Rising from her coffin, Gwendolyna awoke from her slumber.  She hadn’t an idea of how long she had been ‘asleep.’  The last thing she recalled was taking shelter during the attack on the castle, hoping she would not have to face her fate just yet.  It was rumored that her sire woke every hundred years, and with him Castlevania.  Had Dracula been defeated and another century passed by?  Or was he triumphant and she had merely taken a nap?  One thing was for certain, she would get no answers by staying put.

The layout of the castle was unfamiliar as Gwen explored it in search for Dracula himself.  The count was nowhere in sight as she searched her prison, nor did she spot any of the other creatures.  It felt like a dream- or more accurately, a nightmare.  Had she woken at all?  Was this the afterlife?  The sound of a door creaking open and boots scuffing against the stone floor grounded her.  At once, she rushed to locate the source of the noise.  Her ears lead her to an alcove a floor above what could be the current main entrance of the castle.  A lone figure walked down the long corridor.  With the flames of candelabras illuminating the area, she was able to get a good look.  Dracula, it was not.  The figure was a mortal man.  In his grasp, a long bull whip.  Gwen couldn’t believe her eyes- a Belmont had entered Dracula’s Castle.

The fellow resembled the last Belmont she had encountered, but was he the same one?  She still knew not what year, or even century, she was in.  With that in mind, the man before her could very well be the former Belmont’s descendent.  The family of legendary vampire hunters were no strangers to the castle.  Any time her sire awoke, one of them would show up to defeat him.  What really surprised her was the fact that there was not a beast in sight to fight this one.  Her moves were swift in an effort to keep up with him as he waltzed through the castle unscathed.  Would following him through this maze lead her to Dracula?  Regardless, he sparked her interest. 

As days passed, Gwendolyna remained in the shadows and kept a watchful eye on the Belmont.  In addition to the two of them, several other denizens of Castlevania were now up and about.  Those creatures didn’t bat an eye at her.  To them, she was one of their own.  Undead.  Evil.  A fellow monster.  Their targets were set on human destruction alone.  That was the reason she found it so peculiar that they did no harm to the Belmont either.  Instead, they seemed to be heeding his commands with no protest.  She thought it strange Dracula had not made his presence known since her awakening.  If he knew a Belmont was in his castle, he’d have all the forces of evil putting an end to him- not obeying him.  Could this man be the reason Dracula was missing?

Days of surveillance passed and with them came answers that only caused more questions to arise.  Much to her surprise, it was the vampire hunter who had assumed the title of Lord of the Castle in her sire’s absence.  A mere four years had passed since the fall of Dracula.  It was this man, Richter Belmont- the same hunter from before, who planned to resurrect her sire with the intentions of battling him for eternity.

Gwen knew very little about the Belmont clan, but enough to know this was not proper at all.  Richter didn’t behave like a Belmont, nor did he act like the man she witnessed years ago.  A wicked incantation must have been cast upon him, causing him to betray his lineage.  Dracula and his forces were never above cursing their opposition.  Her stomach was in knots.  She felt immense empathy for the mortal, seeing similarities in their situations. She had been unable to save herself and would have to live an eternity in this wretched form.  It mattered not that Richter was a vampire slayer; her heart felt heavy imagining him facing the same fate.   She decided to continue watching him from afar, vowing to keep him out of danger and seek a way to break the spell.

During the daytime, Gwen would focus all her attention on Richter as he stirred about the castle.  In spite of his current state, he continued to break candelabras, chandeliers, and anything else he could find on the walls.  This amused her immensely; it was difficult to contain her giggles as she watched him whip everything in sight.  She could only assume Richter realized Castlevania was enchanted and knew that everything respawned, using this to his advantage for endless target practice.

When night fell and the man retired, Gwendolyna busied herself in the library.  The elderly master librarian was familiar with “Lady Gwen” as he called her.  Seeing her rummage through the shelves once again pleased him.  The librarian offered his assistance in locating whatever she was seeking, but she kindly declined.  During her youth, loneliness and boredom led her to mull over the countless pages that the castle had to offer.  Her recollection of these gave her an idea where to start, without alerting her sire’s faithful servant that she was seeking to help an adversary.  She picked out a few the books and scrolls that she felt were the most appropriate for the situation at hand.  Night after night, she returned and read over the pile of ancient spells and antidotes by candlelight.  It felt as though she was making no leads, but refused to give up hope. 

Despite knowing Richter was bewitched, Gwen’s fixation did not wane in the slightest.  Though she valiantly sought a cure for him, it was not long before she was under a spell herself.  No magician or dark force laid this on her, however.  She alone was responsible for her undoing.  Every moment she spent watching the Belmont, she fell deeper in love with him.  There were times she would reminisce during her daytime surveillance.  Years ago, Richter was the first human she had laid eyes on since Dracula took her in her.  Oh, he was a beauty back then!  Though she only got a glance from afar before going into hiding, he looked no older than her, though at that point she had been a young adult for many, many years.  As striking as she found him, fear did not permit her to dwell on it.  Could one imagine?  The fledgling of Lord Dracula himself, falling for the very boy destined to slay him.  How ungrateful would she be to betray the one who spared her from the devastation of her village- for one whose sole purpose was hunting their kind, no less!

Yet that was half a decade back, and Gwen couldn’t shake the notion that Dracula was not around.  Temptation grew daily as she was left unsupervised and unchecked by her sire.  For the first time since her childhood, the lingering sense of fear had been replaced by an unfamiliar emotion.  Her reverence of Dracula was overthrown by her desire for Richter.

“My God!” Gwendolyna breathed one afternoon.  Her bright amber eyes were glued to him from behind the railing of a floor above.  She couldn’t contain her voice while watching him lounge on his newly claimed throne.  With a dreamy sigh, and a hand clasped over her heart, she thought to herself, ‘He's become handsome beyond words!’

Gone was the rugged look of a young warrior.  Richter Belmont had grown into a sophisticated, beautiful man.  Perhaps the most apparent (and in Gwen’s opinion, most attractive) change in his appearance was his hair.  Previously, his hair was medium length and kept out of his eyes with a long white headband.  It had since grown out.  Now, cascades of brunette curls framed his face and draped down his shoulders.  Gwen had at times been tempted to reach out to him and run her fingers through those luxurious waves.  She longed to know if his hair was as silky as she imagined.  Beyond his hair, his eyes were just as blue as she remembered.  Vivid and piercing, his irises appeared to be the most precious of sapphires, hand-picked by God specifically for Richter.  A mature, steely gaze replaced the former bright-eyed expression of determination in these eyes.  There was a constant smirk on his face these days.  Oh, how those arrogant and soft-looking lips practically begged her to kiss them!  While he may not have been in his right mind, Richter still carried that perfect build of his with righteousness.  He was steadfast in his actions and his faith, completely unaware of the evil controlling him.  Any dreadful deeds he had done were justified.

It wasn’t long before Gwendolyna’s yearning for both Richter and the opportunity to reclaim her humanity clouded her judgement.  The lines began to blur for her as she found herself skeptical if Richter was actually being influenced by a malevolent power.  Her research had led to nothing substantial, causing her to doubt the idea of such a spell altogether.  Perhaps this was his own free will.  Her brain even swirled with delusions that Richter was the salvation she prayed for over hundreds of years prior.  This Belmont would finally conclude Dracula’s never-ending reign of terror, thus releasing her from his bond.  All she had been through was merely a test of faith, and God had sent her this angel for being patient.  Richter Belmont was her way out of this hell that had claimed her more than two centuries ago.

As her obsession grew, she found herself acting bolder with her observation of the man.  This led her to abandon the library for one night.  She reasoned that a break from the books could allow her to clear her mind and renew her vigor for a resolution.  That night, she opted to stand guard near the room he had claimed for his own.  Strange noises were heard as she crept towards his chamber.  Holding her ear to the door, she listened in worry that he may be in trouble.  She clasped a hand over her mouth, trying not to gasp aloud. The sounds were not those of struggle, much to her disdain.  Richter must have familiarized himself with the succubi inhabiting the castle.

Hearing the noises of pleasure from the other side of the door almost broke the vampiress.  Gwendolyna felt so foolish.  Why did she believe that Richter would be safe at night in Castlevania of all places?  He was a mere mortal.  He may be stronger than the average man, but even he could not possibly resist demons of seduction in a compromised state.  She could have easily brought her research with her as she watched over him.  As she tried to regain her composure, she couldn’t pry herself away from the door.  Her ear was now pressed against the wood.  Sharp fangs threatened to pierce right through her lower lip as she relished in the sounds of his soft pants and moans.  Eyes shut, she attempted to picture what was happening on the other side of the door.  Her body had long been cold, yet an unfamiliar heat resonated in her core.

‘I should be the one in there,’ she thought.  ‘I should be the reason for those delightful sounds!’

Suddenly, she snapped out of her trance.  Immediate disgust flooded her.  How many of the seven sins had she committed in that instant?  Taking one last glance at his door, she decided it would be for the best to retire for the night.

Sleep was not an option for Gwendolyna, lest she wanted to lose centuries to slumber.  Even if she was mortal, she had her doubts that anyone could sleep with such a fire blazing within themselves.  The near-silence in her chamber was maddening, the ideal environment for thoughts to wander.  She tried not to think about Richter- about his beauty, what he could be doing right now, or what she longed to do with him.  That proved to be easier said than done.

The years had made her a horrible judge of the passage of time.  She knew not what hour it was, nonetheless she sought solace in the familiarity of the library.  She had no desire to continue her research, but perhaps she could find an escape from her present situation between the pages of a novel.  She paid no mind to her surroundings as she traveled the castle, her mind still focused on Richter.  Caught up in her emotions, Gwen thoughtlessly turned into the main corridor before realizing it was morning.

The dim sunlight flooded the area, causing the vampiress to stop in her tracks.  She was grateful she hadn’t stepped far enough into the harmful rays.  As her eyes adjusted to the foreign brightness of dawn, she swore she noticed a figure standing at the far end of the hall.

Gwen gasped and fled back to the refuge of the shadows.  Perhaps he did not see her.  Perhaps it wasn’t him at all.  Her curiosity got the best of her yet again.  Though it was irrational, she peeked around the corner just to be certain if the man she saw was him.

Sure enough, that figure in blue she spotted was Richter. 

“Show yourself,” he said, stern voice resonating through the empty castle.  The ancestral weapon clutched tight in his grip; he strode across the great hall towards her end.

There was no running or hiding this time, Gwen had been caught.  Between the hunter and the morning, her chance of survival was nonexistent.  Her eyes shut as she inaudibly recited one final prayer.  May God have mercy on her in the afterlife.

With a gulp, the vampiress stepped out of the shadows and allowed herself to be bathed in the warm sunlight.  As she walked forward, there was no burning nor pain.  Her eyes cracked open one at a time to see if fate had whisked her away before her body suffered.  Much to her surprise, she had not burst into flames, nor had she turned to dust on contact like she was conditioned to believe.  She remained in the corridor of castle, and mere feet in front of her stood Richter Belmont.

If her heart could beat, Gwendolyna was certain that it would’ve lept through her chest.  The man was even more dashing than she initially perceived.  He stood tall.  His hair was a veritable halo as light reflected off the chestnut curls.  If looks could kill, those dark eyes staring her down would have ended her existence in seconds.  In this propinquity, even the scent of blood coursing through Richter’s veins was strong.  She had sworn off the idea of feeding from humans, but the thick aroma still had an intoxicating effect on her.  Her sire had mentioned the blood of the Belmonts to her long ago.  He stated theirs were special among mortals, containing the power to seal all evil.  How foolish of her at the time to assume he was exaggerating!

However, his blood was not what she wished to taste.  That plush pout of his looked so delicious; she could hardly tear her eyes away from his lips as they spoke to her…  Spoke to her!  Oh, what had he said?  She quickly averted her eyes and bowed her head.  Where were her manners?  He was Lord of the Castle after all.

“Forgive me, Lord Belmont,” she pleaded.  “I-I didn’t wish to disturb you.”

“I do not believe we’ve met,” said Richter.  He circled around her, hand not once moving from his whip.  “What is your name, maiden?”

Flushed, she found it difficult to reply.  His voice was so eloquent.  She would rather listen to him speak than the most celebrated of concertos. Yet, she shook those thoughts from her head.  He was still a threat, and she was not near as strong as many of the monsters he vanquished.  It would be in her best interest to answer him post haste.

“I apologize for my insolence, my lord,” she said with a curtsy.  “I am Gwendolyna.”

“Gwendolyna,” he repeated.  Her name coming from him felt so sensual.  “And I suppose I need no introduction seeing as you seem to know who I am.”

“Word, ah, travels quickly around the castle, Lord Belmont,” said Gwen.

Richter chuckled.  “You’re a terrible liar.  You know that, Gwendolyna?”

Her posture stiffened.  She had barely spoke, yet it was still just enough for Richter to catch on.

“Do you believe I haven’t been mindful of those amber eyes observing my every move since my arrival?” he continued.

His words stunned Gwen.  She couldn’t believe Richter was well aware of her stalking.  Humiliation washed over her.  Was every move he made calculated, knowing that she had her eyes on him?  She soon felt sick.  Did he know about her presence last night as well?  Gwen fell to her hands and knees at Richter’s feet. 

“I’m so sorry, my lord,” she cried.

“I did not ask for an apology,” Richter said.  The handle of the Vampire Killer tapped the bottom of her chin and she glanced up to meet his smug gaze.  “I am merely curious about what leads you to follow me.”

She had great difficulty finding the words to respond.  Surely, she could not admit that she followed out of lust, and it was embarrassing to proclaim that she believed that the one sent to kill could grant salvation.

After a moment of silence, Richter squatted in front of her.  His eyes were now mere inches away from her own.  Had oxygen remained in her lungs, being face to face with him most certainly would have taken her breath away.

“Do you keep watch for your master?” he asked.

“Lord Dracula did not command this of me,” she replied.  Just speaking of him made her stomach churn.  “I have not seen him since your arrival.”

“I see,” Richter said, grin forming.  “So, you stalk me on your own accord?”

Gwen’s eyes darted away from him again.  She was too ashamed to face him.  Never had she anticipated her attention would be known by the Belmont.  The cool leather of his glove stung as he struck her cheek, bringing her focus back to him.

“When I speak, I expect a creature like you to answer,” he growled.  With that, he stood up, and she crumpled to his feet on the floor.  Richter shook her off his boot and began to walk away.

“A-Are you going to slay me, my lord?” she asked through tears.

The Belmont stopped and turned back to face her.

“Slay you?  A pathetic, sniveling monster like you is unworthy of my whip.  Dracula is who I seek.”

Richter’s words stung more than the slap from moments ago.  She did not understand why, but Gwen felt the need to prove her worth to him.

“I-I just wanted to make sure no harm came to you while you were in the castle,” she confessed.  “I’m not a monster like the rest!  I did not choose to live in darkness!  I beg of you, please… please, my lord.  If you will not even end my existence, can you save me from it?”

“Save you?  Do you think you’re worthy of salvation, vampire?” Richter asked.  His upper lip curled into a snarl, tone dripping with disdain that he had to utter the name of such an atrocity.  That title sounded so reprehensible coming from his hallowed mouth.  Her kind was a curse upon the breaths of the blessed, virtually a sin to even speak of their existence.  Yet she had faith that if anyone could deliver her from evil, it would be him.

“Through Christ all is possible, Lord Belmont,” Gwendolyna replied.  Her gaze was fixed at his feet, believing she was not fit to look upon one as pious as he.

“Your faith is admirable for a demon,” he snickered.  The toe of his boot guided her chin upward, bringing her eyes to meet his again. Richter's dark blue eyes glistened with the reflection of the light, creating a fiery stare that was enough to make Gwen melt.  “Ask and you shall receive.  Knock, and the door will be opened for you.”

The hunter reached into his coat, removing a small glass orb.  Gwen instinctively flinched upon the sight of the golden crucifix embossed on the bottle.  She anticipated the liquid to be dumped on her, but she was mistaken.  Removing the silver stopper, Richter brought the glass to his lips instead.   He tilted it back, ingesting just enough to coat his tongue.  Never before had she seen someone partake of the blessed liquid.  Her confusion was short lived as Richter spat the holy water at her.

The saliva sizzled as it contacted the flesh of her chest.  Blisters could be felt forming as his holy spit trailed down her skin.  Gwen gritted her teeth through the searing pain.  She choked back a sob, not wanting to seem ungrateful to her messiah.  The agony was worth it.  He could make her whole again.  He would redeem her.

Before Gwen had a chance to thank him, Richter pulled her up to her feet by her hair.  His eyes were shadowed with primal desire as his lips crashed against hers.  Richter knifed his tongue into her mouth, granting her a harsh taste of the remnants of holy water.  His punishing kiss was as painful as he intended while his tongue teased hers, but Gwen relished the sting.  She yearned to kiss him back, but feared hurting him if she were to participate as passionately as he.  Richter’s grip tightened around her forearms when he broke the kiss.

“Tell me, vampire.  Do you lust for my blood?” he asked, breath heavy as he questioned her.

“Never, my lord,” Gwen answered.  “In spite of this curse, I have refrained from consuming the blood of man!”

A devilish look flared to life in Richter’s eyes.  A wicked smirk spread across his face.  “So, it is my flesh you lust after…”

Any attempt at a reply got caught in her throat.  He was so forward in his inquiry!  Gwen couldn't allow herself to lie, no matter how much she longed to deny the truth.

“I take your lack of defense as confirmation,” Richter said.  “Tch, continuing to sin despite the blessed water of Christ upon and in you?  How will you ever find salvation?”  He brought her arms behind her back, before reaching for his whip.  Gwen did not protest as he wrapped the worn leather around her wrists, uncomfortably binding them together.  It felt hot against her skin despite the cool material. 

“Come, monster,” he said, tugging on the remaining length of the whip like a leash.

The leather chafed her skin as he yanked her around the castle.  Her head hung low in humiliation as she followed behind him like an animal.  Their destination was the room where Richter spent most of his time.

“Lust is among the deadliest of the seven sins.  Here, you will pay for your iniquities.”

With a shove, Gwendolyna was now seated in what was once Dracula’s throne.  Hands still bound behind her by the Vampire Killer, she was unable to push Richter away.  He tossed up the skirt of her gown, exposing her to the brisk castle air.

“W-What are you doing?” she asked.

The Belmont ignored her inquiry.  Instead, gloved fingers began to touch the sensitive area between her legs.  It was a sensation unlike anything she ever experienced before.  Soft moans couldn’t be suppressed as his thumb stroked her clit.  She found herself complying too easily, allowing him access to her most private of areas.  A voice in the back of her mind told her she should feel shame.  Anyone could walk through and see her, wanton legs spread for this hunter of vampires.  Oh, God forbid Dracula himself make an appearance as this lecherous display unfolded right atop of his very throne.  However, the sole emotion present in her was unbridled lust.  She felt herself growing increasingly aroused the more she considered someone seeing her at Richter’s mercy.

“I’ve only just touched you and this eager cunt of yours is already soaked!” Richter scoffed, his deft fingers still teasing her.  “What have you to say for yourself?”

“Please, Lord Belmont…” she begged.

“Please, what, vampire?”

“Take me.  Please!  Fill me, my lord.”  Gwendolyna’s voice cracked with desire.

Richter loomed over her, tracing the handle of the legendary whip along the inside of her thigh.

“Many a monster has been disciplined with this heirloom,” he stated.  While the fingers of one hand spread the nether lips apart, the other pressed the tip of the whip against her slick opening.  “And though this punishment may vary, do not consider yourself exception, licentious creature.”

The handle was inserted into her cunt with a forceful thrust.  Gwen cried out at the sudden intrusion.  The thick handle stretched her virgin hole wider than she thought possible.

“How bold of you to expect me to defile myself with your kind.  What interest have I in a creature of evil?” Richter laughed while working the whip in and out of her.  It made obscene schlicky noises as Richter worked it in and out of her well lubricated hole.  Gwen wanted to cry in humiliation at the lewd sounds of her body’s betrayal.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, mewling like a cat in heat?  Moaning like a whore in front of God and the entire castle?”

Gwen was ashamed of herself.  How could she be enjoying this?  How could she allow herself to be used by a man in a manner like this, even lacking the dignity to be fucked properly?  Fingers and leather ravished her to the point of oversensitivity.  She felt the burn of the braided weapon.  Any moment she would find herself over the edge.

“Ah, Lord Belmont…  I-I’m so close,” said the vampiress.  Gwen’s arousal had reached its peak.  Her vision was clouded with lust, eyelids fluttering in a vain attempt at staying open.

“Let yourself go before I’m satisfied and you will regret it,” hissed Richter.

“R-Richter-,” she pleaded.   The walls of her cunt squeezed the handle tight as she tried to contain herself.  How foolish, this only increased the intensity of the sensation.  Her fists balled behind her back as she used all her strength to obey.  Sweat rolling off her brow, she cried to him again.  “P-Please, Richter…”

Gwendolyna hadn’t even realized she had dropped the formalities, but hearing his name uttered in such a manner stirred up Richter’s own immoral feelings.  The spell controlling him left him ravenous for eternal praise, feeding off his pride to further its control.

“Say it louder, my monster,” he hummed.  “Let the name of your new lord echo through Castlevania.”

Gwen’s tone was louder than comfortable as she moaned his name, but to hell with dignity.  The only thing she needed right now was release.  The only one who could grant her release was Richter.

Richter.

Richter!

A name so precious had no right to be voiced by the damned.  It was an honor to have permission to even speak it.  She chanted the name of her savior, volume increasing each time it passed her lips.

“Your delicious cries could wake the dead,” Richter said, speaking to her above her frantic mantra.  “Go ahead, you have pleased me.”

Those words were all Gwen needed to hear.  Her body shook with pleasure as the waves of her orgasm washed over her.  Richter’s movements did not wane as she squealed his name once more in ecstasy, continuing to fuck her through climax.  Her body went limp and she collapsed in the throne, mindlessly riding out the aftershocks while he brought the whip’s pace to a gradual stop.

Richter pulled the weapon out of her spent quim, but was not yet done with her.  He held the dripping handle in front of her face.  Gwen pursed her lips, weakly attempting to reject it by turning her head.  She could smell her own arousal, and it made her sick.

The Belmont grabbed her by her hair, forcing her head back to the object.  “You soiled it, now clean it,” he commanded.

Gwen hadn’t the time to protest before the tip breeched her lips.  The bitter taste of leather combined with the salty tang of her essence as the handle of the Vampire Killer stroked her tongue.  She could clearly see Richter’s excitement grow upon watching her gagging and struggling by his hand.  Tears welling, she looked into his darkened eyes for approval.

Upon meeting her gaze, Richter’s grip on her hair loosened.  The hand traveled south from her head to her mouth.  Thrusts slowed as Richter ran his finger along the bottom lip, puffy and reddened from abuse.  He pulled the whip from her mouth with an audible pop, replacing it with his mouth upon hers.  His tongue swirled around her mouth once more, moaning into the kiss at the taste of her.  He let go of the Vampire Killer completely, allowing the handle to fall into her lap.  He seemed unsure of what he wanted to do with his now-free hands.  They roamed her body in a frenzy- from caressing her face, to stroking her hair, groping her soft curves, and finally holding her body closer to his, all while his lips continued their passionate assault on hers.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against her own.  Those dazzling blue eyes of his stared deep into her amber ones. 

“Such a pity you’re a heathen,” he said through husky and ragged breath.  “You have potential, and are so eager to submit.  Perhaps if the evil was purged from within you, you could make someone a wonderful, obedient wife.”

Richter reached behind her, planting a kiss on her cheek as he untied the whip.  He coiled the weapon around his arm before placing it back on his belt.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the corridor.

Gwen’s eyes followed him out, but her body was too weak to pursue him.  Despite his hostility during their encounter, she hadn’t learned her lesson.  She still wanted more.  More pleasure, more pain, more Richter.  Yet the last of his words rang in her ear above all else.

Wonderful. Obedient. Wife.

Even days later, Gwendolyna found it difficult to think about anything beyond getting Richter to punish her again.  It was as though he scrambled her mind that day with his whip, breaking her to the point of insanity.  She was more obsessed than ever, though her stalking was exchanged for more time in the library.  She thought, perhaps, if she couldn’t yet find a spell to fix him, she could locate a spell that made it easier to be with him until then…

One that would make him think of her as his wife.

Once upon a time, she would have felt that it was cheating to resort to spells.  Once upon a time… before she had a taste of what could be hers.  With the memory of his upon them, her lips still tingled.  She scoured the pages of book after book, knowing she saw a spell similar just days prior.

“My dear Lady Gwen!” the master librarian said.  “Whatever are you hunting for?  You haven’t stopped reading in days.”

“I’m in need of a spell,” she answered without looking up.  “One that will make a foolish man consider me his wife.”

“Ah, is the lady in love?” the old man snickered.

“One could say that,” said Gwendolyna.  She no longer cared if anyone knew.  Hell, Dracula himself could find out as long as she had Richter.  As his bride, she would surely be safe all creatures of the night.  None stood a chance against a Belmont.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so,” the librarian replied and walked directly to a shelf.  He pulled out a thick old book, the cover red and the spine a tarnished gold.  He flipped through a few dusty pages, then handed the open book to her.  With a long, crooked finger, he tapped the page.  “Is this what you seek?”

Eyes darted back and forth as she read the spell in front of her.  Her face lit up in delight.  The spell was simple enough.  An ancient phrase would need to be recited while in possession of something belonging to the target.  The next time the owner picked up their item, they would be filled with adoration for the one who cast the spell.  Her only obstacle would be getting her hands on something of Richter’s.  Perhaps when he was sleeping, she could borrow a piece of clothing or that whip of his.  No matter how difficult it could be, she was up for the challenge.

“Yes!” she exclaimed when she read the page all the way through.  “Thank you!  This is exactly what I need.  Oh, sir- I could kiss you!”

“If you wanted to use it on me, Lady Gwen, all you had to do was ask,” the old man snickered, causing her to join him in laughter.  “Folly aside, I am pleased to assist.  In all my years, I don’t believe I have ever seen you in such high spirits, my girl.  You must truly be in love.”

She tucked her head before giving a bashful nod.  She did not wish to be interrogated, so she quickly changed the subject.

“Have you paper and quill, sir?”

“Yes, my lady.  Right this way.”

Book in hand, Gwen rose and followed the old man to his desk.  She wished to transfer the spell to a sheet for portability.  A slip of paper would be far easier to conceal than such a large and ornate book as well.  After seating himself, the librarian pushed the paper and ink well towards her.

“I truly appreciate you help,” she said, prompting him to humbly wave her off.

She was careful to copy the spell exactly as written, not daring to shorthand a single word.  When each word on the page had been transferred over, she read over her work before shutting the cover.

“I can return that for you,” the librarian offered as she lifted the heavy book.  “I’m sure you’re eager to put those words to good use.”

She smiled and bowed.  “Thank you again, sir.”

“Good luck, my dear.  I hope this works out for you.”

“I do as well,” she laughed before excusing herself.  The next stop she had in mind was the chapel, where she would pray that everything would go smoothly as she formulated a plan.