by Syrie James
As I rounded a bend in the road, a bolt of lightning flashed across the dark sky, illuminating it to a brilliant whiteness. I heard a sudden, loud crack and saw a burst of sparks overhead. Looking up, I saw to my horror that an immense branch, as large as a mature tree, had been severed from a giant, towering oak—and said limb was hurtling down with deadly speed directly at me.
SEVENTEEN
I HAD NO TIME TO SCREAM; NO WAY TO EVADE THE BRANCH’S deadly fall.
Suddenly, Dracula was there, his long, black cloak swirling about him. He scooped me up in his arms, and with an uncanny whoosh of sound, light, and speed, I was out of harm’s way, transported deep within the cover of the wooded grove. My heart pounded in terror, not only from my close brush with death but to find myself alone again in this monster’s arms, so far from the help of any other eye or ear. And, to my dismay, it pounded in excitement as well.
“Put me down!” I screamed, beating at him with my fists.
He set me on my feet, still holding me firmly by both arms as he looked down at me. His gaze fell upon the angry red scar upon my forehead, and he winced with what appeared to be genuine remorse. For an instant I believe he was actually deprived of the power of speech. Although the dense thicket of oaks sheltered us from the greatest power of the deluge, rain still sprinkled down upon our drenched forms through the leafy branches overhead and spattered against the dense undergrowth at our feet.
“You caused that branch to break on purpose, so you could stage a rescue!” I cried accusingly as I struggled vainly to free myself from his tight grip.
“Hardly.”
“Let me go, you fiend, you murderer!” I spit at him. “Or should I call you Vlad?”
His face darkened as he stared at me. “How can you think that of me? I was not Vlad the Impaler. I despised him and everything he did.”
“The professor said—”
“The professor is wrong.”
“You are lying. You are a monster!”
“Am I?” he asked quietly.
“Yes! I saw the real you last night. The perfect face you show to me is only a mask, to hide the Devil within!”
“The real me stands before you: the being I was before the Devil changed me. Anger tends to drive me to actions beyond my control. Something dark within me rises up and takes over—as it did last night with Renfield.”
“You murdered him!”
“To protect you.”
“Another lie!”
Still holding me tightly, he said: “Renfield was one of those, like Lucy, whose thoughts are so vivid that I could read them whether I wished to or not. Last night, I heard him raving that he wanted your blood. He had a plan to escape, to slash your throat, and to drink every drop that spilled from your body.”
I hesitated. Could it be true? I had been warned that Mr. Renfield was a homicidal maniac. I recalled that he had escaped many times, and had once viciously stabbed Dr. Seward; and I could not forget the way he had looked at me on my last visit, or the brazen, rude remark he had made. “If that is so, you heard the ravings of a very sick man. You did not have to kill him.”
“What would you have preferred? That I left a note for Dr. Seward about the lunatic’s intent? Mina: he was going to kill you—if not last night, then sometime soon. I could not take that chance.”
I felt my resolve slipping slightly and struggled to hold tight to it even as I struggled to free myself from his grip. “Murdering a man on my behalf does not make it right. Murder is a sin—and not the only sin you have committed. You have befouled me!”
“How?”
“You made me drink your blood! What kind of depraved creature are you, that you would seduce me like that, with my own husband asleep in the bed next to me? Did you put me under a spell?”
“No. I put a spell on Jonathan, but not on you. You drank my blood of your own free will.”
“You did not warn me of the consequences!” Tears stung my eyes now, mingling with the moisture from the rain. “You have damned me upon my death to an accursed existence as a vampire!”
“I have not.”
I froze in astonishment. “You have not?”
“No. It is as I said: when you drank my blood, you created a telepathic connection between us. That is all.”
“But then—why did Dr. Van Helsing say—”
“Van Helsing is a pompous, self-important man who fancies himself an expert in matters about which he knows little. To become a vampire, you would have had to drink a great deal more blood from my body than you did. Or I would have to drink your blood in a significant enough quantity that my essence pervades and changes yours. I have taken care not to do so. You are still human, Mina—as mortal as you were before.”
I paused, dashing away my tears: confused, uncertain, and filled with sudden hope. Could it be true? Was I not really damned? Then a thought occurred to me, and I shook my head. “No. Whether or not you fed on me sufficiently to make me a vampire…your blood has still infected me. Do you not see this mark upon my forehead? You put it there! It proves I am unclean, rejected by the Almighty, and that you are aligned with the Devil himself!”
“It proves only that the evil monster who made me—the animal that I struggle daily to overcome—still lives on in my blood. I regret that I passed on some of that to you. But it was not enough to infect you permanently. Unlike mine, your human blood will repair and replace itself in time, and this kind of mark should never occur again.”
I wept with fresh relief at this pronouncement. “Oh! If only that is true! But who else would believe it? For the rest of my life, everyone who looks at me will know that I was branded—for ever scarred—by a piece of holy wafer!”
He winced again. “I could remove that mark; but if I do it now, I fear it will only cause Van Helsing to suspect us of some further collusion.”
“Collusion? Us? There is no us!”
“There is, Mina: and you know it as well as I do.” His blue eyes penetrated mine. “I have made no secret of it: I love you. You are all I want. I do not want you for a day, or a decade, or a lifetime. I want to be with you for all time. But I want you freely, or not at all. The choice is still yours. Live your full, human life, if you so choose. Grow old with the husband you love. Have all the children you desire. I will not stand in your way. But when at your natural time you die, if you wish to be reborn into another life—a life of power and immortality with me—you have only to ask. And then, you and I can be together for ever.”
“No. No. No!” I cried, determined to hold on to my anger despite the earnest emotion displayed on the perfect face before me. “I will not listen to your endless, devious attempts to persuade. Cannot you understand? I could never be a vampire! I have no wish to be immortal! Nor do I wish to be with you at any time—ever! I hate you. I hate you!”
To my astonishment, at this pronouncement, his resolve seemed to crumble. A tortured look crossed his face, and he let go of me and turned away. I stood still for a moment and then took a few steps back. Was I free to go? It seemed there was no invisible shield preventing my escape. And yet—if he was not holding me here by his powers—why did I suddenly have no will to leave?
“So this is where you stand. I had hoped, if I could control my desires, and court you in the old-fashioned manner, that I might…” He paused. “But it does not matter now.” He turned back to me with a broken smile and said: “You need not worry, Mina. You will not be accursed with my presence any more.”
“What do you mean?” I said warily.
“I have lived a very long time, and waited all my existence to find you. You are now my reason for being. I have no desire to continue if I cannot have you. Your men are determined to kill me. I will simply let them do it. You have only to say the word.”
I stared at him, fully aware that he was a crafty Devil and a supremely powerful being. Surely he had no intention of dying at any one’s hand! But as I looked into his eyes, it was suddenly as if I was looking through a window in
to Dracula’s mind and heart. All at once, without words, I felt the weight of the lonely centuries he had lived through; the joy he had experienced during all the times we had shared; the intensity of his love for me; and the anguish and despair that now wracked his heart. This amalgam of feeling was so powerful that I gasped aloud.
I tried to remind myself that he was sending me these thoughts on purpose; that he had fixed on me as his eternal companion and would no doubt say anything to get what he wanted. But even if that was true, I could no longer deny the truth:
I still loved him.
I had never stopped loving him.
I could not bear the thought of life without him, or of his dying for any reason, much less because of me. I choked back a sob. He must have read my thoughts, for he instantly stepped forward and took me in his arms.
“Mina, Mina. I love you so.”
“I love you, too.”
He kissed me deeply. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, and I returned his kiss in a fervent expression of all the tangled emotions that had been building up inside me for months. When the kiss ended, his mouth moved to caress my cheeks, wiping away the tears and the rain; then he kissed his way down to my throat. Suddenly he paused, as if fighting some powerful inner struggle; with a ragged groan, he pushed me from him and turned away.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I cannot drink your blood any more.”
“Why not?”
“I have already done so three times. Every human has different tolerances and immunities; but should I take any more of your blood, you might indeed become like me—but not, as Van Helsing thinks, some distant day after you die. The change may happen—and take your life—far sooner than you wish.”
“Oh,” I replied in a small voice, as I tried to rein in my fear.
He sighed and shook his head wryly. “Since the moment we met, it has been a test of strength and will to keep my hands and teeth off you; but it must end. To be in your company—even if I cannot taste your blood again, or make love to you—yet—it is reward enough for now.”
My cheeks reddened at his mention of love-making. In truth, I had indulged in fantasies many times about that very subject, from the time I had first met him as Mr. Wagner, when I was a single woman. The notion had been shocking enough even then; but I was married now. I could never…it was inconceivable.
Nicolae looked at me sharply, apparently reading my thoughts, which made me blush even more deeply. He took my hand in his, brought it to his lips, and kissed it, saying:
“Relax, Mina. I understand that your desires conflict with your curious Victorian sense of propriety and morality. If I have your heart—”
“You have it.”
“Then I am willing to forgo the rest at present.”
The rain continued to spatter down from the trees. I was wet clear through, and I shivered. Dracula looked at me, as if suddenly conscious of how very cold I was. He glanced upwards, then slowly waved his hand with a deep concentration that I felt in my mind like a small tremor. Suddenly, an invisible, protective dome seemed to form above and around us. Although the rain continued elsewhere, within our immediate vicinity it stopped, and the air grew warm. Within seconds, he and I and our respective clothing were completely dry.
He gestured towards a fallen log near-by. I sat down beside him, overwhelmed and speechless for a long moment. At length, I said:
“What are we going to do? I cannot leave my husband; but I cannot give you up. I have tried, and it is not within my power. Neither can I stand by and watch the others destroy you.”
“That will never happen.”
“But they are visiting your houses as we speak. They intend to render all of your boxes of earth useless.”
“I know. I should have stayed behind to protect my property—but it might have meant killing one or all of them, and I had promised you I would not.”
“Thank you.”
“Fortunately, I am not so vulnerable as they think. Many of the boxes they will find are decoys. I have other resting-places they have not discovered, where I have transferred my good Transylvanian earth.”
“What happens if they find them?”
“They must not.” Taking my hand in his, he said: “This is war, Mina. To win a war, you must know and understand your enemy’s weaknesses. To that end, I have spent numerous hours in the copper-domed Round Reading Room of the British Museum, reading up on Dr. Van Helsing. He has published a multitude of articles on a variety of subjects. I was fascinated to note that he proclaims himself to be a master hypnotist. Let us put that to our advantage.”
“How?”
“I have a plan: a way we can convince your men to call off their hunt. A way that you can stay with your husband if you wish, and I will still be safe: we must deceive them into thinking that I have fled the country.”
“Fled the country?”
Dracula told me the particulars of the plan he had in mind, a simple but rather ingenious plot which involved, among other things, my asking the professor to use his hypnotic powers to put me in a trance.
“Won’t that be dangerous?” I said dubiously. “If I allow Dr. Van Helsing to hypnotise me, I might reveal the truth about my feelings for you, as well as your entire plan.”
“You might—if Van Helsing actually proved himself to be a competent hypnotist—which I think highly unlikely. I have a great deal of experience in this art, Mina, and I can teach you some safeguards. In any case, I will be there in your mind the entire time should there be even the slightest danger of your falling under—and I will tell you what to say.”
“I have little experience at play-acting, other than school dramatics.”
“I have faith in you. I heard your acting skills at work last night, after I left the room, when you spun that remarkable story about our encounter.” With a twinkle in his eyes, he mimicked my impression of him as a repulsive monster: “‘You have been my bountiful wine-press for a while, and shall be later on my companion and my helper. When my brain says Come! to you, you shall cross land and sea to do my bidding!’”
I covered my face with my hands. “Oh! I blush to recall what I told them. I think that tale only increased their thirst for revenge.”
“It was quite imaginative—if a bit melodramatic.”
I looked away, thinking over what he had proposed. Could I—should I—try to help him?
How could I not?
I knew how much Jonathan and the others feared and despised him. If I did not fight to save Nicolae, he might perish. Not only would that break my heart; but who could say which one of the others, if any, would come out of such an altercation alive? I felt like Helen of Troy, caught between two lovers, on the brink of war. I loved Jonathan; I wanted my sweet life with him and the family that we envisioned. Yet I also loved Nicolae. I could not be true to both men at the same time. I could only be true to myself and follow my heart: and my heart told me to do whatever was necessary to keep them both safe. Perhaps I was blind; perhaps I was too much in love to think straight; but I could not see any other course of action to follow.
“Nicolae: I will do whatever I can to help you. But the others all believe I am doomed to become a vampire when I die. Even if they think you have left England, I fear they would follow you and will never give up searching for you, as long as they think you are alive.”
“You must convince them otherwise: that I will never return; that they should simply let you live out the span of your mortal life; and that when you die, you will not pose a threat to any one.”
“How shall I convince them of that?”
“By telling them to stake you if you rise.”
“You cannot be serious!”
“That group should have no compunction about promising to complete the act; they did it willingly enough for Lucy. But it is a safe promise, for you will never rise—not unless you wish to. Unless you decide to become mine of your own free will. And if that happens, I promise you: whether it is nine y
ears from now or ninety-nine, I will come for you, Mina. I will take you away the moment you reach the grave.”
I marvelled at the thought; the whole thing still seemed entirely fantastical to me. Could it be true? Was it possible that I could be true to both of the men I loved? Could I live first one life, and then the other?
What other solution was there to the riddle in which I found myself?
Then the image from my dream came to mind—the grotesque vision of Lucy whirling to face me as a hideous, hissing, vampire—and I recalled Dr. Seward’s anguished voice on his phonographic diary as he recounted the story of the horrific Thing that Lucy became. I could not repress a shudder. Did I truly want to become a vampire, even if it meant spending eternity in Dracula’s arms?
“It would be an eternity of bliss,” he said, although I had not spoken aloud. “I will not lie to you. It comes at a heavy price. But I would be giving you a gift, Mina; a gift which few people can ever hope to possess.”
“Is it a gift?” I said uncertainly.
“Yes. With immortality comes great power. You love learning, Mina. Think of the possibilities. Think of all that you can learn and do, with infinity before you.”
“I admit: it is a thrilling notion: the idea of time without end. I could read every book in your library. I could read every single book in the British Museum!”
“You can become as accomplished a pianist as Beethoven, Mozart, and Chopin.”
“I could live to see all the marvellous things that will be invented in the future. I could meet and know my great-great-grandchildren.”
“And you can choose your form. You can be that great-great-grandmother, or you can be as young and beautiful for ever as you are to-day. You will never sicken, and never die.”
“But that is not true. You are dead.”
“Not dead,” he insisted. “Un-Dead. An entirely different thing. It is Darwin’s theory of evolution at work: only the fittest survive, and form new species.”
I looked at him. “A new species that does not die.”
