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Clara	By : dancingsalome Category: G through L > The Historian Views: 3094 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Historian or Dracula. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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AN: This story is now finished and I will post all the chapters now with a few days in between. A specific warning for this chapter; not too graphic NC.
The autumn seemed unusually dreary to Clara. It rained a lot, and the days were dark for all the clouds hanging low. Slowly she also started to feel like she was being watched. Often she would get the uncomfortable feeling of being scrutinized, but when she looked over her shoulder, there was no one around. It made her feel nervous, and she started to sleep badly. Fred, her fiance, noticed and when they were having a dinner one evening he remarked upon it.
"You work too much- you are too pale." Clara gave an inward sigh. This, she knew, was not just concern, but the start to an argument that was making her feel increasingly exasperated. "I'm glad that we will get married soon, then you can stop working at that boring library and get some rest."
"But I love my work- you know that. We've talked about this before. I don't want to quit just because we get married."
"Clara, be sensible- it's ridiculous that you should keep on working. I can support us both with ease, you know that. Besides, people will think that I don't earn enough to keep my wife comfortable."
"Please Fred, people won't think that at all. And I would go mad being all alone at home every day."
Fred looked mulish, but then he shrugged. "Very well, I guess you could keep on working until we have children."
Clara didn't answer. She loved Fred, but he just couldn't understand how she felt about the library. And children… Of course she wanted them- one day. Not just after the wedding as Fred seemed to expect.
They didn't talk more about it, instead the discussion drifted along to other topics, and Clara didn't think about it until Fred had followed her to the door and kissed her. His caresses had grown more and more persistent the closer they got to the wedding, even if they had both agreed on waiting until their wedding night. But tonight Fred suddenly asked;
"Let's go inside, together, darling. You're so beautiful, and it would be so soon anyway. It wouldn't matter."
The earlier discussion sprang suddenly very vividly back into Clara's mind, and it was with some satisfaction she answered.
"Now Fred, you can't have it all. If you want to be old fashioned when it comes to my working, then you have to be consistent when it comes to this too."
Afterward she felt guilty, and a bit stupid. She wanted this as much as Fred, she was sure of that, but she had felt a childish need to get back at him. She decided that she would make a serious effort to speak with him again. Clara sighed; she could feel a headache creeping up behind her eyes. If she could only make Fred understand, then everything would be wonderful. And if she didn't, well, that was the cause of the headache, wasn't it?
When Clara had found her apartment she had been very happy with getting a location that allowed her to walk to and from the library. A mere fifteen minutes, which only if it rained heavily felt like a task. However, a few of those minutes she had to walk through a small park, the path shielded from the surrounding houses by large trees. It had never bothered her, but now Clara started to feel uncomfortable when she walked home in the evenings. Especially in the park- but not to walk there would make her way home much longer, and she didn't want to increase the time she was out alone at night.
Despite the uneasy feeling of being under supervision, Clara had never actually seen or heard anything that indicated that she was being followed. Indeed, she had almost managed to convince herself that she was being very irrational and foolish for having those feelings. So the evening when she became aware of footsteps behind her, she first told herself that it was nothing to worry about. But after a while she couldn't help but feel that the steps followed her much more precisely than they ought to, and when she went into the park and still heard them, she begun to feel afraid. Clara walked faster, and when she did she could clearly hear footsteps that changed their speed as well. She didn't dare to look back, or to run either. It wasn't so far, in a few minutes she would emerge on a well-lit street.
But she never got that far. Suddenly she was grabbed and swung around. Before she had time to react she was hit in the face, and in the sudden pain she lost her footing and fell heavily, only managing to keep her nose from crashing into the ground with the palm of her hand. She could feel the skin on her palm breaking, then she was turned around, and for the first time she could see her attacker, and the scream that was building up inside her never evolved into sound.
It was not anyone she knew. She had been so sure that she would know him that the sight of this stranger silenced her. This was a man she would never have looked at twice, ordinary in all aspects apart from the rage in his eyes. Hands closed around her neck as he whispered into her ear;
"One sound and that will be the last thing you do. Understand?"
Pain and shock made the world spin for Clara; distantly she could feel her skirt being pushed up and her underwear torn away, she could feel cold air against her bare skin, and then a sharp pain between her legs. She did understand what was happening to her, but not until that pain did she regain some control over herself. Though everything must have happened very quickly, she still felt that it took an eternity for her to decide to fight back, until she started to move her arms to try to fend him off.
She never got that far. Suddenly the man's head turned sharply to the left, and she heard a nasty crack, before he was literally torn away from her and thrown to the ground a fair distance from where she lay.
Clara felt no relief from this sudden help, because when she stared up at her saviour she could only feel a terror, that by far surpassed what she had felt before. This was the man she had expected to see, the man she had been sure had watched her. Now he looked down on her impassively, as if he had not just broken a man's neck as easily a chicken's. She'd never noticed before that he wore his hair long, she had never seen it hang freely around his face like this. Black curls that framed his pale face and made him look very alien.
"Don't, don't," was all she could manage to say.
"I won't," he answered, but it served no purpose to calm her. Somehow she was sure that what he actually intended to do would be something infinitely worse than rape, and she started to haul herself back in a hopeless attempt to distance herself from him. He smoothly knelt beside her, motioning at her to stop, and Clara found that she was unable to move. She could only stare at him, as he stretched out his hand and touched her. His fingers were stained by her blood, and the ghost of a smile flittered over his face.
"There is no one else to harm you now, Clara. No one else."
The fear never left her, but despite that she could feel a strange lethargy come over her. She sank back, staring up at the night sky, and her body grew heavy and cold. A strange pleasure crept up in her body, utterly failing either to warm her or calm her. In a sense it was like drifting into sleep, and Clara closed her eyes. For a moment she thought she could feel pain again, another deeper and altogether more excruciating feeling, but then she knew nothing more.
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Clara