21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

D aylight bled from the Transylvanian sky as Jonathan Harker stirred from his fitful slumber. The castle’s stones seemed to whisper with secrets as he descended the winding staircase, each step echoing in the vast, shadowy halls. He knew Dracula would attempt to force his departure, but just as the Count was determined to make him leave, Jonathan was just as determined to remain. He would not be cast out so easily.

As Jonathan reached the bottom of the stairs, he caught sight of Dracula waiting for him. The Count cut an imposing figure in the dim light, his aristocratic features set in an unreadable mask. His dark eyes were fathomless pools of beauty that fixed upon Jonathan with an intensity that made the young solicitor’s breath catch in his throat.

“A carriage awaits, Mr. Harker.” Dracula’s voice was low and melodious, a sound that sent shivers down Jonathan’s spine despite the coldness of his words.

Jonathan strode past the Count, their shoulders brushing briefly. That fleeting contact was enough to set his skin tingling. He pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped out into the courtyard, the cool night air caressing his flushed cheeks.

A carriage waited before the castle gates, its black lacquered surface gleaming dully in the moonlight. The vehicle seemed almost alive, a creature of shadow poised to spirit Jonathan away from this realm of dark enchantment. Beside it stood the driver, a young man whose wide, darting eyes and trembling hands betrayed his fear of this cursed place.

The driver’s face was pale and drawn, his skin sallow in the wan light. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the chill in the air, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he swallowed. His ill-fitting livery hung loosely on his thin frame, as if he had lost weight during his journey to this forsaken castle.

The boy could have looked no more than eighteen.

A wicked idea formed in his mind. He would use this man’s fear to his advantage to thwart Dracula’s plans. “Do you know where you are boy?” Jonathan folded his arms and smirked.

“Y—Yes, sir. I—I’m here to take you directly to the station, sir.”

“We will be ready momentarily,” Dracula said as he waited by the doors. Most of Jonathan’s clothing was lost during that wretched Van Helsing’s attack, but once Dracula recovered, he personally went back to the site and gathered what he could find, his photographs and the pen he had always used. Surely, he knew Jonathan would not have left without those items. “Go and gather your items. I shall wait here.”

Jonathan glanced back at Dracula as he approached the carriage; the boy turned his gaze away from the beautiful blue eyes staring into him. “Do you know that this is a place of evil? That monsters prowl the darkness and made this place its home.”

“Stop teasing the child,” Dracula warned.

“Are you truly comfortable having creatures of darkness ride in your carriage?”

“Um…” The boy trembled at a loss for words.

“We might take over your mind, force you to drive us to a dark and secluded location so we could bite your neck and drink your blood!” Jonathan leaped onto the carriage and flashed his nonexistent fangs with all the theatrical villainy he could muster. “For I have acquired a taste for blood, and yours looks particularly... delicious!”

The effect was instantaneous. The driver’s already pale face turned ashen, his eyes widening to the point where the whites were visible all around. A strangled whimper escaped his throat as he stumbled backward in his haste to put distance between himself and the perceived monster before him.

“M-mercy!” the driver stammered, his voice cracking with terror. “P-please, I beg you! I have a family, a wife, and a child!”

The driver’s resolve crumbled entirely, and with a final, terrified yelp, he ordered the horses to move, much to Dracula’s dismay. Jonathan hopped off, so proud of himself as they watched the driver fly away from the castle grounds.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Jonathan burst into laughter. The sound echoed off the castle walls, a joyous counterpoint to the somber atmosphere that usually permeated the grounds. He turned to find Dracula standing behind him; one eyebrow arched in a mixture of amusement and disapproval.

“That wasn’t very kind, Mr. Harker,” the Count said, his tone carrying a hint of reproach.

Jonathan shrugged, still grinning broadly. “Perhaps not,” he admitted, “but it was undeniably effective. I daresay you’ll have a hard time finding another driver willing to brave these woods now.”

Dracula shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You do realize this means I’ll have to escort you to the train station myself?”

“I’m not leaving,” Jonathan said simply, turning back towards the castle.

He could hear Dracula’s footsteps behind him as he ascended the stairs, but he made it to the consort quarters and slipped inside closing the door firmly behind him.

A moment later, there was a knock.

“Jonathan.” Dracula’s voice was muffled through the heavy wood, but the underlying frustration was clear. “You’re behaving like a child.”

“I’m afraid I’m rather indecent at the moment, Count,” he called back, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his stomach.

There was a pause, and then Dracula spoke again, a hint of exasperation coloring his tone. “We are both men, Jonathan. Surely it doesn’t matter.”

Taking a deep breath, Jonathan opened the door. Dracula stepped inside, only to freeze at the sight before him. Jonathan stood at the door, completely naked as the day he was born, his pale skin luminous in the candlelight. His body was a study in contrasts - lean yet strong, vulnerable yet defiant.

“Well, Count?” Jonathan said, spreading his arms wide, exposing himself fully to Dracula’s gaze. “Will you be sending me to the train station like this?”

Dracula stared, his dark eyes roving over Jonathan’s form with an intensity that made the young man’s skin prickle with heat. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their breathing - Jonathan’s quick and shallow, Dracula’s deep and measured.

Then, to Jonathan’s surprise, Dracula laughed. A rich, genuine sound seemed to light up the room. “You are impossible, Solicitor,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely impossible.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but feel that rush of triumph. “Does this mean I can stay?” he asked, stepping closer to the Count.

Dracula’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, Jonathan thought he might close the distance between them, might take him in his arms and kiss him senseless. But instead, the Count sighed, a sound filled with equal parts fondness and resignation.

“Yes, you stubborn creature,” he said softly. “You win for now.”

With that, Dracula turned and left the room, leaving Jonathan alone with his racing thoughts and the lingering scent of the Count’s presence.

The Next Night

The day was uneventful. Jonathan spent the day in a flurry of activity, his mind racing with ideas on how to introduce the Count to the modern world. There was so much to cover—technology, politics, social customs—that he scarcely knew where to begin.

As darkness fell, Dracula stirred from his daytime slumber. Even before his eyes opened, he sensed Jonathan’s presence in the castle, the young man’s energy pulsing through the very stones of the building. It was a curious sensation, as if the castle itself had come alive with Jonathan’s vitality.

Vigo appeared silently, ready to assist his master in preparing for the night ahead. As the old servant helped him dress, Dracula couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed within his ancient home. The air seemed less stagnant, and the shadows were less oppressive. He wondered if he was imagining things or if Jonathan’s presence truly had such a profound effect on his surroundings.

“How is our... guest faring?” Dracula asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

A knowing smile played at the corners of Vigo’s weathered mouth. “Master Harker has been quite busy, my lord. He’s made some interesting arrangements for the evening. I believe you should see for yourself.”

Intrigued despite himself, Dracula set out to find Jonathan. The young solicitor’s heartbeat led him to the ballroom, which had stood empty and neglected for centuries. As he pushed open the ornate doors, he froze in astonishment.

The ballroom had been transformed. Dust and cobwebs were banished, replaced by a gleaming elegance that harkened back to the castle’s glory days. Candles flickered in polished sconces, their warm light reflecting off the newly polished floor. At the center of it all stood Jonathan, a proud smile on his face.

“Ah, Count!” Jonathan exclaimed. “I’m glad you’re here. Tonight’s lesson is one every modern man must know - dancing.”

Dracula arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Dancing? Jonathan, I assure you I am quite proficient in the art of dance. I’ve attended more balls than you can imagine.”

Jonathan’s smile widened. “I’m sure you have, Count. But times have changed. While undoubtedly elegant, the dances of your era are a bit... outdated. Allow me to introduce you to some more contemporary steps.”

Despite his initial reluctance, Dracula found himself intrigued. He watched as Jonathan demonstrated a series of moves, his body moving with a fluid grace that caught the vampyre’s eye. When Jonathan held out his hand in invitation, Dracula took it without hesitation.

Their first attempts were awkward, with Dracula struggling to adapt to the less formal style. But as they continued, laughter began to fill the room. Jonathan’s patience and enthusiasm were infectious, and soon, even Dracula smiled as they twirled around the ballroom.

“You’re a quick study, Count,” Jonathan said, slightly breathless. “Now, show me one of your dances. I want to see how the nobility moved in your time.”

Dracula’s eyes lit up at the challenge. He took Jonathan’s hand, placing it on his shoulder, then assumed the proper stance. With practiced ease, he led Jonathan through the steps of a courtly dance, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft with nostalgia, “my father used to throw the most magnificent balls when I was a boy.”

Jonathan’s eyes lit up with interest. “Really? What were they like?”

Dracula smiled, twirling Jonathan gently. “Oh, they were spectacular affairs. The castle would be filled with music and laughter. Ladies in glittering gowns that seemed to float as they moved, their faces hidden behind elaborate masks.”

“Masks?” Jonathan asked, intrigued.

“Yes,” Dracula chuckled. “It was all the rage then. The more intricate the mask, the more admired you were. I remember one gentleman who wore a mask fashioned to look like a golden phoenix. The beak alone must have been worth a small fortune.”

Jonathan laughed, picturing the scene. “It sounds wonderful. Did you enjoy these balls?”

Dracula’s smile turned wistful. “I did, though perhaps not as much as I should have. I was young, you see, and more interested in sneaking away to the kitchens for extra sweets than in dancing with the young ladies.”

“I can just picture a young Count Dracula, pockets stuffed with stolen pastries,” Jonathan teased.

Dracula’s laughter echoed through the ballroom. “You’re not far off, solicitor. Not far off at all.”

“It must have been breathtaking.”

“My mother... she was a remarkable woman. Kind and gentle, but with a strength that could rival any man’s.”

Jonathan smiled encouragingly. “She sounds wonderful. What was she like?”

“She had this way about her,” Dracula mused, his eyes distant with memory. “Grace personified. She could enter a room and command attention without saying a word. It was she who taught me the importance of poise, of carrying oneself with dignity.”

“Did she enjoy the balls as well?” Jonathan asked.

Dracula nodded, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Oh yes. She loved to dance. I can still see her, twirling across the ballroom floor, her laughter ringing out like music.”

Jonathan’s expression turned wistful. “My own mother loved to laugh as well. She had the warmest smile you’ve ever seen. It could light up a room.”

“Tell me more about her,” Dracula encouraged, genuinely interested.

“Well,” Jonathan began, his voice soft with affection, “she wasn’t one for grand balls, but she did love to sing. Every evening, she’d sit by the fire and sing old folk songs. And her hugs...” He paused, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. “Her hugs could make you feel like everything in the world was right, even when it wasn’t.”

Dracula’s hand tightened slightly on Jonathan’s waist, a gesture of comfort. “She sounds like a truly wonderful mother.”

Jonathan nodded, blinking back tears. “She was. I admit I rarely think of my father, and when I do, a lot of anger follows it, but my mother. I’m almost surprised that I can still speak fondly of her. Despite everything, I still miss her terribly.”

“Mother is God in the eyes of a child,” Dracula said softly.

Dracula jerked Jonathan about and whirled about the room as if to shake him from his melancholic thoughts. Their dance became less structured and more playful. They teased and bantered, their bodies drawing closer with each turn. Finally, unable to resist any longer, Dracula pulled Jonathan close and kissed him.

It was a sweet, tender kiss, far removed from the passionate encounters they had shared before. In that moment, surrounded by candlelight and silence, Dracula felt something stir within him - a warmth he had thought long extinct.

As they parted, both slightly breathless, Jonathan smiled up at him. “Well, Count,” he said softly, “it seems you’re a natural at modern romance as well.”

Dracula chuckled, pulling Jonathan close once more. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “or perhaps I simply have an excellent teacher.”