The women didn’t survive, or the babies didn’t?” I clarify.

“Neither. Until this one woman, made vampire, bore him a son. She died in childbirth, as well, but his son lived.”

“So, his son was a vampire…of which type?” Felix asks.

“Three or so,” Constantine answers. “As I mentioned before, there are various subcategories, and this one was a special case. Vladislaus the demon named his son after himself, but to make that name sound more cosmopolitan, and to avoid confusion with his father and grandfather, they adjusted the spelling and pronunciation to Lazaro Drake.”

“Drake is a cognate of Dracul.” I recognize the last name, but the first name leaves me stumped. “I didn’t realize Lazaro was a form of Vladislaus.”

“They’re both versions of the name Lazarus,” Constantine explains.

“A name made famous by a guy who was raised from the dead?” Felix clarifies.

“Call it irony or something more.” Constantine smirks. “The most notorious of the undead was named after the legendary once-dead. But let us not lose track of the story. Lazaro was the longed-for and ultimately-spoiled son of a powerful, misunderstood demon.”

I freeze, a bite of venison halfway to my mouth. “How did that work out for him?”

“Not well. He had not lived through the struggles which the previous generations faced, so he did not develop a proper respect for the limitations to his power. He was very interested in learning the secrets to making gold. That is why he went out of his way to befriend dragons, which was how he came to be friends with Jean Lombard—and thus how I was introduced to Jean.”

“Jean Lombard, the dragon who you think I….” My voice breaks off. I can’t say it.

“I think he is a potential mate for you, yes, but there are many things I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with him in years. For all I know, he may have found a mate since then. I do know he is intelligent, generous, and wealthy. Most importantly, he is a dragon.”

“But you said you saw him?”

“Yes. I saw him yesterday.” Constantine pulls something from an interior pocket of his cape.

He holds out the object—a matchbook—for my scrutiny.

“Machine D’or.” I read the stylized logo. “Is that French?”

“It means golden machine, or…gold maker,” Felix translates, and leans in for a closer look. “Where did you get this?”

“As you recall, when I killed two of the three vampires who attacked you at the golf course in Vegas, I took their cloaks.” Constantine hands the matchbook to Felix for his inspection. “This was in a pocket of one of the cloaks. Machine D’or is a casino in Monaco.”

“Monaco,” I repeat. “The tiny country on the Mediterranean, surrounded almost entirely by France?”

“The one and only,” Constantine confirms. “Machine D’or is owned by shareholders. Jean Lombard and Lazaro Drake both hold large stakes in the company. I already suspected, based on what I’d learned from the vampires who’ve been bothering you, that they and Gane are working for Lazaro. The matchbook not only reinforced my theory, it also gave me somewhere to look.”

“Wait—you first met Jean Lombard during the French Revolution—how can he be a shareholder in a modern company?” I’m still trying to keep up.

“As a dragon, he is immortal,” Constantine explains simply.

“Yes, but the French Revolution was well over two hundred years ago. No one has questioned his birthdate?”

“He has ways of getting around that, I am sure. Don’t we all?” Constantine’s knowing smirk returns. “I can confirm he’s still around—though not an easy individual to track down.”

“Is that where you’ve been disappearing to?” Felix asks.

Constantine frowns. “How do you know I’ve been disappearing?”

“I followed you here,” Felix admits. “Or at least, caught up to you here. I’ve been watching you for the last couple of weeks.”

“But Rilla,” Constantine points at me.

I have a mouth full of venison and am in no position to say anything, so I just raise my eyebrows innocently.

“She stayed in Montana,” Felix says. “She had school.”

“You left your sister unguarded?” Constantine’s face goes pale—even paler than usual.

“You were tracking down the bad guys,” Felix points out.

“Tracking them down,” Constantine repeats. “I hadn’t found them yet.”

“You found Lombard.”

“He’s not a bad guy.”

“But he’s friends with Lazaro Drake, who you believe sent Gane after me.” I’ve swallowed my food and can talk now. “Lombard is a stakeholder in the Machine D’or along with Lazaro Drake. How can you claim he’s not bad?”

“I will grant you, it has been many decades since I have spoken with him, but in all our interactions, Lombard has always been polite and reasonable. Drake has been…less than reasonable. His quest to learn how to make gold has, at times, clouded his judgment—a perfect example being the way he sent vampires to get the book from you.”

“So, Lazaro Drake is the son of Vladislaus Dracula, the demon son of Vlad Dracula, your brother.” I’m still trying to sort through all the connections.

“Yes—Lazaro Drake is my great nephew. If you don’t consider me a bad guy, in spite of my relation to Drake, then you should also not consider Jean Lombard a bad guy. He is cultured and learned—you might even consider him a scholar. You like scholars, right?”

I’m too embarrassed to answer.

Thankfully, Felix is full of questions. “You said you can confirm Lombard is still around? But you haven’t been able to track down Drake? Where have you been going? Machine D’or?”

“Let me explain what’s happened. After I left the two of you in Vegas, I returned here and made plans to visit Machine D’or. However, as you will find if you look at a satellite view of Monaco, it is a densely populated place, very busy with people at all hours of the day and night. There was nowhere for a dragon to land—even the sea offshore is crowded with yachts. Monaco is, quite possibly, the most difficult place on earth for a dragon to visit undetected.”

“You can teleport,” I remind him.

“Only to places I know well,” Constantine notes. “Precisely because it is so difficult to visit, I have not been to Monaco in over a century. There is nowhere for me to teleport to, and no one for me to jump to.”

“You couldn’t land on a roof?” Felix asks.

“And then what? Crawl down the side of the building? Jump? No, it wasn’t worth the risk, nor was it necessary. The last time I visited Monaco, I rode in a car driven by Jean Lombard. So, I decided to enter the city the same way this time. Years ago, my great nephew, Lazaro Drake, introduced me to Lombard. We visited him at his remote chateau in the south of France. It’s nestled among the French Alps—”

“The Alps?” If my voice squeaks a little, it’s for good reason. I exchange glances with Felix. Last summer, I traveled to the Alps with my sister, and she was nearly captured by an evil dragon named Hans Wexler. It’s a long crazy story, but we barely escaped alive.

“Those were the Swiss Alps,” Felix reminds me. He can obviously read the source of my fear on my face. “The French Alps are completely different.”

“How so?”

“They’re in France. Not Switzerland.”

“But it’s the same range of mountains. The mountains don’t care where the borders are.”

Constantine cuts into the conversation I’m having with my brother. “Should I be concerned?”

“Probably not,” I admit. “It’s just that we had a very close call in the Alps last summer. I’m still a little wary of them.”

“In the
French
Alps,” Constantine picks up his tale where he left off, “Lombard has a chateau. But unlike many a remote dragon fortress, Lombard’s hideaway could be reached by a very long, winding road that twists extensively through the mountains. Of course, when we visited in years past, we simply flew there under the cover of darkness and landed in the courtyard. I was able to find the place again, but when I landed, I feared the Chateau was deserted.”