by Syrie James
“Mina! Mina,” came Jonathan’s gentle voice.
Although the lamp had been extinguished, the moonlight was bright enough that even through the thick yellow blinds, there was light enough to see. I felt Jonathan snuggle up behind me and sleepily wrap an arm around me. “You were having a bad dream, dearest.”
“Oh, Jonathan.” I turned over in his embrace and buried my face against his neck as I struggled to calm myself. “I am so frightened.”
“You are all right now.” His voice was heavy with sleep. “It was just a dream.”
“It was more than a dream. I have a feeling something terrible is going to happen.”
“Nothing terrible will happen to you, dearest.”
“It is not me I am worried about. It is one of you. I feel certain that if you proceed with your plans against Dracula, someone—a member of our party—is going to die!”
“Mina: shhh. You are still half-asleep. It is the draught you took.”
“I did not take the draught! I am wide awake. I know what I am talking about. It was a premonition, Jonathan!”
He drew back slightly, staring at me now as he stroked my hair affectionately. “Mina, I am well-acquainted with these dreams and premonitions of yours. I have been hearing about them all my life. But they—”
“They often come true! Do you remember the time you decided to climb that big tree in the garden behind the orphanage? You were ten, I think. I said: ‘Don’t do it, Jonathan.’ I’d had a dream that you tried to climb that tree, and a limb broke and you fell and were gravely injured. But you did not listen to me.”
“I will never forget it. I did fall, and I broke my arm.”
“Years later, I told you that you were going to win the literature prize at school. I had seen a grey-haired man handing you a red leather book, inscribed with your name. And that was exactly how it happened!”
“But your dreams do not always come true, dear. Do you recall the time, some years ago, when you were going on holiday with the Westenras, and you were absolutely terrified that there was going to be a railway accident, and that you and Lucy would both die?”
I sighed impatiently. “Yes, but—”
“This dream is like that one. It is founded only on fear—not intuition. You must stop worrying. We will all be fine.”
“You cannot know that! Oh, Jonathan. It might be you! I could not bear it if anything happened to you!” Nor could I bear it, I thought, if anything happened to Nicolae. “Please: let us leave this place.”
“What do you mean, leave?”
“I want to go home—now, this instant. Let us pack our things and walk to the village and take the first train out. We could be back in Exeter in time for breakfast.”
“Mina, we cannot leave. We have a job to do. We are on the brink of victory. Our day of reckoning is at hand.”
“No! This whole thing is a great mistake. You must tell the professor to call it off!”
“I understand that you are anxious. We have all been under a great deal of stress lately, but I promise you, we will defeat this deadly foe—”
“He is not a foe! Listen to me: Count Dracula is innocent. Innocent! There is an explanation for everything he has done. He has been entirely misunderstood!”
“Now you are talking nonsense.”
“I am not!”
“Calm down. You had a bad dream, and it has made you hysterical. Everything will be fine, Mina. We are doing a good and brave thing. We are making the world safe for our children.”
“It is those very children that I am thinking of.” I found his hand beneath the bed-clothes and brought it up to my lips and kissed it. “I want the future that we have planned for ourselves, Jonathan. I want children—lots and lots of them.”
“So do I, my dear. And we will have them.” He kissed my forehead. “Now go back to sleep. It is late, I am very tired, and we have a big day ahead of us to-morrow.”
Jonathan rolled away from me towards the wall and promptly fell asleep. Disappointment surged through me as I sank back against my pillow. I had tried, but I could not make him understand. Heaving a deep sigh, I turned over to face the centre of the room—only to meet a sight which caused me to jerk upright with a violent start:
Dracula was standing at the side of my bed, barely a foot away, looking down at me.
I GASPED IN SURPRISE AND ALARM, CASTING A QUICK, ANXIOUS glance at Jonathan beside me. Dracula only waved a quick, deliberate hand at Jonathan’s inert form, saying:
“He will not waken. Are you all right?”
Too stunned to think of a coherent reply, I merely nodded. In the dim light, I perceived that Dracula was clad in black trousers, tall black boots, and a loose white shirt. He looked as handsome as ever—more like a pirate than a vampire—and I thought I detected a hint of fury in his eyes, which he was struggling to hide. He held out a hand to me.
“Come.”
I shook my head, glancing meaningfully at Jonathan again, and whispered: “I cannot. Is something wrong?”
He hesitated. “I will tell you presently. Forgive my late arrival. I have been much occupied with preparations for my own defence. Your men intend to destroy all my resting-places to-morrow—or should I say, to-day.”
“What will you do?” I asked anxiously.
“I will ensure they do not succeed.”
He took both my hands in his, urging me to my feet. I shivered as my bare feet touched the cold wooden floor.
“My love,” he said gently, as one hand reached up to caress my face, “you are not still afraid of me?”
“No.” My voice seemed to be coming to me from a far-off place. “But we cannot…my husband, I—”
“I assure you, he will remain unconscious. He will never know that I was here.”
He drew me to him. I found myself melting into his embrace. It was as if my will had left me; I could no more have pushed him away than I could have ceased to breathe. As he kissed me, I felt all my vows of resistance evaporate, replaced by growing desire. Oh! How could any woman refuse the advances of such a man? I wanted him! How I wanted him!
His mouth left mine, and he looked down at me, his eyes like red flames. I knew what he needed. My heart pounded. I knew I should refuse; but I yearned for it. I untied my nightdress at the collar. He pulled it open to expose my throat. As he bent his head and fastened there, I gave out a sigh, drawing pleasure from it. Yes. Yes. Yes. Liquid, molten ecstasy. Nirvana.
To my regret, he did not feast long. As if with a superhuman effort, he stopped and stepped back slightly, a trickle of blood dripping from his mouth.
“I do not wish to weaken you further. I took more blood than I ought to last night.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, in sudden trepidation. “Am I…am I in danger of becoming a—?”
“In danger of becoming a vampire?” At my worried nod, he answered: “Not yet. But if things go on as they are, at some point, you…” His voice trailed off.
We stood in silence for a long moment, regarding each other as we fought to regain mastery of ourselves. I suppose it was very remiss of me, but I had not, until that moment, considered the possibility that his vampire bites might change me into a being like him. Lucy had, after all, been bitten many times without permanent injury—until the very end, when he said he had changed her at her bidding.
I loved Dracula desperately, against all sense of propriety and despite all reason. But I believed him to be a unique being. I did not think he was representative of his kind. He had described his sisters as wanton creatures without conscience or self-control; and the same thing had happened to Lucy when she became Un-Dead. I had no wish to be like them. I would not, could not become a vampire; and I certainly did not wish to die! Dracula must know this. I believed, with every beating of my heart, that he would never do anything that would be detrimental to my well-being.
“Nicolae: will you promise me something?”
“Anything, my love.”
“Whatever happe
ns later to-day; will you promise not to harm my husband, or any of the others?”
It took a moment before he answered, and the reply seemed to cost him dearly. “I give you my word. But Mina: in spite of all I do to protect myself, if your men persist with their intentions, and I do nothing to stop them, there may come a time, and soon, when I am forced to leave England or perish.”
“Oh!” I cried, quite miserable at the thought.
“Having found you again, I cannot bear to leave you. And I cannot lose you! If all communication between us should cease, if I cannot discover how you are or where you are, it will drive me mad.”
“I will feel the same.”
After a pause, he said slowly: “There is something we can do: a way that we can create a bond between us—a telepathic bond—so that I can read your thoughts and you can read mine. We can be together that way and find each other again.”
“How would we create such a bond?”
“You must drink my blood.”
My pulse quickened. “Drink your blood?”
“Yes. Will you do it?”
I did not hesitate. “Show me how.”
I thought he might teach me how to bite his throat, as he had done to mine. Instead, he lifted me and placed me back upon the bed, facing him, on my knees. He then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open, revealing his beautiful, sculpted chest. All at once, the nail of his index finger grew long and sharp, and with it he pierced his flesh. Immediately, a thin stream of red blood trickled from his breast.
“Drink,” he said.
I pressed my mouth to the wound, first lapping up the blood as it flowed out, and then sucking deeply from it. I had only tasted blood a few times before, when I had sucked on an injured fingertip. The blood I now imbibed was nothing like the mild, slightly salty liquid that ran in my own veins. Dracula’s blood was delicious. It tasted like a deep, rich, full-bodied wine, with a dark, delectable tang. It was ambrosia; I felt as if I could not get enough of it. As I drank, I heard him give an ecstatic little moan. His hand cradled the back of my head and held it there, urging me to continue, while his other hand found and clasped both my hands lovingly in his.
As I drank his blood, I felt a fevered glow begin to course through me, even stronger than the glorious, pulsing sensation I had experienced when he drank from me. My ears began to ring with a strange and wonderful hum that steadily increased in pitch and volume. Soon, I was wrapped in a cocoon of sound and sensation that drowned out everything else in the world but him, and me, and this wondrous exchange of his magnificent blood.
Gradually, I became aware of a new and different set of sounds, which hovered at the edges of my consciousness: the sharp murmur of conversation. A mighty crash. The tumble of heavy footsteps. Male voices exclaiming in horror and dismay. So entranced was I in my occupation, however, that I perceived these sounds as no more than an unwelcome annoyance—and apparently Dracula was equally entranced. Suddenly, however, I heard and felt Dracula let out a roar of fury. He shoved me down upon the bed, where I wiped blood from my lips and took in the scene before me in dazed consternation:
Just inside the splintered door-frame stood Dr. Seward, Lord Godalming, and Mr. Morris, as Dr. Van Helsing—who must have fallen in his exertion—rose up from his hands and knees beside them. All were staring in fear, shock, and disgust at me and my companion—who, as he whirled to face them, was no longer the Dracula I knew and loved. To my horror, all the colour had drained from his skin and hair, changing them to pasty white. His face contorted with rage into a wrinkled, waxen mask of Death, and his eyes flamed red with malice, like some fiend from Hell.
Before I could blink, the hideous Dracula sprang at the intruders with another roar, then stopped and faltered back as Dr. Van Helsing advanced towards him, holding up an envelope containing I knew not what. Now the entire party held up small crucifixes and advanced upon him. Instantly, it grew very dark, as if a great black cloud had obscured the moon. Then the gas-light sprang up under Mr. Morris’s match. Dracula had vanished into a wisp of vapour.
I screamed. It was an ear-piercing shriek that embodied all my terror, guilt, mortification, and despair. Terror, because my love had just transformed into a hideous beast before my eyes; guilt, over my own debased behaviour; mortification, to have been discovered by these men in such a compromising position; and in despair over what would follow. Would they perceive that I was drinking Dracula’s blood willingly? Would they guess at our former liaisons? Would their hatred of him increase, and put him—and them—in further danger? And what would become of me?
SIXTEEN
I PUT MY HANDS OVER MY FACE, LAY ON THE BED, AND SOBBED as if my heart would break.
“My God,” I heard Mr. Morris say. “That beast is the Devil incarnate. Let’s see where he’s gotten to!”
I heard departing footsteps, then felt the coverlet being drawn over my body as gentle fingers brushed back the hair from my neck, exposing the two bite marks thereupon to view. Dr. Van Helsing gave a little gasp. Then he whispered:
“We can do nothing with poor Madam Mina for a few moments till she recovers herself. Jonathan is in a stupor such as we know the vampire can produce. I must wake him.”
A moment later, I heard Jonathan’s startled exclamation as he woke and started up. I turned to him instinctively to comfort him; but then I spied the blood which stained the front and sleeves of my white nightdress, and I drew my hands back again, letting out a sob so strong it made the bed beneath us shake.
“In God’s name what does this mean?” Jonathan cried. “Dr. Seward, Dr. Van Helsing, what is it? What has happened? What is wrong? Mina, dear, what is it? What does that blood mean?”
“I am so sorry, my friend,” Dr. Van Helsing replied in an agonised tone. “Our dreaded foe has come and gone, and taken of our poor Madam Mina what he wanted.”
“My God, my God! Has it come to this?” Jonathan cried in horror.
“I fear it is not the first time,” Dr. Van Helsing said with anguish. “I fear he has attacked her before, in her sleep.”
“How do you know?” Jonathan exclaimed.
“Mr. Renfield told us,” answered Dr. Seward. “It was Renfield who invited him in, and who just now warned us that she was in danger. We were imbeciles to leave her unprotected! Mr. Renfield alone noticed your wife’s pallor and guessed the terrible truth behind it—and he has paid dearly for it.”
With a little, confused shock, I understood now that my secret was safe. The men’s collective guilt at leaving me undefended had blinded them from perceiving my own guilt. At the same time, I latched onto the last words Dr. Van Helsing had spoken: he has paid dearly for it. Before I could ask what that meant, Jonathan let out a cry of horror, jumped from the bed, and pulled on his clothes. “God help us! Dr. Van Helsing, as you love Mina, do something to save her. It cannot have gone too far yet. Guard her while I look for him!”
Frantic lest Jonathan in his fury should find and kill Dracula, or far more likely die in the attempt, I seized hold of him and cried out: “No! No, Jonathan, you must not leave me. I could not bear it if he were to harm you.” I pulled him down to sit on the bed beside me and began to sob afresh.
“Calm yourself, Mr. Harker. And do not fear, my dear Madam Mina,” Dr. Van Helsing said soothingly, as he crouched before us, holding up his little golden crucifix. “We are here; and whilst this is close to you, no foul thing can approach. You are safe for to-night.”
As I tried to regain control of my emotions, Dr. Seward quietly told Jonathan what he had seen upon entering the room. A few minutes later, Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming returned, explaining that they had seen no further sign of the intruder, but they had spied a bat flying westward.
“We looked into Renfield’s room,” Lord Godalming added. “The poor fellow is dead.”
“Dead?” I exclaimed. “Mr. Renfield? But how?”
“The Count brutally attacked him in his room on his way in,” Dr. Seward replied angrily.
&nb
sp; I leapt to my feet in horror. “How do you know it was Dracula who attacked him?”
“Renfield told us all about it as he lay dying, when he warned us to look after you,” Dr. Seward said. “That monster left him, broken and mutilated, in a pool of his own blood. We tried to help him, but he was beyond saving.”
“I want to see him,” I cried, starting for the door, but Lord Godalming stepped in front of me and replied:
“No, Mrs. Harker. It is not a sight for a lady’s eyes.”
I shook my head in stunned dismay. How could Dracula have murdered a man in cold blood just moments before taking me in his arms? And yet, I remembered how angry and distracted he had seemed when he first arrived in my chamber. Was it possible…?
“This cruel, inhuman act does not surprise me,” Dr. Van Helsing said. “My friend from Buda-Pesth University thinks that this Dracula, in his living life, was none other than Vlad Dracula, or Vlad the Impaler, the sadistic ruler of Wallachia who tortured and murdered tens of thousands of people in the fifteenth century.”
A wave of terror and nausea overcame me, even as my mind rejected this notion. Could the Dracula I knew and loved have been a sadistic monster in his former life? No; impossible.
“What will happen to Mina now?” Jonathan asked hoarsely. “Will she—God forbid—will she become a—a—?”
“Not from a few feedings, I think, will she become a vampire,” replied Dr. Van Helsing. Jonathan looked relieved at this, until a great sob rose in the professor’s throat, and, gulping it down and shaking his head, he went on: “But alas, there is more to fear! Count Dracula forced Madam Mina to drink his blood. It is the vampire’s baptism! By this act, he create a spiritual bond between them to control her. She has now been so infected that she will become even as he is whenever she die!”
All the men gasped. Jonathan let out a wail, and then began to weep. I stared at the professor, unable at first to process what he had just relayed. Yes, I had drunk Dracula’s blood; but only because he had said it would create a telepathic bond between us. He had said nothing about a bond to control me, nor had he explained that there would be this far more dreadful consequence.
