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River Princess	By : BloodValkyrie Category: 1 through F > Beetlejuice Views: 4287 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Beetlejuice and I don't own Bram Stoker's Dracula. I am making no profit.

Chapter List
- 41
- 42
- 43
Chapter 42
Trust
Author's Note: I am not in the medical profession, but I would like to note that a nonhuman with impossible anatomy and abilities probably wouldn't use medical devices the same way humans would. However, I do apologize for any impracticality or stupidity I accidentally make with this very gory event which will happen in this chapter. Yes, there will be gore.

Insurance?
What?
Brunhilde was wearing a long sleeved flannel shirt, with buttons in the front. Very casually she unbuttoned the shirt.
“Vlad? What is she doing?”
“I am not certain.” He leaned back somewhat in his seat. “Perhaps you should sit down, Lydia?”
Lydia thought being next to Vlad was probably better than being behind Brunhilde. So, she sat down in the chair next to Vlad.
With a relaxed face, eyes almost closed, Brunhilde knelt on the bare wooden floor. Her legs' shield was merely worn looking jeans. She pulled her flannel shirt off and folded it with the precision of a devoted spouse trying to please an anal partner. Then she put it inside her backpack.
When Brunhilde picked up her long knife, Lydia half expected her to leap at one of them, or maybe stab the floor for some sort of ritual.
She didn't.
She stabbed herself, only slightly, holding the handle with her fist at an angle, cutting a diagonal line from under her chest to her collar bone.
Brunhilde didn't make any vocal sounds. Her calm visage did not change.
Lydia grabbed Vlad's shoulder; she needed something to squeeze, something strong and reassuring. “What is she doing?!”
Brunhilde put the knife back down on the towel, beside the rib spreader.
Then, with her own bare hands, she reached inside, her fingers piercing her muscles and making jerky movements, and she then pulled out … pieces of bone … she had broken her own bones … and she didn't even make a single noise or complaint. Brunhilde's pretty lips even twitched at the corners, as if she actually wanted to smile.
She took her rib spreader, and she put it into her cavity in her chest … and she opened herself up. She seemed to be using it to spread flesh instead of ribs.
Lydia gawked at the woman. She couldn't figure out what to say. She looked at Vlad. Vlad's eyes were a little wide, but he didn't seem too perturbed.
It was at that moment when Lydia assumed Brunhilde was not only inhuman, but also not even a damn vampire. Absolutely no blood was coming out of her. She could see it. It was there. It didn't ooze out. There was some blood on the knife.
There was a heart, a human looking heart, but … something about it wasn't human.
It was beating, throbbing, doing what hearts do.
It was black.
As if she wasn't really doing anything horrifying, Brunhilde got her knife again, and she cut her whole heart out of herself, and there was no blood at all coming out … no … blood … but there was obviously blood there. She didn't seem to need to break her breast bone, or maybe she already did and Lydia just didn't notice.
With one hand, she held her remarkable black beating heart and the handle of her knife. With the other hand, she put the rib spreader back on the towel and then searched her backpack. She pulled out a plastic container. Brunhilde put the heart into the container and then snapped on a lid. Then, she picked up her rib bones. And she just … stuck them back in there … it was like they never broke at all.
Brunhilde closed her flesh together and slid her palm up against the wound … and it just … disappeared. There was no cut at all.
Brunhilde wiped her hands on the towel on the floor, and then she stood up with the container in her hands. She walked over to Vlad and put it in his lap.
He stared up at her.
She smiled down at him.
“If this heart stops beating while I'm gone, eat it, all of it.” Brunhilde spoke like she was gently talking a child into eating vegetables.
Lydia felt a little vomit in her throat; she gulped it down. “I … I am not even going to pretend I know what's going on.”
Vlad was calm. His eyelid was twitching a teeny bit, but otherwise he was calm.
“It will be a tough thing to chew,” Brunhilde warned, still smiling. Then she turned her back on him and walked to a random spot in the warehouse where there was plenty of floor to work with. She pulled a large piece of white sidewalk chalk from a pocket. She drew a large door on the wooden floor, complete with a round doorknob. Then she tapped her foot onto the center of the door three times and backed away.
For thirty seconds, there was nothing.
Then, the floor creaked and snapped, and opened up in the shape of the drawn door. Green light came from the entrance.
Vlad gasped. “Uimitor!” Amazing!
“You're not coming, Vlad,” Brunhilde reminded him. “Just stay here and monitor the heart.” She nodded at Lydia. “Come on, Mausi.” That was German for, “Little Mouse,” and it was meant to be an affectionate term. Brunhilde walked down the entrance. Apparently there were stairs.
Lydia followed her, saying, “Don't you want to put on your shirt?” Brunhilde didn't answer that, and she might not have cared. The two women left Vlad, and then the door slowly lowered and sealed itself up.
The Between World was bright and full of different colors; it was difficult to tell where the floor ended and the air began, because it looked almost exactly the same. It seemed to have a natural light about it, so no lamps were required. Far off, there was a door that led to the Neitherworld, but that was not their destination. Even farther off, there was a strange floating orb.
Arranging her hair into a braid, Brunhilde starting walking towards the orb. “Gotta be him!”
Lydia walked up to her and asked, “Why don't we run? This is urgent.”
“I'm saving my strength, Mausi.” She smiled.
Lydia felt uncomfortable hearing that. Brunhilde had always seemed to be impossibly powerful, and to hear her say that, even with such an unconcerned voice … it was like … learning that God is powerless. The concept is terrifying and disappointing all at once. She shivered and swallowed extra saliva.
So, they walked.
“Hey, Brunhilde, are you a vampire?”
“Nope.”
“Oh.” Lydia looked straight ahead. “Why are you the Queen of the Vampires?”
She heard Brunhilde chortle. “I made the vampires.”
“How did you do that?”
“It's not a story filled with unicorns pooping marshmallows.”
Lydia shrugged. “Can you tell me anyway?”
“I refuse, and we don't have time to talk of blood and fangs and births.”
“Give me a hint about how you did it.”
Brunhilde gave her a quick yet blank stare, and then she looked ahead again. “My birth was a covenant.”
“You were born?!” Does that mean someone is or was her mother?
“I'm not going to tell you anymore shit, so stop talking about it.”
Lydia shut up about it then.
And, finally, they reached the orb. It was the size of an average man's bowling ball, metallic and silver colored, floating a few feet above the two women. They stared up at it.
Brunhilde grunted and jumped upwards, gripping the ball with her hands, dangling. Lydia looked at her bare back. “What are you doing?”
The Queen of Vampires replied, “I'm trying to pull Beetlejuice out of this prison.”
“That's a prison?” Lydia tilted her head. It looked like a weird toy or something like that. “How do you know he's in there?”
“Well … Lydia,” Brunhilde said softly, her body looking sort of stiff, “I don't exactly have proof of it. I just got a major hunch.”
“You don't even fucking know?!”
“It's pure logic, really.” Brunhilde rotated one of her ankles. “He's not in the Neitherworld. He's not on Earth. He could only be here, and this orb is more suspicious than certain Mormon prophets.”
“What if he's not in there?!” Lydia put her hands on her hips.
“Well, if he's not in there, then he's probably dead.”
“Can he even die?”
Brunhilde pulled herself a little, and then she returned to her stretched hanging position. “Yep! Hey, do us a grand favor! Talk to him!”
Lydia's eyes squinted. “You want me to talk to the magic floating ball? He might not even be in there.”
“It can't possibly damage anything if you talk to the stupid fucking ball!” Brunhilde raised her voice, and Lydia was startled. “I know you can't see, but I'm doing some serious fucking magic up in this bitch! It's really making me tired, and if you don't make with the chit chat, I'll become rather useless!”
Perfectly chastised, Lydia blushed and started talking, “B.J., you in there? Hey, come on out!” She put her hands to her cheeks, palms outwards, trying to get her voice to the orb. Quit farting around!”
Brunhilde pulled a hand up a little on the orb. “Adequate, Lydia, very adequate, now keep talking, I think I sense him!”
A tickling excitement put more earnest feelings into Lydia's voice, and she smiled a bit. “Beetlejuice! Hey, Beetlejuice! It's Lydia! You know my voice! Get out of there!”
***
Vlad was simply sitting, waiting, looking inside the clear plastic container, making sure the black heart inside was still beating. The two women had been gone for a few minutes, and he was starting to wonder if they needed help. Letting women do all the dangerous work just wasn't in his nature … well except for Brunhilde. Brunhilde was barely a woman. Back to the point, Vlad was old fashioned in that way. He had learned over time that women aren't superior to men, and that women aren't inferior. She learned that women can be just as strong as some men and men can be just as weak as some women, in other words, none was weaker and none was stronger.
But … damn it … he was raised to be chivalrous towards ladies and women in general. Lydia was in there, doing who knows what. Despite common sense, Vlad associated women with comfort, peace, sweetness, love, and an escape from the horrors of the world. They were … well … were once considered to be … the fairer sex. So, whenever he met a woman who was unnecessarily cruel towards the innocent, it always touched a nerve. Whenever he met a woman who was genuinely kind and sweet, he just felt … safe and playful. It was odd. He had always assumed it was because he had such a doting mother … and when the Turks had him … that's who he would think of for comfort.
He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he was caught by surprise when someone sunk a knife into a side of his throat.
Enraged, Vlad sprang from his seat, the plastic container falling to the floor. He found himself fighting off a group of vampires, and one of them stole the container and ran away. At that point, Vlad fled outside, running after the thief. Two vampires caught him and he was fighting again.
He caught glimpses, far off, of the thief opening the container, taking a lighter, and setting the black heart on fire, then dropping the heart onto a snow dusted sidewalk.
As if it was a delicate little scrap of paper, the black heart turned to ash almost immediately, and the flames disappeared.
He couldn't believe it.
L-au ucis doar regina de vampiri?
Did they just kill the queen of vampires?
That thought was interrupted by another blade swinging into his throat, right where he had been stabbed.
***
Brunhilde released a wail … a wail that echoed all around … a wail that sounded like a lion and an elephant having weird sex.
Lydia covered her ears, and then she walked forward, then turned around, to see Brunhilde's face.
It wasn't Brunhilde's perfect doll-like face.
It was pure black, from her hairline to just under her jawline.
Her nose was nothing more than reptilian-like slits. Her mouth was a stretched out thing, grinning, with amazingly long ivory colored teeth, a freakish amount of them.
Those eyes … those eyes were large almond shaped things, pure red, with tiny white irises and black pupils, unblinking.
“What … ?” Lydia backed away a bit.
Brunhilde's fingers loosened, and she fell down to the colorful floor with a thud, collapsed as if dead. She looked like a dropped marionette.
Did something happen … did she use up all of her strength? Did Vlad eat her heart?
And Lydia just knew … she knew that if Brunhilde was really dead … that meant … that meant she couldn't get Beetlejuice out … and that meant …
Everyone was going to live in a new Hell.
Lydia's hands went to her mouth, and she fell to her knees. “Oh … my … God … oh … my … fuck.” She coughed up a sob. Then tears leaked out. She lowered her head.
Then she heard a squeaky voice, not unlike a stereotypical Japanese school girl's voice.
“Give me blood.”
Lydia's head snapped up, and she saw Brunhilde, with her black demonic face, scurrying, crawling towards her with fingers that were way too long to be real. Her wide grin started snapping like a turtle's mouth.
And then the demon was on her, pushed her into the ground.
Her long teeth sunk into Lydia's throat.
Lydia could never remember experiencing such pain before in her life.
She screamed, cried. She wet herself. She tried to fight the demon off of her. It felt like her head was slowly being torn off of her. She wanted to die, just to make it stop. She was already tired and a little nauseated. Her heart was going nuts, beating at a rapid level.
The tears made her vision blurry, but she did see Brunhilde move away and look at her face. Brunhilde seemed to be normal looking again. There wasn't a hint of anything unusual about her except for blood on her mouth. Brunhilde put her own wrist to her mouth. Lydia couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but she assumed it involved teeth.
Brunhilde held her wrist over Lydia's throat, and blood dripped down onto Lydia's wound.
“Lydia's hurt!” Brunhilde shouted, still looking at Lydia. “Come out, Beetlejuice! Come and protect her!”
The orb seemed to listen, because it shot at Brunhilde. Brunhilde caught it with her free hand. Then, she broke it like it was a hollow piece of glass. The shards fell down and made clinking sounds.
Smoke appeared from nowhere, it seemed. Lydia's vision worsened. Her throat was burning. She whimpered and begged Brunhilde to kill her. Brunhilde responded by pushing her bitten wrist directly onto Lydia's wound.
The familiar scent of overall nastiness and a lack of bathing appeared.
Beetlejuice was here. He was beside her. She saw his blurred outline through the tears and smoke. He didn't seem to be moving.
Brunhilde spoke in a kind and nurturing tone. “I'm healing her, Beetlejuice. She'll be fine. You don't have much juice left in you; you know. Send yourself home. You can rest there. Take the juice you have left, and go on home. I'll take care of her. I'll explain how she got hurt later. Come on, Beetle. Time to go home.”
He either trusted Brunhilde enough, or he was too tired to argue, either way, he faded into the smoke and disappeared.
“Can you hear me, Lydia?”
“Ye … ye ...”
“That's fine, Darling. Right as potatoes in a pot. Don't try to speak anymore.” She sounded sort of like she wanted to provide some comfort. “You saved my life; you should know.” Brunhilde lightly stroked Lydia's face, brushing away some hair. “Don't tell anyone about it; if you do, worse things could happen.”
Lydia tried to let her know she understood, tried to nod, but Brunhilde wouldn't allow the movement. “Don't move your neck. You're healing up, but I don't know how much blood I took from you, and I don't know ho much you need. I was a feral thing, desperate for survival. You were there. You were right there for my teeth. I'll tell you right now, someone burned my heart. It's not fond of fire, tends to react sadly to it. No frets or concerns, ā nān.” (阿囡) That last word was a Chinese term of endearment often used for little girls, like saying Honey. “I'm fine, and you'll be the same, fine as fine can be.”
So … Brunhilde didn't want to hurt her … but … she had to.
Did Vlad burn her heart? Why would he do that?
“Your wound is gone, but you did lose a lot of blood. Give me your ankles now.” And she lifted Lydia's legs up for a few moments. “I'm going to take you to Prince Vince. He'll look after you. I need to find out why my heart was burned. There might be some dangerous shit out there.”
Then, Brunhilde put down Lydia's ankles and picked her up like a groom carrying a bride over a threshold. She moved quickly; air felt like it was rushing against Lydia. All sorts of different things flashed by her, and when everything finally stopped, she was inside Prince Vince's castle. Brunhilde didn't explain why Lydia had lost blood. She merely said that Lydia had lost blood and needed to be monitored until it was safe for Brunhilde to come and get her. Prince Vince gladly had Lydia taken to a lovely spare bedroom, and had her fed healthy and yummy food.
***
The wooden door in the floor of the warehouse opened up again, and Brunhilde emerged. It closed behind her as she looked about. Vlad wasn't inside. There was blood, especially on the chair he had sat in.
There were sounds of a major fight going on outside, growling and screaming and whatnot. So, Brunhilde went outside.
A large group of vampires were ganging up on Vlad. Now, Vlad was a tough cookie. So, he fought pretty well, considering he was severely outnumbered … and he looked heavily wounded. There was a wound in his neck. It looked like someone tried to decapitate him, but he was able to move away before the blade went in too deeply. He was also pretty bruised up and seemed to have other wounds. Even if he transformed into something that could easily escape, like a bunch of mice or a wolf, there was always the chance that the other vampires knew how to do that too. Transformation would be a waste of strength.
Brunhilde was feeling pretty damn strong. So, she screamed out, “Whatcha bitches doin', EH?!”
“Shit!” One of then shouted. They realized who she was immediately, and they scattered, disappeared into the snowy night. Vlad crouched down, pressing his hand to his throat and shivering, but probably not from the cold.
She went to him and helped him to his feet. “I'll get you straight again, Love. I've done it before. Don't worry about Lydia now. I left her with a good friend. She's gonna be spoiled, but not as spoiled as when she's all over your dick.”
***
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River Princess