The blackness of the air around them thickened as Bedivere cut most of the light out of it, a preparation of his own defense should the need arise. Mithias kept his eyes on the old knight, fearing nothing but the misinterpretation of his curt composure as anything other than the necessary obfuscation of their true bond. Bedivere chided him nonetheless, as if he were more than fed up with Mithias' public discretion. If only he knew how much Mithias had also wanted to throw the facade aside and watch it burn. Yet Mithias did not speak. Only his unwavering fixation until Bedivere stopped speaking relayed his true feelings, dedication.
The fact London had been hit with... whatever the hell had killed all the humans around here, was enough to stir up the reclusive guardian of the isle. A massive scale attack like this was going to have serious repercussions. Mithias could only begin to imagine the degree of control Bedivere had lost in the capitol of his nation. Certainly, that was where his present fury came from, and Mithias just as certainly had to help him recapture it. But first, he would have to regain his own footing.
Against all his belief, Soldier was lost to him. The machine he had built in the defense of peace had devolved into the enemy he had been fighting all his life. It was a devastating reality, and it meant that he had to start all over again, if he survived.
Shock perpetuated his silence. Concern and disbelief crossed his countenance as Mithias accepted the news and the spotless white jacket from his gallant rescuer. Much to Bedivere's approval, he put it on, carefully avoiding marring the outside with blood and grime, and then he realized, he couldn't touch the buttons with his dirty fingertips. Lucan immediately obliged, instinctively knowing what his master wanted. Mithias looked back at Bedivere as the suit was buttoned down his front. ... a mirror fit. Perhaps it was a touch more loose around the chest to a vampire with a scrutinizing eye for tailorship, but the boy could use a shirt and a meal... They both savored the moment.
Time it was to depart. Mithias could have sworn he felt something in his psychic perception. Did Bedivere just say Carfax? ... Dracula's castle? .... oh. ...what? Really??!
The sound of the raven's wings were quickly fading as Mithias and Lucan left Kate and Liam behind them. Vladimir had dashed off to hell knows where.
The vampiress in the blue dress, Kathryn, was crying over a dead body, and with or without supernatural senses, Mithias knew that the man beneath her could only have been the father she had talked about. There was another, childlike, white-haired vampire girl beside her who didn't seem at all to be mourning, yet she wasn't actively trying to kill anyone at the present moment. He ignored her as he placed a hand on Kathryn's shoulder. "I'm sorry." After a few moments, Mithias gave an order to his thrall. "Lucan, get us a car. We're going home, and not to Soldier. We're avoiding them. I have another place." He looked down at the weeping fledgling. "Do you want to come with me, Kathryn?"
-----
Once clothed, the beast that was Dracula looked less like a brittle corpse painfully forced to walk on raw bone and more like a nightmare that could speak. But what spoke even more was the aura of dread that struck the heart at the sight of him. An irrational sensation rose up unexplained, screaming beyond all denial that this was truly something wicked, this shouldn't exist in the normal world, this... was Satan incarnate. A swarm of red-eyes rats circled around Him and Deon, confirming the presence of The Master with their high-pitched chatter. Deon couldn't have been more elated or have thrown himself more down at his grandfather's feet. Dracula was weak, yes, but had been dead for nearly 300 years. Threehundred years! No vampire had ever, EVER... returned from its own ashes. That alone was testament enough as to why Dracula should be intensely feared. His was the bloodline that would dominate the Earth.
-----
Sometime later, a young courier boy delivers a paper letter addressed to an unrecognized name.
"To my dear comrade, marshal of my forces, and steward of my castle, Lord Bedivere. It has been a long time. I pray this letter finds you well. If it is not clear by now, then it pleases me to inform you of my return. I trust that you, in your wisdom and foresight, have over the centuries maintained what is mine. My servants will be returning to Castle Carfax to prepare for my arrival. I expect you will allow them to do so. Wither away no more, lonely knight, for if you implore me with your most earnest request, I will finally bring an end to your suffering. I look forward to our next meeting. -Dracula."
