Dracula the Undead: A Chilling Sequel to Dracula
Page 29
Cutting through this infernal noise came an indistinct, half human sound, a sort of keening. Had I only understood what it was, could I have prevented–?
As Van Helsing extended a hand to me, the keening I could not identify rose to a full-pitched, ghastly scream and Kovacs came rushing towards Mina, brandishing a length of metal like a spear. It was the implement I had used to jam the door, now held with the sharp end aimed at Mina’s heart. Never have I heard such a cry of animal grief!
“Beherit! You destroyed Beherit!”
I was paralysed, too slow to pull Mina away. Instead, it was Van Helsing who flung himself in front of her! I stared in unutterable horror as Kovacs drove the spear-tip into Van Helsing’s chest; only then did I wrench Mina backwards, just barely in time, for the sharp point came right through his body and would have pierced her too. As we got clear, Kovacs bore Van Helsing down and pinned him to the rock.
Our poor, dear friend! Mina hid her face in my shoulder but, God help me, I shall never forget the look on his face! Kovacs glared at us, his unhuman face ghastly and flecked with red foam. I thought he would attack Mina again. I was ready for him. Instead he seemed to have a change of heart, as if despair overcame him. With a hoarse groan he turned away, forced his way through two of the railings and leapt, flailing, after his evil companions into the maw of flame.
This time, nothing emerged.
Through my tears I saw blood forming a great stain across Van Helsing’s chest and dripping onto the floor. I could see he was dead, with that shocked expression frozen on his noble features. I believe I fell on him, weeping, pleading with him to rise again; it was Mina who pulled me away and brought me back to my senses. “Come, John, please, we must go. There’s nothing you can do for him. Come with me!”
As I looked up, it seemed the whole fiery lake was on the point of exploding. Burning fountains of magma erupted. I saw a great shape rising from the Abyss, a ghostly, wavering form of bronze light with huge red orbs for eyes. The orbs fixed us, glowing and swirling with the rage of Lucifer. I was convinced that its great head was snaking down to consume us…
With a cry, I dragged Mina away.
Both sobbing, we ran. The whole mountain was quaking with the rage of Hell and Heaven. There was a deafening crack. Mina cried, “Look!”
And I saw, ahead of us, a blade of light falling through the rock wall onto the ledge; faint and greyish, but as clear and pure as water in contrast. The upheaval of Hell, whether in rage or unholy joy at receiving its own, had forced open a crack in the mountainside.
*
Whether God opened that fissure to rescue us, or Satan to expel us, I know not. It was enough to be free; to breathe the icy, fresh air in place of that sulphurous stench! As we came stumbling over a mass of rock onto a snow-covered slope, we saw that a dozen fissures had opened at the base of the mountain, and that molten lava flowed out, melting the snow to steam. We ran, with the ground bucking and trembling beneath us, until we could run no more; and then we stopped and looked back at the barren peaks against a dead grey sky as the last tremors subsided.
And we wondered if Satan had only been waiting for Dracula to return before he woke the Dragon in the lake and destroyed the Scholomance.
*
I said, hoarse and broken, “Quincey...”
It was then that Mina told me of Dracula’s lie. All for a lie we came here! We thought of Van Helsing, and wept, and she held my head on her breast as if I were a child. When I looked up again, the clouds had broken, and the moon shone brilliantly, washing the snow-veiled mountains in the most glorious white light; and Mina and I raised our eyes to this splendour and shared, in the midst of our sorrow, a moment of divine peace.
For Abraham Van Helsing, there are no words. He died as he lived: a hero.
* * *
Epilogue
ADDENDUM – DR JOHN SEWARD
I returned to Hermannstadt in the spring, when the snow-line had retreated and the weather was clement enough to allow a comfortable expedition. I retraced our steps precisely; every detail of the route was engraved upon my mind. I used compass and maps; I knew the shapes and angles of the peaks against the skyline; there was no mistaking the gorge and the ridge beyond which the Scholomance lay.
And yet I could not find it.
On the far side of the ridge, the valley I remembered, with its circle of fanged rocks and its deep green lake, was not there. I found only a plain slope dropping into a spruce forest. I searched and searched; I went in circles, I tried from every angle.
There was no valley, no lake, no cave.
The Scholomance, it seemed, has ceased to exist. Or perhaps it is that the Devil has sealed the entrance against us. He opened it for a while, for his own purposes – and when payment was exacted, he slammed the great rocky jaws shut against all intruders.
We should be glad of that, I suppose. God forbid that they should ever open again, spill forth their vile contents or draw more souls – whether innocent or corrupt – into their maw!
I did what little I could for our friend Abraham, my dearest friend and teacher; that is, placed flowers for him on the ridge, and there said a prayer for his immortal soul. He would be glad to see, at least, how happily and passionately attached are Jonathan and Mina, how well Quincey thrives; to know that his lifelong crusade against the darkness did not come to nothing.
*
Many days after the terrible events in the Scholomance, when Mina showed me the journal she had kept upon writing paper during her captivity and asked me to complete her account, she made confessions of such trusting intimacy, such as may only be made between patient and doctor or the dearest of friends, that I could not help but be moved.
“I shall never keep a journal again,” she told me with gentle sadness, “for it would only remind me of those terrible times. Jonathan and I already have too much to remind us, in our own memories and in each other.”
I had thought, after all that had befallen – not Dracula’s evil alone, but Elena’s – that there could never be peace between them again. Somehow, in my awkward way, I said as much. I thought Mina would be offended, but she only smiled sweetly and replied,
“Did you think we could never forgive each other, Jonathan and I? But as he says, our sins are just the same! It is true our union is not as peaceful as once it was, that we must often comfort each other’s nightmares or brood upon our own failings; but neither is it as staid and proper as once it was. For we find in each other at least a little of the wild darkness that lived in Dracula and in Elena. I do not believe that an understanding which yields such joy can possibly be wholly evil. Do you, Dr Seward? And Quincey – Quincey is Jonathan’s. We must all believe it.”
It is not for me to condemn them, and indeed, I do not. Nor would Van Helsing, I know, for none of us have been above temptation, not even he.
* * *
Note
What am I to make of this account, that my mother has shown to me on my twenty-first birthday, while I am home on leave?
She said that she wanted me to know the truth now, while she and Papa are alive to answer my questions – rather than for me to discover these accounts among their papers after their deaths. But I cannot bring myself to ask questions of them, nor even to mention it.
My life has been so happy until today, secure in the tender understanding that has always existed between my parents. But to discover that their intimacy was tainted by – by this – and yet survived!
Memories stir now that I had thought long lost. I had forgotten Elena; forgotten my incarceration at Carfax, or rather dismissed all as some disordered product of my many childhood fevers. I had even forgotten, or transformed into some ogre of nightmares, Count Dracula himself.
But now I begin to remember. Once flung open, the casket lid cannot be closed.
Is it possible that I had two fathers – one a saint, one a devil? From which do I take my spirit?
Ah yes, now I remember Elena. Her soft dark hair, her
lovely accent, the warmth of her breasts and thighs as she held me upon her knee and stroked my hair with her long, warm fingers. And one day she was no longer there. She vanished into the night.
I cannot believe she is dead.
I have seen death, and it is brought by bullets and shells, not by vampires or wooden stakes or by fiery chasms that are gateways to the realms of the damned.
I must find her again, when this War is over. I must find Castle Dracula. I will never know who I am until I see their faces again; two pale and dark phantoms, who haunt me yet dissolve whenever I reach out to touch them. I cannot rest until I find the Scholomance itself, and there discover what became of my other father, my dark father, Dracula, the Undead.
–Quincey A.J.J.A. Harker
* * * * *
END
Author’s Note
The classic horror novel DRACULA by Bram Stoker was first published in 1897. As the centenary approached, my then-publisher Penguin asked me – on the strength of my Blood Wine series – to write a sequel in celebration of the original book. Thus Dracula the Undead appeared in 1997 and went on to win the Dracula Society Award for BEST GOTHIC NOVEL.
Approaching a sequel to such a towering classic was very daunting indeed. I decided to write it as if I had never seen a Dracula movie, never read any other vampire book, had no references but the original source material of Stoker’s characters. It must feel authentic; for me, there was no other way. I would write this tale in the same format of diaries and letters, and I would be as true to the characters and the atmosphere of the original as I possibly could. My efforts may not be perfect – the subtexts of the vampire myth are explored rather more overtly, which not every reader will like – but I aimed to make the novel as true to Bram Stoker’s work as I possibly could, and a heartfelt tribute to the original.
* * *
Some of my backlist novels are already available on Kindle, including The Court of the Midnight King, the five-book Blackbird series, and the Blood Wine sequence (the latter from Titan Books). Scroll down for details.
The rest of my out-of-print backlist will appear in Kindle in 2016 and 2017 in roughly the following order: Dark Cathedral, Pagan Moon, The Rainbow Gate, Sorrow’s Light, The Amber Citadel, The Sapphire Throne, The Obsidian Tower. Also I hope to make the “Aetherial Tales” – Elfland, Midsummer Night and Grail of the Summer Stars – available in the near future. Watch for news on my website, www.fredawarrington.com
PS. If you have enjoyed this book, please write a review!
DRACULA THE UNDEAD is also available as an audio book from Audible
Find the Blackbird series and other titles on Amazon:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Novels by Freda Warrington
A Taste of Blood Wine
A Dance in Blood Velvet
The Dark Blood of Poppies
The Dark Arts of Blood
Elfland
Midsummer Night
Grail of the Summer Stars
The Court of the Midnight King
Dracula the Undead
The Amber Citadel
The Sapphire Throne
The Obsidian Tower
Dark Cathedral
Pagan Moon
The Rainbow Gate
Sorrow’s Light
A Blackbird in Silver
A Blackbird in Darkness
A Blackbird in Amber
A Blackbird in Twilight
A Blackbird in Silver Darkness (omnibus)
A Blackbird in Amber Twilight (omnibus)
Darker than the Storm
For further information:
www.fredawarrington.com
About the Author
Freda Warrington was born in Leicester, England, and began writing stories as soon as she could hold a pen. The beautiful ancient landscape of Charnwood Forest, Leicestershire, where she grew up, became a major source of inspiration.
She studied at art college and worked in medical illustration and graphic design for a number of years. However, her first love was always fantasy fiction, and in 1986 her first novel A Blackbird in Silver was published. More novels followed, including A Taste of Blood Wine, The Amber Citadel, Dark Cathedral and Dracula the Undead – a sequel to Dracula that won the Dracula Society’s Best Gothic Novel Award in 1997.
So far she has had twenty-one novels published, varying from sword n’ sorcery and epic fantasy to contemporary fantasy, supernatural, and alternative history.
Her novel Elfland (Tor US) won the Romantic Times Award for Best Fantasy Novel of 2009. Midsummer Night, the second in the Aetherial Tales series, was listed by the American Library Association among their Top Ten SF/ Fantasy Novels of 2010.
Titan Books are republishing her vampire series – A Taste of Blood Wine, A Dance in Blood Velvet, The Dark Blood of Poppies, and a brand new novel The Dark Arts of Blood (2015) – with gorgeous new covers. The first three were originally published in the 1990s, long before the recent explosion of vampire fiction! (So – no teenagers, no kick-ass super-heroines, no werewolves… but a solid, dark, gothic romance for grown-ups, set in the shadowy, decadent glamour of the 1920s.)
Freda lives in Leicestershire with her husband Mike and her mother, where she also enjoys crafts such as stained glass and beadwork, all things Gothic, yoga, walking, Arabian horses, conventions and travel.
Read on for more book information…
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Audible
Immanion Press
www.fredawarrington.com
More books by Freda Warrington
THE COURT OF THE MIDNIGHT KING
A Dream of Richard III
King Richard III: a shadowy, charismatic figure of eternal fascination. The Court of the Midnight King mixes alternative history with the fantastical to create a wonderful, epic tapestry of love, war and treachery. In this novel, the author goes searching for Richard – not in the ruins of a Leicester friary, but deep in the human psyche.
“Superb fusion of dazzling alternative history and smouldering romance… Tell all the romance fans and the fantasy fans you know about it.” – Justina Robson
“Beautifully written – but not for the cynical!” – Anne Lyle
“One of my very favourite historical fantasy novels, this is a lushly written alternate version of Richard III’s history, with magic and romance and a rich sense of period. Gorgeously written, a wonderful book to sink into.” – Stephanie Burgis
For further information and to buy The Court of the Midnight King in Kindle, print or audio:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Feedaread.com
www.fredawarrington.com
The Blood Wine Sequence from Titan Books
“The Blood Wine books are addictive, thrilling reads that are impossible to put down and they definitely deserve more attention” – Worldhopping.net
“Not merely one of the finest fantasy novels of recent years, but one of the finest ever. Should not be missed.” – Brian Stableford
“A cross between Anne Rice and more edgy modern paranormal romances, only with Freda Warrington’s incredible voice… This author truly has a gift for storytelling.” – Not Your Ordinary Book Banter
“It’ll remind you of how good, thrilling and romantic vampire novels can be. It has everything you could ever hope for from an entertaining vampire novel: horror, suspense, romance, passion, plot twists, supernatural elements and captivating storytelling.” – Rising Shadow
“Freda Warrington’s prose is simply stunning, sumptuous, graceful and seductive.” – Starburst
“The writing is gorgeous, by turns haunting, lucid, and all-round beautiful… eminently readable, absorbing, and all-round brilliant, a lovely piece of work.” – Alex Bardy, British Fantasy Society
For further information and to buy in Kindle, print or audio:
Amazon
Titan Books
www.fredawarrington.com
&n
bsp; Expanded Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication and Reviews
Dracula the Undead
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Freda Warrington
BACK TO START
Table of Contents
Dracula the Undead
A chilling sequel to DRACULA by Bram Stoker
Freda Warrington
Some reviews of Freda Warrington’s work
DRACULA THE UNDEAD
–J. Charles Wall
–from DRACULA by Bram Stoker
DRACULA THE UNDEAD
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
DRACULA
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Novels by Freda Warrington
About the Author
More books by Freda Warrington
The Blood Wine Sequence from Titan Books