It took some time, before Verona was able to catch up with what was happening around her. After the guards had seized her, she was lead away from the palace, but she had no idea where they were heading to. It was only after sleep had befallen her and the sun woke her up again, that she realised that she was in a small, uncomfortable prison cell. The young woman was freezing and her body was still hurting.

Her foot was slightly swollen and that reminded her that she had to walk in the night. She was still wearing her bloody clothes and not all of it was dry. Her bleeding had started and her behind was wet from it. Maybe not only of blood, but the smell in here was anyway to strong to tell. Her knee was covered with dried hard crimson and Verona dared not to move it too much.

Waiting for a while she was told that there would be a trial, and that she would be judged tomorrow before noon. One of the guards told her that the man who accused her, nobody but her husband's friend, was a very influential man with the city officials. It seemed very likely that she would be executed in three days time on Sunday as part of the usual festivities.

The young woman still could not understand how it all had happened, but she blamed herself and her sinful lusting for it. Had she not been so vain as to expect something from her husband, at least she had something and now she was lost. With all her strength she fought thoughts about the unholy Count and the saddening fact that she would never see or touch him again.

Even thoughts about what might have happened if she had not given Pavel the child he wanted, she tried to cast aside. Because it was not right for her to think evil about her husband. Especially since she had killed him. Still he had gotten so mad, it was hard not to think that he might have thrown or sold her away. If not her life maybe it was still possible to save her soul.

Praying and not denying what she had done she faced her trial and was, as such, a repentant sinner judged to be beheaded. Which was of course very relieving since it would mean there was a chance that she might be buried afterwards and not left for the birds. On the morning of her execution she confessed all her sins to the priest who listened calmly as she told him about her longings and how she had been tempted. He chided her, hold a long speech about unchaste women and how weak and lowly the whole of womanhood was.

His words disturbed her deeply, since it seemed almost that no matter what she would have done things would have bound to end this way. She could barely stand on her wounded foot, but did her best as a woman came to bring her a simple white dress. The gown she would die in. Crying she dressed herself. There was so much blood on her old clothing and she realised that she would loose much more in less than an hour. Her hand stroked her throat.

Despite the wound on her knee she bent down and prayed that through some miracle she was spared and that if HE was to save her HE would not regret it. But there was no hope in sight. The sky was dark and cloudy even though it was close to midday. Verona was lead to a wagon and bound on a long stake which was placed at the centre of it. In this fashion she was brought through the streets to the marketplace.

On their way people threw things at her, bad words, rotten fruits, dirt. She was really scared and wished all of them a horrible deaths themselves. Verona knew it was not a thought that helped her with her redemption, but maybe she was already lost - probably right from the beginning as the priest had told her earlier. He might not have put it that way, but she could not help feeling that this was what he meant.

They lead her up the scaffold and looking behind her at the grim guards, the pleased and excited crowd, and the priest with his hard face Verona realised that she did not feel guilty about her husband's death. Even whilst she did all that praying and thinking, she did not really regret killing him. It might have been the wrong thing to do, but still she thought what would have happened if she had not used the knife and she smiled. At least this way it was over quickly - that was what she tried to tell herself.

But behind her graceful and proud face, she was trembling and fighting to keep her control. She was not about to let them see that she was terrified. Only the man that was about to bind her hands together was noticing the slight shaking of her fingers but just at that moment the whole of the market was paralysed by a terrible shriek. The man who had wanted to read her sentence crumbled the writing together and everyone was turning and searching for the source.

The resulting silence gave the crowded place an even scarier atmosphere. Verona's hands were still unbound since the men had gathered around her and looked into all directions their backs towards her. The announcer cleared his throat and as he hit the first syllable he was interrupted by a new set of unholy growls and shrieks. Then panic turned the whole marketplace into chaos. A winged demon that looked as if hell had spit it out this very moment rose above the buildings that surrounded the marketplace.

Now the screams of the peasants that started running in all directions just like chicken in a henhouse after the fox had jumped into their midst. The brave men who had guarded the prisoner jumped from the construction to the ground and tried to get away. Even the priest started to flee as the hell-beast swiped down towards their direction. The clergyman was not nearly fast enough. He had taken five steps down the crude stairs as one of the huge claws from the demon closed around his throat.

Verona was also shocked but for an entirely different reason. She had prayed for a miracle and seeing who or better what had answered her pleas left her unable to move an inch. Seconds after the priest the other arm of the creature took her by the waist before carrying both of the upwards in the sky. Suddenly the creature made a sound as if laughing and looking towards the priest, she realised that the claw had nearly separated the head from the shoulders.

Finally the weight and the continued pressure let the body rip away from the head and it fell down splashing right into the grounds in front of the huge cathedral. Feeling even more sicker with every second Verona finally fainted and only woke up as she realised that she was placed carefully on the ground. Dreading to look to her side, she was unable to stop herself from doing so. Only it was not the hideous beast she had expected that stood by her side.

"You?" She asked breathless.

Count Vladislaus Dragulia was looking down at her. Even in this dark forest, where he had carried her, she could see his smile and the soft nod. Seeking support with the rock behind her she back up and stared at him. He was studying her reactions and seemed quite pleased.

"You are the devil," Verona stated a few minutes later.

Now he laughed whole heartily and said finally: "That would be to much honour, I'm more like one of his blessed sons."

The young widow could hardly bear looking at the handsome face in front of her, but this revelation made her stagger back even further. Only the slight shake of his head made her stop.

"No, I assure you, dare run away from me and I would be forced to hunt you down and you would not like that," the Count told her.

Verona believed every word. Slowly she took his outstretched hand. Her frightened gaze went up to look at his face as she felt his fingers under her chin. He drew her closer and wrapped her in his travelling coat before lifting her up. As he walked with her through the dark woods, Verona made her self ask where he was taking her. He only told her that he had enough places where they could safely spent some time together.

For the moment being he just carried her to a road where a spacious carriage made of the finest oak was waiting. The four brown horses seemed nervous as they approached and the coach driver had to calm them down. Another servant opened the door for them and gallantly Dracula let her down on one of the soft benches.

"Driver, take us home," he ordered. Quickly the door was closed, the servants took their places. The horses were set in motion and the passenger cabin was shaking mildly as the Count took a blanket of the other bench and wrapped her up in it. As he tried to conceal her nearly ice-cold feet she let out a gasp of pain.

Looking for the source, Vladislaus saw the wound which was small to begin with, but festering. "I think you are lucky, the wound is only slightly infected."

"It was not like anyone would have cared whether I would die of blood poisoning ...", she answered looking tired by the whole ordeal.

The vampire looked a bit worried at the young woman. He felt she might be coming up with a fever. Mortals where so feeble. They called him monster, when the only thing he had been doing was following orders, and treated one of their own in this disgracing manner. Even enjoying it and yet called him evil, when he was showing how little those Christian vows of chastity were worth. Not that he wasn't evil or couldn't be cruel, but the Count was well aware and proud of it.

Normally he would have been amused by so much hypocrisy if Verona had not been in such a dreadful state. He had not planned on her actually killing her husband in such an obvious manner and certainly not doing it so fast.

"I admire you taking things into your hands, but I think you went a bit over the edge with it," Vladislaus told her.

"You think I planned on killing him?" She shook her head.

"The thought had crossed my mind," the Count answered her.

Verona sighed, she wished she had the energy to explain, but the exhaustion and the fear that he might not understand or being interested at all in her reasons kept her quite. There was so much she wanted to know, despite being afraid of the answers; but the continuous rocking of the carriage as it rushed over the uneven road seemed to make her even more sleepy. The young woman managed to state her thanks, but fell asleep before she could think of a way to express even one of her questions.

The vampire watched her nod off and was glad that she could find some rest. Soon they would be at his estate up north. It was not large but he had it all for himself with the nearest village far enough so nobody there knew about the house and close enough for him to fly by for a snack. The woman could use a hot bath, not just for cleaning, but even more for becoming warm again.

Not that he wasn't already thinking about turning her, but he hesitated. It was not the way he had planned things to go and the damage done seemed to be reparable with a little bit of care. Dracula wondered if he should have gone right away to the cell, but thought it wasn't necessary. Especially since he had liked idea of the scenery and the big audience. It gave him time to send a few more employees to his estate, but it also left the Verona longer sitting in the cold with her dirty and far to thin clothing. Then again those few hours weren't that big a deal.

It concerned him more to find out who had brought this matter to the attention of the police. Who ever it was, would pay and that was certainly something he could teach Verona to enjoy. Viewed under that light, the event had it's positive sites. Tarek, the vampire extending his ears for him, would probably report to him the next night before dawn. Servant vampires were useful but weak and so vulnerable to sunlight. Not that it did not hurt him, but he was strong enough to heal the effects and thus appear human in daylight. After all there was only one thing that could destroy him and he had control over it.

Then the ride became bumpier as they turned on the small street leading from the main street through the forest to his house. Verona was halfway torn out of her sleep as was roughly shaken. It wasn't far anyway and he picked her up, letting her rest on his shoulders. Normally he wasn't so chivalrous but it had been a long time since he had been in such a strange situation. He tormented quite a lot of women, but very seldom with physical torture. And they usually weren't in such a dreadful condition. So naturally all he wanted right now was for her to get back on her fee, after this whole action was no fun as long as she wasn't in full spirit.

As the they pulled through the gate a few minutes later and the carriage stopped. Vladislaus did not waste much time but brought her with quick strides into the warm interior. As requested the staff including the addition he had send here from his summer palace, appeared to greet them. He ordered the two females, mother and daughter to prepare a hot bath and take care of Verona.

Both seemed a bit shocked, probably because they had seen her right after the murder, which as he was told, had been quite bloody. Then they hurried to do their work, while he told the others to go back to their posts and brought Verona to the guestroom which was already set up for her. Halfway on the stairs she woke again and decided to stay that way when he let her down on the covers of her bed.

"Where are we?" she asked looking around curious.

"Where they will never find you," Dracula told her with a sinister tone.

Tired or not Verona caught it and eyed him with a disappointed look, as he sat down on the bed beside her. A question, that had been in her mind, slowly found its way to her lips.

"So," she began, "this - winged demon ... that was you, was it?"

Vladislaus smiled: "Oh yes, that was I."

The girl was everything but thrilled by those news and wondered if she really wanted to ask the Count anything else. A knock on the door was heard and one of the female servants entered the room with two water buckets filled with steaming hot water.

"It seems your bath is almost ready," he said. "I think I leave you now and return when you are in a more appealing state."

Verona bit slightly into her lower lip. She had thought about his motives for rescuing her, for seducing her and then leaving her burning with desire. She was not really believing he did it for her benefit, but hearing him speak in such manner was painful. The young woman wanted to be more than just wax in his hands, but whom was she kidding? He was some sort of demon and he did not even denied it. And she was in his power. Not that she had a place to go, if she could.

Still there was this dreadful feeling when she saw him leave. The young woman could not believe that she was so lost to all good, that she was indeed lusting after a someone favoured by the devil himself. Sighing she turned her attention to the woman which was pouring the water into her bathtub. Verona realised that it was the same girl she had asked about the count at his summer palace. The girl must know about her murdering her husband.

"Do you need some assistance, my lady?" the girl asked politely.

"A little maybe," she replied.

The servant girl put the buckets aside and approached the bed. She was gentle and Verona could not notice anything different about her behaviour. There was a strange silence, but then the servants seldom talked without being spoken, too. Only those who knew that their master required some friendly or comforting words or the latest news dared to. So what was the murdering widow to do. Ask the girl what she thought about her crime. Explaining herself to the girl barely younger than she was? Would the girl speak her mind or would she just politely evade a straight answer? If there was just someone she could talk to - someone normal.

Without a word spoken the servant helped her into the tub and waited with a friendly enough expression. The bath was indeed a blessing for Verona's cold and hurting body. The first moment was a bit painful, but the relief followed swiftly. The heat went into her body and warmed her already tingling extremities. The young widow felt better and asked the girl to leave her alone for a few minutes.

It was not that she wanted to be alone, but she felt uncomfortable with her around always wondering what the servant girl was thinking. About all things she had been trained to be graceful an example to others, never to show distress or pain to anyone - not to strangers and not to her family. Verona had felt so secure behind this, she was not vain about her looks, but had always strived to have an orderly appearance suited for a woman of her status.

Now nothing of it was left. Humiliated in public, hurting for everyone to see, stripped of her status the dark-haired woman sat in her bathing water and cried again. If she only new what was going to happen to her.