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Jonathan felt as though the floor was dropping out from beneath him. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head in denial. “You’re lying.” It wasn’t that Jonathan didn’t know there were others. But from what he understood, they were all...well, he didn’t really think about it. he didn’t know nor care where those other men were, or if they were alive or dead. ‘What does that say about me?’ he thought questioning his morals. Did all he care about was his own feelings? Did the others feel the same as him?
“Am I?” Andor challenged. “Ask him yourself, if you dare. But I warn you, don’t make the mistake of believing you’re any different until the change actually happens. If it happens.”
“The change?” Jonathan echoed, his voice hollow.
Andor rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Becoming a vampyre, you fool. Did you think my father would keep you as a pet forever? No, eventually he’ll have to decide—turn you or kill you. Those are the rules, after all.”
Jonathan’s mind was spinning, trying to reconcile this new information with everything he thought he knew about Dracula and their relationship. Had it all been a lie? Was he just another in a long line of Béla look-alikes, destined to be discarded when Dracula grew bored? He begged Dracula to take him, hell to even turn him. But did he love Dracula enough to spend an eternity with him or was he riding the highs of being at the center of this hidden world? Of being free to express his desires with he most beautiful man he had ever seen. Were all vampyres this beautiful?
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Andor’s expression softened slightly, almost to the point of pity. “Because, little human, someone needs to open your eyes. My father... he’s not the monster you might think he is, but he’s not the romantic hero you’ve built up in your mind either. He’s dangerous and unpredictable. And right now, you’re making him vulnerable in ways he can’t afford to be. If you wish to be undergone the transformation, then focus on that. The others didn’t and well, you can see for yourself the state of their mind.”
With that, Andor moved to the window, opening it with a flourish. The cool night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of the pine forests beyond the castle walls. “Think about what I’ve said, Jonathan Harker,” he said, one foot already on thewindowsill. “And remember, in our world, love is a luxury few can afford.”
Before Jonathan could respond, Andor was gone, leaving nothing but a flutter of curtains and a whirlwind of doubts in his wake.
Alone in his room, Jonathan sank to the floor, his back pressed against the cool stone wall. His mind raced with everything he’d learned; every certainty he’d held about his relationship with Dracula was now called into question.
The east wing was filled with other men who looked like Béla. There was the threat of being turned or killed, and his presence had a weakening effect on Dracula. It was all too much to process.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dawn filtered through the castle’s high windows as Jonathan Harker crept through the silent corridors. His bare feet made no sound on the cold stone floors, and he found himself holding his breath, afraid that even the slightest noise might betray his presence. He was on a mission, driven by his unsettling conversation with Andor.
The East Wing. That’s where he needed to go. Where, according to Dracula’s son, the other men who resembled Béla were kept. Jonathan’s heart raced at the thought, a mixture of dread and morbid curiosity propelling him forward.
He had explored much of the castle during his stay, but the East Wing had always been off-limits. Now, as he approached the heavy oak doors that separated it from the rest of the castle, he understood why. An aura of foreboding seemed to emanate from beyond, sending a chill down his spine.
Jonathan’s hand hovered over the ornate door handle, trembling slightly. Did he really want to know what lay beyond? Could he handle the truth if Andor’s words proved true? His fingers had just brushed the cool metal when a voice startled him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Master Harker.”
Jonathan whirled around to find Vigo standing behind him, the old servant’s face a mask of concern.
“I... I was just...” Jonathan stammered, searching for an excuse.
Vigo shook his head, a sad smile playing at his lips. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing in this castle, sir. Some doors are best left unopened. Don’t allow that fiend to talk you into walking into your own death.”
“Andor...What do you know about him?”
“I gave my heart to him once when I was younger and prettier...and he abandoned me.” He sneered at the memory. “Trust me when I say that nothing good will come of taking his words to heart.”
“B--But you’re not turned.”
“No, and I never will be. It was Andor who began my transformation into a Vampyre consort, and once the transformation begins, only that Vampyre can finish it. Dracula has taken pity on me and only shares enough blood to keep me alive, but I still age, albeit very slowly and one day I will fall asleep and never awaken, if I’m lucky.” His tone was filled with malice though he tried to sound as neutral as possible.
Vigo led him away from the East Wing with a gentle but firm hand on Jonathan’s arm. As they walked, Jonathan couldn’t help but notice the servant’s knowing gaze, as if he could see right through to the doubts plaguing his mind.
The day passed in a haze of restless energy for Jonathan. He tried to distract himself with books from the library, but his mind kept wandering back to the mysteries of the East Wing and the implications of Andor’s words. By the time evening fell, he was a bundle of nerves, both dreading and anticipating Dracula’s awakening.
As the last rays of sunlight faded, Jonathan felt a change in the castle’s air. It was as if the ancient stones themselves were holding their breath, waiting for their master to rise. He made his way to Dracula’s chambers, wanting to move on; perhaps he could give the Count another lesson.
The door creaked open just as Jonathan raised his hand to knock. Dracula stood there, resplendent in a black silk robe, his dark hair tousled from sleep. For a moment, all of Jonathan’s doubts melted away in the face of the Count’s otherworldly beauty.
“Jonathan,” Dracula breathed, his voice husky with sleep and something else – desire, perhaps? “Come in, solicitor.”
As Jonathan stepped into the room, Dracula pulled him close, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Jonathan melted into the embrace, his body responding with a fervor that surprised him. Despite everything, despite the doubts and fears swirling in his mind, his attraction to Dracula remained undeniable.
