Wednesday Briefs: Dracula #35(8.1)

 Good morning and Happy Hump Day! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.

Now that Andrei has seen what Dracula is capable of, will that make things awkward for the trio? See what's happening in this week's chapter of Dracula. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's up with them. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!

Dracula #35(8.1)

When had life become so difficult? Avram wished, not for the first time, that they’d remained in Bistritz. Sure, problems arose there at times—usually of the financial variety, but nothing such as this. Only when they ventured out of the relative safety of the castle and its environs did they find themselves embroiled in conflict. Of course he understood the reason for their leaving, but that didn’t make the current circumstances any more palatable.

The storm they had so skillfully evaded, thanks to Nico, had eventually petered out, a reluctant sun appearing at last.  But it had clearly not been forgotten. Avram could tell that Andrei was clearly shaken after having witnessed Dracula’s masterful manipulation of the elements. He maintained a respectful distance from the vampire, which was facilitated by the latter fortunately choosing to spend most of his time below deck. There was no longer any reason for them to assist Andrei, everything running smoothly now. Avram couldn’t help but notice that from time to time the smuggler made a sign with his fingers as if to ward off evil, one that he aimed toward Dracula, although the gesture was lost to the vampire.

Avram sighed. He hadn’t wanted to say anything about what had happened, but common sense told him he needed to.  “Andrei,” he began tentatively. The other man was tending to the sail. He glanced toward Avram. Almost warily, it seemed to Avram.

“Yes, Avram?”

“I would appreciate it if you would keep what happened… that is, what you saw…. Well, between us, if you don’t mind.”  He hoped his request would be enough. No need to get Nico involved as that might not end well for anyone.

Andrei quickly crossed himself and shuddered. As though someone had walked over his grave, to paraphrase Swift. He didn’t speak immediately, as though considering his words.

“The old bunica,” he finally muttered. “She has said things. I never gave them any credence before, because she’s crazy, you know, but now…” The words hung heavily in the air between them as he turned an accusing gaze at Avram. “You should know better than anyone, Avram. Is he what they say he is?”

His worst fears realized, Avram braced himself for the word strigoi—or some variation thereof—but it never came. What Andrei asked, he could never and would never admit to. Not to anyone. He knew where his primary loyalty lay. He returned the smuggler’s gaze without flinching. He’d gone through this before— more than once— and knew how much their lives depended on his ability to weave a credible yarn.

“He is my employer,” he said simply. “And he’s my guardian. Nico took me in and raised me when I was but a small child, alone in the world, my parents dead. He didn’t have to do that, but he did. I owe him my life. And I know that he is a good man.” Inwardly, he cursed the old woman, wondering what exactly she was saying about Dracula. And why. That conversation would have to wait.

 to be continued

Now go see what's up with the other Briefers!

Cia Nordwell

J Ray Lamb

Wednesday Briefs: Dracula #33(7.3)

 Good morning and Happy Hump Day! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.

A storm is brewing and Dracula is anxious to be on his way. But will things work out as he wishes just because he wishes them to? See what's happening in this week's chapter of Dracula. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's up with them. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!

Dracula #33(7.3)

Relief swept through Avram at the sight of the wagon. Andrei’s arrival was a timely one. Avram was grateful that he did not have to try to explain to Dracula why it would be unwise to steal the smuggler’s boat, when neither one of them could operate the craft and neither were they familiar with the route they would need to take to reach the Danube. Prior to this, their travels had always been accomplished over land, not water.  Not to mention that Andrei’s cousin would not be happy with them for abandoning his relative/business partner and would probably refuse to take them to Vienna. That in itself would only lead to problems as the vampire was not good at being told no when it came to getting what he wanted. And they were in no position to do anything else at the moment, having no alternatives. No prudent ones, anyway.

Avram was not surprised to see that Andre was not alone. Beside him on the driver’s seat was another man, no doubt the owner of the wagon. Avram didn’t recognize him but assumed he was one of those involved with Andrei in his smuggling activities. Andrei was yelling at the horses to go faster, no doubt due to the impending storm. As if to accentuate the need for urgency, a blue-white flash of lightning arced across the sky in a sideways fashion, immediately followed by a thunderclap and the first drops of rain.

Andrei pulled up the horses at the sight of Avram and Dracula. “Hurry and get in!” he shouted above the rising wind. “We have to hurry and get the cargo loaded and below deck before the storm breaks.”

Avram held his breath, expecting either a refusal or some sort of sarcasm from Nico. But, to his surprise, the vampire leapt onto the back of the wagon without a word, then turned and held out a hand for Avram.

That was unexpected.

Not wishing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Avram took Nico’s hand and the vampire pulled him into the wagon with ease, which then began to roll away immediately. He balanced himself precariously between Nico and the side of the wagon, holding tightly to both lest he fall off. An assortment of boxes and barrels lay in the bed of the wagon. He could understand the necessity to get everything out of the rain before it was ruined.

They quickly reached the point where the boat had been tied up and began to schlep the contents of the wagon into the hold of the boat.  Not surprisingly—at least not to Avram—Dracula was stronger than they were and carried his burdens effortlessly. Perhaps that was a mistake, but they had no time to worry about that now, not with the storm about to break over their heads as it was. They managed to stow everything with a minimum of water damage, to Andrei’s relief. His companion thanked him and quickly drove back the way he’d come.

Andrei glanced uncertainly between Avram and Dracula, as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it. “We should take cover,” he said instead, shouting over the cacophony of the storm.

“We should go,” the vampire insisted. He crossed both arms over his chest stubbornly, clearly expecting to be obeyed. “Now.”

Lord have mercy.

“Are you mad?” Andrei waved his arms to indicate the tumult around them. “We have to let this pass and then we’ll go.”

“Go now.” Dracula stood firm, refusing to capitulate. “The storm will cause no harm.”

“It’s coming from behind us. We can’t outrun us.” He had to yell to make himself heard.

Despite being buffeted by rough winds, Avram stumbled across the deck to place himself between Nico and Andrei, forestalling a possible fight as the two men glared at one another. This was neither the time nor the place, especially under the circumstances. They were becoming more and more drenched by the second, thunder rolling above them in clamorous waves

Dracula took a step toward Andrei, who took a reciprocal step. Avram braced himself as he sought to catch Nico’s eye, silently plead with him for forbearance. At the same time, he stretched an arm toward Andrei to prevent him from doing anything foolish… such as attacking a vampire.

Nico’s gaze was no longer fixed on Andrei, it seemed to encompass the chaos about them—the wind, the rain, the roiling waters of the river. Avram watched him in fascination tempered with horror. Was he really going to do this in front of the smuggler?

Apparently so.

to be continued

Now go see what's up with the other Briefers!

Cia Nordwell

J Ray Lamb

 

 

 

Wednesday Briefs: Dracula #3 (1.2)

 Good morning and Happy Hump Day! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.

As Dracula prepares to go out, Avram is clearly uneasy, but what can he do? Maybe things will work out well. See what's happening in this week's chapter of Dracula. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's up with them. Their links follow my tale. Enjoy!

Dracula #3 (1.2)

“Ah, but what does that even mean? The definition of a sinner lies in the eyes of the beholder,” Avram responded, playing devil’s advocate. “Some might even say you are more sinned against than sinning.” He smoothed out a small wrinkle in the vampire’s mauve coat, then glanced up into the mirror. Their gazes locked in the reflection, Avram’s warm brown eyes meeting his master’s hazel orbs. “They say vampires have no soul and therefore cannot see their image in a mirror. But clearly that is not the case.” Avram stepped back to take in his master in his entirety and was satisfied with what he saw. “But are they sinners? That question is open to debate.”

“Then perhaps I am evil.” The Count laughed as he spun about in a playful pirouette. His long wavy hair swayed with his movement. It flowed down his back, tied with a leather queue fastened by an intricately carved ivory hairpin. When caught by the sunlight, his glossy tresses appeared to possess blue undertones, but that was merely a trick of the sun’s rays. At night, his locks seemed to sparkle, much like their owner.

“Evil is relative, Nico,” Avram replied, the nickname springing from his lips with practiced ease. Admittedly, their relationship was a complicated one, unintelligible to outsiders. More than a mere servant, Avram was often a confidante to the vampire, as well as the voice of reason. A co-conspirator in their life journey, such as it was. He also managed their finances and did his best to save the nobleman from his extravagances.  And as many foolish decisions as he could, although he was not always successful in that regard. “As Exodus tells us, sometimes it matters whose ox is being gored. Should I explain to you this allegory?”

Dracula rolled his eyes. “I stopped believing in that book a long time ago. And no, I understand what it means.”

Avram removed the stopper from an elaborately decorated glass bottle, bought during their last visit to Paris, and handed it to the Count. He poured some of the fragrant oil into one hand and used one slender finger to dab it at various points of his body—behind both ears, at the base of his throat, and on the inside of each wrist. Notes of bergamot filled the air, along with something a little muskier.

“You know, Avram, I remember reading some years ago a sermon that had been written by one of the colonists in America. I forget his name or which religion he represented, but I remember his words. He basically said that we are all sinners, dangling like a spider from the hand of the all-powerful, angry God, and that it was at his forbearance we are suffered to live. Furthermore, he has the power to cut those strings and cast us down into the flames at any time. For any reason or for no reason whatsoever, at his discretion.”

“Such a delightful image,” Avram quipped. “I’m glad my people don’t really believe in the concept of Hell. Sounds like a horrible place.”

Dracula made no immediate response. Sensing a change in his demeanor, Avram replaced the perfume where it belonged, then dared a glance at him. No longer smiling, his handsome face seemed peaceful enough. But Avram knew better. He sensed storm clouds brewing beneath the deceptively calm exterior, as if he had inadvertently touched a nerve, or reopened an old wound.

“I may not believe in God,” the vampire said quietly, “but I hope there is a place like Hell. Some people deserve such a Fate.”

Wishing he could recall his ill-chosen words, Avram could only imagine which people his master was referring to, and he had to agree with his statement. They both fell silent.

Suddenly, Dracula withdrew his skeletonized pocket watch from its resting place within his coat and glanced at the face. Avram was well familiar with this device. It was unique in that where most watches in the vogue were elaborately decorated and engraved, this one was styled in such a way as to view the working mechanisms of the timepiece itself.

Another expensive bauble. But at least this one served a useful purpose. And could probably be sold for a goodly sum, should that ever become a necessity. Although how he would be able to wrest the object from the grasp of its rather strong owner was a matter for another day. One that would hopefully never come.

“One must not keep a beautiful woman waiting, Avram.” The potential storm had passed. Dracula was once again in high spirits, no doubt in anticipation of the carnal delights awaiting him in the village below. Avram was less sanguine.

“As you wish, milord.” No sense in arguing. All he could do now was monitor the situation as well as he could. Which meant spending time in the same dreary alehouse where the unwittingly cuckolded blacksmith could be found.

to be continued

Now go see what the other Briefers are up to!

Cia Nordwell

J Ray Lamb

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday Briefs: Dracula #2 (1.1)

 Good morning and Happy Hump Day! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.

I started a new story last week, it continues. Right now, it's Dracula and Avram. See what's happening in this week's chapter of Dracula. Like I said, working title. If anyone comes up with an idea for a real title, I'm open to suggestion lol  Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's up with them. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!

Dracula #2 (1.1)

Being a fastidious man, the Count—or Nico, as he was known to his more intimate acquaintances—insisted on bathing prior to any evening’s activities. His porcelain-coated cast iron tub was the only one in that region and had been imported many years before, at great expense, from China. He loved to immerse himself in the warmest water Avram could provide, as he found it to be a panacea for his poor circulation. The Count was unique in his desire for personal cleanliness as bathing was not exactly held in high regard by most people.  Members of the upper class seldom bathed and only occasionally washed their faces and hands, while the lower class limited their acquaintance with water to a scant few times a year.  This was but one reason why the Count enjoyed great popularity among ladies of all stations and in many countries. They appreciated his attention to hygiene and delighted in the variety of scents he used on a regular basis at a time when many people wore perfumes merely to mask offensive body odor. As for Avram, he liked to avail himself of the master’s tub during the master’s absence, being very particular himself when it came to cleanliness. As a Jewish man, it was not a choice—it was a commandment.

Once Dracula had eased himself into the blessedly warm water, Avram handed him a soft sea sponge and an irregularly shaped pale orange wash ball. Coriander provided an almost earthy citrus scent, augmented by hints of vanilla and cloves.  Dracula inhaled the ball appreciatively before he began to apply it to his body.

“Would milord perhaps wish to enjoy a game of cribbage tonight?” Avram ventured.

Dracula gave him a pointed look from beneath arched eyebrows. “Did you seriously think I have nothing better to do than engage in a card game with you?”

‘Of course not, milord. Merely a suggestion.”

Avram hadn’t thought his ruse would work, despite the fact that they often did play cards together of an evening, but neither was he offended at his master’s words. He’d been in service to him for too long not to know better. Besides, there were times when he was able to turn his attention by such methods, but alas, tonight was not going to be one of those nights. Avram was only too well aware of his master’s destination this evening, despite his pretense to the contrary, for the Count was never reluctant to discuss his love life, such as it was. Perhaps love was not the right word to be used in regard to his sexual conquests—male or female— for that particular emotion was never involved, at least not on the part of Dracula, although such could not always be said for his partners. Perhaps more direct tactics were called for.

“Do you think it’s wise to continue this dalliance with the blacksmith’s wife?” Avram attempted to be more diplomatic than crude. This particular obsession had been going on for nearly two months now. At least six weeks too long by Avram’s calculations. Not to mention, too close to home. A situation exacerbated by the blacksmith being well-known throughout the village for his nasty temper. The only reason Dracula had not encountered said bad temper heretofore was because the blacksmith was considered by most to be what Avram would term a schlemiel. Not only did he not have a clue as to what his wife was up to while he was occupied in filling his belly with beer at the local alehouse, he also didn’t have the sense to fear Count Dracula, despite the many stories in circulation about him. None of them good. Avram also knew Dracula had no fear of the man, either, for obvious reasons. Still, getting into an altercation with him would not be good for either of their well-being. Not if they wished to live a peaceful life without constant fear of revolting peasants. Dracula was what he was, without a doubt, but he was not invincible, and neither was Avram.

The Count didn’t answer Avram’s question immediately, rising from the tub instead. Understanding the unspoken command, Avram took up a pewter pitcher filled with pleasantly warm water and rinsed the soap from the vampire’s body, back and front, head to toe. Once that was done, he took a pestamel—a long looped strip of cotton that had been acquired during a trip to the Ottoman Turkish Empire—and dried his master’s body and hair. The cloth, which was also sometimes made of linen or bamboo, was becoming popular outside of Turkey. Some referred to these as bath towels.

Dracula stepped from the tub, onto a small soft blue rug and stood there patiently as Avram assisted him to dress in his chosen garb. At last, he spoke. “You worry too much, Avram. She is a diversion, nothing more. A pleasant way to pass the time.”

But will her husband understand that?  Avram reluctantly held his tongue and followed his master back into his bedchamber. He realized that arguing with him, especially when he was in such a sanguine mood, would be as productive as rabbit hunting with a dead ferret—at the end of the day, the ferret would still be dead, and the rabbit would remain free to carry on with its life.

Dracula paused to examine his reflection in the very expensive Venetian mirror he preferred to those made by the English. He twisted and turned, as if to ensure he looked good from every angle.

No wonder we are hard-pressed for money, with such foolish purchases.

“Avram, I am considering ordering ano—”

“Not at the present time, I’m afraid,” Avram said firmly.

Dracula turned toward his servant and sighed. “So it’s like that, is it?”

“It is. Not to mention, one mirror suffices, does it not? You are only one person. And is not vanity a sin?”

Dracula’s lips twitched in a brief smile. “Then consider me a sinner.”

 to be continued

Now go see what's up with the other Briefers!

Cia Nordwell

J Ray Lamb