“Wait,” I said. I left the parlour and ran up to Elena’s room. Improper as it was to pry in a lady’s bedchamber in this way, I felt that Quincey’s plight overruled other sensibilities.
How still and strange the room seemed; as if her presence lingered like a scent. I searched the writing table first, but found only pens and ink there. There was a small gold cross on a chain lying on the carpet, as if carelessly dropped; that was a sign, her contempt for Mina’s gift. Then I went all around the room, looking in drawers, stirring her soft white garments in search of the diary. Finding nothing, I opened the wardrobe. As I carefully worked through the layers of dresses, shifts and nightdresses – thinking she might have left the book in a pocket – a fragrance wafted out. At first it was an earthy warmth, but presently I caught a sour note that grew stronger and stronger. Seeking its source, I bent down and in the base of the wardrobe I found an old shawl bundled up. As I disturbed it, the stench became overwhelming. How familiar, how repellent was that odour of foul earth, mould and decay – for it was the odour of a vampire’s grave.
In my revulsion, it was all I could do to touch the shawl again. As if I dealt with some monstrous spider, I snatched it and dropped it quickly aside. Underneath lay a book, like the notebooks Mina and I use.
I opened the journal at random and read a few pages. At once I knew that we had been betrayed. I could read no more – could only rush down and wordlessly give the book to Van Helsing.
He assumed the burden of reading Elena’s story aloud to us. The shame of reading a private journal doubled our misery, but it had to be done. We listened in grim silence as she described how Dracula came to her in the shape of a wolf; how he lured her to the Castle, made her collect his ashes and his native earth and bring them to England, carrying his spirit inside her. How gloatingly she writes of her triumph in stealing Mina’s blood – no remorse for the pain she caused! How sickening to read of her vigil by the tomb, as if she were waiting for her lover to come, not this repellent fiend!
“Then I was right,” Van Helsing said heavily. “My questions this morning prompted her to flee. I am so sorry, I can never ask or expect your forgiveness.”
“But she may have planned to do it anyway,” said Seward, who looked as grim as I have ever seen him. “She is clearly hand-in-glove with Dracula!”
“I cannot believe it!” said Mina, ashen and distraught. “I can’t believe we were so wrong about her! Dracula has bewitched her. She is not acting of her own will!”
“Alas, I fear she is,” Van Helsing responded. “Every line of this ghastly account emphasises her willing collusion. Dracula found the perfect ally; one who actively wanted to help him. He gave her the means to plunge into the depravity she admits that she always, secretly desired.”
“But he must have found her though us,” Mina said hoarsely, clinging to my good hand. “It was my presence that stirred him. My presence also clung in some degree to Elena, thus drawing him to her! I gave her that notebook as a present when we left Transylvania.”
“Do not begin to blame yourself,” Van Helsing said quickly. “The fault lies not in your gift. On the contrary, it has enabled us to find out the truth. And think; now we know the exact location of Dracula’s hiding place – and we know that this time, instead of fifty graves, he has only one! As for Elena, there is hope. She is still human, not vampire, and there is still the chance we may save her soul.”
Later (Continued in Jonathan Harker’s own hand)
Seward, Godalming and Van Helsing have gone out to hunt for Dracula’s grave. Mina and I are still downstairs and fully dressed, exhausted as we are; neither of us can contemplate sleep. Mary has made a fuss over Quincey’s disappearance; I wish she would not, since there is nothing she can do. We cannot tell the servants of Dracula! The fewer who know, the better. We have sent them all away except Mary, and I have told her not to worry, that we are doing all we can, and that she must go to bed.
Meanwhile we sit here in silence, hoping that Elena may bring the boy home. My nerves are raw; I keep feeling that something is outside the windows, scratching to get in. Once, in annoyance, I wrenched back the curtain and thought there was a face staring in at me; I almost screamed, but saw it was only some vague shape of foliage, caught in the light from the house.
Now Mina has gone to look for the cat. It may be Puss scratching and watching us. Or Dracula watching through her eyes. No, I must stop.
When I look at Mina, I feel distant from her, as if I do not know her any more. I cannot forget how she seemed to welcome the carnal depravity that Dracula brought to our bed. (Of course, I must be mistaken… but I cannot convince my tortured mind of it.) I love her still, but her goodness and suffering, like Elena’s, seem a shell over a cankerous pit.
I would never cause pain or scandal by deserting her. We will keep up the appearance of marriage, of course. But I do not think we can live as man and wife ever again.
Why is she so long, finding the cat?
12 November
How bitterly I regret the sentiments expressed, a few lines above this – a lifetime ago. Regret them but still, to my shame, cannot take them back – more than ever now. Ah, God, where is this to end?
When I went to look for Mina, I heard her voice from the study, and a man’s voice, answering her. The air turned icy as I approached the door in dread; I moved as if lead chains hung on me. As I opened the door I saw my wife standing beside the fireplace, her face etched with despair – and beside her, starkly black against the surroundings, stood Count Dracula.
“Jonathan,” Mina said, as if to warn me and keep me from any rash action. The study window was open, the wild roses torn away.
“How did he get in?” I gasped.
“I let him in,” Mina said faintly. “I had to.”
The Count inclined his head to me, in a hellish mockery of courtesy. “Mr Harker, I ask only that you listen to me.” As always his presence was a frigid weight upon us. He stood beside Mina as if he were her husband, not I; while I could not move from the doorway. “Van Helsing has tried once more to foil me; will he never learn?”
“Where is he?” I cried, but Dracula held up a hand to silence me. I thought my heart would explode with loathing.
“Your son and Elena have come to me. They are both mine. Elena has always been mine. I have been at work in your midst for longer than you realize.” He smiled.
“What have you done to our boy? You are the Devil!” I cried. I could barely speak for the violence of my emotions; Mina said not a word.
“He is unharmed. Elena is caring for him. Therefore you have nothing to fear, since you so freely entrusted him to her care.”
“Where are they?”
“Mrs Harker alone is to know that. Not you. You will see the child again only if you prove obedient to me.”
“In what respect?”
Dracula spoke just as he had when first we negotiated the sale of Carfax Abbey; with the same easy manner, belied by the same saturnine cast of face. “That Mrs Harker shall come with me, of her own free will. I will take her to the boy. You and your colleagues must not attempt to follow us; for if you do, or if your wife refuses to go with me, you will never see your son again. Never.”
Mina said, quick and soft, “I must go with him, Jonathan. It is the only way.”
“No!” But all my fierce anguish was useless against this fiend; for if I raised a hand against him, it might result in Quincey’s death! I watched helplessly as the Count gripped Mina’s arm and began to pull her past the desk towards the window. She was physically helpless against him, but her eyes were calm, resigned, determined.
She said again, “I must go to Quincey. Jonathan, forgive me.”
And I – I had no choice but to let them go!
I watched as Dracula helped her over the low sill of the window. They vanished into the garden; seconds later I heard horses’ hooves, the creaking of a carriage and the snap of a whip. I rushed through the house and out of the front d
oor to see a black caleche, drawn by two big liver chestnuts, sweeping briskly away down the road. They would be two miles away before I could hire a cab to follow - but if I did, God knew what Dracula might do to my son!
Oh God, Mina, Quincey, Van Helsing – it is all my fault that things have come to this desperate pass.
I went back into the house, too distressed to do anything but wander from room to room, sobbing like a child. I did not even care if a servant saw me in this unmanly state, but I managed at last to compose myself before Mary heard.
Hardly knowing what to do, I put on my overcoat and shoes and started towards the church. That was where Van Helsing and the others had gone, and I could not wait for them to come home. I was terrified for them now – for what if they had met Dracula there, and he had come to our house and taken Mina with their blood already on his hands?
Chapter Eleven
JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL (Continued)
It took me half an hour to reach the churchyard on foot. I had brought a lantern, for it was full dark. I wandered down long avenues of tombstones and statues that towered over me and seemed to watch me with cold smiling eyes, whispering in Elena’s soft voice, Come to us, dwell with us in sweet death... I called Van Helsing’s name, but my voice was hoarse.
My head spun with terror and exhaustion. I was lost and could not find my way; either to the tomb I sought, or to the gate. In all directions, crosses and angels loomed over me, speckled with lichen, as if even they would be consumed by nature and sink into the ground. My trouser legs grew wet from the long grass. I seemed to wade through a sea of grass and herbs and dying wild flowers, while all around me bodies were rising up from the graves, their eye sockets black and hollow in their skulls, their voices moaning, “Come to us, come to us...”
Long stems wound around my ankles and I lost my balance, falling heavily against a gravestone. I dropped the lantern but it stayed lit; I scrabbled, with my good hand, to right it. As I did so, from the corner of my eye I saw a shadow rising over me. My head jerked round; there was a man leaning over me! I could see nothing of him but a shock of wild grey hair. Yet as he leaned down towards me, the lamplight caught the side of his face as a starkly pallid plane and I seemed to know him. I could not call to mind who he was – only that he was familiar. It was not Dracula. But the mouth opened, and I saw a red tongue churning over thick, sharp white teeth that glistened horribly and I heard the hissing breath, and I knew that this was another vampire.
I was out of my mind by now. By instinct I flung my left arm behind me to grip the gravestone – and, at that, the apparition stopped and drew back. I heard the hiss of indrawn breath through the ghastly teeth. It rose over me, its face showing a kind of anxiety before it was lost in shadow again, and then it turned and vanished into the gloom.
I am certain that this was no hallucination. All the rest may have been – but not this.
As I raised myself up, I saw that the gravestone that I clutched had the shape of a cross. A stone angel beside it seemed to have Mina’s form; I felt that she had protected me, a guardian angel, but outside our circle of light the graves were bursting open, earth turning over in new-ploughed wounds, the fresh flowers withering, birds falling from the sky like hail.
I gave a long, involuntary cry of despair; I heard voices; three more figures reared over me, and I tried to scramble back against the grave, my heels skidding on the grass. My lantern sent their shadows looming like giants over graves and trees. Then a voice I knew said, “Harker! How did you come here? It’s me – John Seward!”
At this, my confusion subsided and I sat up, feeling foolish and shaken. Seward helped me to my feet and I saw my three friends, gaunt-faced in the eerie light – but on their feet. I cannot say unhurt, for when I looked at Van Helsing I saw blood trickling from an open wound on the peak of his high forehead.
“Professor – you are hurt–” My voice was hardly coherent.
“It is nothing.” Van Helsing gripped my arm, concerned. “But, Jonathan, what are you doing here? Why are you not with Mina? What has happened?”
I spoke with difficulty. My ribs ached, and I could not get my breath. “Mina is gone. Dracula came and took her. He has Elena and Quincey, too. I believe he made Elena take Quincey as bait to capture Mina.”
Van Helsing uttered such a groan that I thought he would collapse. “My God,” he cried in anguish. “How foolish – how blind we have been, not to foresee this!”
I went on trying to explain, stammering and breathless, until Seward said, “Enough, Jonathan. Tell us when we reach home, and you are calmer. Let us go back. Dracula is gone. There is nothing more we can do here.”
We made slow progress along the lanes that led back to the house, Lord Godalming supporting me while Seward assisted Van Helsing. How I longed to run! All the way I was constantly and horribly aware of something following us. It was as if a piece of grey shadow had detached itself and was running along behind the hedgerow. A stark white face with wild grey hair kept hovering in my imagination; a face that was tormenting in its familiarity. So overwhelming and ghastly was this impression that I could not express it. My head was turning about like an owl’s, my skin prickling with terror. Godalming said, with a ghost of grim humour, “Harker, if the Count is gone, there is no need to fear your own shadow.”
My tongue loosened; by now I must have sounded as mad as one of Seward’s own patients. “But I saw – in the graveyard – I saw another one. Not Dracula. Another vampire!”
“You must have been mistaken!” Van Helsing said sharply.
Godalming said nothing, but I felt the breath go out of him in a slow exhalation of dismay more vivid than words. No more. No more.
* * *
How empty the house seems without my wife and son! A deserted, haunted old pile. Van Helsing and I rested in the parlour as we talked, a sorry pair. Godalming sat in an armchair, his head on his hands. Seward paced about in barely contained fury. He is a good man, made cynical by witnessing too much of life’s ugliness. “What have we done, that this curse should afflict us again? What proof have we that Dracula will even take Mina to Quincey? He is a liar, a cunning devil!”
“Don’t talk in that way, I can’t bear it,” I said. “I must believe that at least Mina and Quincey are together, or I shall go mad. If I am not mad already!”
Mary brought us supper, concerned but accepting my request that she ask no questions, all would be explained later; though I doubt that I shall ever be able to explain to her. Then Seward told us what had occured in the churchyard. All through this, I had the creeping feeling that something was watching us, a presence walking round and round the house, staring through the windows and scratching at the glass, at once hideous and pitiful.
“We explored, looking for the tomb that matched Elena’s description. The place is a maze. We found it eventually, a ramshackle sepulchre along an overgrown path; overshadowed by yew trees and with the door rusting away. As we entered we saw a tall man in black, leaning over a central tomb. Yes… it was Dracula. Our lamp sent a huge shadow against the far wall; the strangest shadow, like a kind of dull blue fire, full of sparks. We saw his face clearly; I’ll never forget the expression of sneering, frustrated malevolence as he glanced up and saw us! His eyes were as red as hellfire. We had surprised him in the act of removing his native soil from the tomb, apparently, and scooping it into a big leather bag. I saw a human skeleton heaped in one corner – so it was true that he and Elena had desecrated this tomb and usurped the rightful occupant!”
Van Helsing added, “And the whole place stinks of the odour that we know, the odour on the shawl in Elena’s closet, and that which lingers on the Count himself, that smell of earth and death. Too late to scatter in the pieces of Holy Wafer. Dracula is on his way to another hiding place.”
Seward continued, “We stood off for a moment; Dracula said something along the lines of, ‘You will die as you were born, Van Helsing; an interfering fool. Are you God? Then, until you se
e with my eyes, do not judge me! Again you think to thwart me, like sheep against a wolf, but again you are too late.’ First he flung the bag past us; we dodged aside as it landed in the doorway and skidded on the leaf-mould there. The next we knew, the Count jumped clean over the bier and came for us. I tried to protect Van Helsing; Dracula caught me around the throat with one of his broad hands and flung me against the back wall. His palm was ice-cold. I slid down and lay winded, but I could see his face blazing with demoniac fury as he seized Van Helsing. I saw Godalming thrust a crucifix between them. Dracula gave a roar of anger and threw aside Van Helsing, who hit his head on the corner of the tomb. Then the Count seized Godalming’s fist instead, and the metal crucifix that he was clutching began to glow red. Godalming refused to let go. Dracula snatched his hand away; the look of rage on his face was so terrible that I thought he would kill us all. You could see him struggling to resist the power of the cross. Then Van Helsing and I picked ourselves up off the ground and we each held up our own crosses against him. At that Dracula fled, seizing the bag of earth as he went.
“We had to rest until Van Helsing had recovered enough to go on. Then we searched the graveyard for a time – close to leaping out of our skins – in the suspicion that Dracula might still be lurking there. Now it’s obvious he came straight here, of course. Then we heard you shouting, Jonathan. The rest you know.”
I asked, “Did Dracula mean to kill you?”
“I think he means to,” Van Helsing said thoughtfully, “but not so quickly. He makes great sport with us first.”
Godalming gave a faint groan. So far he had not said a word.
Seward asked, “But what about this other vampire you mentioned, Harker?”
I explained what I thought I had seen. “My mind was so full of imaginings. Perhaps I imagined that too. It seemed so real!” Even as I spoke, I still felt those desperate eyes upon me... I shuddered, but could not admit to such neurosis.
We poured ourselves some brandy, and were silent a few moments. Then Godalming began to stir, clenching and unclenching his hands upon his knees. I noticed a red mark on one palm, where the cross had burned him. “It’s no good,” he said suddenly, with a kind of dignified anguish that was very affecting. “I can’t go on, I can’t stay. Forgive me; I never meant to let you down. It grieves me more than I can say to break my vow, to break up our brotherhood, but I must!”
Dracula the Undead: A Chilling Sequel to Dracula Page 16
