Vincent Heartwood's Arc

Chapter 4 of 9

The man wanted to leave his home before he answered. Vincent knew only one place that could hide them both. His grandfather's castle rose black against the sky, its spires built to swallow light. But Vincent could not simply carry a mortal through those gates. He needed his grandfather's blessing first. So he went to the old vampire's house at dusk. Dracula sat by the fire, white beard bright in the glow. He did not look up when Vincent entered. "You want to bring a breathing man into Nightveil," the old vampire said. His red eyes lifted. "That castle has swallowed brighter things than his little life." "He asked me to take him somewhere safe," Vincent said. "Somewhere no maid can watch. You have a hundred empty rooms and stone thick enough to hide anything." "Stone hides bodies," Dracula said. "I know. I filled that place with my own mistakes." He turned back to the fire. "You'd take a frightened human into the dark and ask him to choose there? Fear will wear a new face inside those walls." Morwen sat in the corner, grinding herbs into a bowl. She was the witch who had helped Vincent before, against Dracula's warnings. Her green eyes flicked up. "The old one is half right," she said. "A cold castle is not comfort. But he already agreed to go somewhere. Don't waste that." She set the bowl down. "Give him a room that feels human. Fire. Blankets. A door he can open himself." Dracula's jaw tightened. "You'd make my home cozy for prey." "I'd make it safe," Morwen said. "There is a difference. You forgot it once." The old vampire went quiet. His hands folded on his knees. For a long moment the fire was the only sound. Then he spoke, low. "Take the east tower. The one with windows. Not the cellars." He met Vincent's eyes. "When she woke hating me, it was in a room without light. Do not repeat me, boy." Vincent felt the weight lift from his chest. "Thank you." "Don't thank me yet," Dracula said. "You have his answer to earn." Vincent returned to the man that night. He knocked once at the front door. The man came out with a single small bag, coat buttoned, eyes clear. He did not look back at the house. "There's a place," Vincent said. "Stone walls. A room with fire and a door you control. No one there will watch you." The man drew a breath. "Then take me." They walked together toward the black spires. But as the castle gate opened before them, the man stopped. His hand slipped from Vincent's. He stared up at the swallowing dark, and his face had changed. "You said safe," he whispered. "This looks like a grave."