by Cindy Winget
“Is that right? I wonder what that’s about,” Van Helsing said.
“I couldn’t tell you,” replied Jack. “There are rumors that there were actually a dozen men that were supposed to be aboard that ship and, according to a journal that was found among the cargo, a very tall man was glimpsed upon the ship at times during the voyage who was not on the manifest. The sailors began to believe the ship was haunted. It is said that the specter killed the rest of the crew one by one during the course of their travels and left them to a watery grave in the depths of the sea, until only the captain remained. The captain, fearful for his life and not knowing what had happened to the rest of his men, lashed himself to the helm by his rosary beads as if in defense against an unholy adversary. Which obviously did him little good.”
“Is that not the most bizarre story you have ever heard?” Mina piped up.
Mrs. Westenra was nodding vigorously. “Yes, very strange indeed!”
“Victor, how pale you look,” observed Mina. “It’s only a story. Perhaps you ought to go straight up to bed. It has been a long day for you, I’m sure.”
Mrs. Westenra kindly showed Victor to the guest room, where Victor lay awake for hours, dreading the morning and contemplating how best to tell his friends the truth, until finally, he fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
“I trust you slept well, Mister Frankenstein,” Mrs. Westenra said as Victor entered the dining room, having been lured there by the delicious smell of cooked bacon, hard boiled eggs, and baked goods.
He poured himself a cup of tea and sat down next to her. “Nothing to complain of,” he responded.
Though in truth he had slept very poorly. He had never done well sleeping in unfamiliar places, and it didn’t help that he had a storm cloud of anxiety hovering above his head, worried about how and when to best tell Jack and Van Helsing about Dracula.
“Mina was just telling us about Lucy’s condition,” Jack informed him.
“Oh yes. How is she? Will she be joining us for breakfast?” Victor asked.
Mina shrugged her shoulders. “I am not certain. She claimed that she intended to, but then promptly fell back asleep.”
“Well, perhaps she will wake up soon. That girl eats like a bird,” a worried Mrs. Westenra commented.
“I am sure that the extra rest will do her good,” Van Helsing assured her.
“Those two pin pricks I gave her with my brooch don’t seem to be healing, either. If anything, they appear to be worse. All red and inflamed. They even seem deeper somehow.”
“What’s this?” asked an alarmed Jack. He looked quickly at Van Helsing. “Could this be a sign of a deeper physical issue?”
“Don’t you worry, my friend, I will take a look at her when she wakes up. I am sure she is all right.”
“Maybe the bat scratched her and reopened the wounds or something,” Mina casually said, seemingly to herself.
“Bat?” Victor piped up. “What bat?”
“It was the strangest thing. Last night Lucy sat up in bed, though she was clearly still asleep, and pointed to the window. I got up and pulled back the curtains to discover a large bat flying around. You don’t normally see bats in these parts, but there was no mistaking that is what it was. I made sure the window was shut and latched and the door locked—I have been locking it at night and have tied the key to my wrist to prevent Lucy from getting out when sleepwalking—and went back to bed. Sometime later, I awoke to find Lucy standing at the window. She had pulled it wide open and was leaning out. I was afraid of her falling and promptly ran to her side and urged her back to bed. When I turned to shut the window once more, I was surprised to see the bat was still there, flying about our window.”
“Telling tales about me I see,” said a soft voice from the doorway.
The entire group turned as one to find Lucy standing there, bare footed in her white nightgown, an angelic, yet mischievous, smile upon her face. Her golden hair was down, long and slightly waved, giving her the look of an impish elf from fairyland.
“Lucy! We have company!” shouted an irate and embarrassed Mrs. Westenra. “Go and put some clothes on, this instant!”
Victor laughed at the look upon Jack’s face. His eyes had widened, and his face turned beet red at having his new bride in such a state of undress in front of others. He could commiserate with the poor fellow, for Victor was sure that he would feel quite the same way if Elizabeth had come to the dining room in the same fashion.
Mina hurried after her, presumably to help her get dressed.
“I apologize, Mister Frankenstein. My daughter is not wanton, I can assure you, but she does dance to the beat of her own drum.”
Victor assured her that he thought no less of her and that he was in no way offended.
Victor stared at his tea, now cold. He couldn’t help but notice that Lucy, though still beautiful, had looked drawn and haggard, with dark circles under her eyes. She was much too thin and pale. Paler than Victor ever remembered her being, fair skinned though she was. She had leaned against the doorframe as though she lacked the strength to stand on her own.
“How wan she looks!” Jack was commiserating.
“She may still be a bit anemic,” commented Van Helsing.
Given the fact that Mina had seen a bat flying outside her room and that the puncture marks had remained upon Lucy’s slender neck, Victor could no longer pretend that she was simply ill. This was the work of his dreaded nemesis. He had to inform Jack and Van Helsing as soon as possible.
To that end, he asked the two men if they might accompany him to the woods this afternoon, telling them that he was in need of fresh air and had not been on a good pheasant hunt since his trip here over two years ago.
“What a marvelous idea!” Van Helsing said, looking pleased. “Our boy Jack could use some fresh air as well, I dare say. He has been cooped up here worrying about that young wife of his far too much.”
“But what about L—”
“Not a word, Jack. It will do neither of you any good to have you hovering about. Mina and Lucy’s mother can certainly look after the girl while you are away.”
Jack reluctantly nodded.
“Good. It’s all settled then.”
*****
“This is one beautiful bird!” Van Helsing crowed, holding aloft his prize. The pheasant that hung limply from his fingers was a large specimen with many long colorful tail feathers. “This will cook up nicely. We shall eat like kings tonight!”
Victor enjoyed the feel of the sun upon his cheeks. It would be Fall soon, but for now the weather was warm and perfect. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the dappled light as it filtered down through the green leaves of the trees that surrounded him, breathing in the clean air, trying to fortify himself for the disapproval of his good friends when he informed them that he had disregarded their warnings. The twittering of smaller birds and the rustle of the local fauna met his ears as he opened his eyes.
Van Helsing was grinning at him. “Hunting seems to agree with you,” he laughed.
Victor did not return the playful banter. It was time. He had delayed long enough.
Sensing his sudden mood, the grin fell from Van Helsing’s face. “What is it? What is wrong?”
“I have something to tell you, and you aren’t going to like it.”
“What is it?” insisted Jack, concern evident in his voice.
“Remember back during my days at King’s College, when I started that experiment on animating lifeless matter through Galvanism?”
Both men nodded.
“Let’s just say that I didn’t abandon my intent after that unfortunate debacle when my work was rendered null by that riot. In fact, I succeeded.”
Neither man spoke for a time.
Finally, Jack managed to say, “What are you telling us, Victor? You have actually succeeded in bringing someone back to life?” His scoff denoted that he did not believe it and was waiting for the punchline.
> “No, not back to life per se. Or so I thought, at the time. Now, I am not entirely sure.”
“You aren’t making any sense,” Jack said.
“You see, at first, I thought that I had created an entirely new species of man. I had no intention of bringing any specific person back to the realm of the living. He was made from the composite of several dozen corpses and therefore was not one specific man brought back to life, but rather a new consciousness was born. One physically superior to our own. Using the components of other men, I created a paragon of humans and galvanized him, granting him life.”
“You are serious?” Jack cried.
“It’s worse than you now realize. When I traveled to Transylvania, I got it into my head to use the remains of my ancestor, Vlad the Impaler, as the framework for my project. I thought it a great cosmic joke at the time and a way to be close to my deceased mother. But, in so doing, I inadvertently unleashed a far more dangerous creature than just a mere human. For you see, I think I unintentionally brought back Vlad the Impaler, but not quite as he was in life. According to legend among the locals of Romania, if the holy resting place of their beloved Prince of Wallachia was ever disturbed, it would bring forth an unholy demon called a vampyr who would feast upon the blood of man. He now goes by the name of Dracula.”
Jack looked ill, all the blood having rushed from his face, giving him a jaundiced look. “How is this possible?”
“NO!” came a cry from the bushes. All the men’s heads turned toward the noise. Mina came crashing out of the brambles.
“What are you doing out here?” Victor asked severely.
“I came to inform you that lunch would be ready soon,” she said impatiently. “Jonathan is in Transylvania right now! Is he in danger?”
“I came out here specifically so that I could tell Jack and Van Helsing without having to worry about you ladies eavesdropping on our conversation,” Victor said angrily.
“How dare you not tell me if Jonathan is in danger!” she screeched back.
Victor shook his head. “He isn’t in any danger. Or rather, he shouldn’t be.”
“But how can you be sure? He is there! He is in Transylvania!”
“The man I created followed me back to Geneva.”
Tears came unbidden to Victor’s eyes as the memory of what happened next came to the forefront of his mind. He went on to explain the death of his little brother William and the subsequent hanging of his nurse, Justine. He told them of the guilt he felt, knowing that it was his fault that William was dead, not hers.
“Her innocent blood will tarnish my soul for all eternity.”
“There is nothing you could have done. You said so yourself, the evidence was stacked against her and no one would have believed you,” Jack reassured him, not wanting to add salt to the wound by pointing out that none of this would have happened had Victor listened to them in the first place.
“I know. But that is little consolation when I find myself unable to sleep.”
“In time, you will come to see the truth,” Van Helsing said. “This is not on your head, but upon the creature’s. ‘Time will heal all wounds’,” he quoted.
“The creature that I created! But that’s not all.” He explained about meeting Dracula upon the summit of Mount Montanvert and his request for a wife—a request that he had been ready to carry out. He told of the impalement of Henry and the threat against Elizabeth.
“That is the real reason I came to England.” He looked at Jack. “I came to enlist you and Jonathan to help me destroy him, before anyone else meets a premature end on account of my sins.”
Victor turned a pitying gaze upon Mina. “I am so sorry. I came to place your husband in danger, for it will be perilous to try to destroy Dracula. I am loath to place any more people I care about in danger, but I knew not what else to do.” A single tear dripped out of his left eye and slid down his face. Before the tear could drip onto the forest floor, Mina had walked to him and thrown her arms around him, little caring whether it was proper to hug an unmarried man or not.
“You poor man! Of course we shall do all we can to help you!”
Van Helsing piped up then. “I have heard of such creatures and am actually a bit of an expert on the subject, having had a fascination with vampyrs in my youth.”
“That is indeed fortunate because I fear that recent events have proved that he is here at Whitby.”
“Whatever do you mean?” cried a frightened Mina, who promptly let go of Victor.
“I believe that Lucy’s illness is not natural. I have reason to suspect that it is on account of Dracula that Lucy has become so weak and pale.”
“Wait. You are telling me that it’s because of you that my Lucy is so ill?” Jack growled. “That this vampyr has been sucking her blood?”
Victor nodded and hung his head.
“So because of your hubris, my dear wife is suffering!? How could you, Victor! I thought you were my friend!”
“I am. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. How could I have possibly known that my creation would go on a killing spree?”
“When you heard of the rumors about Vlad becoming undead, you should have stopped. Since you didn’t see fit to stop the first time,” Jack muttered.
“This is not Victor’s doing,” said Van Helsing resolutely. “Or at least, not entirely. But assigning blame isn’t important right now. What is important is finding a way to help Lucy.”
Jack stopped at this.
“But how did Dracula get past us undetected?” Van Helsing wondered, then gasped. “The bat!”
Victor nodded.
“Bat? What does that flying rodent have to do with this?” Mina asked.
“It is rumored that vampyrs can turn into bats, and other lowly creatures.” Van Helsing explained.
“Not rumors. This has been confirmed to me by the fiend himself. I have even seen it with my own eyes,” Victor said. “He can also transform into a wolf.”
“The boat! The one with no human passengers—only a lone wolf—when it pulled into port,” Jack said.
Mina shuddered. “How dreadful!”
“Yes. I had my suspicions when you spoke of the tall man you saw the night that Lucy went sleepwalking in the cemetery. My suspicions were confirmed this morning, when you told us about the bat flying outside her window. Those pin pricks that are upon Lucy’s neck were not caused by the pin of your brooch. I believe they are caused by Dracula. He has been feeding on her blood each night. What I can’t figure out is why he doesn’t drain her dry like he has his past victims.”
“Perhaps he simply wants to make it clear to you that he is here? That you are still in his grasp and in his sight?” Van Helsing offered.
“That doesn’t make sense. Dracula arrived in England before Victor even knew he was coming here himself. What was his motive?” Jack questioned.
“Maybe he seeks to prolong my agony by making her suffer before he kills her,” Victor said out loud.
“I have a theory,” Van Helsing spoke up suddenly. “If what you tell us is true, then perhaps he is trying to change Lucy into a vampyr like unto himself and make her his bride.”
“Is that possible?” Victor asked, the horror of this revelation turning his extremities cold.
“In the course of my studies, I have heard it spoken of before in other parts of the world.”
“It would make sense,” Jack said.
“In order to protect Lucy from Dracula, we will continue to make sure the door and windows to her room are locked,” declared Van Helsing. “I also have another idea in mind that could save her. Do not mention any of this to Mrs. Westenra. She worries enough for her daughter as it is.”
They all nodded in agreement and walked back up to the house. Mrs. Westenra gasped in delight at the pheasant and proclaimed that she would see that it was cooked for dinner in her famous bourbon sauce.
Victor tried to enjoy the meal that had been prepared for them in their absence, but everything t
asted like ash to him. Mina barely nibbled at her food and Jack appeared deep in thought. Lucy had joined them, sitting—or more accurately slumped—in a chair between Jack and her mother.
Just as they finished their lunch, Van Helsing excused himself and left the house, proclaiming that he would be back before nightfall.
“Why does everyone act so gloomy?” Lucy pouted. “Is not my company enough to raise anyone’s spirits?”
“Yes, love, of course,” proclaimed Jack. “We are overjoyed to see you up and about, but you still seem so weak.”
“Oh, you goose. You are always worrying about one thing or another,” Lucy trilled.
“I just hate to see you in such a state.”
She waved him away with a small slender hand. “Pish posh. Let’s not talk of this anymore. I am tired of being fretted over. Who is up for a game of cards?”
But they were scarcely halfway through their game when Lucy had to go lie down, the effort being too much for her. When she returned from her brief respite she made a marginal effort to remain awake the rest of the evening, and they passed a few enjoyable hours talking by the fire in the parlor. The pheasant was prepared, as promised, and did indeed taste exquisite.
That night, just before Lucy was about to retire to bed, Van Helsing returned. He carried rubber tubing, a glass and metal syringe, a few wreaths of plants, and a small silver cross on a thin matching chain.
Before Victor could ask what all the equipment was for, Van Helsing was quick to ask, “Has Mrs. Westenra gone to bed yet?”
“Yes. What is all this for?” Jack asked.
“To help Lucy.”
Lucy looked up at him in consternation and amazement. “You really think a bunch of flowers are going to help me get better? And I can pray for my own health without a cross.”
“Indulge me,” Van Helsing said. “I would beg, if it came to that, that you wear this cross tonight, and every night, along with a wreath of this garlic around your shoulders.”
