Chapter 9: Not in Dublin Anymore

“You are certain?”

“Oh, quite certain, mo chara.”

“Excellent,” a third voice whispered excitedly. Three pairs of eyes peered through the vibrant greenery and locked their gazes on the large and silent manor.

“The girl is there.”

“The man is as predictable as Morgause was incestuous!” chuckled the first voice.

“And here we were hoping for more imaginative sport,” disdainfully came the third.

“But think of the marvelous games we shall play!” reminded the second.

“Indeed,” the other two agreed simultaneously. They all nodded in one timed, solitary movement.

“The Lady Triad reported that the lass is everything we could hope for.”

The three immortals crept closer to the slumbering domain, slithering unseen along the greenery, mated with the foliage. All the pieces were present for the start of their game, and the blood of their clans was broiling with anticipation for trickery and chaos they had not reveled in since the death of the Tudor Dynasty.

“Even better! This is a game we have played countless times before… but never with the likes of him,” the first said, nodding his head in the manor’s direction.

“Alas! New rules…” sighed the first.

“…But a far more satisfying prize in the long run, wouldn’t you agree? Far more rewarding than our spoils from the past five centuries combined.”

“Five? Oh, where doth the time fly off to?” wondered the third.

“It flies with the fanged ones – may they thank their lucky stars that time does not record on their face!”

The trio laughed mockingly. From the eastern gardens a suspicious grunt rumbled a warning from one of the primitive mortals that served as their master’s guardians during the daylight hours. But the three entities feared nothing dead or alive, least of all these repulsive trolls that served the in-betweens. The shortest of the three concentrated beyond the region of lilies in the eastern half of the estate and within moments was rewarded with a furious squeal and the sound of shrubbery being clumsily shredded. Its guttural hissing attracted its kinsmen, filling the air with similar sounds as the creatures conversed in their own tongue.

“What a most gratifying day this is turning out to be!” exclaimed the first immortal, ignoring the ruckus. Dark, angry clouds swirled above. The trio grinned.

“But now we must return.”

“Indeed. The others will want to know the delightful news!”

“Everyone will be pleased.”

Rain escaped to the ground; mud ran slick across the yard, ready and waiting to cause a stumble.

The three eyed the manor with wide grins that promised such trickery for their quarry they’d make even their cousin Loki jealous. As they disappeared into the woods, the second immortal gave a triumphant whoop: “Let the games begin!”

Lightning split the sky.

---

Maeve twirled, inspecting her reflection. At first she feared she’d look ridiculous in her new gowns, like a mouse with a peacock’s tail. After all, she was not but a mouse, for mice were not pleasing or useful to society and so they were exiled.

I tried, she had thought angrily on the carriage ride. I tried my best to be pretty and be what men wanted.

And now here she was, banished from all to be quietly wed to an old toad named Sir Roarke in the countryside. It was difficult to decide what fate was more humiliating: chained to a man that could be her grandfather or bound to a convent.

Why was Granda acting so strangely before he left? And Mama, Mama is never so emotional… Such display of emotion is against everything she has ever taught me about being a woman.

After Catherine’s confession, she had immediately returned to normal, bossing Maeve, fretting over her appearance, ensuring she knew precisely what would be expected of her the moment she crossed her ball and chain’s threshold. It had appeared to Maeve that her mother was trying to fit in every lecture she had ever given before the carriage arrived. Once it had, her family stood together and watched her go without another word.

Maeve’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t want to think about that anymore.

The view from her window was lovely. Green earth stretched on for miles, interrupted only by the River Boyne. Maeve smiled. It was from Boyne that Finn MacCool had eaten the Salmon of Knowledge. Granda was not so far after all. Maeve had never seen this part of her country before, but the knowledge that was still in the realm of her birth, everything dear to her lived on this same land, was her source of familiarity. Gazing at the land, she convinced herself that all would be well. Here, as the lady of the household, she would be valued. The only authority she would answer to was to the toad.

One wall of her new room was a pedestal for many, many books. Some of them, to Maeve’s discovery, were in languages she had never seen before. She knew Latin, what French looked like, and of course despite the decline of its use, her own beloved Gaelic. But as for the rest, she hadn’t the slightest clue of their origins. She had never needed to know those strange languages. Certainly no one spoke them here in Ireland. She shook her head. Back to those pretty dresses.

She could not help but wonder if it was sinful to adore such petty gifts. They certainly did not erase the pain of leaving, but Maeve came from a childhood where grand presents were scarce. Coddling children was not tolerated. She would reserve her anger for later when she needed strength for the toad. Maeve continued to look over the outfits and matching jewelry. There were so many dresses of different colors and designs! There was only one dress that made Maeve frown.

“Pink?” Maeve stared incredulously at the gown. Surely her appearance had been described to her husband to be. Red hair, particularly her mop of red hair, did not clash well with the color pink. Maeve rolled her eyes. A suitor once sent Meredith a pink dress with the hair ribbons to match. The color on her sister had made her look… less than sane and strangely wild. Men. Only a man would choose such a disastrous outfit. Who else would put a redhead in a pink garment? Maeve chuckled. No matter. She selected a green, silky outfit, complimenting it with a beautiful emerald pendent at her throat.

She would make the right choices this time. She would make her family proud. Maybe she and the toad could be friends… Or maybe she’d hope God would call him to Heaven so she would not be married to him any longer.

A loud, impatient knock interrupted Maeve’s thoughts. “Come in!” Maeve called over her shoulder, brushing her hair into a loose braid. The door was slowly pushed open. A young woman, not much older than Maeve, entered, balancing a tray full of food on one hand while the other held the doorknob.

“Oh, thank you,” Maeve said, her completed braid ending between her shoulder blades. The woman said nothing, cautiously easing the tray onto the table near the middle of the room.

“I’ve gotten so hungry and I have no idea where the kitchen is,” Maeve continued lightly. Still there was no reply and when Maeve turned around, the woman was already halfway out the door. “Wait! It’s rather rude to ignore someone when they are talking to you!” Maeve indignantly put her hands on her hips. The woman paused, but did not turn around. “Won’t you at least look at me while I talk to you?”

The woman snorted. “I care not if I’m rude to you! There is your breakfast. Do what you wish with it. I have better ways to spend my time than attend to you!” She continued through the doorway.

Maeve wrinkled her nose. “Oh well isn’t this unexpected! An English servant in the home of an Irishmen! Ha!” If that wasn’t a small piece of justice after everything England had put Ireland through Maeve did not know what was.

The woman whipped around, lips curled in rage. She had dark, nearly black bushy hair that fell over her face like a Muslim veil. “I am not your servant you Irish cow! I brought you food as a favor to the master of the house, not to you! Don’t mistake it as such!”

“Well I didn’t, so don’t fret, English swine!”

“That’s a clever insult! Did you think that up all by yourself, hmm?”

“How dare you!” Maeve hissed, stepping forward. That stupid English woman wouldn’t even look her in the eye. She stayed just out of Maeve’s line of sight and looked past her. And with her hair shrouding her face what sort of look was she going for anyway? She would show that English amadán who was superior!

“What is the matter? Did you get sent away to Ireland to be a servant because you were worthless at court?”

The other woman ground her teeth. “Do you think yourself important, hmm? Do you think yourself the lady of the house, and that you mean anything, anything to the world? You – You are an Irish nobody! You are dirt!”

“Oh yes, we Irishmen are the dirt,” Maeve replied sharply. “We Irishmen are connected with the earth! Try as you Englishmen might, we always come back! You can’t stamp the life out of us and we will become a country free of you English dogs!”

“Weeds! Weeds are what you are! All you Irish and your stories of faeries and magic make you superstitious fools! You Irish are not a civilized people!”

“If my people are not civilized, then what does that make the English girl that serves in an Irish home?” Maeve’s hands shook at her sides.

The English woman shrieked and moved forward quickly, fumbling her hand on the table in her way for balance, startling the tray of Maeve’s breakfast. It tumbled to the floor in a crash of glass and porcelain. There was silence for one moment.

“You did that on purpose!” Maeve yelled, her stomach lurching at her ribs in agreement.

“I did not!”

“You did and you know it! Pick it up!”

“Ha! Not on your life, cow. Pick the mess up yourself!” The English woman lifted her skirt, turned on her heel and headed out the door, but not before stomping in Maeve’s food. “That food smells delicious! Enjoy it!”

Maeve gawked at the remnants of her would-be meal. Civilized, indeed! “You are going to regret that! How am I supposed to eat now?”

“That is not my concern, Reilly. If you need anything, do not ask me!”

“I would not ask for your aid for anything if my life depended on it!” Maeve fumed and started after the dark-haired woman. At least there was some butter stuck to the woman’s shoe. Serves her right, the daft English woman!

“Brilliant. I do hope that last bit occurs soon!” She went to shut the door but at the last second added, “Oh and be a good little Irish twit and stay in your quarters. You will be summoned when you are wanted, and no one wants you getting in the way!” The door slammed.

“I am not in the way!” the redhead shrieked. “And for another thing -” Maeve whipped the door open. “– I will not clean up this mess you made and I will not just sit here and –“ Maeve blinked and looked up and down the hallway. That nasty English woman was nowhere to be seen. What? Where did she go? She could not have just disappeared into thin air…Could she? No. She didn’t seem Otherworldly. She‘s just some horrible woman from England. Maeve sniffed. It didn’t matter where the woman had gone. She was nowhere in sight and there was still the mess of Maeve’s breakfast to take care of.

She was not cleaning that up.

At this moment Maeve didn’t care that that was not the right thing to do and most certainly not how she had been raised. There was nothing around to pick up the mess or to even dispose of it anyway. She sighed with annoyance. She would not clean it up, but she would cover it up and ensure it was all in one spot. That task completed, she slipped out the – her, she reminded herself – door. She was on a quest for the kitchen. Trying every door in that corridor she came across, Maeve found them all to be locked. She chewed her lip irritably. So much for exploring while she searched for food – where were other servants? Her stomach mourned the loss of eggs, fried potatoes, and toast quite loudly. That English prat couldn’t be the only soul in this place. There must be someone around to point her in the kitchen’s direction. Maeve walked over to a window and gazed at the storm reigning outside. There were no doors there to keep her out.

---

“Is that an enjoyable book, Miss Reilly?”

Maeve froze, eyes widening and the palms of her hands grew sweaty. She knew that voice. She would never forget it. No. Oh no. She dropped her poetry book, stood up and whirled towards the voice. That was when the lights went out. She’d explored every room she could access, discovered the kitchen and had happily claimed the sunroom as her roost while she waited for Sir Roarke to make his appearance. All day she had read and explored to pass the time, ignoring her anxiety. The manor was huge. She did not know how she’d ever find her way back to her room without guidance. Now Maeve blinked several times as she struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness.

“And might I add that that dress suits you wonderfully. Though perhaps next time you should try the red gown.”

What is he doing here? He followed me from Dublin! What does he want? I was right. Whatever this is, I am involved. Maeve paused as that realization struck home. I am involved. And with no other help this is up to me! …Oh Lord. My betrothed!

Maeve addressed the dark void the sunroom had become. “What are you doing here, diabhal? You are trespassing! Haven’t you anything better to do than haunt me?”

A dark chuckle echoed, giving no hint as to where the chilling sound had originated. “I live here, Miss Reilly. If anyone has intruded it is you, not I.”

“Liar!” Maeve cried. “Where is Sir Roarke?”

Dracula feigned puzzlement. “I have never met a man of that name before. Do tell me about him, Miss Reilly.”

“As if you did not know! He is my betrothed. My parents arranged my marriage to him less than a fortnight. What have you done to him?” Oh I did not wish to marry him… But if I caused his death… Oh God, I didn’t mean what I said earlier! I didn’t mean it!

“Such passion you have for a man you have not even met,” Dracula mused. “Is your heart so easily won? Perhaps I should have confronted you weeks ago. I could teach you much about passion… and where to direct it.” He smirked. Pity the girl could not see him. He’d heard tales from his confidants that women loved his smirk.

“You killed him, didn’t you? Didn’t you! You killed him like you killed Felim!”

Dracula casually leaned against the divan Maeve had previously occupied. “Foolish girl. Your parents sold you. They sold you to me. There never was a ‘Sir Roarke.’ I desire your company. Your parents desired your departure. It is a perfect match, is it not, my sweet fairy?”

Maeve whipped around. “You – You are lying!” He is lying. He must be. He’s evil and from the Otherworld. He’s lying…

“Am I now? Why would I lie? How would it benefit me to lie about such things, Miss Reilly? Do tell.” The count slowly circled the room, watching the mortal from every angle. This was going to be highly entertaining.

“My parents love me! They didn’t want me to leave! Meredith is getting married. She is younger. I have to be – “

“– Taken care of,” Dracula finished coolly. “You are the sore thumb, my dear. Your family cares more for society’s laws then they do their eldest daughter. Parents, unfortunately, find that surrendering their child is much more preferable than outward resistance to the world.”

“That isn’t true!” protested Maeve. There may not be a Sir Roarke, but now she could at least return to Dublin - where she was unwedded. That did not matter! She would explain everything to Granda. He would understand. She had no more obligations here. She could be free. She must be, now. “I do not believe you!”

“No? Then tell me, why are you here in my humble home? I will tell you. Your delightful parents willed it, and now it is so!”

“No! I refuse to hear your lies another moment! I am going home!” Maeve furiously groped for the door. Escape…Escape…Escape!

The count laughed coldly, giving Maeve even more gooseflesh. Those eyes of pristine ice did not help matters.

“Oh my sweet, innocent pet, you are mine, now. Your parents made you mine, handing you over to make way for your sister’s happiness! You think you are better off there where you will always settle for half? Go. That is your curse. I will not keep you here against your will. I offer you an escape from all that supposed ‘civilization’ where you are naught but a thing to be chained and used as the law decrees. Yet despite my generosity –“ Dracula hissed dangerously. “- You weep in denial and at your own unfair lot in life. The world stops for no one. Spare me your tears, Miss Reilly, for I have no patience for them. Besides, they ugly your face. But know this my pretty one, I am not a cruel man unless you make so, no – I think you will find your time here much more… enlightening then your life before.”

Maeve found the exit, her heart throbbing in her ears. “No! I will not stay with a murderer! You killed Felim and who knows how many others! I will not stay to be next!” Without another word, Maeve staggered through the door, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Oh to be fleet-footed Hermes this night! Maeve turned down the corridor that would lead to her room. She paused. Or was it that one? No, it must be that one…Oh dear. Chest heaving, Maeve took off again. Down the staircase she went, fearing she would trip in the darkness. Every lantern was dark, but recently doused; smoke still clung to the wick. Like she did as a child, Maeve skipped over the last eight steps, landing clumsily on her feet, still running. There, the front doors! She only had a few feet to go! Escape and freedom, that was all that mattered.

“Oof!” Maeve groaned and lifted her face from the floor. Where had that chair come from? She stood up and seized the doorknobs with both hands. The doors would not budge. “No, no, no!” Maeve tugged and pushed. The doors showed no pity. Maeve slid down the door so she rested on her knees. Using the palm of her hand she hit the door.

“Have you surrendered so soon, Miss Reilly? Hmm. It appears that I overestimated you. I expected more of a challenge. What a pity.”

Maeve jumped up. Again she did not know where his voice came from, but he was there, somewhere, behind the table, by those paintings she passed, on the stairs… The mortal took a step forward, and glared into the dark pit before her. She heard that eerie chuckle again. She never knew laughter could be so chilling.

“Ah,” Dracula purred. “So the rabbit would face the fox. Interesting.” He was close, so very close to her. Maeve could feel it. There, not ten feet from her, the center of the darkness became a swirl of mist.

“My hospitality is not a thing to sneer at, Miss Reilly. Take note that in the future I do not tolerate such behavior.” His hiss was fire on water.

Maeve tried to swallow but it did not ease her dry throat. “Come to finish a conversation or will you just kill me, diabhal?”

Dracula’s lips slightly curled as he shook his head. “Such a closed mind. Such limits you shackle yourself with, Miss Reilly. Might I have the key? What I could show you… Oh my dear, nothing can compare.”

“Are you daft?” Maeve spat. “You cling to the darkness. You deal in lies and death. There is nothing you can show me, evil creature!”

“Oh come now. Allow me to return you to your room – is it satisfactory?”

Maeve shot him daggers. “I am not going anywhere with you.”

“There is no need for this unpleasantness,” he said sweetly. “Did you enjoy the book you were reading earlier?”

Maeve ignored him. “Open the doors.”

Dracula’s attempt at good humor began to slip. He’d already had a very trying week between vampire complaints and warnings from his dear father. This mortal’s stubbornness could not be more ill-timed.

“Let us go someplace better equipped for a conversation and discuss today’s…events.”

“No.”

Dracula tried another tactic. “Do you like your new dresses and jewelry? That pendant matches your eyes, magnificently.”

Maeve could not swallow. Her necklace now felt more like a hangman’s noose.

“I assure you no harm will – “

“I certainly do not believe that! Do you think me so foolish? I hate you!” And I hate that all I can see of you are your eyes. What sort of creature only showed his eyes? Though those sapphire eyes are…beautiful…Hmm. They reflect his mood swings well enough. I’ll never keep up with them.

Dracula didn’t flinch. “Really?” he asked emotionlessly. “Do elaborate.”

“I’m not repeating myself from our last chat,” Maeve snapped. “But you killed – “

“Oh, not this again!” He massaged his temple with his thumb and forefinger. He did not have time for this. Not to mention accusations of who he killed or did not kill had grown very boring through the centuries. Mortals. Pah. “Such an obsession over this boy, Felim. You insult me. Allow me to assuage you, my dear.” Dracula turned from Maeve’s gaze and called: “Felim, oh Felim. Be a good lad and come welcome your friend, Miss Reilly.”

AN: Man it feels good to update again. My muse was like a dying flashlight. It'd be fine, flicker, hit it against the wall, it flickers again, then dies, then flickers. Anyway, I promise the next chapter will be up sooner than this update was! Pinky swear. lol. Now, the chapter. My, my, doesn't Maeve like to make new friends? Tsk tsk. Not to worry, readers. By the end of this story Maeve will have gone through some pretty big changes.

Ok here's my update, now let me know how it was! What was good/bad, what do you want to see more of, did I miss any typos? (I could check and check until my eyes bleed but there's always one that gets under the radar.) What do you think of this chapter's developments? Oh and who saw Maeve moving in with Dracula as his supposed wife to be coming? I hope I didn't draw that out for anyone who did see it coming. Until next time!