Page 75 of The Curse of Eternity
It opened with ease into a pleasant hall, and the long yellow rug that ran the length kept my feet warm on my walk down. Latticed windows lined the right wall, with nothing to obscure the scenery of lush hills and swaying flowers dancing beneath pale moonlight. A crescent-shaped moon graced the cloudless sky, illuminating the forest beyond the pastures.
It took effort to turn away from the view as I reached a series of stairs, leading down to the ground floor below. I gulped at the thought of descending any more steps, but braved a deep breath before placing my palm along the thick banister. Between the floors, a landing overlooked the story below, and my attention was drawn to the large portrait on the wall beside me.
I gripped the banister as my brow furrowed, taking a long look at the subjects.Damn, the resemblance was uncanny.An obviously wealthy family had been painted before a vague backdrop. The older man’s tidy beard had wisps of gray showing, but his eyes were painted nearly the same black as his hair.
Beside him, the woman seated on the stool was a head shorter, and her long brown hair was pinned back beneath the bonnet-like hairpiece she wore. A little girl stood prim and proper in front of the woman, her dark hair formed into ringlets and her expression disgruntled. On the floor sat a much younger boy, but he was dressed as exceptionally well as the rest.
Straight black hair touched his ears, but the look on his face seemed unusually mature for a kid so young. It felt like a portal into another lifetime, and I couldn’t help but stare at every aspect. From the early 18th century garb to the muted colors in the background, bringing out the family’s faces in bright contrast. What it must have been like to be alive then—
“I would offer you a penny for your thoughts.” Drake’s voice pulled my attention to the floor below. “Though I am afraid I hold no coins.” No longer covered in blood, Drake stood barefoot at the base of the stairs, his black hair still wet where it lay flat just beneath his ears. The clean black pants and button-up shirt suited his lean muscular frame, and I stifled a pang of jealousy.What I wouldn’t do to get my hands on some fresh clothes.
“I was just thinking it’s a beautiful picture.” I faced the portrait in question, but soon felt his presence at my side even before he replied.
“It was in a time when we did not have flash photography,” Drake said. The glib way he put it made me smile.
“So, that’s you?” I pointed to the boy in the frame, glancing at Drake as he nodded. Except his gaze was equally glued to the picturesque depiction of his childhood.
“Yes. The Drake family were never quite royalty, nor kings of any nation. Though our family tree has stretched across the European continent, my branch in particular resided in Romania—Wallachia, as it was known then.”
“So, this place…” I vaguely waved around us. “This isyourcastle?” Now that I thought about it, it would be pretty bizarre to crash in some stranger’s home.
“It belongs to the descendants of my aunt, Adelina.” He pointed at the girl in the painting, his tone relaxed when he continued, “The man was my grandfather, Petru Drake. His first marriage had been to a woman named Lidia, who bore my mother. Lidia died not long after. From what, I am unsure, therewere many ailments at the time. The woman here is Olga, and Adelina is her child.”
“And…nobody will look for us here?” I craned my neck to look over my shoulder, glimpsing the moon between passing clouds through the windows on the floor above.
“We will not stay long enough for them to have the chance,” Drake answered, recapturing my full attention. “My forefathers owned several estates, and I doubt any of the Domnitori will have memorized where each child taken had come from. Even if they decide to search the records, ones I am uncertain even exist, we will already have left. Although they will be preoccupied with restoring the fortress first and foremost. And, now that it has been left open, they are most likely snooping through the bedchambers of Dracula.”
Images of Dracula’s antechamber flashed through my mind’s eye, and I glanced up at the portrait on the wall beside us while remembering the one hanging behind Dracula’s statue.
“What was your mom’s name again?” I whispered, embarrassed at the slip in my memory, but he didn’t seem bothered by the question.
“Ileana. Though she did not go by ‘Drake’ after I was born. The Domnitori only knew her as Ileana Petrescu,” Drake explained, and his brow creased. “Dracula often chose his ilk from what he considered superior bloodlines, whether they be his inner circle or the children he stole for his army. I did not learn until after both of their deaths that it was most likely my birth mother who requested I be brought to the fortress.”
“Did Dracula know?” My voice came out rough, and I cleared my throat. “That Ileana was your mom, I mean.”
Drake’s eyebrows rose, speculative. “I cannot be sure. I never spoke with Vlad Dracula as an equal. None of us did.”
I bit my lip, remorse and regret for the actions of my ancestor churning my empty stomach. “How can you stand to be around me?”
“What?” Drake faced me, so confused that I could’ve kicked myself for not elaborating.
“Helsing killed them both, didn’t he? I wouldn’t blame you for being resentful toward my family for that. Even if it did happen centuries ago. You still had to live it.”
Surprise overshadowed his confusion, but kindness won out when his features softened and he took my hand in his.
“Much time has passed since then, and when I have grieved for the family I never had, it rarely included Ileana. I do not hold anything against you and yours. At the end of their existence, they were monsters. Regardless of who they had been before the transformation.”
It was hard to imagine the lifetimes that Drake had survived, and the perspective that must’ve given him. If anything happened to my family… Even if they had become monsters, I wasn’t sure how long I’d need to recover from losing them. The realization hit me like a brick wall at ninety-miles-an-hour.Selfish—that’s what I was for hiding things from them.
Because deep down, I knew they would have gone to the ends of the Earth to get me back.
Disbelief must have been obvious on my face, but Drake’s gentle touch as he brushed a strand of curling hair behind my ear melted the tension from my jaw. My gaze returned to the little girl in the painting, and my curiosity resurged.
“Did you ever meet your aunt again? After you were turned.”
Drake shrugged, but his lips pursed when he directed his attention to tracing the back of my hand.
“No, never in truth. For years, I watched her from afar. Once, I attended an evening party that she hosted with her husband. Ofcourse, I did not introduce myself. It was enough to know that she was happy, fulfilled.”
