Dracula the Undead: A Chilling Sequel to Dracula

by Freda Warrington

  Elena has been and gone. She brought Quincey to me, and he seems content before the fire, drawing pictures. His cough is worse, but he does not wish to be in bed, and I will not force him if he is well enough to play. As long as he keeps warm... Oh, but how long must we be imprisoned here, how many more “bargains” will the Count demand of me before he will let us alone?

  Of course, he will never let us alone! The limits of these bargains, he will extend to infinity and he will renege upon every one! What a fool I have been – but still, what else could I have done?

  Evening

  I am unsure of the time, for darkness draws in early. Elena has taken Quincey to bed. They would not let him stay with me all night. I am a little stronger, but I fear this solitude; it can mean only that Dracula is coming to me again.

  I sit and wait, shivering, for his firm step upon the stair. I am afraid and yet my hand creeps of its own volition to loosen my collar, to smooth my skin and push back my hair, and I watch the firelight gleaming like molten gold upon my arms, and I must keep wetting my dry lips with my tongue...

  *

  He has come and gone. How strange!

  He entered quietly and placed his hand upon the scraps of paper that serve as my diary, preventing me from writing. He looked younger again; his hair was now all dark, very thick and profuse, as were his black brows. His face, though cruel, was smooth with the bloom of youth and blood. He must once have been a very handsome man, very striking, with great dark eyes. He is handsome even now.

  “Always you must be recording every moment of your life,” he said, as if amused. “Elena has caught this habit from you, also. It is a form of English neurosis, is it not, this desire for truth, for order?”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “If it offends you, I will not do it. My memory is very good.”

  “Strong enough to survive death?”

  At that, a hand of coldness went right through me, touching my heart. It was as if part of my mind suddenly awoke and said, Look what danger you are in!

  “Write as you will,” Dracula added. “It means nothing to me.”

  “Nothing?” I said defiantly. “By writing, last time, we outwitted you.”

  “Piecing all together, like detectives,” he said, walking slowly around the room. His presence overwhelmed everything; how can I explain? The whole room seemed to be gathered and focussed around him as if he were the centre of all existence. I felt that if he left, all energy, passion and hope would vanish with him. But these are the seductive illusions with which the Devil ensnares us!

  Jonathan, much as I love him, has never seemed to fill the room as the Count does. That is because true goodness is modest and does not seek attention. Animal magnetism, Van Helsing would call it; that is what Dracula possesses. And it is as evil as it is seductive. I tried to fight. The tension of his presence – the devil in me wishing he would touch me, the Christian part of me dreading his touch – was unbearable.

  I spoke. “We each kept out halves of the bargain. How much more will you demand of me, before you set us free?”

  He kept his back to me, and did not answer. I went on, “I am asking, what must I do to make you leave us alone, once and for all? What ultimate, terrible thing will satisfy you? Tell me, and I’ll do it!”

  At that he laughed. “You would, dear Mina. Anything at all to save your son. Murder your husband? Torture Elena with needles or watch her die slowly upon a stake? But you fear that nothing will satisfy me. Indeed, you fear I might keep you here for ever with false promises.”

  He turned suddenly, and came so rapidly to me that I flinched away. To my shock, he knelt down and gripped my hands. His are hairy, animal, and yet their texture, even their very hairiness, was soothing. “There is something, beloved Mina. I cannot tell you yet, not until you give yourself willingly and freely to me.”

  “Have I not done that?” I said bitterly.

  “Not yet. You fight me, you fan the fire of your own despite constantly. If instead you would love me–”

  I gasped. “Now it is not enough that I let you wreak these foul designs upon my flesh – you want to be loved for it? Never. I pity you but I will never love you.”

  “You could. I think you do, a little. Stay with me.”

  “What?”

  “Stay with me for ever.”

  How could I answer? I tried to pull away, but he pinned my wrists to my knee with one hand and rose, leaning over me, his other arms folding tight about my shoulders and his mouth clamping hard upon my neck.

  I felt his hard teeth pierce me; I stiffened. Blackness rushed and whirled all through me, taking my mind with it, spinning through spasms of pain and unholy pleasure. Through this rush I heard sounds outside; indistinguishable snatches of human or animal cries.

  Dracula let me go. He had not taken enough blood to weaken me. He stood up, and I saw the blood shining on his lips and teeth as he turned to look out of the window. He forgot me; his attention was on the ground below the keep.

  I said quickly, “If you do anything to harm my husband or our friends, you will have nothing of me, willing or otherwise. Nothing!”

  The Count looked back at me for a moment, very grim. Then he went between the bars of the window and out through gap between casement and frame like mist. Shocked, I rushed to the window, and witnessed him walking, headfirst like a lizard, down the outside of the wall.

  A chilly, sickening fear stirred within me and spread its tendrils through my whole being. I could see nothing in the gloom and tangled undergrowth, although it was not full dark. Only Dracula’s black figure moving down into the swampy darkness. I heard dogs baying, louder and louder; I heard human shouts.

  I ran down to try the outer door to the keep, but we are locked in.

  No-one has returned to tell me what is happening. But I feel the resonance of danger, like ghosts in the walls, and a dreadful sense of foreboding.

  * * *

  JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL (Dictated by him and entered by Abraham van Helsing)

  14 November, evening

  A day of hope and despair.

  We found the gates of Carfax locked, though there was indeed evidence of fresh carriage tracks passing along the drive. I had never thought to look on the fortress walls of that great, brooding old house again! A grey afternoon was thickening into the gloom of evening. Kovacs said, “I can go in this way. But I cannot go further into the house, without invitation, than the chapel.”

  “Then we will meet you at the chapel,” said Van Helsing.

  Kovacs turned sideways and passed through the join of the oak and iron gates, as if he had become as thin as paper. It reminded me of Godalming’s description of Lucy, passing through the gap of a closed door to enter her tomb.

  It was an easy enough matter to scale the walls of Carfax; not the first time we have had to do so, and I am all too familiar with the place. Van Helsing had armed us each with a wreath of garlic, a large cross wrought of silver, and other equipment for the disposal of vampires. But as we dropped down into the grounds, we heard the baying of a dog. It seemed far away; outside the walls, I thought at first, until it came rapidly closer, joined by the voices of its fellows.

  Van Helsing passed Seward and I each a stake from his bag; these were all the weapons we had. Seward led us at a run into a thicket, and there we evaded the dogs for a time, doubling back and forth through thick bushes and thus keeping ahead of them. The dogs were dark shapes loping along behind the thick undergrowth as they tried to find a way through to us.

  The thicket ended and we saw the door to the chapel vault, tucked into an obscure corner of the Abbey walls. It lay across a stretch of grass and down a flight of decaying stone steps. I saw Kovacs in the doorway, beckoning, but we had no chance of reaching him. The dogs had caught us.

  We stood close, I gripping the stake in my left hand, cursing the uselessness of my right. The creatures came loping around us; six great German shepherd dogs, growling and barking ferociously. I was terrified, I
confess. The leader leapt at Seward, clamping its jaw on his arm; Van Helsing lunged at the creature, stabbing it in the side. It let Seward go, gave a twisting leap and went into a frenzy, snapping at its wounded flank. Meanwhile I was trying to keep the others back with my own stake, but two of them seized it between their teeth and we wrestled; they snarling, I gasping and panic-stricken.

  They had us trapped. If we ran, they would give chase and savage us. Van Helsing called urgently for us to keep still, but as he spoke, one beast leapt at him and sank its fangs into his thigh. Van Helsing cried out; then a harsh voice cut through the clamour.

  “Back!”

  Count Dracula was there; a stark black figure against the mist-wreathed trees. Not even looking at the dogs, he held out a commanding hand, sweeping it in a half-circle to point at the ground near his heels. All the dogs slunk away with lowered ears to lie at the Count’s feet. Shaming as it is to admit, I have never been so relieved to see him.

  When I glanced again at the chapel door, Kovacs had vanished.

  “Welcome, Dr Van Helsing, Dr Seward, Mr Harker,” said Dracula. “Forgive the attentions of my friends. Had you come in by the gate, you would have marked the presence of dangerous dogs and avoided putting yourselves so rashly in danger. You are not badly wounded, I trust?”

  “A mere breakage of the skin,” Van Helsing answered as he pressed a hand to his thigh.

  Seward said brusquely, “We’ve come for Mrs Harker and her son. You must not prevent us taking her.”

  “But I must, and I will. I have had much that I need of your wife, Mr Harker, but I will have more. I have an appetite for her company and the bountiful wine of her body. She is mine.”

  His vile insolence! I would have attacked him, one-handed, regardless of the danger, had Seward not held me back! Dracula merely gave another mocking smile that enflamed my rage. He said, “You were warned of the consequences if you tried to follow us. However, let us call a truce. Since you do not believe me, you may see Mina, and hear it from her own mouth. Do not attempt to trick me. These fetid garlands with which you have wreathed yourselves, besides looking ridiculous, will avail you not at all. Although I cannot abide them, my friends – these cousins of the wolf – have no such qualms.”

  “Keep your ‘friends’ off, and we’ll be peaceable,” Van Helsing said in anger.

  “Wise. There is someone else in the house whom you will also wish to see, I believe. Come.”

  Uneasy, we followed the Count. The dogs trotted alongside, a reminder that we were wholly in his power. He led us into the chapel where, last time, we had found his boxes of native earth and sterilized them with Holy Wafers.

  We came cautiously into the darkness; my good hand was inside my jacket, clutching the cross in case it should be needed. The dogs came in with us and lay down in a loose circle around us, watching us with intent eyes, tongues lolling over their huge teeth. I dreaded to see Mina lying in a coffin, already lost to us, nothing left to do but drive the stake through her and deliver her soul from its torment.

  Dracula vanished; all was silent, but for the panting of the dogs. We moved around restlessly, trapped and suspicious.

  After a few minutes an inner door opened and two women came in; Mina holding Quincey in her arms, and Elena, both women with their hair loose on their shoulders. They were both as pale as ivory, their faces drawn and shadowed with the sickly look I know so well, God help me: the look of the vampire’s fading victim. The Count followed them. How violently I hated him then! Yet some of the hate, the blame, seemed to attach itself to the women, too, unfair or not. They seemed to present a tableau of depraved collusion.

  Mina gazed at me in astonishment. “Jonathan!”

  I held out a cross, trying to protect her. “Mina, come with us. He can’t stop us, if we stand firm.”

  I started towards her, but the dogs growled until I had to let the cross fall. Seward pulled warningly at my arm. Even Mina held out a hand to keep me away. “No, Jonathan, all of you. It’s no good, you must go. Don’t try again.”

  “How can we not try!” Van Helsing exclaimed.

  “Because of Quincey.” She curled a hand round the boy’s fair head, as if to block his ears. “You are putting his life in danger by coming here!”

  “Is that the only reason?” I said, unable to control myself. “Tell me there is no truth in his foul allegation, that you have fallen in thrall to this monster!”

  Mina’s chin rose, in a dignified grief that pierced me. “Do you not know me, not trust me, after all we have endured?” she said softly. “I can’t leave. You must go, before you are killed. For our sake, mine and Quincey’s.”

  Dracula rested one hand on each of the women’s shoulders, in triumphant possession. Our position was hopeless, yet it was impossible for us to give up. Seward and Van Helsing were both poised to seize the faintest chance.

  At that moment, Kovacs appeared from nowhere. I did not see whether he rose from between the biers or reformed from mist. But there he stood like a spectre, saying nothing, only staring at Dracula from empty, weirdly innocent eyes.

  Then he leapt at Dracula.

  Everything was over very swiftly. Dracula gave a roar of anger. Evading the attack, his immediate action was to seize Mina and Quincey, to thrust them into the nearest tomb and drag the stone lid in place over them – this with incredible strength, as Kovacs tried to attack him again. I bore witness in utter, horrified disbelief. Dracula did this, obviously, as the quickest way to prevent us making off with my wife and child! I heard Mina’s muffled cries, heard Elena exclaim, “Uncle!” The next moment, the Count seized Kovacs and thrust him violently against the crypt wall.

  “What is this?” Dracula rasped in fury. “What have you brought me? Betrayal!”

  Up leapt the dogs, busy and ferocious. They closed in, driving us outside and all the way across the grounds to the wall. We reached our rope ladder in a breathless flurry of fear and defeat.

  Dismounting from the wall on the far side, in my haste I fell and cracked a rib. We retreated to Dr Seward’s house, injured and in despair.

  I cannot stop thinking of Mina, sealed in that tomb, wondering if she is there still. I am almost glad of physical pain, to drive out the anguish of my thoughts.

  Van Helsing insists that this is not the end. We must go back, armed with guns against the dogs, and with a firmer strategy. We will get more men and storm the house, if necessary. But what is the use of it if, when we break in, we find Mina and Quincey dead? Why can we not admit that this is hopeless, that Dracula has won?

  (Only the battle, not the war. Courage! – Van H.)

  * * *

  ELENA KOVACS’S JOURNAL.

  15 November

  I could not rest, knowing that Dracula was going to Mina again. I do not mind if he loves us equally; but I could not bear it if he loves her more!

  While Quincey slept, I sat by the window and looked out at the grounds. I love this place. I suppose we cannot stay here for ever, but I wish we could. I love the dark trees; the gnarled oaks that are like old men, the yews with their thick, creased trunks. I love the winding stream and the mysterious pools that I stumble across when I walk through the undergrowth. Most of the trees and bushes are bare, and their grey twigs drip with rain. They look as if they have died or been poisoned, but I like that, for I have been poisoned too, and yet I live.

  I love the high walls. They prevent the world coming near me, to make its demands upon me. Within them, I am free.

  I was looking out in this reverie when I heard the dogs barking, saw the shapes of men running. This was no surprise; my Dark Companion and I knew Jonathan Harker would attempt a rescue. Presently my love came and told me to bring Mina down to the chapel. This is to make them understand that Mina and I are with Dracula now.

  But in the chapel a spectre appeared – even now I cannot believe what I saw!

  He is tall, though not as tall as my beloved, and has a shock of silver hair. His hands are large and powe
rful. He looks idiotic at first, possessed. As he leaps towards us, his eyes become wild, ringed with white and netted with blood, his long white eyeteeth gleaming in the open oblong of his mouth – but I know him.

  Yet he is not as I remembered. He is mad. He is a vampire.

  The horror of this realisation makes all chaos. I scream, “Uncle!”

  The dogs drive out the intruders; Mina is safely sealed in a marble tomb. My uncle struggles against my Dark Companion, whose face is livid with fury, like a wolf snarling. I cry out to him to stop, but he ignores my entreaties.

  “Who are you?” says Dracula.

  “No-one,” my uncle gasps. “My name is André Kovacs. I found you, I came to you, only to put myself at your service, Count Dracula.”

  His words sound unconvincing, even to me. My beloved shakes him, beginning to squeeze his throat. “Why?”

  “You are Dracula, Lord of the Undead. Whom else should I serve? Teach me, master. In return I give my loyalty.”

  “You are lying,” Dracula says quietly. “You attacked me, as if you would help Van Helsing and those others.”

  “Please – in life he was a friend of mine, but–”

  I see – having moved as close as I dared – Dracula’s mouth opening wide, the long teeth shining. My uncle’s face changes, becoming aggressive, feral. He seems to transmute, shrinking, slipping out of Dracula’s grasp. I cannot believe what I am seeing. Before my eyes, Uncle André changes into a wolf.

  Dark grey like a shadow, he slips under Dracula’s arms and runs out into the grounds, away down a path through the thickly woven trees. A moment later, my Dark Companion, too, has changed. His wolf-form is bigger than my Uncle’s, and a brighter, silvery grey. I run after them, fighting between twigs and thorns and brambles, but cannot keep up. I lose them and, turning, see them passing me again on the far side of the thicket; a dim shadow and a bright one.

  I want no harm to come to my Uncle. But I cannot protect him against Dracula. I can only watch as they run, snapping and snarling, along the tortuous overgrown paths, the thick briars and brambles.