The Elixir

by George Willson

  He did not wish to let Arthur know his feelings for Lucy at all, since he needed neither sympathy nor any sense he might be some kind of competition. Rather, he enjoyed the evening with old friends in celebration of Arthur’s future, and drank many toasts before Bram had to leave for the theatre, and John bid Arthur a good night before making his way down the street in Purfleet where his asylum was located.

  He walked by the gate to the Carfax Abbey that had lent its own air of gloominess to his street, and noticed the “For Sale” sign that had been replaced several times during his tenure as lead doctor of the asylum was gone completely. He doubted anyone had actually purchased the old place, as it was in such a rundown state that only someone of considerable means could afford to fix it, and no one with such means would wish to move next to an institution designated for the mentally insane.

  He shuffled his way to his front door and put Arthur and Lucy out of his mind. He felt that diving into his work once more would make him feel better about everything, at least until he found his way to his bed where he knew he would be almost entirely unable to sleep. Why did she have to be so beautiful? Why did she have to be taken from him so suddenly? Why did it have to be Arthur? If she had chosen a stranger, it would have been easier, but he had fallen for her so completely, part of him wanted no part in Arthur’s life so he could forget about her. Yet, to lose a friend for a woman would be ridiculous. He was certain of this, regardless of how often it happened.

  He entered the asylum proper where the babbling of the inmates always served to take his mind off of the outside world. Little of their chattering made sense to anyone other than themselves, but he always listened to learn whether any of them had come to their senses. His prime interest this evening, however, was his most interesting patient, Mr. Renfield.

  He approached an orderly, whom he had told to look in on Renfield periodically and keep note of his activities.

  “It’s a strange thing, doctor,” the orderly explained. “The man has spent the better part of the day catching flies and stacking them neatly in his room. As you ordered, I observed him only. I did not ask what he was doing.”

  “Let us go see him, then, and attempt to learn the meaning behind his actions,” Seward said walking toward Renfield’s cell. He wanted to think of the asylum as a hospital to help the patients, but in reality, the place was more of a prison with inmates. As such, they lived in cells rather than rooms, and the force they were compelled to exercise against them on occasion was on par with prison life and less like any hospital.

  “Surely, you are not going in,” the orderly asked.

  “I have to see this for myself,” John replied. “The best way for me to do so is to enter the room to see for myself what he is doing.”

  The orderly appeared to consider saying something else as they walked, but in the end, he remained silent. They came upon Renfield’s room, whose window looked out to the east where the old Carfax Abbey stood, though it was barely visible beyond the edge of the property. He knocked on Renfield’s door.

  “Mr. Renfield?” Seward said, looking in the tiny window at the room, in which he could not see his patient. “Mr. Renfield, I’d like to see you for a moment if that’s all right.”

  Renfield’s face appeared on just the other side of the window, momentarily startling Seward. He took a step back.

  “What do you want?” Renfield asked.

  “I want to see what you’ve been doing today,” Seward replied.

  “Why?” Renfield asked.

  “Because it is important to see how you are progressing,” Seward said. “I need to evaluate what you’re doing.”

  “You want … to see what I’m doing,” Renfield said, half-asking. “You want … to know what I do in here.”

  “I do,” Seward said. “Step away from the door.”

  “The door,” Renfield repeated, looking away as if pondering this considerably. “Away from the door.”

  “Yes,” Seward said. “Step over to the far end of the room.”

  “Step where did you say?” Renfield asked.

  “This is hopeless, Dr. Seward,” the orderly noted. “He’s not moving.”

  “Mr. Renfield,” Seward said in a firm tone. “Richard, you need to step away from the door, or we will have to get the hose.” Renfield’s eyes met Seward’s as they grew wide.

  “No,” Renfield said, stepping away from the door. “That will not be necessary. I understand. I have seen the hose before, and I have no desire to experience it for myself.” As soon as he reached the far end of the room, Seward opened the door. He stepped in with the orderly right on his heels.

  Renfield stood at the far end of the room next to the small, barred window. He was slightly hunched over, as if cowering slightly, and his knees were bent as well, making him appear much shorter than he really was. He reminded Seward of an animal cowering in the corner as Seward strode across the floor to look at his collection of flies on the window sill. The flies were not entirely dead, but Renfield had plucked off at least one of their wings to prevent them from doing anything more than wandering limply around a contained area Renfield had set up for them on the sill.

  “So what is this then?” Seward asked. Renfield stared at him for a long moment, and then looked away, apparently thinking intently about the answer.

  Renfield mumbled something unintelligible under his breath before he looked back to Seward with a glimmer of his former intelligence hiding behind his eyes. “May I have three days?” he asked innocently.

  Seward looked between Renfield and his collection. At this point, the flies were not a menace, nor were they going anywhere, so he saw no harm in it at that moment. He looked at Renfield and nodded.

  “Very well,” Seward said. “You may keep them as long as they do not become a nuisance. Do you understand?”

  “Of course,” Renfield said with a bow. Seward found his manner unsettling, but there was little he could do. He had been unable to figure out Renfield’s state of mind since his original arrival.

  As he turned to leave the room, he spotted what appeared to be a portion of a rat carcass in the corner of the room next to the door. He knew there were rats, but most of the residents avoided them. He wondered in that instant if Renfield had actually caught and eaten a rat, but the thought was so repulsive he immediately dismissed it. In any case, he needed to make sure that mess was cleaned up before the animal’s remains caused a health problem.

  He left Renfield’s room and instructed the orderly to take care of the rat remains. He proceeded to his room to notate the current state of Renfield having no idea what the man would do with flies, or why he would give a specific date of three days as a follow-up on it. Part of him knew he would learn it soon enough and another part really did not want to know.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Harker stood at his window looking out across the wall of the castle where he had, on two occasions, seen someone climb out of a window and down the sheer face. He had awakened as the sun was setting, and unlike on previous days, he had not left his room to seek out food in the dining room. Rather, when he had awakened, he recalled the horror of the previous night – or day, he could not be sure. He could not even be certain that what he remembered was real.

  He had briefly left his room to see about the closed wing of the castle where he thought he had witnessed the three women, and the arrival of the man in black. He began to believe this man was a second inhabitant of the castle and the one who had brought him from the village below. The door, however, was sealed shut, so he was unable to confirm even the existence of the room.

  He had noted his diary was on his nightstand, and not having remembered returning to his room, he was willing to dismiss the whole thing as a figment of his imagination. Then he felt of his neck. It was sore where he thought one of the women might have bitten him, and upon examining his neck in his shaving glass, he was certain the mark was more than some kind of scrape.

  Yet, what did this mean? Who were
those women? If he did not imagine it, then they were dead at the hands of the man in black. But who was he? If he were real, then he was working with or for Voivode Draculya in some capacity. Perhaps he was the one carrying the correspondence to the village below.

  There was a knock at the door followed by the entrance of Voivode who greeted him warmly.

  “I saw that you did not partake of the breakfast I had laid out for you,” Voivode remarked. “Are you well?”

  “I’m as well as I can be,” Harker replied, not turning from the window, “under the circumstances.”

  “I see,” Voivode replied nervously. “Have you prepared the paperwork to secure transport for my goods in London? I want it ready to post once we have a firm ship date from Transylvania.”

  “It is on the table in the ante room,” Harker said.

  Voivode nodded, but he did not leave to see to this. Rather, he remained where he was. Harker turned to find the old man looking at him with what could be concern in his eyes.

  “Was there something else?” Harker asked curtly.

  “I had hoped I might engage you in some further conversation about the town as it is today,” Voivode said pensively. “As you know, my learning comes from my books, and I fear that many things may have changed since they were written.”

  “How long do you need me to remain?” Harker asked. He felt it was a fair question, and one he had not yet asked of his temporary employer.

  “I intend for us all to leave together once everything is ready,” Voivode replied.

  “And when will that be?” Harker asked. “With that paper in hand, you can load what you need, and we can check with Mr. Hawkins when we arrive for the final paperwork.”

  “I would prefer to have that in hand before we go,” Voivode said.

  “Can I go then?” Harker asked.

  “These mountains are dangerous, young Harker,” Voivode warned. “We also must wait for an opportune moment to make our departure. For this reason, I can neither give you a time nor allow you to go any sooner. I will tell you that when the time comes, our move will be a hasty one.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Harker asked with honest curiosity.

  “Simply for the weather to be right,” Voivode replied. Harker looked out the window. For the past several days, the skies had been quite clear, without so much as a cloud in sight. What sort of weather could he be waiting for?

  “Surely you must wish to write to someone at home,” Voivode offered . “You could give reassurance as to your well-being, and indicate that you are held up here for a time longer. Surely, you are missing your fiancée.”

  The suggestion seemed a reasonable one, so he nodded and thanked Voivode for the offer. His affirmative response seemed to cheer Voivode considerably.

  “Excellent,” Voivode said. “Bring the letters to dinner, and I will ensure they are posted.”

  Harker returned his view out his window as soon as Voivode left, and thought about why Voivode would suggest such a thing. He was certain Voivode would read his letter, so perhaps he hoped Harker would convey some of his thoughts within the letter allowing him to gain insight into what he knew or had seen. Harker planned to write a simple, generic note to Mina stating that he was fine, and he would be a time longer. He wanted to write something private to Mina to explain what was really going on out here, but he had no way outside of Voivode’s own network to send anything home.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  Several days passed in the castle without incident or change following the post of Harker’s letters both to Mina and the courier Harker engaged for the purposes of moving Voivode’s belongings from the docks in London to Carfax Abbey in Purfleet. During this time, the weather had remained constantly dry, and still, Voivode gave no indication they were going to leave. Harker was getting impatient.

  He arrived at dinner, and Voivode was already there waiting on him with a smile. Harker could hardly share his glee as the oppressive nature of his situation continued to wear on him.

  “I have news, my friend,” Voivode said. “We have received word from your Mr. Hawkins that the sale of the Abbey is complete, and we are nearly ready to take our leave of Transylvania.”

  “Good,” Harker said flatly.

  “I trust you remain comfortable,” Voivode prompted, clearly hoping for a positive answer.

  “What is going on?” Harker asked. “I packed for a brief journey, and it has turned into far longer. I understand my obligation to you and my employer, but I feel like a prisoner.”

  “I am sorry you feel this way, but I assure you it is for your own good,” Voivode explained.

  “Why all this secrecy?” Harker asked. “What is for my own good?”

  “I wish I could explain,” Voivode said sadly, “but it is very complicated.”

  “Try me,” Harker challenged. Voivode sighed and walked a few steps from the table, facing the wall away from Harker, as if composing himself. Finally, Voivode turned back to him.

  “There are things in this world that you cannot understand,” Voivode said. Harker began to protest but Voivode held up a hand to stop him. “I know how presumptuous that sounds, but out there, in our beautiful forests of the Carpathians, there are creatures that would kill you without a second thought. It is from these things that we endeavor to escape. It is because of these that I, at my age, would leave my home to live thousands of miles away on your island. If we leave at the wrong time, we are all vulnerable to them. If we leave in the day, they can see us. If we leave at night, we are in equal danger.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Harker asked angrily.

  “Rain,” Voivode replied. Harker was not sure what to say to this. “You need to trust us, Mr. Harker. What we’re doing is not just for your safety, but for ours as well. Please be patient.”

  “Who is us?” Harker asked. “So far, I’ve only seen you in this castle. I don’t know how you would do it alone, but just looking out my window, I don’t see any threat out there.” His mind went to the creature crawling down the castle wall, but he had seen that threat inside the castle. He wanted to get away from that. “The only real threat I’ve seen since I’ve arrived here is your treating me like a prisoner,” Harker finished.

  Voivode stared at Harker, dumbfounded. A look of shame crossed Voivode’s face, and for a moment, Harker regretted his words, but a part of him felt the need to be resolute in this instance. He was sure any other solicitor would find this treatment intolerable.

  “I am sincerely sorry, Mr. Harker, but again, I beg of your trust,” Voivode pled. “As soon as there is rain, we will go. No, we must go. Look to the skies and trust me.”

  “That is something I’m finding increasingly difficult to do,” Harker said and excused himself from the table.

  He needed to leave as soon as he could for he could see he had hurt the old man’s feelings. It was printed across his face, but Voivode had to know that this treatment was wrong. The work here was done, and there was nothing for any of them to gain by Harker remaining longer. If his host were afraid of something out there, then that was his business. There was no need to drag their guest into it.

  Harker closed and bolted the door to his bedroom and walked to the barred window. He reached into his pocket and took out something he had taken from the table: his knife. It was little more than a butter knife, but it was metal, and with enough time, he knew it would do the job he needed from it.

  Over the past few days, he had been studying the bars and the wall outside of them. He believed he might be able to climb down the sheer wall with some care as long as he could remove the bars. A study of the mortar work showed him that he might be able to chip away at it if he worked at it long enough. Since he was a prisoner, he felt he just might have the time to accomplish it.

  * * * * * * * * * *

  Voivode had watched Harker leave the dining room with a heavy heart. He had done everything he could to make sure Harker was undisturbed by the menace surrounding them,
and by doing so, Harker believed Voivode was oppressing him for his own amusement. If there were no Mutations out there, he would have asked David to take Harker with him on one of his excursions to Arefu, but it was too risky.

  He left the dining room, and spared a glance to Harker’s closed door before he went down the stairs to his own room. No sooner had he entered his room than he saw he had his unwanted guest again.

  “Who is the human?” Karian demanded.

  “No one,” Voivode said without conviction. “Someone who got lost in the mountains who can’t find his way home.”

  “He has been unable to find his way for nearly a month now,” Karian challenged.

  “Guests are welcome here,” David said, entering the room, much to the relief of Voivode, who found dealing with Karian much easier when David was present. “We would not turn him away.”

  “So this is why you tolerate me, then?” Karian asked.

  “Even unwelcome guests are at the mercy of our hospitality,” David said.

  “What are you really doing here?” Karian asked.

  “The stranger will be leaving very soon,” David assured him.

  “And when you take him away, Voivode will have plenty of time to work on the serum,” Karian said, looking at Voivode. Voivode could only nod in agreement.

  “I’ve been very patient, Voivode,” Karian said, getting close to the old man, “but I’m beginning to believe that nothing is going to come of this. If I were to believe that you were stringing me along, I might be persuaded to allow some of my children into your castle. Don’t believe you are so safe.”

  “They’ve already come in,” David said.

  “And you killed them,” Karian said. “That debt will never be repaid, but I am allowing your insolence only as long as Voivode continues his work.”