Dracula: The Wild and Wanton Edition

by Lucy Hartbury

  We ran over and saw him spring unhurt from the ground. He, rushing up the steps, crossed the flagged yard, and pushed open the stable door. There he turned and spoke to us.

  “You think to baffle me, you with your pale faces all in a row, like sheep in a butcher’s. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You think you have left me without a place to rest, but I have more. My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. Your girls that you all love are mine already. And through them you and others shall yet be mine, my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my jackals when I want to feed. Bah!”

  With a contemptuous sneer, he passed quickly through the door, and we heard the rusty bolt creak as he fastened it behind him. A door beyond opened and shut. The first of us to speak was the Professor. Realizing the difficulty of following him through the stable, we moved toward the hall.

  “We have learnt something … much! Notwithstanding his brave words, he fears us. He fears time, he fears want! For if not, why he hurry so? His very tone betray him, or my ears deceive. Why take that money? You follow quick. You are hunters of the wild beast, and understand it so. For me, I make sure that nothing here may be of use to him, if so that he returns.”

  As he spoke he put the money remaining in his pocket, took the title deeds in the bundle as Harker had left them, and swept the remaining things into the open fireplace, where he set fire to them with a match.

  Godalming and Morris had rushed out into the yard, and Harker had lowered himself from the window to follow the Count. He had, however, bolted the stable door, and by the time they had forced it open there was no sign of him. Van Helsing and I tried to make inquiry at the back of the house. But the mews was deserted and no one had seen him depart.

  It was now late in the afternoon, and sunset was not far off. We had to recognize that our game was up. With heavy hearts we agreed with the Professor when he said, “Let us go back to Madam Mina. Poor, poor dear Madam Mina. All we can do just now is done, and we can there, at least, protect her. But we need not despair. There is but one more earth box, and we must try to find it. When that is done all may yet be well.”

  I could see that he spoke as bravely as he could to comfort Harker. The poor fellow was quite broken down, now and again he gave a low groan which he could not suppress. He was thinking of his wife.

  With sad hearts we came back to my house, where we found Mrs. Harker waiting us, with an appearance of cheerfulness, which did honour to her bravery and unselfishness. When she saw our faces, her own became as pale as death. For a second or two her eyes were closed as if she were in secret prayer.

  And then she said cheerfully, “I can never thank you all enough. Oh, my poor darling!”

  As she spoke, she took her husband’s grey head in her hands and kissed it.

  “Lay your poor head here and rest it. All will yet be well, dear! God will protect us if He so will it in His good intent.” The poor fellow groaned. There was no place for words in his sublime misery.

  We had a sort of perfunctory supper together, and I think it cheered us all up somewhat. It was, perhaps, the mere animal heat of food to hungry people, for none of us had eaten anything since breakfast, or the sense of companionship may have helped us, but anyhow we were all less miserable, and saw the morrow as not altogether without hope.

  True to our promise, we told Mrs. Harker everything, which had passed. And although she grew snowy white at times when danger had seemed to threaten her husband, and red at others when his devotion to her was manifested, she listened bravely and with calmness. When we came to the part where Harker had rushed at the Count so recklessly, she clung to her husband’s arm, and held it tight as though her clinging could protect him from any harm that might come. She said nothing, however, till the narration was all done, and matters had been brought up to the present time.

  Then without letting go her husband’s hand she stood up amongst us and spoke. Oh, that I could give any idea of the scene. Of that sweet, sweet, good, good woman in all the radiant beauty of her youth and animation, with the red scar on her forehead, of which she was conscious, and which we saw with grinding of our teeth, remembering whence and how it came. Her loving kindness against our grim hate. Her tender faith against all our fears and doubting. And we, knowing that so far as symbols went, she with all her goodness and purity and faith, was outcast from God.

  “Jonathan,” she said, and the word sounded like music on her lips it was so full of love and tenderness, “Jonathan dear, and you all my true, true friends, I want you to bear something in mind through all this dreadful time. I know that you must fight. That you must destroy even as you destroyed the false Lucy so that the true Lucy might live hereafter. But it is not a work of hate. That poor soul who has wrought all this misery is the saddest case of all. Just think what will be his joy when he, too, is destroyed in his worser part that his better part may have spiritual immortality. You must be pitiful to him, too, though it may not hold your hands from his destruction.”

  As she spoke I could see her husband’s face darken and draw together, as though the passion in him were shriveling his being to its core. Instinctively the clasp on his wife’s hand grew closer, till his knuckles looked white. She did not flinch from the pain, which I knew she must have suffered, but looked at him with eyes that were more appealing than ever.

  As she stopped speaking he leaped to his feet, almost tearing his hand from hers as he spoke.

  “May God give him into my hand just for long enough to destroy that earthly life of him which we are aiming at. If beyond it I could send his soul forever and ever to burning hell I would do it!”

  “Oh, hush! Oh, hush in the name of the good God. Don’t say such things, Jonathan, my husband, or you will crush me with fear and horror. Just think, my dear … I have been thinking all this long, long day of it … that … perhaps … some day … I, too, may need such pity, and that some other like you, and with equal cause for anger, may deny it to me! Oh, my husband! My husband, indeed I would have spared you such a thought had there been another way. But I pray that God may not have treasured your wild words, except as the heartbroken wail of a very loving and sorely stricken man. Oh, God, let these poor white hairs go in evidence of what he has suffered, who all his life has done no wrong, and on whom so many sorrows have come.”

  We men were all in tears now. There was no resisting them, and we wept openly. She wept, too, to see that her sweeter counsels had prevailed. Her husband flung himself on his knees beside her, and putting his arms round her, hid his face in the folds of her dress. Van Helsing beckoned to us and we stole out of the room, leaving the two loving hearts alone with their God.

  Before they retired the Professor fixed up the room against any coming of the Vampire, and assured Mrs. Harker that she might rest in peace. She tried to school herself to the belief, and manifestly for her husband’s sake, tried to seem content. It was a brave struggle, and was, I think and believe, not without its reward. Van Helsing had placed at hand a bell which either of them was to sound in case of any emergency. When they had retired, Quincey, Godalming, and I arranged that we should sit up, dividing the night between us, and watch over the safety of the poor stricken lady. The first watch falls to Quincey, so the rest of us shall be off to bed as soon as we can.

  Godalming has already turned in, for his is the second watch. Now that my work is done I, too, shall go to bed.

  • • •

  JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL

  3-4 October, close to midnight. — I thought yesterday would never end. There was over me a yearning for sleep, in some sort of blind belief that to wake would be to find things changed, and that any change must now be for the better. Before we parted, we discussed what our next step was to be, but we could arrive at no result. All we knew was that one earth box remained, and that the Count alone knew where it was. If he chooses to lie hidden, he may baffle us for years. And in the meantime, the thought is too horrible, I dare not think of it e
ven now. This I know, that if ever there was a woman who was all perfection, that one is my poor wronged darling. I loved her a thousand times more for her sweet pity of last night, a pity that made my own hate of the monster seem despicable. Surely God will not permit the world to be the poorer by the loss of such a creature. This is hope to me. We are all drifting reefwards now, and faith is our only anchor. Thank God! Mina is sleeping, and sleeping without dreams. I fear what her dreams might be like, with such terrible memories to ground them in. She has not been so calm, within my seeing, since the sunset. Then, for a while, there came over her face a repose, which was like spring after the blasts of March. I thought at the time that it was the softness of the red sunset on her face, but somehow now I think it has a deeper meaning. I am not sleepy myself, though I am weary … weary to death. However, I must try to sleep. For there is tomorrow to think of, and there is no rest for me until …

  • • •

  Later — I must have fallen asleep, for I was awakened by Mina, who was sitting up in bed, with a startled look on her face. I could see easily, for we did not leave the room in darkness. She had placed a warning hand over my mouth, and now she whispered in my ear, “Hush! There is someone in the corridor!” I got up softly, and crossing the room, gently opened the door.

  Just outside, stretched on a mattress, lay Mr. Morris, wide-awake. He raised a warning hand for silence as he whispered to me, “Hush! Go back to bed. It is all right. One of us will be here all night. We don’t mean to take any chances!”

  His look and gesture forbade discussion, so I came back and told Mina. She sighed and positively a shadow of a smile stole over her poor, pale face as she put her arms round me and said softly, “Oh, thank God for good brave men!” With a sigh she sank back again to sleep. I write this now as I am not sleepy, though I must try again.

  Later — A sound awoke me and I saw my darling wife sitting straight up, silver moonlight reflecting over her white nightgown. I shuddered, then Mina smiled and I shrank back — away from my own wife, whom I love more than anything in this world — for in her eyes there was a glitter and about her sweet lips, which I had kissed so many times, a ripe fullness and twist of wantonness.

  “Mina?” I said.

  “I cannot sleep,” she said.

  “Let me light the candle.”

  My stomach clenched as I remembered the terrible sight of the Count, knelt in front of my darling with his foul mouth pressed to her innocent breast, dark claret welling from the wound.

  I stuck a match, my fingers shaking, and held it to the taper, which flared and burned bright, scenting the chill night air with summer beeswax.

  “I’m sorry husband, you must be tired,” she said.

  “Never apologise for what that brute did to you!” I said.

  She drew back, clutching the sheet with hands twisted like claws. I sat down beside her and reaching for her hand; I made myself stroke it. The warm fingers curled into mine, gripping tight, and the corners of her mouth turned up a little, I looked down, fearing I would see the Count in her pupils, but her eyes were hers again, filled with both love and despair.

  “I am afraid,” she said. “Of what happened to Lucy, I am not strong like she was.”

  I shivered and her grip tightened.

  “Do you think me contaminated?” she said.

  “Never.”

  My tone was harsher than I intended, so I touched her cheek, my shoulders lifting a little when I found her skin warm under my fingertips — so unlike his. My darling could not become one of them! One of those women in the castle. No, my darling Mina would never become one of the Undead, not while I still lived.

  Shuddering, I clutched her in a desperate need to feel her living body against my own. Raising her head, she caught my gaze, and I stared into her lovely face. Never had I wanted her so much.

  “I love you,” she said. “No matter what happens to us, to me, you must remember that. Whatever being he turns me into; I am yours and always will be.”

  “My sweet Mina.” My voice was hoarse and I blinked back tears.

  She undid the top buttons of her nightgown, her hands twisting each tiny catch until it gaped, showing a dark shadow under the candle light. Reaching forward, I slid the white cotton down to her waist. In the glowing lamp, her breasts glowed, the nipples red and swollen, and brushing them with my hand, she moaned. Leaning down, I kissed her neck, pressing my lips in tiny kisses across the skin of her breast, until I reached her nipple, which I took into my mouth, the flesh soft and sweet against my tongue. Mina drew a sharp breath, her hands winding into my hair, holding me tight as she sat half naked in our bed, the sheet rustling as she shifted, sending shadows flickering across the walls.

  “Let me touch you,” she said.

  I kissed her once more then grasping her gown, I drew it off. Throwing the garment down, I pushed my fingers into her heavy weight of hair, silky strands winding around my palms and breathed in her lavender pomander.

  Easing down the sheets, I exposed her legs, and then moved her back against the headboard. Frowning, she followed my direction — then gave a small cry as I raised her knees and pushed them outwards to spread her thighs. I caressed her limbs with my hands; then reached down to brush her nub with my fingertips. She dropped back against the pillows, shivering as I followed my fingers with my mouth, kissing her limbs higher and higher until I reached her womanhood where, parting her folds, I explored her with my lips and tongue: first gently, then harder, as she squirmed.

  With my hands, I held her steady, legs wide; then flicked my tongue across her flesh, before taking her bud between my lips and sucking as she groaned. Taking my grip from her right leg, I slipped two fingers inside her, spreading them wide while she trembled and panted, rubbing herself against my wet hand and arching her back.

  “Jonathan,” she murmured.

  I stripped off my own nightwear. While Mina watched me, her lips curled upwards and her hair loosened onto her bare shoulders. Never had she looked so beautiful or more desirable. Wiggling down the bed, she beckoned, opening her legs, but I didn’t want her beneath me with her face hidden, so instead I knelt and reached towards her. A slight crease appeared in her brow, but she crawled over, her thighs gleaming wet in the candlelight.

  Holding her waist, I drew her onto my lap, facing me, which caused such a rush of blood to my head that, for a brief moment, I groaned in physical pain. Moving her legs apart, she saddled me, supporting herself on my shoulders so she could sink down, throwing her head back with a little cry as I filled her. I feared I had hurt her, but her arms wound tight around my back and her hands twisted in my hair, as she groaned.

  “I love you,” she cried.

  I clutched her tight, her muscles gripping me as we thrust together. It was as if by taking her I could make her mine entirely again — remove the hideous image of the Count leaning over her. She is an innocent in this dreadful situation and to be pitied and loved, but I am also jealous that he had lain his lips upon her flesh, that another man — if we can call him a man — has touched my wife in ways that even I cannot. It is a thought that does me no credit, however I have always loved her too much to share her.

  Holding her tight, I came in hard jerks, faster than before, and cried out, even as I tried to stifle the sounds against her shoulder for fear of Quincey Morris hearing us from his post beyond the door. Breathless, she sat back on my lap and wrapped her arms around my back, resting her head, wet with sweat, against me. The musky scent of love filled the air, replaying the foul odour of the Count. For this moment, at least, we have beaten him; he has not claimed my darling yet, she still belongs to me.

  • • •

  4 October, morning. — Once again during the night I was wakened by Mina. This time we had had a good sleep, for the grey of the coming dawn was making the windows into sharp oblongs, and the gas flame was like a speck rather than a disc of light.

  She said to me hurriedly, “Go, call the Professor. I want to see him at
once.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I have an idea. I suppose it must have come in the night, and matured without my knowing it. He must hypnotize me before the dawn, and then I shall be able to speak. Go quick, dearest, the time is getting close.”

  I went to the door. Dr. Seward was resting on the mattress, and seeing me, he sprang to his feet.

  “Is anything wrong?” he asked, in alarm.

  “No,” I replied. “But Mina wants to see Dr. Van Helsing at once.”

  “I will go,” he said, and hurried into the Professor’s room.

  Two or three minutes later Van Helsing was in the room in his dressing gown, and Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming were with Dr. Seward at the door asking questions. When the Professor saw Mina a smile, a positive smile ousted the anxiety of his face.

  He rubbed his hands as he said, “Oh, my dear Madam Mina, this is indeed a change. See! Friend Jonathan, we have got our dear Madam Mina, as of old, back to us today!” Then turning to her, he said cheerfully, “And what am I to do for you? For at this hour you do not want me for nothing.”