Van Helsing shook his head. “Impossible. They would not be safe. Without our protection they would be all the more vulnerable to Dracula. We must all stay here.”
(Continued in Jonathan Harker’s own hand.) Van Helsing has called a halt, saying, “Go to bed, my friends; I will keep watch. Dracula’s purpose was to frighten us, which he has admirably achieved. I think he will not come back. But in case.”
Mina has gone to sleep with Quincey. But knowing I would not sleep, I am sitting up with Van Helsing.
So we pass the night in a state of siege. My right arm is still in a sling, but by wedging the pen between my fingers and bracing my wrist against the table, I can just manage to write legibly. It is slow and laborious. Van Helsing says I should learn to use my left instead – the side of instinct and intuition, so he says, the irrational feminine side of ourselves – but I think he is putting up a joke on me. He will always find something to laugh at, even in the direst of circumstances. I am determined to use my right, the side of God and the masculine!
The wind gusts unceasingly round the walls; I hear voices in it, semi-human groans, the howling of dogs. The sound is enough to drive a man mad. Although we have turned up the gas lamps and lit two candelabras, there never seems enough light. I check on Mina and Quincey every hour, but they sleep soundly. At least they are at peace.
Now is the blackest hour before dawn rises in the windows. I feel sleep falling heavy on me at last, and Van Helsing is urging me to bed.
11 November, morning
Strangest, most horrible of dreams. I fell asleep, exhausted – It must have been four in the morning by then – and dreamed that a woman came into my room. I saw her leaning over me, her white nightdress shadowy grey in the darkness, her dark hair hanging as heavy as snake’s tails around her shoulders. It was Elena and yet it was someone else – Lucy? A fiend from Castle Dracula? I lay in that state between dream and consciousness, when one seems to be awake yet cannot move a muscle. She seemed to be all women; or rather, the archetypal dark woman, Eve, who sided with the serpent and dragged us all into sin. I thought I had experienced enough terror for one night, but this woke new depths in me.
Elena – the woman who looked like Elena – bent lower and lower over me, and I saw her pink tongue moving over her deep red lips, making the lips shine. The tongue protruded further and further, sliding over the pearly teeth, longer and longer, and I saw that it was forked at the end like a snake’s.
My whole being withered in dreadful anticipation as I waited for the two tips of the tongue to flicker on my neck. The skin of my neck tingled. My paralysed body stiffened and arched, wanting to escape yet wanting her to draw nearer – the two desires in exquisite conflict. She lay down upon me and I could not stop her; almost did not wish to stop her, to my shame. She spoke and it was Elena’s voice. “You do not want your wife,” she whispered, her voice a hiss that hurt my ears. “You want me.”
With this, her jaw opened so wide that it appeared to unhinge. Two great fangs appeared, long and thin and curved as a snake’s, as if they had unfolded from the roof of her mouth. A clear liquid dripped from them, and in the dream I knew it was poison. I tried to cry out; she lunged, and I felt a burning coldness in my throat, and my soul seemed to lurch right out of my body in a spasm that sent me falling down into greyness; drowning greyness, like the bottom of the ocean.
God, how horrible now I recall it! Why must I suffer such vile nightmares, in which apparitions come to me and tell me lies? I feel that I can never bear Mina near me again – that she is soiled and fallen, as are all women. No, I will not believe it! My love for Mina is pure – as is hers for me. Dracula is the one who wishes to sully it. He makes unclean all that he touches!
Later
In the light of day, with a good breakfast inside me, I feel renewed. We are all in better spirits. I told Mina of the dream, for I want there to be no secrets between us. She comforted me and assured me that it was only a dream. Thank God for her strength.
Van Helsing’s plan is in motion. Initially he will protect the house by placing wild rose and crucifixes in all the doors and windows. He has also sent for garlic wreaths, which we know will prove a powerful deterrent to the vampire.
What a fool I was to refuse these safeguards when he first arrived!
Seward and Godalming will assist him, and begin the search for Dracula’s lair. Meanwhile, the Professor insists on my taking Mina, Quincey and Elena out for the day. I argued, but in the end was forced to agree. A day at the seaside (we shall take the train to the coast) will do us all good.
While Mina was getting ready to go out, I asked Van Helsing, “But for how long shall we live in this state of siege? If anything happens to Mina or Quincey – or indeed to Elena, whom we love like a sister–”
He broke in, “How long? Until we find the monster’s lair and destroy both it and him.”
“And how shall we destroy him?”
“In the manner in which a vampire is destroyed!” Van Helsing answered irascibly. “We pierce the heart and sever the head.”
“But we have done that once, and he came back!” I cried. “Perhaps there is nothing that can destroy him – or else he is God’s alone to destroy, at the end of time!”
Then I regretted my outburst, for Van Helsing’s face went white and haggard. “The truth is, Jonathan, I do not know. We use all the knowledge and experience at our disposal to outwit him – but until we find a new way, a certain way, I do not know!”
Now here is Mina in her coat and hat. I am glad to go. We shall have a pleasant day, and forget all this.
* * *
ELENA KOVACS’S JOURNAL
11 November
He came to the house last night, my Dark Companion. I stood at my window waiting for him, my breath clouding the glass, until I saw his shadow. I threw the window wide; the night smelled of damp leaves and smoke, and he brought the smell in on his clothes. “Welcome,” I said. “Enter.”
He did not take my blood, only stroked my cheek and gave me a single kiss on the lips. Then he softly opened my door and was gone. Without my invitation, he could not have come in. But I wish I could have been a witness to the scene that followed – to the horror of his enemies when they saw him in full, magnificent existence!
I write this quickly before we go out. Quincey is all dressed and ready, sitting quietly on my knee as I write.
I am growing nervous. This morning, before breakfast, Van Helsing found me alone in the nursery. He said nothing of last night; the only sign that anything had happened were the shadows beneath his eyes, a deeper creasing of his flesh. He asked me if I was happy with the Harkers; I replied that I was.
“I have not had the chance to tell you, Miss Kovacs,” Van Helsing went on, “how very sorry I was to hear of your father’s death.”
I thanked him. I did not want to speak of it.
“And your Uncle André,” he persisted. “You have still no news of his expedition?”
“None.”
He shook his head gravely. “Nor I, though I contact his housekeeper weekly. The poor woman is fraught with worry. She is concerned about you also; that you left so precipitously.”
He smiled as he spoke, and his questions were fatherly and friendly; but there was a keen look in his eyes that made me suspicious. “There is no cause for her concern. I am a grown woman.”
“Nevertheless, what happened in Transylvania must have caused you deep distress. The English way, to keep the lips tight upon grievous losses, is not my way. It is better to talk freely of such matters, is it not?”
His questions caused me discomfort. “My father’s death was an accident. I grieve in my own way. I thank you for your concern, but...”
“Transylvania... a land of great mystery and beauty – and danger. A place where the supernatural is as common as the natural, where the barrier between our world and the spirit world is thinner than tissue.”
“Only to the peasant mind,” I said, sharp now. “I a
m surprised at you, Professor.”
“Ah, but such strange beasts as werewolves and vampires cannot all be dismissed as superstitions. Such things may be as real as you or I. To refuse to believe in them is playing into the Devil’s hands! But you are a good, church-going woman, of course, and have no cause to concern yourself with such matters.”
“No, and I do not.”
“Tell me, Miss Elena... have you ever walked in your sleep?”
“Not to my knowledge.” I gave him a hard look and turned away.
“You must forgive me,” he said, soft but determined. “My questions seem impertinent, but they are essential. It is not true, then, that the Szekely farmers, with whom you stayed, saw you walking in the orchard and fields at night, accompanied by a white wolf? That you vanished for two days at a time, yet could not say where you had been? Vanished again on the very night of your father’s death?”
I was facing away from him as he spoke, otherwise he would have seen my face drain to white. How does he know these things? Has he written to the farmers, asking them about my behaviour? Perhaps he saw a tightening of my shoulders; but I composed myself at once and turned round, displaying all the innocent, wounded sorrow I could muster.
“There was a sick wolf, Professor. It had been shot but not killed, and I wanted to help it, out of pity. I – I tried to feed it. I know I should not have done so, that wolves are the farmers’ enemies, but I felt so sorry for it! I went out to search for the wolf, and got lost. My behaviour was foolish, I know, but I acted only out of compassion for a creature in pain. As for my father, I was so distraught by his death that I could not help but flee. I acted in haste because I was not in my right mind; I beg you, out of pity if not understanding, not to judge me too harshly. Whatever my reasons for behaving as I did, they are mine alone to know. But tell me, what have I done to deserve someone, who professes himself a friend of my uncle and therefore of his niece, to spy upon me?” I wept; Van Helsing looked fittingly ashamed.
“Forgive me, Miss Elena. I ask these questions only out of concern for your welfare. I would not intrude upon your grief and privacy without good cause. You look pale; has your sleep been disturbed at all?”
“No, Professor! I have a slight cold, that is all.”
“But you will tell me at once if you experience... strange dreams, any feelings of illness? I ask only in order to help you. As a friend of your uncle, I ask you to trust me. You will keep your window firmly shut at all times, will you not? And invite no strangers into the house.”
I frowned. “Of course – but why do you ask this?”
“I will explain in time, but for now I cannot. Only take me at my word. I wish you good-day and a most pleasant journey.” With that, he inclined his head to me, and left.
I think I have allayed his doubts for now, but there is no question that he suspects me! I am so afraid he may guess – if he has not already. He is a clever man; more so than I realized. I must talk to my beloved – but how? We are to leave for this wretched day at the seaside at any moment. There is no possibility of seeing him before tonight. I must think of something, we must act swiftly.
Mina is calling. No time.
* * *
JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL
(Dictated by him and entered by Abraham van Helsing)
11 November, evening
I can barely bring myself to record this. How much more of this nightmare can we endure? Is there any more the monster can do to us? The answer to that is yes, yes and yes. It has only just begun.
Seward and Godalming are with us in the parlour as we make this record. Mina is on the couch by the fire, sleeping; she does not wish to be alone in her room, for which I do not blame her.
Now I look back I can see that there were signs all day. All morning, on the train and at the coast, Elena doted constantly on Quincey, to the point of smothering him; she was forever kissing him, ruffling his hair, stroking his cheeks or picking him up. It was almost as if Elena were taking over the role of mother. Mina could barely come near him without Elena intervening, whisking him away to look at some new object of fascination to a small boy. Mina seemed not to mind, for she is too good and gracious ever to make a scene, but in her heart she must have been discomforted, as was I.
My dream of Elena hung on me, and it concerned me to see the woman who last night leaned over me with great snake fangs cosseting our boy. I dismissed the feeling, for it seemed so unfair to Elena. How I wish now that I had heeded my instinct!
The sea was wild, leaping and breaking on the cliffs in great fans of spray. The sky was wonderful, full of fast-moving clouds through which the sun blazed and faded at dizzying intervals; the cloud itself was many-layered, with bright, stately columns above and swift-flowing whorls of purple-grey below. The wind left us breathless. On a normal day this would have been exhilarating, but in our state it seemed only to aggravate our raw nerves.
All morning I felt we should find some way to explain about our enemy to Elena, the better to protect her by being wholly honest, but Quincey was always with her and the opportunity did not arise. At last Mina whispered to me, “Never mind, we will tell her when we reach home and Quincey is in bed.”
The thought of going home and facing another night like the last appalled me. I felt a deep depression creep over me, and wished dearly we could simply step on a train, perhaps to London or Paris, and leave all this anguish behind - but what would be the use? I know that Dracula would hunt us to ground wherever we went!
Quincey, of course, grew tired by midday and after lunch was sleepy. Mina wanted to take him home, but I was reluctant to go back so early. So when Elena suggested – nay, insisted – that she take him home on an earlier train while Mina and I stayed a little longer by the sea, we agreed all too readily. How she has repaid our trust! But I am to blame, for I had noticed the strange looks she gave Mina, and I chose to ignore them! We waved off Elena with our boy, and then spent a few hours more strolling along the front before we gathered ourselves to face the journey home.
When we reached home in the evening, we assumed that Elena had taken Quincey to the nursery for a nap. We met Van Helsing and the others in the parlour, where they were studying some ancient tome; in response to our enquiry, they all said that they had heard no one come in, and had assumed Elena was still with us. We found the nursery and Elena’s room empty; we searched the house; we asked Mary if Elena had come in and gone out again; but it was soon apparent that Elena had not been home. Once she left us at the seaside, she vanished.
Mina collapsed; we helped her to an armchair, where she sat trembling. We were all too shocked to act at once. “What if they have had an accident?” said Mina. “Elena cannot have taken him on purpose. Perhaps she got on the wrong train by mistake, or alighted at the wrong station; she is a foreigner, after all! Quincey will be so overtired by now, he will be ill again!”
Here Van Helsing gave me a grave, knowing look that Mina did not see. It roused my deepest suspicions. Van Helsing will always think the worst, but he is usually right. (And wishes he were not – Van H.) I brought Mina a glass of brandy; we spoke of calling the police, but Van Helsing said heavily, “Not yet. Listen to me first. I am reluctant to call into doubt the character of a young woman who may yet be quite innocent. But given the dire circumstance in which we find ourselves, I can no longer keep my doubts to myself.
“I have thought long and hard about this, but always I come to the same conclusion; it may have been Elena who invited Dracula into the house. Indeed, it must have been she! Your Elena, pretty and gracious as she is, although the niece of my good friend, never rings quite true to me. Think, we left her in Transylvania, there by the Borgo Pass, a few miles only from Dracula’s castle. Then she comes to you so suddenly, her father mysteriously dead, her uncle vanished, yet so merry and serene in the face of these losses! When I write to the farmers, to enquire more of Emil’s death, I receive at length a strange reply; that she was seen outside at night with a great pale
wolf, that she once wandered from the farm and was gone for two days, yet could not explain her actions. After her father was killed, she was never seen again. They said that they believed her to be bewitched. Was this mere superstition on their part? They are peasants, yes, but you met them, and know them to be good, honest people.”
Mina protested, “I cannot believe we could be so wrong about her! You must be mistaken!”
Van Helsing lifted his hand briefly and shook his head. “I have met Elena many times in the past, though I never know her well. But well enough to see that she is changed. There is a slyness in her that was not there before, a watchfulness. It may be yet that I do her a great injustice. I hope that I do; that this is all a misunderstanding and she may at any minute bring Quincey home with an innocent explanation. But we must be prepared for the worst.”
At this a memory came to me: that this morning, when I was left alone with Quincey for a few minutes, the boy said something strange. “Papa, I read Elena’s book this morning.”
“What book is that?” I had asked indulgently.
“The book she writes.” I still remember his pale, serious face as he spoke, the wind-reddened spots in his cheeks! “Her diary, like the one Mama keeps. I sat on her knee and watched as she wrote. She wrote of a strange man coming into the house, and of Professor Van Helsing asking her about wolves and dreams. I read every word!”
“But she would write in Hungarian, Quincey.”
“No, Papa, she writes in English. I could not have read Hungarian,” he explained patiently. At the time I thought he was being fanciful, making up what he thought he had read. But in the light of what Van Helsing was saying – I leapt up, and repeated this conversation to the others.
Van Helsing groaned. “It is true, I spoke to her this morning of such matters! I wanted to hear her story, to cast light on my suspicions, in the hopes of laying them to rest! Instead – ah, my questions only upset her, and provoked her to take this action!”
“We don’t know that,” said Mina, stroking his hand.
Dracula the Undead: A Chilling Sequel to Dracula Page 15
