by Syrie James
“It is them, just as Jonathan describe!” the professor murmured.
Without a doubt, it had to be Dracula’s sisters. They were all stunningly lovely, with features and figures so perfect, they nearly took my breath away. Two had black hair, like Dracula; one—the most beautiful of them all—was blonde; and they all bore a striking resemblance to their brother. They all smiled and pointed at me, laughing, as they spoke in some foreign language, their voices sweet and low as music. My hand moved instinctively towards the revolver which I wore in a holster at my hip, but had never used. The professor said:
“Bullets are useless against the vampire, Madam Mina.”
“What should we do?”
“Nothing. We can have no hope against them while they are in possession of their full powers. We must wait for day.”
The women continued to speak in their foreign tongue in strange, soothing, seductive tones, which seemed to be aimed at me. “What are they saying, professor?”
“They are saying: ‘Come, sister. Come to us. Come!’”
I cringed at this. For reply, one of the vampires said in haughty, heavily accented English: “Do you prefer that we speak your tongue, English girl?”
“Do come, English girl!” laughed another.
“Why do you stay with this old man?” sneered the blonde. “We know many young and beautiful boys. We will share them all with you.” She made wanton, sexual gestures with her hands and body.
My heart pounded in fear, horror, and repulsion, but I was unable to tear my gaze away. Is this the kind of creature that I was destined to become? Oh, God forgive me! Nicolae, come quickly, I thought in desperation. They are here. They have come for me.
Dracula made no reply. I remembered, then, his warning that he would be far away to-night, in another form, and unable to communicate.
Dr. Van Helsing rose and made as if to leave the circle, but I grabbed his hand and stopped him. “No! Do not go without. The Host protects us. You are safe here.”
“It is for you I fear,” he replied.
“Why fear for me, Professor?” I replied ruefully. “I am almost one of them already. No one in all the world is safer from them than I. Oh! How horrible they are! I wish they would go away!”
Dr. Van Helsing seized some of the wafer and stood. “They cannot approach me while I am so armed.” He advanced on them. The three women drew back a bit but continued to hover, licking their lips at him and laughing their low, horrid laughs, taunting us menacingly.
Suddenly I heard a loud screech and the fluttering of wings. A large black bat appeared out of the snow-gloom and bore down on the intruders, flapping and screaming. The three harpies hissed and roared at the bat in frustration. Then they hurled sticks and stones at it, but the great bat dodged every missile with unrelenting skill and speed, circling ever closer to them. At last they gave up. In unison, the three women transformed back into phantom shapes, then melted into the mist and snow and whirled away in the direction of the castle. The bat hovered in the night air, and for a long moment seemed to be staring at me with its beady red eyes.
Then it flew off, disappearing into the mist.
WHEN I AWOKE, I WAS LYING IN A WARM COCOON BENEATH ONE of the fur rugs. I sat up to find the sun high in the sky, hidden by deep clouds. Although it was cold, most of the previous night’s snowfall had melted, clinging only in patches beneath the trees. Shivering, I pulled my cloak tightly about me. I saw that I was still encircled by the pieces of holy wafer. Our cooking gear and other supplies were in their usual places, but there was no sign of the professor.
I called out to him, but received no reply. To my astonishment, I noticed that the horses and carriage were also gone. I was alone!
All around me, the forest was still and silent, the only sound the rush of the wind through the trees. Where was Dr. Van Helsing? Why had he left me thus, alone and vulnerable? Although the holy circle had worked against the female vampires, he knew it would not serve to protect me from wolves!
The terrible events of the previous night came back to me in a rush. Surely it was Dracula who had flown in as a bat and frightened off those awful vampire women. Looking up through the trees, I could see Dracula’s castle on an eminence a few miles away.
Suddenly, I understood where Dr. Van Helsing was. He had gone up to the castle, to complete his deadly purpose!
TWENTY-TWO
I LEAPT TO MY FEET, DEEPLY WORRIED, FIGHTING BACK A BRIEF wave of dizziness. Dracula had expressly forbidden us to go up to his castle. I had seen how beautiful and seductive those women were. I could not forget how they had once descended on Jonathan, eager for his blood, or how—by his own admission—he had been overcome by lust and had lacked the will to fend them off. I had been similarly overwhelmed by desire, I realised, every time I had been in Dracula’s presence. In my dream the other night, I had felt the innate sexual urge of the vampire within myself!
Dr. Van Helsing seemed to believe that vampires were entirely powerless during the day, but I knew better. Despite his stalwart beliefs and his bag of tools, he could become their easy prey. I must go to him, I realised, without delay. It might yet be too late! But how? I was encircled by the Holy Host, a barrier I dared not cross!
I heard a chattering in the near-by trees. Among the waving branches, I spied two squirrels involved in a merry chase. An idea came to me. I called to the animals, making little kissing sounds in the air. The small creatures darted down the tree-trunk and dropped to the forest floor, where they froze, staring at me. I continued my entreaties, pointing to the crumbs of Host on the ground before me. The squirrels approached, a few halting feet at a time. I stood stock-still, not wishing to frighten them. They each pounced upon a crumb of wafer and gobbled it up. They quickly ate several additional crumbs, then stuffed their cheeks with more and dashed off into the trees.
With a smile, I saw that a small opening had been cleared for me in the circle, just wide enough for me to pass through. I cautiously stepped out, then paused. If the professor was in danger, I would surely need a weapon. I spotted one of his discarded carving attempts on the ground near-by: a thick wooden stake, about eighteen inches long, with an end point that was imperfect. A defective weapon, I thought, was better than none; and so I grabbed it up and hastened down the hill.
I moved as fast as my feet could carry me, taking a short-cut across the forested hills and valleys, crunching through the undergrowth in the direction of the castle. At length I caught up to the dirt road, which was narrow and very rough, and wet with mud from the newly melted snow. I followed the road as it wound up a steep incline towards the castle. The ancient edifice sat perched in all its grandeur on the summit of a sheer rocky precipice, its lofty stone walls and red-roofed towers looming high above me, topped by tall, narrow windows here and there where sling, arrow, cannon, or musket could not reach.
The way was very steep and muddy. My skirts and, to my distress, my once-beautiful white wool cloak became sodden and filthy at the hem. Snow clung in shady spots along the roadside. The rocky face that I passed was studded with mountain ash and thorn, whose roots clung in cracks and crannies of the stone. I was obliged to stop repeatedly to catch my breath, but I toiled on. Looking up, the castle appeared to be an immense grey monolith, its red-roofed towers pointing towards the heavens. Looking down and outward, I could see nothing but a vast sea of tree tops capped by distant, jagged mountains.
At last I reached the object of my journey. Breathing hard, I stopped outside the castle in an ancient, moss-covered, cobblestone courtyard of considerable size. My heart quickened as I saw our horse and carriage tied and waiting out front. A quick visual survey of the vehicle confirmed that the professor’s bag of tools did not lie within. Evidently he was somewhere inside the building. But where? The castle was vast. With a sinking heart, I realised that he—and they—could be anywhere.
The main front entrance was set in a projecting doorway of massive, carved stone, much worn by time and weather. To my s
urprise, the doorway stood wide open. The ancient, nail-studded, oaken door had been broken off its hinges and lay flat on the paving stones. I remembered that Dr. Van Helsing had bought a blacksmith hammer in Veresti. He must have put it to good use here, I thought, taking this precaution to ensure that no matter what happened, he could not be held a prisoner in the castle, as Jonathan believed he had been.
I hesitated for an instant. What would I find inside this lonely old castle? Was I going to my death? Perhaps; for if those vampire harpies were truly awake, I knew I did not possess the strength or skill to combat them. However, the professor might be in mortal danger. I had to at least make the attempt.
I crossed the threshold. The large, circular foyer had four arched doorways in the high stone walls. My eye was drawn to several fresh, muddy footprints on the stone floor: tracks that could well have been made by the professor.
I removed my cloak and laid it over a chair, then followed the shoeprints through one of the arches and along a passageway. I soon found myself in an immense chamber. The only source of light came from several narrow, undraped apertures high up near the ceiling. The room was very cold. I paused, shivering, to let my eyes adjust to the low light. I soon perceived that the walls were filled from floor to ceiling with shelves of books: hundreds of thousands of volumes. My heart pounded. So this was Count Dracula’s library! This was where he had spent so many long, contented hours, for so many centuries! And no wonder. It was a fabulous room. The windows were curtained with draperies of richest velvet, and the furnishings seemed to be upholstered in the costliest and most beautiful of fabrics. A half-dozen marvellous, gilt-framed paintings hung here and there, canvases depicting European landscapes which, I noticed with astonishment, were similar in style to some that I had seen in the National Gallery in London.
All was silent. I noticed more bits of muddy residue on the stone floor and pressed on, leaving the great chamber and moving down another long passage. I tried every door that I passed, but found all of them locked. At length, I came to a door that stood open. It was a sparsely furnished bedroom that was very dusty from disuse. Traces of mud led towards another open door at the far corner of the room. Hoping that I was following in the professor’s footsteps, I made my way through, proceeding into a passage which led to a circular, stone stairway that went steeply down.
As I descended, I had the strangest sense that I had traversed this path before, although I knew that could not be so. In a flash of understanding, I knew why: Jonathan had described the room above and that very staircase in his diary! I recalled that it led to a chapel in the lower reaches of the castle, where Jonathan had twice encountered Dracula asleep.
As I reached the bottom of the steps, I heard the now-familiar, uncanny laughter of the female vampires. My breath caught in my throat as I hurried down a dimly lit, tunnel-like passage. The voices were whispering softly now, amidst their wanton laughter:
“Relax, my lovely one.”
“We know what you want, Englishman, and we will give it to you.”
“There is no escaping us now.”
My heart pounded in terror. I stopped before a heavy, oaken door which stood ajar. Gripping the wooden stake tightly in my hands, I peered cautiously around the door-jamb. The angle of my first glimpse confirmed my suppositions: it was indeed an old chapel. I caught sight of an open-beamed ceiling and high, stone walls flanked by ancient, magnificent, stained-glass windows which flooded the room with multiple hues of light. As I widened my view, I saw three coffins standing against the far wall, their lids removed.
Then my eyes fell upon a sight which filled me with such shock, horror, and revulsion, that I believe I will never forget it as long as I live.
Not a dozen feet distant from where I stood, Dr. Van Helsing lay sprawled on his back on the stone floor, wide-eyed and unmoving, as if stunned into paralysis. His bag of tools lay beside him, its contents—stakes, hammers, knives—spilled out across the floor. He was stripped to the waist, and his shoes and socks were missing; and all three female vampires, their eyes flaming red, were assaulting him in a state of wanton sexuality. One dark-haired harpy was slowly and languorously licking his feet and sucking his toes. The other was kneeling beside his head, pressing her bountiful, exposed cleavage against his mouth while running her fingers through his hair; and the third—the blonde beauty—was straddling him, her long dark skirts billowing about her as she rocked her lower body against his pelvis while seductively massaging her hands along his naked chest en route to his throat.
The intensity of their lust must have so consumed their focus as to make them unaware of my presence. The blonde vampire’s mouth opened wide as she laughed, revealing two sharp fangs. Now she pushed her sister aside and poised herself to pounce on the professor’s neck.
There was no time to think or plan. I dashed into the chamber. With the weight of my body behind me, and all the force I could muster, I threw myself at the blonde vampire, ramming my wooden stake down at her upper left back, where I believed her heart to be. My hands stung from the pain of contact—I heard a cracking of bone as the stake sank several inches into her flesh—(did it go in far enough to paralyse her?)—blood spurted from the wound, splattering me in the face—she screeched in agony! She let go of her victim and sank to the floor, writhing and cursing.
The other two vampires reared up, the stunned surprise in their red eyes vanishing as their faces contorted in fury like beasts from Hell. One of the professor’s stakes lay at my feet—I grabbed it and rushed at the closest harpy—the one who had been tantalising him with her cleavage. But the third vampire lunged at me, shrieking and cursing as she dashed the stake from my hands.
The ensuing confrontation occurred in such a blur of terror that I cannot accurately recall it; nor could I make sense of it at the time. I only know that I found myself fighting back against both of the dark-haired, snarling vampire women at once. Had it been night, I would have been dead in an instant, for their strength would have been tenfold what it was by day; as it was, I was no match for their combined force. I strained with every fibre of my being to avoid contact with their awful teeth, knowing that if they did not succeed in killing me with their hands, they could drain me of my blood in minutes if they so chose.
Suddenly, there came a great crash. From the corner of my eye, I saw fragments of coloured, splintered glass flying in all directions. I heard a ferocious snarl. To my astonishment, one of the arms that gripped me was ripped from its very body in a gush of blood. The vampire screamed and fell back; I saw a flash of grey fur, angry fangs, torn flesh, a fountain of gore. Now a heavy wooden stake came out of nowhere and plunged into the third vampire’s heart. As she screeched and sank to the floor, I realised the implement had been wielded by Dr. Van Helsing.
My eyes fell upon the beast that was viciously attacking the other dark-haired vampire. It was a great, grey wolf! As the animal ripped at her limbs and throat, the professor pounded the stake into his own victim with a hammer. She writhed and screamed, her lips foaming with blood.
Seconds later, all was silent. The two dark-haired vampires lay motionless on the ground, where, to my astonishment, they aged before me into wrinkled, hideous old crones. There was blood everywhere. I saw that one of the stained-glass windows had been shattered. As the professor and I caught our collective breath, the wolf paused in regal beauty, staring at me with deep blue eyes—eyes which I suddenly recognised.
“Oh!” I cried. But before I could act, the blonde vampire staggered to her feet, still young and beautiful, the stake still lodged in her back. She lunged at me with a roar of fury. Just before her teeth could sink into my throat, the wolf leapt upon her with an enraged growl, threw her to the floor, and tore out her throat with such force that her head was nearly severed from her body. Both head and body withered to reveal the ancient being within.
The wolf then darted for the doorway, where it paused for one long backwards look, and then disappeared.
My knees gave
way, and I sank to the stone floor, trembling. My face, hands, and clothes were all splattered with blood, and the professor was equally covered in gore.
“Minj God!” Dr. Van Helsing cried, wild-eyed. “Madam Mina! How on earth did you find me? But you will tell me later. I thank God you have come. I thank you a thousand times over. That wolf: that is a mystery. Where did it come from?”
“I have no idea,” I lied.
“Who could believe it…who could believe it. To think that I, Van Helsing, should fall prey to those vixens…it is inconceivable!”
“What happened, Professor?”
He found his bloodied shirt and put it on, shaking his head in chagrin as he spoke. “I found them here sleeping, as I expect. I stand over the blonde’s coffin with the stake, ready to plunge it into her breast; but I am so struck by her beauty, I cannot do it. She look so fair and radiant and full of life that I shudder as though I had come to do murder. And so I pause. I delay.” His cheeks burned crimson as he finished buttoning his shirt and donned his coat. “I stare at her in captive fascination, as if under a spell. Suddenly, her eyes blink open, and she gaze at me—oh! Such a gaze! Such beauty! So full of love! My head, it whirl with new emotion. The very instinct of man in me call out to love and protect her.”
He retrieved his socks and shoes and sank down on a bench to put them on, sighing heavily. “Then she rise from her tomb and take me in her arms. She kiss me. Never have I known such a kiss! I feel such ecstasy, I cannot describe. My mind, it is all in a cloud. Then suddenly, there are two of them embracing me, not one. And then—” He shook his head, mortified. “Never, never have I been so ashamed.”
Oh! How well I understood the sensations which he had just experienced! How many times had I felt just such ecstasy, when Nicolae held me in his arms?
