WAIF

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Carrick, Dragonwood's butler, barged through the doors of Dante's study. He bent over, panting hard, trying to catch his breath.

"Carrick Hunter!" The Count shouted at the servant. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Dante was irked by the butler's ruckus incursion into his study. The Count rose from his chair to address the man.

"Sorry, your Grace, I ran all the way here from the front gates." Carrick heaved the words through ragged breaths. "I brought the local papers for today and found something I think you might find interesting." The butler handed the papers over to Dante, who abruptly snatched them out of his hand in annoyance.

The front page of the East London Times showed a picture of the burnt-out inn. Nothing but ash and blackened timbers remained of the building. The article spoke about a strange ghoul running about London draining blood from the victims. Carrick watched Dante lift his eyebrows at what he was reading.

"Is this the news you were seeking, your Grace?"

"Yes, Carrick, fetch the carriage. We are leaving for Covent Gardens." Dante stood from the desk he was leaning against and strode down the hall to the front door. The manor's servants bowed as he marched by them to where the carriage waited. Carrick had already anticipated Dante's needs.

The Count climbed into the coach, followed by the butler."We are looking for a woman with chestnut-colored hair and pale skin who will be very petite. She will probably respond to the name Claire, or I believe she will. We must find her immediately," Dante sighed. He pondered over his experience from last night. The chest pain, anxiety, and obnoxious emotions happened once more. The sensation was similar to a person in great distress. The Count's pendant had turned warm and began glowing once again. Dante was agitated and wanted to know why these odd events kept transpiring.

"Your, Grace, would Claire still be alive? Wasn't she a human?"

"I don't think it's Claire. I'm assuming it's a distant relative. I would like to understand and find out why this is happening. My instincts tell me this person is in significant need of help. As we all know, I'm not a reasonable person, but I owe Claire a great deal. Maybe I can celebrate her memory by assisting this individual." he spoke with a droll tone waving his hand in the air.

The servant understood what the Count was saying, but Carrick worried about what Dante would actually do when he found the person and seriously doubted it would be to aid them. Dante was a fickle man and could turn vicious in an instant. He would manipulate any situation to benefit himself. The man viewed everything as an object for his pleasure. Dante would kill it if it did not give him the satisfaction he wanted.

***

The carriage pulled into the Covent Gardens on Bedford road. Dante could see the smoldering building and officials sifting through the remains for evidence. The Count's carriage drove by the scene, and he directed the coachman to take him to the central plaza. The streets were mostly empty. It was early Sunday morning, which meant most people were in church. Dante stepped from the carriage. He looked around and recognized Milner's dress shop.

Dante sent Carrick around the other side of the plaza to search. At the same time, the Count walked towards the back corner of the courtyard and spied several small shops. Dante surveyed the area. Almost everything was closed except a quaint little cafe.

The Count began to experience weird sensations. He grabbed his chest as he felt a sharp pain hit his heart, then overwhelming despair. About that time, Dante noticed a tiny waif of a girl with chestnut hair walking out of the cafe. Her head was bowed to the ground as she slowly strolled the sidewalk. She wore a blue dress, and her hair was not pulled up. Instead, it was left long and flowing down her back. Not customary for a woman of this day and age, he thought. In his assessment, the girl looked lost and out of place.

Dante felt like he had glimpsed a specter. He swore he was looking at Claire, the only woman whom he ever loved. He slowly surveilled the young woman. The Count was unsure about what he saw, and his curiosity was getting the better of him. He started to follow her. "Excuse me, miss, are you Claire?" Dante asked the tiny girl as he walked up behind her.

The young woman stopped and turned slowly, raising her head to see the Count's figure looming over her. What Dante caught sight of made his heart stand still. The Count's eyes stared back at him with Claire's features. She had her mother's high cheekbones and celestial nose. Rose possessed the amber-red almond-shaped eyes of his family line. They were a rare color, and he only ever saw them in Vampires.

"Pardon me?" Rose replied, her forehead creased at Dante's question. She gazed back at the man. He was tall and gallant with a slender build. His hair was darker than the night sky and greying at the temples. Dante's face had a strong jaw, long narrow nose, and well-defined cheekbones. His smile was wide and charming. And, lastly, the eyes. Rose recognized the eyes were precisely like hers. Eyes that could pierce through your very soul. Rose noticed his disposition with her had been pleasant but straightforward. However, it startled her that he called her by her mother's name. Then Rose saw the emotion on his face transform into a serious expression.

When she saw Dante's mood change, a sudden stab of fear assaulted her brain, warning her to run. Rose was uncertain if she should remain standing there or flee as her intuition told her. She anxiously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Glancing about, Rose was searching for a quick escape.

"Don't run. I want a word with you." Dante held up his hands in surrender. He could see Rose was disquieted. The Count reached out to grab her shoulders, but it was too late. She whirled around and quickly dashed for Bedford road.

Dante put his fingers under his tongue and let out a shrill whistle. Carrick looked up and saw the Count pointing out to the road where the figure of a woman could be seen bolting into the streets of London. She was heading for the Westminister district. Both men took off in different directions. They were going to head her off before she got too far into the city and disappeared.

~~~

Everything was now in chaos. Rose had no idea who these men were. Nor how the older gentleman knew her mother's name. She didn't bother to look behind her and scampered down the street. Bedford road came to a sudden end, and Rose found herself on Strand Blvd. She was about to run across the street to the south when a carriage pulled past and almost struck her. Rose's heart was pounding in her ears. Every breath she took felt like fire in her lungs. She turned and noticed Charging Cross police station Rose ducked inside. She hoped to elude the men. She sat on a bench by the entrance to catch her breath. "Can I help you?" Rose heard a gruff voice ask. It was the desk Sargent of the station.

"I'm fine. May I take a seat to rest?"

"Do whatever you like, Miss, but don't stay long. This is not a safe place for a woman," the man gave her a firm warning.

When Rose thought enough time had lapsed, she thanked the Sargent and exited the station walking towards Trafalgar Square.

As Rose was approaching the square, she spotted Dante. He had a lit cigar clenched in his teeth. The Count had cut through the park on St. Martin Fields. He stared at her, not moving with his hands in his pockets. Rose turned to go back to the station. On the other end of the street was Carrick, the butler moving closer to her. She was trapped. Rose looked off to her left and noticed an alcove. She raced for the niche and found herself on Craven street. Rose was so distraught over being followed. She was no longer paying attention and failed to notice where she was running. Rose collided with a street sign. She almost knocked herself out.

Shaking off her incident with the signpost, Rose regained her bearings. She was now sprinting towards Whitehall. It looked like she evaded the men chasing her. In an hour, Rose had run to Parlement square and was on the outskirts of Westminister Abbey. She could feel beads of sweat trickling down her back. Rose stopped to take a short rest. She looked up and recognized where she was.

The building in front of her was a familiar medieval structure. It was St. Margarets Church. The place was home to the nuns of Westminister. Rose darted through the gates and noticed an annex to the left of the courtyard. She snuck inside. This was the nuns living quarters. Rose rapidly assessed the situation and decided on a change of clothing. She rushed into one of the bed chambers and stole a nun's habit. She peeled out of her dress and donned the new outfit. As she was about to leave, the door swung open, and one of the sisters of the church entered.

The nun was startled at seeing Rose in her room. "Excuse me, what are you doing in this room?" she said curtly.

Rose didn't answer and rushed past her for the exit. She could hear the woman screaming to stop, but Rose kept going.

A few moments later, Rose emerged from the courtyard. Her body ached from all the running, and the place where she was stabbed began to burning. Rose grabbed her side and walked out onto Abingdon street. She headed for Lambeth bridge at the Thames river.

After Rose gave Dante the slip, the Count sent Carrick over the Westminister bridge to see if the butler could find a trace of the girl on the other side of the Thames. When Dante passed the church, he heard the commotion among the nuns about the intruder and a missing habit. The Count surveyed the area leading down Abingdon street. When he got to Victoria Gardens, he saw Carrick and signaled for him to meet at Lambeth Bridge. Carrick silently nodded in acknowledgment.

Within minutes Dante had made it to the bridge. He noticed a solitary nun walking alone and knew something was amiss. There was long reddish brown hair poking out of the habit. Most nuns did not have long hair, and they usually traveled in pairs. The Count knew it was the girl he was pursuing. He saw Carrick approaching from the other side of the bridge. Dante pointed to the nun, and Carrick knew what the Count was insinuating.

When Rose made it midway over the bridge, she caught sight of Carrick. Rose bowed her head and pulled the habit further over her face so he could not get a glimpse of her. He passed her, and just as Rose thought she had fooled him, Carrick swung around and seized her by the upper arm, taking her off guard and tossing her into the front of Dante's body. She was now sandwiched between the two men with nowhere to go. Rose grasped the dagger inside her dress and was about to thrust it into Carrick's side when Datne wrapped his arms around her upper body.

"There will be no need for that. If you promise not to run again, I will let go of you," Dante explained to Rose. She gulped and nodded in agreement. Once he felt the tension in her body release, Dante let go of her and whirled her around by the shoulders to face him.

Rose stood looking up at the Count's formidable figure. The sight of him muddled her brain with crazy thoughts. She pondered if she saw things accurately, but Rose greatly resembled the man. Her mind was running wild with speculation. Rose needed to know more about him and how he knew her mother, but Rose thought she might already have figured it out. No matter how this turned out, Rose wanted to know who the stranger was that possessed the same eyes as her.

The man spoke, introducing himself, "My name is Count Dante Le Chevalier De Sang. May I ask your name, Miss?" he bowed to Rose as she stood before him."

"They call me Rose, my name full name is Scarlette Rose. Funny thing, you asked me if I was Claire. My mother's name was Claire." Rose told Dante.

Dante stared with wonderment at the young female vampire. The realization struck him like boulders rolling down a mountainside. This girl was his daughter. Claire had given him a child, an heiress to his empire. His heart lurched in his chest. Dante felt sudden overwhelming happiness, something he had only ever experienced when he was with Claire.

"Forgive me for being forward, but I think I know who you are." Dante's lips curled, and he grinned devilishly at Rose, hoping she knew what he was alluding to.

"Did you say you're a Count?" Rose probed Dante for an answer. Her mind struggled to catch up. She was still trying to process everything after being chased all over the town.

"Yes, you heard correctly, but you may call me Dante. Can we talk candidly, Miss? Rose?"

"Yes, I think that would be most appropriate," Rose responded.

"Excellent. let's find someplace to sit and converse, shall we?" Dante held out his hand and walked Rose back to a tea shop on Abingdon street; they sat at a table near the entrance. The waiter brought tea and refreshments and left them to talk. Dante noticed Carrick, his butler standing outside. He waved him off through the window. The Count wanted the butler to go back and fetch the carriage. Dante required privacy to have this discussion with his daughter.

"I'm going to cut to the chase." He turned and gazed into her eyes. "Rose, I believe you are my daughter, and I know you're a vampire. The eyes are a dead giveaway. No pun intended." He chuckled lightly. "Your mother's name was Claire Desjardins, and she lived in Calais. Am I correct so far?" Dante could not look away from the beautiful woman who sat at the table across from him. His heart was soaring at the thought of this being his child. He needed more confirmation. "You look just like her, you know?" He smiled at Rose and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"You are correct. And I'm to assume you are my father? Rose said bluntly, "Mother told me you were dead." Rose's lips quivered slightly, her brows crinkled, and her vision began to blur. She was trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes.

Dante could sense a significant amount of confusion in his daughter's thoughts. Rose's current emotions were likened to a wild tempest. He could tell she was on the verge of breaking down into tears. Dante scanned Rose's face. He saw she needed to rest; the scleras of her eyes had turned bloodshot, Rose's face was pale, and her cheeks flushed. Dante began to worry; she did not look healthy. He also wondered where Rose had been staying and what she was doing here in London. He took note of her unkempt appearance. The Count resolved to get Rose to his home in Dragonwood.

"Are you... Ill, darling?"

Rose nodded. "I'm a bit tired and feeling out of sorts."

"How about we finish this tea and go to my home? I will feed you dinner, and you can get some rest. I want to finish our discussion and tell you more about where you're family is from."

Rose nodded, knowing she had nothing to lose from Dante's offer. Besides, it was too cold to return to the greenhouse. At least she could stay warm tonight and eat a proper meal.

Dante reached across the table and picked up Rose's hand. She was burning up. He suspected she was running a fever. The Count paid for the tea and pushed himself up from his chair, and Rose followed his lead. She noticed she was starting to become physically weak. They walked to the exit, and Rose stumbled and fell as they left the cafe. The Count picked her up and wrapped his arm around Rose's waist. He hugged her close to him. There was a harsh chill in the winter air, and she needed to be kept warm. There was an ornate carriage waiting for them outside. Dante helped Rose into the coach and sat down next to her. He pulled his hand away and found it covered in Rose's blood.

"You're bleeding!" Dante blurted out in dismay.

***