Eternal Night

(III) Chapter 8: Devoured

Antón Bernardini smiled as he looked between Vladislaus and his new bride. At first glance, one would never have guessed the rite they had just undertaken, the significance of it, the power they possessed – not only separately, but as a new and unified whole. They were still dressed in their civilian clothes, and yet the way they stood, side by side, hand in hand – tall and proud and dignified. Something almost sacred settled into the room as the newly blood-bound pair turned their heads to look at one another.

The dawn had begun to color the night sky over Budapest outside the window just behind them, a dark violet sea bleeding hues of crimson near the horizon – a sign.

The first part of the prophecy had finally been fulfilled.

Which meant...

Antón, smiling, began to clear the altar, placing the remaining items back into the box.

"I better get going," he announced suddenly. His king broke eye contact with his bride first, Dracula turning to his friend.

"So soon?" Frankie asked.

"I'm not sure if he told you," Bernardini began, motioning with his head toward Vlad, "but before Lilith decided to change sides of the board, she and I had an arrangement. If the two of you became blood-bound before the year was out, I would receive something for my efforts."

"And I thought only the Spanish were all busy-bodies," the woman mused to herself. "What did she promise you?"

The Italian smiled.

"Temporary access to my wife," he said.

And with the newly formed tie between himself and Francesca, for the first time in his centuries of living, Vladislaus could appreciate the motives of his old friend. Which is why he chose to spare him any chastisement or teasing for his previous meddling.

"Is it just for the day, or...?"

"A full twenty-four hours, and I don't want to waste a second of it," and Bernardini quickly snuffed out the candles with his two fingers before putting them in the box and closing the lid. He snapped the latch in place and then rose to put the small end table back where it belonged.

"I can do that," Frankie began but Antón quickly lifted a finger to stop her.

"No! No, no, no... you will do nothing of the sort," he exclaimed, much to her surprise, but the man didn't appear offended by the offer – just... amused? "Please keep your hands together until after I leave." The look he sent Vladislaus made the woman all the more curious.

"Wha... I don't understand."

"You will," Bernardini said cryptically. Then he returned his attention to his sire. "I hope when you both agreed to do this that you carved out some time to..."

"We have four days."

Antón whistled as he made his way to the door.

"That's barely enough time, but it's better than nothing, I suppose."

"How long does it normally take?"

"With Mariella and I, it took a full forty-eight hours just to level out again. But you'll recall how we were for that first year."

Dracula grimaced.

"I'm still trying to forget."

Bernardini laughed heartily.

"I have a sneaking suspicion the two of you may be infinitely worse! But, then again, your sense of discipline was always better than mine, so who knows..." Before the Italian could depart, he paused, hand resting on the handle of the front door as he turned to look back. The couple were still standing in front of the fireplace, hand in hand. His smile softened for just a moment, a look of what Frankie could only describe as pride and relief in his eyes. "I am happy for you," he said, voice brimming with sincerity. "For both of you."