It was late afternoon when I emerged empty-handed and perplexed, and as I headed down the slope towards our little encampment, Zsuzsanna appeared before me, so abruptly that it gave me a start.
Her dark eyes were ablaze, her pale skin aglow—not with any magical glamour, but with pure anticipation.
“They come,” she said. “They come, and Elisabeth follows!”
Thoughtlessly, I reached out and grasped her arms—dropping my hands only when she recoiled and winced in pain. “Dracula comes?”
“The tsigani bring his box in their great wagon—many of them, surrounding it and bearing arms.”
“And of our party?”
“All of them! They follow on horseback … and Elisabeth follows them.” Just as suddenly, she disappeared.
I ran swiftly down to where Madam Mina stood inside the circle, waving her arms at me with unabashedly joyous excitement. “Doctor!” she cried. “Dr. Van Helsing! We must hurry.” And she pointed to the east. “My husband is coming!”
Her words evoked within me similar excitement—and also a certain unease, for she was mentally linked not to Jonathan, but Vlad; to which was she referring? But her joy was so innocent, and her eyes so pure—like those of our Madam Mina of old—that I smiled, and re-collected the pieces of Host from the snow, freeing her.
So we struggled together down the steep slope that faced the east, I carrying furs and rugs and provisions, until the castle stood high above us against the clouded sky. I found a hollow worn within a great rock nestled into the mountainside; this I lined with furs and enclosed within a circle, again sealed with the Host, and settled Madam Mina comfortably inside.
Beneath us wound the roadway leading upward to the castle. From my pocket, I produced a pair of field-glasses; though a hard wind had suddenly picked up, and the light, constant snow began to swirl, I made out the dark figures of the tsigani riding alongside the leiter-wagon—at such a furious pace that the wagon swerved dangerously from side to side, coming very close to knocking some of the accompanying horsemen from the roadway.
Suddenly, from the north, I saw two dark figures on horseback rapidly approaching the gypsies … and, with a cry of gladness, recognised Quincey Morris’ great Stetson—white, but not so white as the swirling snow. “Thank God!” I cried, relieved that they and not Jonathan Harker would be first to approach the wagon, and lowered the field-glasses to pass them to my excited companion. “Madam Mina, look!”
Zsuzsanna Tsepesh’s Diary
5 NOVEMBER. I left Bram and Mrs. Harker upon the hillside, and swept down to where the fierce tsigani rode beside the great wooden chest. I knew I must stop them, and quickly, before Elisabeth arrived, for I could sense her nearing, waiting for the perfect moment to lay claim to the key. Thus I flew down to the roadway, perfectly invisible, and hovered between the two horses pulling the wagon. Gently, I set my palms upon their muzzles.
The effect was immediate: The poor frightened creatures reared at once, causing the wagon to rock crazily to one side and very nearly overturn. The driver swore, and the gypsy army reined in their mounts, who also shied at my unseen presence.
At that same instant came the thunder of approaching hooves, and a calm, steely voice shouting: “Halt!” I smiled, for the voice belonged to Quincey Morris; and he and John Seward came racing up like apocalyptic horsemen bent on godly vengeance. Once they had the key, their talismans would protect them from Elisabeth, and we would all escape and formulate a plan against her; I was overwhelmed with joy, for we were so close, so close to the first victory.…
Yet at once those clattering hooves were answered by others, as from the opposite side came Harker and Lord Godalming. Godalming struggled valiantly to overtake his companion; I could see the anguished grimace on His Lordship’s face as he flogged his steed to go faster, faster. But Jonathan rode with a deadly fury straight from the maw of Hell, at a speed born of immortal desperation.
“Halt!” cried he, with such fervent passion that even the tsigani looked upon him with fear. Now the gypsies were trapped between our men upon the narrow passage; and to translate their intent, Seward, Godalming, and Morris raised their Winchester rifles. (Only I noticed that Godalming’s rifle was placed so that, with a very slight movement, he could quickly have Harker within his sights.)
And on the cliff above, Van Helsing stood, pointing his own rifle down at the colourful army below. Even so, the gypsies drew their knives; and their leader pointed up at the reddening sun, which now kissed the tops of the mountains. Again, I stroked the horses’ muzzles in order to create a helpful distraction; again, they reared.
But only one of our party took advantage of it. In a wink, Harker let go his rifle so that it hung from its strap, unsheathed his kukri, and, with inhuman daring, slashed through the wall of armed men guarding the wagon. From the opposite side, Morris did the same with his Bowie knife in an effort to reach the chest—but alas! Jonathan reached it first and, with vampiric strength, lifted the box and flung it down to the ground.
He leapt down and began to pry off the lid with his knife; Morris, who had come thus far with only a few shallow wounds upon his arms and face, jumped down as well and attacked the chest’s other end with his Bowie. By this time, I saw that Van Helsing’s aim had shifted, and Godalming’s, too, in case Jonathan were to seize the key.
Soon, the lid of the box was pulled off, and there lay Vlad, helpless and exposed, eyes red with rage and the light of the sinking sun. That rage turned to triumph as the sun slipped down past the horizon.…
But his triumph lasted less than a second. Harker’s curving knife tore through the Impaler’s throat, while at the same instant, Morris’ weapon plunged deep into the vampire’s heart.
The frightened tsigani turned their horses and raced away, abandoning the wagon. I remained and watched with bitter joy as the body dissolved at once into dust: mere dust, lifted by the swirling wind to expose beneath a small golden key.
It lay closest to Morris, who swooped down for it; at once, Harker moved forward and embraced him, as if in celebration. But as he pulled back, I saw the bright flash of the kukri knife—bloodied, as he drew it from Morris’ chest.
The wounded man groaned, and fell forward, half into the coffin. Callously, Harker thrust an arm beneath him, groping for the key; fearful of further harming Morris if they fired upon his attacker, the other two men instead dashed up behind the pair. Gentle Seward, whom I had judged incapable of the slightest violence, lifted the butt of his rifle and brought it down with force upon Harker’s skull. He then bent down to retrieve the key—but I was faster and, in a swift move, seized the shining object and at once sped towards the castle.
At once the sky deepened—not with night, but a burst of glittering indigo which reflected darkly off the fallen snow. Elisabeth had appeared, I knew, but I dared not look behind me. So long as the others did not yet possess the golden key, she would be too much involved in the search to do them harm.
I hurtled with the key towards the castle, with no plan other than instinct, no desire but to protect the others. In my heart, I knew I had to find the second key, and some-how hide it from Elisabeth … but what my heart desired, my brain could find no way to produce.
Even so, I flew up the mountain towards the castle, key gripped tightly in my hand. All had grown silent as the men tended to Quincey; I heard nothing save utter stillness, and one sound that pursued me, echoing off the mountains:
Elisabeth laughing.
Elisabeth laughing.…
The Diary of
Abraham Van Helsing
5 NOVEMBER, CONTINUED. In horror, Madam Mina and I watched as Jonathan brutally stabbed Quincey; her horror continued as John came forward and struck her husband a solid blow upon the head with his rifle, but in truth, I felt only relief. As she wept silently into her hands, I gently took the field-glasses from her, and again watched.
Yet my hopeful emotion changed again to fear as John and Arthur searched futilely within the earth
-box for the missing key. Had Elisabeth somehow stolen it—or Arkady, or Zsuzsanna? Or had it never been within the box at all?
As Seward and Arthur gave up the search and knelt to attend their mortally wounded friend, the snow about them glittered indigo, with such intensity that I knew it could only herald Elisabeth’s arrival.
So it did. She appeared in radiant glory, brighter than the full moon and infinitely more compelling, and with the merest sweep of her hand, John and Arthur fell mute against the snow. The unconscious Harker evoked from her a shrug of disgust, but when she peered into the empty coffin, she bared her teeth in feral anger; and then she gazed up in the direction of the castle and began to laugh.
“Zsuzsanna!” she called, with malicious gaiety. “My foolish love! The mortals can protect themselves from me—for the moment—with their silly charms. But you, my darling, cannot. Certainly the key cannot protect you—you have seen the good it has done Vlad!”
Abruptly, she disappeared, and John and Arthur raised themselves slowly to their knees. I handed Madam Mina, who was still distraught, the field-glasses, and, taking her arms reassuringly, said:
“Dear Madam Mina, do not be sorrowful. You are free from the vampire’s taint—and soon your husband shall be too. Remain here in the circle, which shall protect you from all harm, and should Jonathan approach, do not heed him, but stay within!”
And I ran upward towards the castle. What I could accomplish there, I did not know; but Elisabeth knew Zsuzsanna had gone there with the first key, and thus I was bound to follow. Yet the deepest panic I have ever known gripped heart and lungs, so that I struggled to draw in air. I had to find the first key somehow, and prevent Elisabeth from finding the second—but how?
Over the castle above, a great looming shadow gathered—a darkness blacker than the depths of night, a sign of the Dark One’s impending arrival. Beneath my coat, my skin prickled; this was the image I had been warned of in my dream, the dream where I had been utterly, irrevocably engulfed, devoured by that darkness.
On the way up the hillside, I prayed fervently with each ragged breath:
“Arminius, help us! Arminius, help us.…”
Zsuzsanna Tsepesh’s Diary
5 OCTOBER, CONTINUED. Key in hand, I entered the castle in desperate flight—though where I would find refuge, I knew not. So I raced wildly from place to place, searching; searching, without knowing what it was I sought. To Vlad’s throne room first, then to the room Dunya and I had shared, and the chambers I had enjoyed with Elisabeth.…
At last I went to the chapel, thinking of Carfax and the “crossroads,” perhaps, and that there I might find the second key, and deliver both treasures to Van Helsing’s hands. Yet as I wavered there, standing amid broken coffins and ruined earth, my eyes were pained by a dazzling, overwhelming radiance—a brightness that was nonetheless dark.
I recoiled, but too late; Elisabeth stood beside me, more preternaturally beautiful than I had ever seen her—and crueler. Her lips were fixed in a sneer, and her eyes—the coldness, the emptiness, the hatred in them, I shall never forget! I felt I looked upon an exquisite jewelled viper, poised to strike.
She gripped my wrist, so hard that the bone snapped at once, and I cried out in pain; at this, her smile widened. “Of the two of us,” she said, “I would say time has treated me more kindly; you are looking less than lovely, my dear.”
“I have better use for my power,” I retorted, then cried out again as she twisted my hand completely round, and pulled back each finger one by one; grinning, she took from me the key.
A sudden brilliance shone from her bosom; she dropped the key within, then pulled forth from the same spot the gleaming white parchment. As she unfurled it, beneath the golden text another line of shining letters appeared:
In the keep amidst the bones lies the woman with the golden heart; the second key.
“The bones!” she demanded, shaking my arm with near-godlike strength. “Where is the keep? Speak, my darling! You know this place better than I!”
I was powerless in her presence, and ashamed of my helplessness; when she sank her dull teeth into my shoulder and tore away fabric and flesh, I could not hold back a shriek. God, I prayed silently, or Dark One, I care not which! Do as you will—inflict on me the worst torment for all eternity, only let me stop her.…
“The keep!” she shouted again, then fell silent; a look of inspiration eased the viciousness of her expression. “Yes—the place with the bones, where you took me to see Arkady … Take me there at once!”
“I will lead you,” I said, “if you answer but one question for me. Who raised him?”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you have encountered him, I take it.… Bah! He was a waste, a total waste of effort. You lied—you said he was intent on destroying Vlad. What good has he done me?”
“At the cost of Dunya,” I remarked bitterly. “You killed her to raise him.…”
She did not deny it, but cuffed me roughly, saying, “Lead! Take me now—and know that you’ll pay for this insolence later. For when I become as powerful as the Dark Lord to-night, I shall treat you to the cage and the Maiden for all eternity! And you, my darling, shall be the first to witness my transformation, and my vengeance; this you have earned by your betrayal.”
I knew not what else to do. So I led her back up to the castle’s main entryway, for it was only by going up that we could make our way farther down to her destination. And as we passed there, she paused as the great front door flew open, and smiled at the sight of Bram, gasping, wild-eyed, upon the threshold.
“Dr. Van Helsing,” she said, with mock sweetness. “How kind of you to visit us. I’m afraid I’m distracted at the moment with one of your relatives; but fear not! I shall return to you—whether you flee by boat or train or carriage, it matters not. I will find you, and see you and yours to a disagreeable end.”
And she flicked her hand at him, as a cold lady might motion a servant away; at once he fell back, mute.
Bram, I told him silently, take the others and flee. You must find Arminius.…
I left him there and led her deep into the castle’s belly, to the dank cellar dug from earth, now thoroughly laced with the bones of the many who had died here in torment.
“The woman,” Elisabeth said, her voice muted with anticipation. “Where would be the woman with the golden heart?”
I honestly knew not. “These are mostly men,” I said, gesturing down at the bone-strewn earth, “but a few are women. I cannot imagine where—”
My words were swallowed up by a mighty wind, which lifted up the packed ground and began to rotate it, until the room was filled with stinging, swirling sand. I covered my face until it had settled, then lowered my hands to see that my feet were resting upon an uneven platform of stacked skeletons, all so old that the bones had come apart and lay scattered in disarray. Thousands and thousands of skeletons, so many that I realised they, and not the earth, comprised the castle’s foundation.
Only one small spot stood out amidst the ghoulish tangle of yellowed ivory: the corner where Arkady’s catafalque stood, from which Dunya’s dust and coffin had now been swept away. The stone catafalque remained, but beneath it—centuries beneath, surrounded by legs and arms and hands of bone, and fleshless fingers that clawed its polished surface—was a casket of shining steel.
Still clutching my arm, Elisabeth dragged me to it—then slowly released me with a sly smile, for she knew I would not, could not, run from her now. With one hand clutching the manuscript, she used her other to push the solid stone catafalque aside, as easily as a mortal woman might push away a chair.
The stone toppled onto more bones, crushing them as it fell onto its side. We both bent over the coffin to read the etching there, in archaic Roumanian:
ANA, BELOVED CONSORT OF VLAD III
With a hiss of triumph, Elisabeth pulled away the lid and threw it aside; it clanged upon the stone, cracking it.
Within lay a small, fragile skeleton, the jawbone d
isintegrated so that the skull had fallen forward onto the neck bones and lay perpendicular to the ribs. Beneath the head was a long strip of black, liquefying hair; beneath the crossed arms was a tattered shred of yellowed silk.
And to the left of her breastbone rested a heart-shaped locket of beaten gold, slightly larger than the real lady’s heart could ever have been. In the centre was a small keyhole, and above the keyhole, inscribed in Latin, were the words:
ETERNAL GODHOOD
Elisabeth at once snatched it up; and, with a hand that trembled, withdrew the small golden key from her bosom and slipped it into the lock.
It fit smoothly, with a click. And as she drew it slowly open, she looked up at me with a dark, dark smile.
The Diary of
Abraham Van Helsing
5 NOVEMBER, CONTINUED. As I staggered gasping into the castle, still overwhelmed by the sense of the Dark One’s proximity, I chanced to meet Zsuzsanna—cruelly trapped in the Countess of Bathory’s powerful grip. The sight filled me with even greater despair; Elisabeth had in her possession the first key! Yet she had not discovered the second, and solved the mystery, for she appeared no more powerful than she had out in the snow. But how was I to stop her?
Zsuzsanna’s expression was calm, fearless; she said not a word as Elisabeth mocked me, threatened me, struck me down as she had the others with the merest gesture. But before the countess dragged her captive away, promising to return to me later, Zsuzsanna caught my gaze.
And her silent words filled my head: Bram, take the others and flee. Find Arminius.…
She was bound, we both knew, to the most unpleasant of dooms, yet seemed utterly resigned to her fate, as if it were her just due, and showed me naught but concern. And in that instant, I forgave her all.
Lord of the Vampires Page 31
