Dancing into the Night- Part Four

 Dancing into the Night: Part Four  

It was well after 6 o'clock in the evening and the sky was crying. Large, tearful gales of cold liquidation hit the cobbled streets and buildings mercilessly, as the storm grew into a tempest. The wind howled loudly as it whipped about, cackling at the world as it was eagerly accompanied by loud peals of thunder and strikes of the brightest lightning. It had been cold earlier; but now it was nearly unbearably frosty. The storm had started nearly three hours prior, which meant that the streets were now barren of all life. All the vendors had long since packed up, and the passersby had retreated to their own homes and businesses for safety from the elements. Save for the unlucky figure that currently trudged through the rain on her own. But unlike most, if they had been in her shoes, Lynara was oblivious to the frigid deluge as it soaked her from head to foot. For she was lost solely to her thoughts, and was currently uncaring to her surroundings.

It had been three and a half hours since Lynara had been threatened by the red-haired woman, and her heart had yet to mollify. The kindly Apothecary Keeper had insisted she stay indoors until she was better composed, and the maid had made no objections. So, after hours of sitting by the elder man's hearth, drinking herbal tea and being wrapped up in a woolen blanket, Lynara had returned to her senses. The man had been reluctant for her to travel alone in the storm, but she had been firm. She needed to return to the Tavern, and the longer she waited the worse it would be.

So the gentleman had made her drink several sips of Absinthe to keep her warm, and walked the young woman to the door. But as she opened it to depart, he momentarily stopped her; placing a thick winter coat around her shoulders. He had smiled at her when the girl had immediately tried to give it back, and insisted she take it.

"I wouldn't be much of a Healer if I let you catch your death." He had explained, and Lynara had thanked him for everything he had done, before she entered out into the cold night without another word.

Now as she drew ever closer to the Tavern, she fought back the mental numbness that had started taking hold of her soul and scowled. The threat that the red-haired woman had passed hung over the barmaid's head like a halo of dread; and though the she-demon was long gone, the fear she had brought with her still remained.

Lynara didn't like it. She had known nightmares and despair in the past, but she had always gotten away from them. And she vowed that she would do so now. The young woman squared her weary shoulders as she pushed herself to go faster against the onslaught; her jaw clenched angrily as she came close to her home.

She would not live in fear, nor hide away in fright like a helpless child. But she would not be idle either. She would deal with this newest problem like she did with any other: with the power of her mind and the strength of her resolve. She would make the decision that would keep her and the other girls at the Tavern safe, no matter what she might face. She had survived hell before, and she would do so again.

With this in mind, Lynara strode the final street lengths of her journey and walked towards the familiar entrance of the establishment with new purpose- even as she felt the cold sink into her very bones. No one could lay claim to her life, but her. And it was well past the time that this fact was made known.

The Tavern was abuzz with customers and life, as Lynara entered the drinking hall and shut the large door firmly behind her. It seemed that most of the men here had stayed due to an unwillingness to return out into the storm, and the Tavern Master was having pity on them. . . Or rather their silver and copper pieces.

The young woman let her solemn brown eyes graze over the faces in the room, taking in the regulars along with the newcomers, as she shivered violently. Though the large winter coat was the best that Lynara had ever worn, it was completely soaked through and had long since lost any warmth or protection from the cold. For a moment, the girl leaned against the rough surface of the Tavern's main door- fatigue flowing over her like a heat wave. Before she pushed herself away from it and began to slowly walk towards the back rooms on the first floor. All of the barmaids had sleeping quarters just off the kitchen, and Lynara knew that if she stayed in her wet clothes any longer that she would be sick- and she knew all too well that the Tavern Master would call no Doctor or Healer to attend her if she fell ill.

So with sluggish steps, the maid trudged through the crowd of rowdy men, her eyes focused on something only she could see, as she left large puddles of water in her wake. To her relief, no one paid her much mind as she passed them, and the girl was hopeful of getting to the back room unnoticed. She gave a small, raspy exhale just as she was about to pass the Bar counter and be in the clear. But before she made it to safety, she felt a strong grip latch onto her shoulder painfully. Lynara's eyes momentarily closed ruefully as anticipation filled her chest. She knew this hand and was aware of what it meant.

Turning around, she looked at the red faced Tavern Master without emotion, though her gut was already churning.

"WHERE IN THE BLOODY GREAT BLAZES HAVE YOU BEEN!?" He barked angrily, getting spittle on the brown woman's face, as well as drawing the attention of the nearby customers with his yelling.

"The storm started when I got to the shop, and the Apothecary Keeper wouldn't allow me to go out into it at first," Lynara said truthfully, as her whole body shook from the cold plastered to her chilled skin. "I'm sorry for being so late, I didn't mean to cause any problems-"

"WELL YOU BLOODY WELL DID!" The rotund man bellowed, his already red face turning a deeper scarlet, just like it had so many times before all hell broke loose. "WE'VE BEEN SHORT HANDED ALL EVENING! AND THAT DAMNED NOBLEMAN HAS BEEN WAITIN' FOR YEH FOR NEARLY AN HOUR AND HAS BEEN BREATHIN' DOWN MY NECK! AND NOW! NOW YOU'VE DRIPPED WATER ALL OVER MY BLEEDIN' FLOORS AND STRUT IN HERE LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE!"

Lynara felt her tongue begin to form around protests- ways to defend herself from what she knew was coming- but from the mad glint in the elephantine man's eyes, it was obvious he was beyond reasoning with. She could smell the foul stain of alcohol on his breath as he stood directly in her space, and fought the urge to vomit. He was bordering on drunk and was furious. . . Which could only mean one thing.

So the young barmaid remained silent as he rounded on her, her eyes already void of life, as she waited for the first blow. . . And it came several moments later in the form of a slap. The impact of the hit made Lynara's head snap to the side, and the blinding stinging sensation that followed it was enough to make her eyes water. The sound of the hit echoed in the now quieted Tavern- the customer's watching silently as the barmaid was brought up short and the Tavern Master made his literal mark. Though it was cruel and the scene made a handful of the regulars uncomfortable enough to turn away, no one came to the girl's aid. For it was a common enough spectacle, in places such as this.

And despite the unpleasant moment, Lynara didn't utter a sound as the strike landed. It was painful, but she had enough pride to stand firm and accept the hit. The Tavern Master had given her far worse in the past. This slap was a considerate love tap compared to the belt lashings that Lexya had received when she had spilled the ale keg several months prior, or the time Claudria had taken a swing at one of the customer's after he had purposefully tripped her.

It was still hurtful, but the maid could handle the slap . . . though at the moment her fatigue and the violent shivering was making her body act strangely. . . She felt almost faint as her cheek stung and her head swam in a sea of disconnected thoughts.

. . . And then the Tavern Master raised his hand into a fist, the fire of fury burning even brighter than before.

"YOU DARE STAN' THERE AND STARE AT ME LIKE THA!?" Though Lynara hadn't purposefully challenged him, the obese man was obviously taking her inability to fall as a sign of defiance. Though the young woman was past hearing him, as she felt the goosebumps rise all along her legs and forearms. She was freed from the fear of being hurt; her brown eyes never leaving the Tavern Master as the fist came flying towards her. She would not give him the satisfaction of her submission. She would not look away- could not look away. She was through hiding and this was but a test of wills.

The man's fist was clenched tightly, chubby knuckles taught, as they flew towards the woman's already marked face. Time seemed to slow as the momentum of the hit came ever closer, but still Lynara held her ground. . .

Then as it was only several short inches from her face the fist stopped.

Lynara's eyes grew at the strange halt of her punishment, before her foggy brain was able to put together what had happened. At first it had seemed that the Tavern Master had decided to cease his assault on the maid, but in truth he had been physically deterred. In the small amount of space between Lynara's face and the man's fist, another hand was splayed languidly preventing it from moving any farther. And it was in the second that Lynara noticed the interference, that she felt the strong presence behind her. Turning her head to the side, she gazed over her shoulder and felt her breath draw in her throat.

The Count stood in all his glory, stature tall and commanding, blue eyes blazing with the most potent menace that Lynara had ever seen- his handsome face sculpted into a firm mask. He was standing directly behind the young woman, but had no actual contact with her. But as he held the Tavern Master's hand in his palm and flashed a deadly smile that held no humor- Lynara felt as if he was physically holding her up.

"You would abuse this woman in front of your guests?" Though his cadence was light, the anger behind the words was clear for all in the room to hear, making the Tavern Master gulp.

"My Lord-" the portly man began, but immediately stopped when a cracking sound pervaded the air. For a second it was silent, before the Tavern Master screamed and the Count dropped his hand. With just the grip he had had, Dracula had crushed the barman's hand; breaking it almost instantly. And as the detestable bar owner now sobbed pathetically, the nobleman focused fiery blue eyes on him- ignoring the still customers who had watched the whole scene in disbelief.

"I have spared you for Lynara's sake, seeing as I would hate to upset her further this evening." He said calmly. "But should you ever raise your hand to her again, I will not be so lenient."

The Tavern Master, clutching his broken hand with his other, nodded and slobbered pitifully as he retreated clumsily and then ran into the back room where he could be heard shouting for his wife. And as he did so, Dracula looked down at the barmaid he had just saved. His face still was emotionless, but his blue eyes once more held their usual affectionate glow.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

Lynara nodded once, though it was hard to make the distinction, seeing as her entire body was now a mass of convulsing nerves. "I-I'm fine. Than-Thank you. . ."

The man gave her a small smile, as he offered her his arm. "Come. You must change, little one, before you freeze to death."

Lynara sluggishly placed an accepting hand to his forearm, and began to walk with him back towards the stairs and the upper floor. Though after only three steps, the young woman felt her tired and riddled legs tremble and give out. She would have dropped to the hardwood floor- if the Count's strong arm hadn't wrapped around her middle. He caught her with seemingly relative ease, and gently pulled her back up to stand, leaning against him for support as her legs refused to obey her. Her strength was ebbing away by the second; they both could sense it. And if Lynara hadn't been so lost to her body's denials, she would have been worried by how close she and the Count were. Her chest heaved painfully against his, her wet clad body held protectively around his as he watched her catch her breath.

"It would seem that we are too late to stop you from falling ill," he commented, with an ever so slightly crinkled brow.

Lynara was about to wave him off when he surprised her, by bending down halfway and then placing his free arm under her knees. Then, before the barmaid had time to react, she was being lifted up and carried by the man who had saved her and would most certainly be the source of her undoing.

"C-Count-" she began, her voice raspy as her head swam even more than before. "I m-must speak with y-you . . . something has h-happened. . . You must g-go. . ."

"Hush, little Lynara," he crooned gently, as he walked easily up the flight of stairs and made his way to the Red Chamber where they had spent so much time together. "Save your strength. I fear, that you will need it before the night is through."

And without another word, the man entered the chamber carrying the shuddering woman in steady arms, before he closed the door behind them and Lynara's world went black.