The tall blonde girl walked through the entrance of the inn as the sun set behind her back, splashing the stone walls with orange tones. She went towards the reception, where the front desk assistant greeted her. She didn't understand a thing the woman said.
"I'm American," the girl said slowly, detaching every syllable to make sure she would be understood. "I speak English."
"Oh, good evening Miss," the woman replied in a thick Romanian accent. It was almost hard to understand her. The American girl scrutinized her host, comparing her tan and fair complexion, and her beautiful long strawberry hair to the petite Slav frame in front of her. The woman had nice dark hair, but she really could have used an appointment with the hair dresser; the American girl thought.
"Do you have a reservation?" she asked, taking the girl out of her contemplation.
"Yes, of course; it should be under Maris Pilton," she said, leaning over the counter and tapping her finger on the wood while - she looked up, her eyes searching for the receptionist's tag - while Vera was going through the reservation book. Maris couldn't help to let out a sigh. She was used to a faster service. Distractedly she grabbed a leaflet bragging about the beautiful scenery of Transylvania and some old boring museum, then tossed it away. That wasn't why she was here. Who cared about dusty old buildings these days anyway?
"Here is your key Miss Pilton, room 19, on the first floor. Just take the stairs on your right," the receptionist said, pointing to the stairs as she spoke.
Maris looked at the receptionist. The woman was clearly addled. Since when did you need to take stairs to go to the first floor?
Seeing the confused look of her client, Vera patiently explained, "You are in Europe; we call things differently than in America. This is the ground floor, and you need to take the stairs to go to the first floor."
"Oh! Ok." Maris picked her luggage from the ground, cussing under her breath that they really needed elevators if they wanted to welcome clients like her.
Vera was relieved to see the American girl go, she had been the rudest client of the week. Usually, people asked about what to do in the area and Vera would have the pleasure to indicate the most interesting points, but that one acted like a little princess with a secret appointment. Maybe she was... Vera mentally noted to check the press just in case.
Maris wiped the drop of sweat coming from her forehead - the suitcase was heavy and her room was at the end of the corridor. But her effort was worth it. Room 19, the polished bronze numbers shined in the corridor, she inserted the key and pushed the heavy dark wood door, revealing her room.
She was pleased by it. Her gaze was immediately caught by the dark forest outside. It would probably scare a lot of visitors, but not her. It was exactly what she was looking for. The room itself was pleasant. It had a rustic look to it, with heavy, dark wood furniture, but it was decorated with taste. Fresh flowers in a vase, a fluffy duvet on the bed, warm colored tapestries and a blazing fire gave it a cozy touch.
Maris let her luggage go to the floor with relief. She then sat down on the armchair by the fire, letting her thoughts wander.
All her friends though she was insane to do this trip. Her parents had found it exciting that she wanted to travel to Europe on her own, even if they were a little scared. But then they also didn't know why she was really so intent on traveling to Transylvania, the land of vampire...
In her young teenage year, Maris had been initiated by her friends to the wonder of the Quizilla world. There she had fallen in love with vampire stories. At first it was the adventure, the mystery, then the romance. As she grew older the erotic scenes, well, the erotic scenes took her into another world. She would spend hours lost in the author's universe. Her curiosity needed to be satisfied. She started going to the library and borrowed every book she could find on Vampires. By the time she was 16, Anne Rice's series and the original Dracula were already part of her private collection. At first her mother had been excited to see she was reading, then she wondering what was happening to her daughter. But since Maris never seemed to dress like a gothic, she just figured it was one of those teenagers' things and didn't question her. One of Marisa's most precious acquisitions had been an encyclopedia about the Vampire world. The girl carried it with her everywhere. This was why her suitcase was so heavy.
During her teenagers years Maris started looking for guys that would fit her ideal. She started dating the 'bad guys', the gothic, but none gave her the satisfaction she was looking for. At night she left her window open, figuring that if a vampire was in the area it would be easier for him to smell her and come in. She was hoping that a Dark Prince would come and kidnap her, take her to his mansion to live a life of lust and adventure. She would sometimes wake up from her dreams panting, the memories of a soft touch still floating in her mind, but nothing. No one, no vampire.
From what she read, it seemed that the People of the Night where more commonly found in the old world, and that was when she made up her mind. She would go to Romania and find the man of her dreams. She studied hard to deserve it. Her friends' reactions had been unanimous.
"Come on Maris, you are kidding, right?"
"You don't really believe that vampires exist do you?"
"All you are going to end up with is being kidnapped and molested by some freak farmer and abandoned in the middle of the woods." That was close to what she was hoping for. But she didn't dare voice that thought.
And here she was now, in the heart of Transylvania, hoping to meet the man of the dreams. She had already stayed in a few places around the region. But she hadn't seen what she was looking for. The hotels were packed with tourists, brochures in their hands and loose vacation clothing. The only other people she met were locals, with their rustic faces and manners, they truly weren't what she was looking for. She was starting to think that maybe she was wrong. Maybe vampires didn't really exist. But all those writings, all those legends, they had to come from something...
If I don't find what I'm looking for by Sunday, that's it, I'll be done. Her mind set, Marisa went to take a shower, to wash away the dust of the road and the sweat from carrying her belongings. The water felt nice on her skin, she came out smelling of roses and camellias. She let her hair dry naturally, brushing the soft waves cautiously; she then got dressed and applied some make up, as usual.
At exactly 7pm, she closed her door and walked down the stairs to join the other guests for dinner. To her disappointment, she was only surrounded by tourists and a few traveling locals, none with the style she was looking for. After her meal she joined the others in the common room where a warm fire burned. The talking around her soothed her into sleep.
She woke up a while later. The room was empty, the electric lights were off; but the fire was still going strong, bathing the room with its warm glow. The shadows were dancing on the old furniture; and for a second Maris thought she had gone back in time. She straightened up on the comfortable sofa, and suddenly turned around, feeling a presence.
"I'm sorry, did I scare you?" said a deep voice coming out of the shadow.
"It's all right," Maris answered, "I just thought I was alone, you surprised me." She then looked at the stranger. He was tall and lean, with hair as dark as crows, his skin had an orange glow from the fire and his light eyes twinkled. He moved gracefully and had this look of aristocracy she had always imagined when reading about vampires. Her breath was short in her lungs.
"May I join you?" The man asked softly. She could only nod, mesmerized by him, her mind working fast, trying to glimpse some clues that would tell her if he was what she was looking for. He spoke a perfect British English, but he was slightly rolling his 'r' making Maris wonder where he was from..
"You weren't here for dinner," she said.
"I arrived late. I figured I would come by the fire to warm up," he smiled.
"Your English is perfect, but you don't sound British. May I ask where you are from?"
"I'm from the region; I only had a good education."
It made sense enough. "Have I seen you before?" she asked suddenly, remembering something; She felt she had seen the face before. Was is in that weird named Romanian city? Or was it in a dream?
He hesitated for a second. "I doubt it, I would remember a pretty face like yours." His teeth shined like white pearls when he stretched his lips to a smile, and she giggled, feeling flattered. "So, what is an attractive lady like yourself doing here? Are you visiting the country with your family?"
"Oh no, I'm on my own," she said confidently. "I'm old enough to travel on my own you know."
"Really…" his voice was showing a growing interest. "So what are you here for?"
Maris thought for a moment before answering; she didn't want to give a wrong impression in case he wasn't what she thought. "Well, I'm doing some research for my studies." She lied.
"What subject are you researching on?" he asked, curiosity evident in his voice.
"Oh you know, historical, about the dark past of Romania," she lied.
"Vlad the Impaler you mean?" She jumped.
"How do you-"
"Darling, it's easy to guess, a lot of tourists come here to see the castle where he lived and to try to spot vampires in the middle of the night. It is all only a tale."
"I don't agree with this. All tales have a true origin. And I am not like all those tourists." She spat the last word with disgust.
"Of course you are. But did you know that Vlad III is a hero here? He is the one who resisted the Turks, and he made sure we wouldn't be swallowed by the Hungarians."
"I never realized that. "
"Most people don't go past the legend."
"I guess." Maris had an odd feeling about the man, she felt both attracted and threatened by him. The reasonable part of her brain was telling her that it was late; that there was no one around and that she really should be going. The other part was smitten and very curious about the stranger. She started fiddling with her fingers, moving to and fro without realizing it .
The man noticed it.
"If you want, I could show you around tomorrow," he offered casually.
Maris was both happy and disappointed with the offer. If he was offering to do something during daylight he couldn't be a vampire. On the other hand, there was certainly nothing wrong with being shown around by a handsome, aristocratic man, right? "Oh that would be so lovely. Could I know your name then?"
"Yes, I assume it would be easier if you knew it right." Humor danced in his eyes. "My name is Mikhail, Mikhail Kolya and yours is?"
"Maris, Maris Pilton, nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards him, and his long delicate fingers grasped her in a firm shake. Their touch was cold, but it didn't stop Maris from wanting to let her hand wander in his for a bit longer. "It's getting late; we probably shouldn't be staying here anymore… I mean, all the lights are out already. I'm not sure I can even find my way back to my room," she said.
"I could offer you my arm to walk you there if you wish." His gentlemanly manners were really touching her. None of the teens she had dated back in high school could be up to that.
"I would be very thankful."
Mikhail got up and helped her to her feet, then secured her close to him and started walking towards the dark stairs. Marisa felt exhilarated and slightly dizzy, like she had had a bit too many drinks. She had to work hard to refrain from giggling as she bumped into him while finding their way to the first floor. He didn't seem to have many problems in the dark though. And that was another hint that got her to smile.
"Would you kindly indicate to me your room?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
"Nineteen, room nineteen. It's at the end of the corridor." He didn't answer, though his arm tightened around her waist.
"Here you are love," he said, coming to a stop.
"How do you know it's here? This place is pitch dark."
"I have an excellent night vision."
"Are you some kind of creature of the night?" she asked, faking an innocent tone.
"I guess you could call me that. I love partying," he eluded. She chuckled, not sure what else to say.
"Well, I'll see you in the morning then."
"Yes, we could share breakfast together," she replied as she retrieved her keys from her purse. "Good night."
"Good night." He bent and kissed her on the cheek, then turned around abruptly and disappeared in the dim corridor.
Maris lingered a bit longer by the doorway, her hands up to her flushed cheeks, wondering if she was dreaming.
It was late, the silence of the hotel almost sinister. She hurried to the bathroom to wash her teeth and put on her nightgown. She slipped under the covers and turned off the light, but she couldn't sleep. She lied down for a while. All of a sudden, she opened her eyes, the warmth of the fire unexpectedly cut from her. She let a cry out of her lips as she glimpsed at a shadow. She was already standing up in her bed, but before she could reach for the light, a hand was pushed against her mouth, a body pressed against her. She froze.
When her assailant saw that she wasn't attempting to move, Maris felt a change in the presence. It was now pressing a finger against her mouth, and she understood that she was to stay quiet. An odd sense of calm filtered through her body. The person was against the light, but by its frame she guessed it was a man. Her nostril caught a scent she had smelled earlier.
"Mikhail? Is that you?" she whispered. Surprised, the man let go of his grasp; giving Maris enough time to turn on the light.
She saw him and knew right away.
"You're a prince of the night," she said excitedly. "Oh my God, I knew it. This is so wonderful."
He looked at her, wondering if he heard right. The girl was caressing his cheeks and before he could say a word she'd smashed her lips against his.
"I knew you would come for me," she said as she finally let him go. "Oh, I've been waiting so long for that. We are going to go to your place and it will be amazing."
"Is that so?" His voice had a dangerous humor in it, but she wasn't paying attention, too caught up in her fantasy. He smirked then bent towards her face, caressing her lips, letting his fingers tangle up in her hair. His lip were tracing the outline of her face, his nostril taking in the sweet scent of her skin.
She thought for a second that it was going too fast. In the stories the vampire would kidnap the fragile damsel, there would be complications and then things would turn hot.
"Won't you take me to your place first?"
"Why? Don't you like it here?"
"No, that's not what I meant, it's just, that I thought that you did it, you know, differently."
"It's different with everyone, and you my dear are very special."
His words made her feel ecstatic. His hands were now caressing her whole body, and she felt herself melting. She was abruptly brought back to reality by a sharp pain in her neck. It made her yelp, but his hands soothed her, caressing her hair.
I must really be special, he is going to make me one of his. The thrill of the thought made her heart beat faster. It was like how Louis had turned Claudia into one in Anne Rice's novel. She would be just like that, except older. Soon now, he would take his sweet lips away from her, pierce his alabaster flesh and feed her with his dark magic.
She felt her heart flutter, trying hard to pump every ounce of the precious fluid left. Anytime now he would make her drink. It would be even better than being kidnapped. She would become one, a vampire. Maybe I should have taken more time to look at the sunset.
It was becoming hard to breathe, her mind was getting cloudy. Her body took over her mind and tried to push away the vampire in a last but futile attempt, she was already too weak. As a black veil fell in front of her eyes, a last thought crossed her mind.
This isn't what happens in the stories…
As he was about to leave the room, he turned back for one last look. She was lying on the bed like a porcelain doll; her skin, so white from the absence of blood, made a stunning contrast against the delicate scarlet fabric. Her gown was barely wrinkled from lack of fighting, her clenched hands now lying by her side. She had a look of utter surprise on her face.
