Notes: Many thanks to Kenovay for betaing!

Venom
Part 2

He'd thought Castle Frankenstein abandoned. It certainly looked it from the outside, and he had stopped here with Anna and the rest of the hunting party a few times over the past year without ever seeing any sign of habitation. Even now, the hallway he walked through was covered with a thick coating of dust. Dracula's footsteps before him were the only sign of life.

This wasn't Dracula's hiding place, then. He was here for a reason. And Velkan had a nasty feeling he knew what that reason was.

Dracula had been waiting for him.

The hallway ended at a dining hall, one that had probably been impressive once, before the villagers stripped it of anything of value and the months covered it with cobwebs. Only a long table, too heavy to be easily carried away, and a few decaying chairs remained. Dracula was already seated at the head of the table, looking perfectly at home in this place, barren of life.

"Make yourself comfortable," Dracula said as Velkan entered, and the invitation felt like a command. "Please, have a chair. Or would you prefer the floor?"

What is he playing at? Velkan folded his arms and remained standing, taking a position by the wall, as far from Dracula as possible.

Infuriatingly, that prompted another smile from the monster. "You are being very quiet, little prince. How rude, to ignore your host. Is there something on your mind?"

"Just considering the best way to kill you," Velkan said, trying to match Dracula's casual tone. And failing, he suspected. It was too hard to keep the snarl from his voice.

"Really?" Dracula raised an eyebrow, and that smile slid into a smirk. "Would you like to try again? Maybe I should let you strangle me this time. I don't think I've ever been strangled before. It could be entertaining." He shrugged. "But I thought you might have more pressing concerns."

"Your destruction is my only concern!" A short laugh came from Dracula at this. Why was everything he said so amusing to this man?

"So obsessed with me," Dracula mused. "Do you hate me, princeling?"

"More than you can imagine!"

"How wonderful." And Dracula's chair was suddenly empty. "Such passion. I do believe it rivals that of my brides." Spoken directly into his ear, and Velkan whirled, almost stumbling as he scrambled away.

"Stay away from me, monster!" Velkan ordered. Or tried to order. It came out rather more like a yelp. From a relatively safe distance of a few feet, he tried again. "I want nothing to do with you!"

"I thought you wanted to destroy me?"

"I-" Velkan wasn't sure how to respond to that, and Dracula's hand on his throat cut him off.

"Your life's goal. Your only desire. To find me. To hunt me down. To take your pretty little toys, your stakes, your crucifixes, and finally destroy me." One long finger stroked up and down his neck. "You want to stare into my eyes as the life goes out of them, don't you? If I had life at all."

Velkan backed away, but Dracula followed, until he was pinned against the wall.

"Don't move while I'm speaking to you," Dracula murmured. And he couldn't. "Have you ever seen that before, my little hunter?"

The fingers on his throat were tightening. It was almost a relief. There was no shame in dying at Dracula's hands: better that than these strange games. He steeled himself.

"The look in their eyes? The pain, the rage. The pleading. The beautiful suffering. Have you ever watched until there's nothing left but emptiness? Felt the blood pounding in a man's throat," and there was that little caress again, somehow worse than the slow tightening, "and felt it jump, and slow, and stop?"

Dracula ducked his head. For an instant, the grip was gone, and Velkan gasped for breath. But then he stopped breathing altogether as Dracula's tongue traced a cold, wet line up his neck.

God.

Velkan's stomach turned over. "What are you doing?!" he managed.

And the tongue was gone, replaced by a sharp scrape along the same path. And then Dracula bit down.

Not hard enough to break the skin.

Why not? Why not just drain him dry? Why hadn't Dracula done that the moment Velkan saw him?

Then Dracula raised his head, his fingertips brushing over the bite mark. "Killing is the most intimate act." One last hard stroke of his thumb over that mark, then he let his hand fall. "And your only purpose in life is to kill me. I have never had such a dedicated pet as you."

Velkan's hand flew to his throat. "I am not your pet!"

Dracula's slow smile was possibly the most frightening thing he'd ever seen, though all his teeth were blunt and mortal.

"You are wearing two sets of marks, little prince. One of them is mine. Now, where did you get the other?"

Other?

...oh. My shoulder... The wound from the fall. From...

Oh. God.

He felt as cold as if Dracula had drained him dry.

The red lines of infection.

"There is venom coursing through your veins."

"No..." He didn't even realize he'd said it aloud until Dracula laughed.

"You should see your eyes now, my little wolf."

He couldn't breathe. This was impossible. He was a Valerious, he couldn't... couldn't be... This could not be happening!

"Such horror."

His head was spinning, but that, that voice, that was something to cling to. That torturing voice, that source of every trouble in his life, every trouble in this land. That monster.

Monster. Just like...

"Absolutely exquisite."

Rage. Rage was a focal point. A way to fight off the panic that threatened to consume him. And he had Dracula by the throat and halfway across the room before he even realized he was moving. Dracula's feet dangled off the floor, no resistance, not until they slammed into the opposite wall.

He liked the sound that made. He did it again.

And the bastard was laughing.

He spun, wrenching Dracula away from the wall, and threw him down onto the floor. But the monster vanished from beneath Velkan's hands before he hit the stone. With a cry--a howl?--of frustration, Velkan whirled, then again, searching the room.

Dracula was gone.

And as quickly as it had come, all of Velkan's rage drained away.

My God...

He crumpled. Collapsed to the floor, all his energy seeming to leave with the rage. One hand reached up to his shoulder, hesitantly, fingering the torn fabric of his shirt.

He swallowed, hard.

The jagged semi-circle of wounds had faded since he'd first examined them, and those red lines radiating out from them had vanished entirely. The dark marks remaining looked days old.

He wasn't even aware of how tightly he was clenching his shoulder until he saw the trickle of blood drip from beneath his fingers. Fighting down a bizarre urge to laugh, he stared at the red stain on his hand.

"Werewolf blood," he murmured. When he looked back at his shoulder, those fresh wounds were already closing.

---

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, fighting off panic, trying to calm down just enough to think. But in the end, there wasn't really anything to think about, was there? He was a Valerious. He knew his duty. And the solution was obvious.

Best to get it over with quickly.

Velkan glanced around the room, but the only thing around was those rotting chairs. They'd do. A chair leg broke off easily enough, the wood tearing into a jagged point. A stake. Well, isn't that ironic? He choked down another laugh. If he started, he didn't think he'd stop.

He closed his eyes, placing the point of his makeshift stake against his heart. But that wouldn't work, would it? He couldn't make it through the ribcage, he didn't have the leverage. Lower, then. Just below the ribs. One quick upward thrust. He braced himself.

It's not so bad to die killing a werewolf, not if you take the wolf with you. Admirable, really.

I should have died in that fall; this will put things right.

I never really expected to live this long, anyway.

Anna's strong, she'll be able to make it on her own. My death might even give her the motivation she needs to find Dracula herself.

...And do what? I had the man's throat in my hands and could do nothing. How is she supposed to succeed without even my help?

For God's sake, show a little courage. Stop thinking about it and just do it!

"Sorry, Anna," he whispered, and pain bloomed in his chest as the wood pierced his flesh.

Explosions of light filled his vision, and he fell hard to his knees. He panted, the breath burning in his throat. Not enough. Again!

The scream that ripped through the room might have been from another man; Velkan's world had narrowed to the pain, this burning intrusion, the pounding in his chest. He curled around the stake, using all the will he could manage just to keep from tearing the thing out. Every tiny shift seemed to drive the stake deeper into his desperately pounding heart.

His pounding heart. His pierced, pounding heart.

The stake had gone right through it. He was sure of it, he could feel it; he'd never been so aware of his own heart.

And still it beat.

An awkward rhythm. Struggling. But not stopping, not even slowing.

"You shouldn't hurt yourself so, Velkan."

And in one sharp burst of agony, the stake was gone, ripped away. And that was worse. When Velkan's vision cleared again, Dracula was a dark shape crouching beside him, idly playing with that shard of wood.

"Let me do that for you."

Blood rose in Velkan's throat, and he twisted against the floor, gasping for breath only to burst into a fit of coughing.

"What were you trying to accomplish? Silver, Velkan. Silver kills a werewolf. You know that. Does this look like silver to you?"

Dracula tossed the stake over his shoulder as Velkan began retching, thick streams of blood pooling on the floor. "If I wanted my werewolf wounded, I would have done it myself. Do not try that again," Dracula hissed. And it was a command.

The pain was fading.

The pain should not be fading, he should be dying!

He clutched his hand to where a gaping hole should have been, and found fresh skin. He couldn't stop himself from moaning. But when he saw Dracula's eyes slide closed, savoring the sound, he wished he could have called it back.