Page 47 of Dracula: Bound in Blood

And with that, Dracula took off into the morning, leaving a trail of burning smoke behind him.

“I’ll not beg for mercy,” Vigo spat, his voice filled with defiance as he stood tall, despite just how damn tired he was.

“Good. Cause I won’t ask you to,” Andor replied, his tone cold. With a swift motion, he delivered a powerful blow to the back of the older man’s head, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered open, his vision blurry as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Flickering candles dimly lit the room, casting dancing shadows on the rough stone walls. Shelves lined every available surface, crammed with dusty tomes and jars filled with mysterious substances. A large copper cauldron bubbled ominously in one corner, emitting a faint green vapor. Strange symbols were etched into the wooden floorboards, forming intricate patterns that seemed to shift and move in the wavering light. The air was thick with the pungent aroma of herbs and incense, creating an intoxicating and unsettling atmosphere. Jonathan groaned, attempting to sit up, only to be met with a searing pain that shot through his back.

“Where am I?” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “Dracula?”

Slowly, carefully, Jonathan managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed. His wound was bandaged tightly, but he could feel the dull throb beneath the wrappings. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before attempting to stand.

As he made his way to the door, his mind raced with questions.Where’s Dracula? Is he alright? Did he make it out of the castle? Oh God, what if he’s hurt? What if Van Helsing caught him?

Jonathan was confused about where he was as he pushed open the door, revealing a small, cluttered living area. His eyes immediately fell on a young girl, no more than twelve or thirteen by the looks of her, grinding herbs in a mortar. She had a delicate face framed by unruly auburn curls that cascaded past her shoulders. Her emerald eyes, wise beyond her years, looked up at him with curiosity. She wore a simple, worn linen dress cinched at the waist with a frayed rope belt, and her bare feet peeked out from beneath the hem. Despite her youth, she carried herself with a quiet confidence, her movements deliberate and practiced as she worked with the herbs.

“Excuse me, child,” Jonathan said, his voice tentative. “Could you tell me where I am?”

The girl’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “Oh, you’re awake. Wonderful,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I’m not a child, you fool. I’m four hundred years old, so you’d do well to show some respect.”

Jonathan blinked, taken aback. “I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Are you... a vampyre?”

The witch rolled her eyes. “Hell no! I’m a witch! And don’t bother thanking me. The Count and his spawn owe me a favor now, which is far more valuable than gold.” She set down her mortar with a thud. “Now, as much as I’d love to play host, I prefer my privacy. And I particularly dislike vampyres and their... associates.”

Jonathan’s mind was reeling.Witches are a real thing?! And Dracula owes her a favor? But where is he? Why isn’t he here?

“You healed me?”

“Who else? But I couldn’t close you up completely, as that would have taken more mana than I could give. Your wound can still reopen if you move around too much,” the witch continued. “But that’s not my problem anymore. Andor is waiting outside to take you away from here.”

“Andor?” Jonathan’s heart sank.Not Dracula. Why not Dracula?“But where’s-”

“Out,” the witch said firmly, pointing towards the door. “Now.”

Jonathan nodded, moving slowly towards the exit. Each step sent a jolt of pain through his body, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. As he stepped outside, he saw Andor leaning against a tree, his face unreadable.

“Where’s Dracula?” Jonathan blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer. “Is he alright? Was he hurt? Why isn’t he here?”

Andor raised an eyebrow. “My father is... well enough. Though more of a miserable wreck than usual, if that’s possible. It would seem you’ve had quite an effect on him.”

Jonathan’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions.He’s alive—thank God—but why isn’t he here? Doesn’t he care? Did I do something wrong?

“I’m honoring my father’s wishes,” Andor continued, his voice cool. “You’re to return to London.”

“What?” Jonathan’s voice cracked. “No, I can’t- I need to see him. I need to talk to him.”

Andor shook his head. “I will not incur my father’s wrath….Well, not tonight. His word is final.”

Jonathan felt as if the ground was crumbling beneath his feet.He’s rejecting me. After everything we’ve been through, he’s sending me away….

“Perhaps,” Andor said softly, “returning to London is for the best.”

Jonathan nodded numbly, unable to form words. His heart felt like it was being torn in two. Part of him wanted to scream, to fight, to demand answers. But another part, the part that hadalways doubted, that had always feared this was too good to be true, whispered that this was inevitable.

The journey to the train station passed in a blur. Jonathan moved as if in a trance, his body on autopilot while his mind spiraled. Andor escorted him onto the train, his presence a constant reminder of Dracula’s absence.

Jonathan’s eyes fell on a familiar figure among the crowd onboard as the train began to pull away from the station. It was the man who had been watching him in London and Paris, the one who looked partly like a beast. But this time, Jonathan felt no fear. He was beyond fear now.

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