Ballroom music wafted through the bungalow.
The Count embraced Mina and glided around the living room – their movements smooth and choreographed.
With lips to her ear, he whispered in earnest, “I could not take his life. To do so, would be to kill any hope of your love.”
Ecstatic but also troubled, Mina floated and allowed his words to carry her.
“Time was my ally but also my tormentor.”
“I’ve always felt you live within me, my Prince, felt your blood course through my veins.”
Mina glanced at the huge wall mirror. She spied herself and her count, moving with the grace of oneness – he, fine and chiselled and she, delicate and blushing with youth.
“And I’ve watched you, Mina, from afar, as you moved from the Occidental to the Oriental to avoid speculation.”
“I tried to convince myself that the love in me was unholy but never could bring myself to believe it. Rescue me, my Prince, from this turmoil.”
“You’ve loved him as you vowed, till death did you part. No fault shackles you, not then, not now.”
The Count leaned down and kissed her trembling lips.
The hours pulled reluctantly away, leaving them naked to the first rays of light as they reclined on the couch.
“The sun,” said Mina, her eyes revealed anxiety.
The Count’s lips caressed her ear, as he said, “Mr Stoker was of immense service. He wrote with great precision and remained extremely faithful to my instructions.”
“I don’t understand, my Prince.” Mina stared fearfully at the sunlight, which slowly crept towards them.
“He’s canonised as the ultimate authority on vampirism.” The Count’s long manicured fingers combed her hair. “From his one journal has sprung all human folklore and distortions.”
Mina’s eyes asked many questions, but seeing his composure, she felt safe for him.
“The sun doesn’t singe my skin,” said the Count, extending his palm to catch the first rays of light. “I cross bodies of water without assistance and don’t have the need to sleep on the earth of my homeland. Mr Stoker’s tales allowed me to hide in full view of my pursuers.” The Count opened his palm to reveal a ball of yellow light, which gently floated away and dissipated. “And I’ve gifts unknown to man.”
Mina touched his face and her fingers gently traced the length of his cheek. “And what of our love, my Prince, how long will it live?”
“Our love will die only if we live as Man. We’ve the gift of Gods.”
Mina shut her eyes and melted in his embrace as they savoured another kiss.
Rustam padded softly into the empty living room, bathed now in glorious sunlight. He stretched long and taut, and yawned expansively. Licking his lips, he surveyed his realm.
He cocked his head towards the couch, as if paying attention to something —–.
********** Copyright @ Eric Alagan ************
This concludes the impromptu 3-part flash fiction
Thank you for reading
First part – Why, Mr Blanchard
Second part – What now, Mrs Winkle