1963-09-27 - Sealed With a Kiss
Summary: After being vampire-napped, Jack meets Vlad.
Related: Once Upon a Hellmouth plot.
Theme Song: None
jack dracula 


Hell's Kitchen has its share of empty places — even churches. The belfry is full of bats, the base of the belltower far below is stinking and damp. The heavy door is always barred. The creature that snatched Jack brought her down past the bells to leave her there before taking off into the night again. It returns, its claws scrape and its wings rustle at the belfry, but it doesn't come back down. No one comes or goes. There's water, in a plastic camping jug, a bucket for a toilet, and some blankets on which to sleep. It's like a little lair. There's no noise outside, in the church. Neighborhood sounds seem distant.

*

Jack had spent hours banging on the wall of the church in an effort to make noise. Her hands and arms had become bruised and raw from the effort tied to her desire to escape from the makeshift prison. She had screamed, clawed, and generally tried to make all the noise she could, but after hours, she'd become exhausted — allowing herself to enter into a sullen sense of self.

The water had been used to both drink and clean up her hands; removing whatever layer of dust had become represented along her skin following her efforts to escape.

After that, she'd come to some measure of acceptance of her solitude.

She lays not he blankets, fingers running over their texture, feeling it again and a gain, like a child would a security blanket. Evidently, the only comfort to be had is from what cold fabric can offer. And so she accepts what it provides.

Her face had become matted with running makeup from tears at her frustrated efforts to escape while the tissues of her throat ached thanks to the efforts of screaming and crying — both of which created the raspy mess that she is now. Her depression had become too real too quickly, and in a matter of hours, she'd turned from her jovial, mostly-warm self to the sad-sack laying upon the blankets.

Her shoes had been removed; relegated to a corner of the room that seemed appropriate for high heels that acted as their own basic torture devices for every step she took. No point in having them now.

*

Daylight comes slowly. There's an eerie quiet when the creature at the belfry retreats. Somewhere, in the distance, a church bell rings and a siren wails. Humanity carries on, at least. When the sky is turning blue instead of grey, the bar across the door scrapes as someone on the other side lifts it.

*

The sound of wood scraping against itself causes Jack to stir. It'd been a sleepless night, but one in utter and complete stillness following her forfeit to her condition. She slides up to a sit, and eyes the door carefully. Her mind races as she calculates the math.

A million to one chance, is still a chance. And one not taken means the odds are against her. And so when the bar begins to move, she dives for the door. Maybe, maybe she can surprise whatever is on the other side enough to get out of this mess in one piece. Maybe.

Probably not.

*

The door doesn't open. The person on the other side knocks. Knocks. As though the room is Jack's. As though the person outside is simply waiting to be let in if only she will agree to it.

*

Thump

Well one in a million is toast. A faint groan can be heard from inside the room as her plan has already failed. Her lips part wordlessly as she rubs her arm to reduce the pain, even a little.

She pads back towards the blankets, but doesn't sit back upon them, instead, inquisitively, she stares at the door, trying to discern why it hasn't produced, well, whoever is on the other side.

Considering this could, very well, be some kind of manipulation, she smooths her black dress and then asks, rather than says, "Come in?"

*

Now, the door opens to reveal a very tall and elegant man on the other side. He's handsome in a terrifying way — aristocratic features, luminously pale skin, brilliant ruby eyes, long silver hair. His clothes are soft and black, a dark cloak over a tailored suit and black shirt open at the throat.

"Thank you," he says before he steps inside. He inclines his head, almost like a bow. "I hope you haven't been harmed in any way."

*

Jack has arrived.

*

Jack's lips part and her eyes stare at Dracula. For a long while it almost seems that she has no idea that he's said anything, especially as she attempts to process the words. That anyone would kidnap someone and then hope that they haven't been harmed is unbelievable (the odds of someone that looks like that not knowing that she's kidnapped? Well, they're nearly impossible — Jack knows this). While he's unknown to her, his presence suggests some measure of importance. She slides back towards the wall, not wholly convinced that she shouldn't try to stay as far away fromm him as possible. "I… want to go home," her voice rasps. And there it is. At least she has expressed herself.

And then she squeaks, "Why did you people take me?"

*

"I wish I could say something flattering and be honest. It is not a reflection on you or your loveliness." The man genuinely sounds regretful. He doesn't approach beyond stepping into the room, giving Jack space. "But I'm afraid it was the company you keep that drew the interest of my man. You must forgive Mircea. He is not himself of late. He will apologize to you himself when you meet him, he was simply trying to be of use to me by bringing someone who might be able to better inform me about these — mutants — and the chaos they wreak on this city."

*

The relief that washes over Jack's face is palpable. Oh. Good! Being normal pays off again! "Oh," she states with a flicker of a smile, "well. No, I'm not a mutant. And I'm not a meta of any kind." Her lips press together. "Just an insurance agent." She shrugs. "I miiiiight be able to answers some questions though? I file a lot of claims about damage caused by heroics and villainy that are otherwise… unexplainable."

*

"Insurance. Yes." The man's smile is thoughtful. "Mutants and metas. Fascinating terminology. Rather unromantic, given their abilities. So much power deserves more beautiful words. Come." He extends a hand to Jack. "If you would humour me, I would be most grateful. I promise, you may leave afterward and I will compensate you for your time. I am very curious about your work. I wonder, are you happy in your present position?"

*

There's another flicker of a smile at the notion of power and beauty — it's tired and weary, but still present. Jack looks at his offered hand pensively, and then, with a very small sigh, takes it. "I… " her head tilts to the side, "…mostly like my work. I do a lot of math and calculate the odds of things happening.And then decide whether it should statistically be covered by insurance policies. Not everyone thinks it interesting, but… it's useful." She hums quietly, "It helps people assess the cost of damage incurred. So. There's pieces I like. Pieces I don't."

*

"Ah. Chamberlain would like you. He could make use of someone with such talents. Numbers are not my strong suit, personally. It makes him irritable." The man looks surprisingly pleased at her recounting of what most people would consider a boring job. "Forgive my manners, please. You may call me Vlad. And you are?"

*

Jack quirks an eyebrow. "Who is Chamberlain?" she has no idea who anyone is. Introductions seem to put her at ease; this fellow seems pleasant enough, and he did say he'd let her go home. That seems worthwhile, and so she offers, "Well, my name is Jacqueline. But, everyone calls me Jack." Pause. "Not Jackie. Jack."

*

"Jack. A man's name, but it is a modern era — which is precisely the matter that has made it difficult for me to establish myself." Vlad leads Jack out into the run-down church where several men and a woman in her later years — all in suits — are waiting. There is daylight at the end of the church, open doors, and a glossy black car idles in the street beyond. "Chamberlain is the gentleman who manages my affairs. My wealth, my estates, my business, and more during the times I am unavailable to do so. As I said, numbers are not my strength. The stock market is sorcery to me. Your friend with the sword, was she a 'mutant'?"

*

Jack's head tilts to the side, "Welllll. She's exceptional," she offers with a vague shrug of her shoulders. "She wears armour," Jack's gaze turns upwards, "carries a sword, and takes down beasts and people terrorizing others." Her lips twist to the side, "So."As if that answers the question in its entirety.

"Well Chamberlain sounds like a bright man. If he's navigated the stock market well, he's someone you'd be wise to keep in your employ a long time." She punctuates the point with a lift of her eyebrows. "The markets crashed not that long ago. Anyone still ahead had to have some incredible foresight."

*

"As I said. Sorcery." Vlad chuckles softly. He escorts Jack to his waiting car. Once they're outside, it's evident there's more than one car here; obviously all the people hanging around wouldn't have fit in one car. "So your friend is exceptional. And the other one, with the knives? Also…exceptional?" A chauffeur holds the door to the car open for them and Vlad gestures for Jack to get in ahead of him. "How many of these exceptional people do you know?"

*

A hum of ascension indicates easy agreement. Yes, Chamberlain must be a sorcerer. Jack easily slides into the car; she must be going home! She's delighted to be out of the small prison. "I would guess…" her lips turn upwards, "either a mutant or a meta." She rocks her hand, "The difference is negligible. According to policies? Well, a mutant was basically born that way. They were born with different abilities. Science suggests it's evolution." Her eyebrows lift, "Metas, on the other hand, experience change through…exceptional circumstances." Her lips purse lightly as she considers the number of exceptional people she knows, "Honestly? I only know two really well. And I met another on the train the other day. So. Currently three, I guess."

*

"And what of you?" Vlad settles into the seat opposite Jack in the back of the car. "Do you ever envy them, your friends? Do you ever wish for more?"

*

Jack's eyes turn downwards, and her cheeks flush a pale pink. "I… " she forces her gaze upwards to meet Vlad's. "…sometimes, I guess? I mean," her head cants to the side, "it kind of feels like unfortunate things are always happening to me. Statistical impossibilities happen — they're not likely, but they do. It's just… a disproportionate number seem to happen to me."

*

"I hope this doesn't turn out to be one of those events." The car starts moving through the neighborhood. Vlad folds his hands in his lap and gives Jack a smile. "I like you, Jack. You handle yourself well in a crisis — no fainting, no screaming. It's a pleasant change. Perhaps it's time your fortunes change. I intend to change mine. You'll have to forgive the state of my home, when we arrive. Sometimes we must make do with what we have until things improve."

*

Hazel eyes squint at Vlad's words, and Jack's expression turns pensive. "I… thought I was going home…?" her lips hitch up on one side. "I mean," her throat clears, "I appreciate the confusion over the whole exceptional thing and that it was a case of mistaken identity, but…" her cheeks hue pink again. "…I'd like to go home. That's all."

*

"You will. And Mircea didn't select you because you were special. He selected you because you are — well, I hate to say ordinary. You are an ordinary person at the nexus of extraordinary things." Vlad leans forward and locks eyes with Jack. "Be calm. You will not be so burdened for too long."

*

There's something weirdly reassuring about Vlad telling her to be calm. The words are oddly, well, calming. But something still feels off, prompting Jack to lean forward and swallow hard, "I… what do you mean? I'm… I'm just me…"

*

"You're intelligent. Good with numbers. Aware of the modern world." Vlad touches her cheek gently. "Unattached. Jack, you are exactly the kind of person I need. I am, shall we say, recruiting for my organization." The car is headed to the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen, not far from the church, and it turns down a narrow lane between crumbling factories. "Why don't you come inside. Let Mircea apologize to you. And meet Chamberlain."

*

The thought of being recruited for something merits a squeak from the minute woman, "Well, I really appreciate the sentiment, but my roommates are probably very worried," her chin lifts, "and work may very well be missing me by now… So." Her cheeks flush again. A glance is given to window and then back to Vlad. Thoughtfully, she finally answers, "Alright. I suppose an apology is in order, and I'm already here. But after, I really ought to get home."

*

"You will have plenty of chance to explain yourself to your friends. I hope perhaps we will become friends." The chauffeur holds the door and Vlad gets out first, then helps Jack out after him.

Inside, the factory is grim but under repairs of some sort. The windows are all blacked out, there are lights on high above in the vaulted ceiling. A few people are moving about the floor, working, but it is quiet in here. It smells good, though, oddly. Earthy and warm. A fire is lit in what must have been a kind of kiln at one point.

"Ah, Mircea!" Vlad gestures. A tall, slender man in a patchwork coat is descending the stairs from an office that overlooks the floor. "Please, come apologize to Jack."

*

Vlad earns an appreciative smile at the help from the vehicle. Undeniably, he's charming, and Jack can see that much. "Thank you," she replies easily. Her own feet step quietly behind Vlad, and she peeks about the room with avid curiosity that displays readily on her features. "Hello," she says to Mircea, "it's quite alright. Vlad," she motions back towards the well dressed gentleman, "has explained it all. And it's forgiven. My friends wreathe ones you were interested in. I understand that."

*

"Still. I apologize for the inconvenience." Mircea bows slightly. "I do hope you weren't inconvenienced, my Lord," he says to Vlad.

"Not at all," Vlad says almost cheerfully. "Come upstairs, Jack." He offers her his arm. "Allow me to make a proposition for your future employment with me."

*

"It's forgiven," Jack replies easily to Mircea. "I just really need to get home. You see, I have these roommates. And they worry when I'm not around. Mostly because they feel responsible for me, I think. Maybe."

Her lips twist to the side, but Vlad's cheery manner actually seem to allay her concerns. "That's… very kind, Vlad, but I actually really do like my job." But then it would be rude not to have a chat, "I suppose we can chat."

*

Upstairs, the large office space is like a piece of another world. It's beautiful. There's art on the walls, paintings that look like they belong in a museum. The floor is carpeted in brilliantly coloured rugs. The furniture looks hand carved and detailed in gold leaf, covered with red velvet cushions and draped in black silk. At the end of the long room is something odd. A marble…planter, maybe? Full of earth, set on a dais.

"Soon, this building will be restored. And this will be commonplace." Vlad gestures around the room. "You would be well-suited to such a work environment, Jack."

A very beautiful woman with auburn hair in an elegant blue suit is seated in a lovely, high-backed chair. She smiles at Jack; something about her is very calming.

*

"This is amazing!" Jack replies easily. "And so opulent. My goodness, Vlad, I can only imagine what kind of insurance premiums you'll need to keep all of this beauty safe and secure. When someone has something so incredible others almost invariably want it."

She nods lightly and offers the woman a smile in return. "Hi," there's a shyness to the word. Slowly, she pads to examine the art on the walls. "These really are incredible. What…" her head cants to the side as she eyes the planter. "Are you aiming to create a garden?"

*

"Yes." Vlad puts a hand on the small of Jack's back and walks her toward it. This close, he smells of old books and roses, warm and safe and sweet. "A garden. That's a lovely way to put it. Therein: the soil of my homeland. The ground on which I was born. I need your help, Jack. This country is not mine. This time is not mine. I am recruiting people to assist me. Please, say you'll help." Vlad looks down at Jack and smiles.

*

"I…" despite her kidnapping, Vlad has been undeniably warm and kind. He apologized for the circumstances. He listened to her about insurance. And now he wants help establishing a home. "I suppose," Jack offers with a flicker of a smile, "it couldn't hurt to moonlight a little. My day job could be worked alongside something else." She nods. "Yes, I'll help."5r

*

"Moonlighting. Yes." Vlad slides his arm around Jack's shoulders and pulls her close to him. His eyes are incredibly engaging, red and yet reassuring at once. "You will become very familiar with the moonlight. You will learn. Azure will instruct you in your duties once you're feeling better. You are remarkably lovely," he says, as though seeing her clearly for the first time. "Your company will be more than pleasant." His smile is slow, baring beautiful white fangs.

"Let us seal it with a kiss. In the manner of my people." Vlad leans in to sink his teeth into her throat, his arm tight around her shoulders. Somehow, it all seems so very normal. So simple. So very right.

*

And from those eyes, Jack can't look away, and doesn't dare object to whatever they request. A slow tilt of Jack's head invites the beautiful fangs, giving room for the would-be kiss from the all-too-charming Vlad. "Sealed with a kiss," she repeats softly.

Her breath hitches in her throat as teeth meet flesh, and her arms instinctively wrap around him, giving into whatever whims may have otherwise held her back.

*

Struggle is for the kill. To create family, that requires a delicate hand. Vlad purrs, warm and deep in his chest, as he drains Jack's blood. Not too much. Not so much that he would damage her. Her blood is sweet and pure — a rare taste for one presently feeding on the underbelly of society.

Vlad does not merely take. He gives. The giving is what hurts, the sharing of his gift. It feels hot. Searing. Like the burn of liquor on a raw throat.

Vlad pulls back, leaving Jack weak but living, cradled in his arms. "The pain will pass," he promises her. Already, it's surging in her veins. "Three days and you will forget it ever hurt." He strokes her hair back, still looking into her eyes. "I hate to hurt you. You are the first flower in my new garden. But it must be done."

*

The seedling for the garden feels ill. The pain, the exhaustion wafts over her. Jack's limbs feel heavy. Her body feels feverish. Her muscles ache, but as she rests in Vlad's arms, she murmurs softly. "Why?" she asks softly, still naively unaware of what is happening.

*

"Because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. With the wrong people." Vlad sweeps Jack up in his arms, lays her down in the earth. "You need looking after, a thing so fragile and ordinary in such a brutal world, full of monsters and demons." He sits on the edge of his coffin, stroking her hair. "I will protect you, you will help me understand. I will sustain you, you will learn to defend yourself."

"Azure will keep you company but I will return." Vlad takes her hand in his, strokes it, kisses it. "It is a pity your companions, for all their strength, could not safeguard you. That will never happen to you again. You have family now. You have me."

*

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