“Thank you, doctor,” Renfield said, and Seward turned away from him. He had no intention of releasing Renfield, of course, but also considered that if most of the other inmates acted sane so suddenly, he would be leaning towards their parole. None of the others, however, were like Renfield. Seward had given him an answer to tide him over and allow Seward time to see what happened with him.
The rest of his day consisted of heading to the company that dealt with the Demeter incident, and from them, he was able to acquire a copy of the Captain’s log, which he read through in the cab riding back to the asylum. The crew thought there was a ghost or demon on board with them, and knowing what he knew so far, this incident seemed to fit with what Van Helsing indicated they were up against. He knew his old friend would want to see this in their notes.
When he returned to the asylum, he found that Arthur and Stoker were already there studying the diaries. Mina had made tea and had given cups to both of the other men as Seward walked in, greeted them all, and handed Mina the log to make copies and add to the manuscript. She took it with thanks, set it on the desk next to the typewriter, and then turned back to him with something more to say.
“I would like to see Mr. Renfield,” she said. Seward looked at her warily.
“Why?” he asked.
“He went to Transylvania first,” Mina said. “Whatever happened to him caused Jonathan to have to go in his stead. I know you’ve had him here this whole time, and you haven’t gotten much out of him, but I would like to at least talk to him.”
Seward looked at her for a long moment before he finally relented and nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Let me make sure he is in a place to receive visitors. Know that he is a patient here and there is a strong chance he may not be in a place, mentally, for visitors. If it is possible, though, I will admit you. Follow me.”
Seward led her down the stairs from the apartment into the heart of the asylum past the doors of the other inmates. He glanced back at her, and saw that she was uncommonly confident for a woman in such a place which only lent her more respect in his mind.
He stopped at Renfield’s door and asked her to wait. He looked in on Renfield and saw the man still sitting calmly on his bed just as Seward had left him hours ago. As Seward opened the door. Renfield asked, “Who have you brought?”
“A visitor for you, Mr. Renfield,” Seward said. “Mrs. Mina Harker wishes to have a word about your experiences.” Renfield looked at Seward and then, sniffed the air.
“Let me tidy up first,” he said. He stepped off his bed and quickly swallowed all of the flies and spiders before clearing the webs from the window. Seward recalled a time when he might have been disgusted by this, but Renfield had cured him of that some time ago. “I am ready,” Renfield said.
Seward stepped outside the door and gestured for Mina to enter. Renfield sat back down on his bed with his legs crossed, never taking his eyes off her. As she walked in and stood before him, Seward prepared himself to move quickly if Renfield should turn violent.
“Hello, Mr. Renfield,” Mina said. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Harker,” Renfield said. “Welcome to my home away from home.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Tell me something,” Renfield said before she could ask anything, “are you the young woman the doctor wished to marry? No, wait, that’s not right. I believe the one he desired is dead.”
“I was married before I met Dr. Seward,” Mina told him, ignoring what he had said about Lucy. “I am staying with him on a visit.”
“A visit?” Renfield asked. “For what reason are you visiting the good doctor?”
“My reasons are my own,” Mina said.
“My apologies,” Renfield said.
“I did want to talk to you though.”
“Told you about me, did he?”
“In a way, yes.”
“You said your name was Harker?” Renfield asked. He looked away for a moment, ignoring her completely. He looked back at her and said, “Jonathan Harker?”
“He is my husband.”
Renfield looked away again. “You should not stay here.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“One moment,” Seward jumped in. “How did you know I wanted to marry anyone? For that matter, how do you know she is dead?”
“Asinine question, doctor,” Renfield spat. “I expect better of you.”
“I support the question,” Mina said. “I would be interested to know the answers.”
Renfield looked at her and smiled. “For the wife of my short-term friend and temporary colleague, Jonathan Harker, I will grant such an answer.
“I’m not sure you’ve noticed, doctor, with all of your medical knowledge and science, that humans smell differently at different times. It is a wonder that you cannot see what I can. When you were in love, you smelled one way. When you were depressed, you smelled differently. This past night, I smelled something altogether different. It smelled like death. You may not know this, but the smell of this asylum is nearly unbearable, and it was sometime before I could smell past the dirty human carcasses you place in these walls.”
“Carcasses?” Mina asked.
“We do not keep dead men here,” Seward said.
“Not dead on the outside, but on the inside,” Renfield said. “What you put them through. The detention. The testing. The questions. Every one of them smells like filth and death. You, doctor, smelled of love and hope, then despair, and now you have death yourself. Mrs. Harker, by contrast, is the sweetest flower to have graced my room since you had returned from your lover’s home, doctor.”
“She was never my lover,” Seward clarified more for the sake of Mina than for Renfield.
“Not physically,” Renfield said, “but the heart of a man is revealed through his scent, and though you may never have coupled with her, you certainly desired some level of copulation.”
“That’s enough of that talk,” Seward said with more than a touch of embarrassment.
“Can you tell me about your desire to consume animals?” Mina said, gratefully changing the subject. Renfield looked at her for a short time before he smiled.
“I suppose my reasons are to take their blood as their life to extend my own,” he said. “Life is in the blood, and when I take their blood as my own, it supports my own life. Humans have done this for millennia as they’ve consumed animal flesh. I only take what I can get.”
“What happened to you in Transylvania?” Mina asked abruptly. Renfield’s expression dropped which made Seward nervous.
“Transylvania?” Renfield asked. He looked away from her as he pondered the word. He said it several times over as she waited for an answer. He looked back at her, confused, “Have I been to a Transylvania?”
“You were there about four months ago,” Mina said.
“Four months ago?” Renfield repeated. “Was I really?” He thought about this again. He looked back at her, “What happened in Transylvania? Why was I there? What happened to me? Can you tell me?”
“You were there to sell a property to a Count Draculya,” Mina told him.
“Draculya?” Renfield repeated. “I don’t remember anyone named Draculya, and I think I would.”
“What do you remember?” she asked.
“I remember Dr. Seward asking about Transylvania when I got here,” Renfield said.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Mina asked.
“Waking up,” Renfield said.
“Waking up where?” she asked.
“Here,” Renfield said, and he stared out the window toward the sky. “I remember waking up here. I might have been somewhere else, but I should remember that. Right? If I don’t remember it, then it didn’t happen. If it didn’t happen, then I wasn’t there. I’ve always been here. Here…and at my house. But mostly here.”
An orderly arrived at the door and handed Seward a telegram indicating that Van Helsing had arrived at the train station and was awai
ting pickup. Seward had wanted to meet Van Helsing when he arrived so he could have a moment to prepare him for who all awaited him at the asylum.
“I’m afraid it is time to go,” Seward said.
Mina nodded and turned to Renfield, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Renfield. I hope to see you again sometime.”
“With the greatest of sincerity, Mrs. Harker,” Renfield said, “I hope I never see you again.”
While Seward could see that response bothered Mina somewhat, he could also see that she took it well. He led her upstairs to stay with Stoker and Holmwood while he departed for the train station to bring Van Helsing back and complete their group to discuss what was next for them in this.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Vladimir took the first train out of London to Whitby the morning after he had discussed the situation with Lorinkis. He, William, and Karen dressed in cloaks with wide hats to ensure they kept the sun off them during the ride as well as sitting on the side of the train without the sun bearing down on them.
Once in Whitby, he sent William and Karen after any information they could find about leads on mysterious or recent deaths while he went to the docks to learn about the Demeter and its voyage. He walked onto the docks and into the office of the harbormaster, Mr. Billington, to whom he had sent a telegram prior to leaving London to let him know what information he needed.
Mr. Billington was a portly man with a persistent smile who was quick to take Vladimir’s hand as soon as he entered.
“Must be chilly out, then?” Billington said following the handshake.
“I’m sorry?” Vladimir asked.
“Your hand is freezing is all,” Billington said. “Thought it might have dropped in temperature.”
“No, I’m just cold natured,” Vladimir noted.
“Of course,” Billington said. “Now, you had asked about the Demeter and its manifest, right?”
“Yes, I represent one of the ship builders, and we just wanted to see about the cargo the ship was carrying when it crashed,” Vladimir explained. “You see, we want to ensure that it was not a mechanical failure.”
“You read the papers?” Billington asked. “It was most definitely not a mechanical failure unless death of the crew counts as mechanical.”
“I understand that, and yes, I’m familiar with the case, but our policies demand that we be quite thorough, so if you could, please, I’d be interested in the cargo she was carrying.”
“Very good, sir. I promise I meant no offense.”
“None taken, sir,” Vladimir said as he took the papers from Billington. He noted that the Demeter started in Varna in the Black Sea and followed the Mediterranean around the coast to the North Sea where it was supposed to follow the Thames into London to unload its cargo and send a portion of it onward to Whitby via train.
“Mr. Smollet, there, came and claimed his cargo directly,” Billington said, pointing to Smollet’s name on the manifest. “Rest of it we loaded onto the train bound for London. Most of it was for some kind of Transylvanian noble as I understood it.”
“Transylvanian, you say?” Vladimir asked. He glanced down the list to an entry indicating a dozen wooden crates for a house in Purfleet, though its precise address was not indicated. Rather, the owner would be sending a representative upon docking. The name of the recipient fully surprised Vladimir to the point that he gasped: Miraslav Draculya.
“You all right there, sir?” Billington asked. “You’ll pardon me for saying so, but you seem a bit old to be working the field still. Don’t misunderstand me, you look like you’re well, but still, if I were your age, I’d have my feet up at home.”
“You know how it is,” Vladimir said, recovering himself. “When there is business to attend to, there is no rest for anyone. When you sent this by train, what instructions did Mr. Draculya give?”
“Well, we ended up holding the boxes for a few days as he apparently did not hear about the crash immediately,” Billington explained. “Once he got word, he telegrammed that he would send his representative to have the boxes sent by train to King’s Cross.”
“And who was his authorized representative?” Vladimir asked.
“Nice young chap,” Billington said. “Name of David Taylor, I believe. His signature should be in the back there.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Billington,” Vladimir said, handing the paperwork back to him.
“You got what you needed already?” the harbormaster asked.
“I did,” Vladimir replied. “As you said, it was most definitely not mechanical in nature. Just doing my due diligence in the case. I appreciate it.”
“Very good, sir,” Billington said.
Vladimir left the harbor quickly in order to track down William and Karen. Their information was now irrelevant. The person that had brought both David and Karian to this island was none other than Voivode Draculya, the man that Vladimir had desired to find initially when he had built the fortress in the Carpathian Mountains. Now, he was living in a house in Purfleet, practically on Vladimir’s doorstep.
He found William and Karen, who had learned of several recent deaths, though one they felt held the most relevance. Miss Lucy Westenra had died a couple of weeks back, and the obituary stated she was to be interred in Highgate Cemetery in London which was where they had found David and where the mystery spy, “Abe”, had encountered George and Adelaide.
“Once we arrive back in London,” Vladimir said, “I’ll find out where the boxes were delivered. You go to Highgate and find the Westenra memorial. I have a feeling that we may find ourselves an empty grave due to a Mutation change thanks to Karian.”
At King’s Cross in London, Vladimir found a porter who led him to a Mr. Clarkson who handled that particular shipment when it came in.
“A dozen wooden boxes from Whitby?” Clarkson said. “Of course I remember that. Who could forget it? Took me every porter I had to get those loaded on a cart for the gentleman who brought them. Can’t fault the gent, really. He was more than willing to help, and a right strong fellow to boot.”
“Can you tell me where they were taken?” Vladimir asked.
“It was in Purfleet, I believe,” Clarkson said. “Yes, the order with the shipment said it was in Purfleet near that asylum. Place called Carfax, it was. Yup, that was it.”
“I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been,” Vladimir said, shaking the man’s hand more genuinely than he had anyone’s in a long time. He had seen Carfax Abbey now and then on his moving about the city. Last he knew it was up for sale, and who should buy it, but Voivode Draculya and his surprising helper, David Taylor? He could not believe his good fortune.
David could chase Karian all over town as much as he wished; Vladimir had his sights set on a mission that he had been waiting far too long to complete. This was to be a triumph for which he had been waiting literally hundreds of years; he would kill Draculya.
CHAPTER FORTY
Seward wanted to pickup Van Helsing from the station personally so that they might have a moment to talk privately about what was occurring back at the asylum with everyone. Everything that Mrs. Harker had provided with more on the way and now his own diary to be part of the record they were building was a lot to take in, but he had little doubt that his old friend would have no trouble with it.
His cab pulled up next to the station and Van Helsing climbed in. After the customary pleasantries, Seward jumped right into the matter at hand.
“Most everyone had arrived by the time I had left including Mr. Harker and his wife, Mina, who has done an admirable job in compiling everything,” Seward said. “This now includes my own diary which she transcribed from my recording cylinders.”
“I am most grateful to Mrs. Harker, for she has a good mind,” Van Helsing said. “She reminds me a great deal of a young woman I once knew who also possessed a keen intellect. As such, I do not wish for her to be wrapped up in these affairs once we go after the monster himself.”
“She se
ems very level-headed,” Seward protested. “She is of a sounder mind than some of my own staff.”
“It is not her mind that concerns me,” Van Helsing said. “I have no doubt that she can not only handle what is to come, but do it with grace and dignity. But the nightmares that lay before us stay with one far beyond the simple actions. You cannot deny that you will never forget what it was like to be forced to kill Lucy.”
“That I can’t,” Seward admitted.
“We do not know what lay before us,” Van Helsing continued. “She has done for us a great service, but to subject her to horrors such as we have experienced would be more than I would ask her to bear, no matter whether she could handle them or not.”
“The house next door,” Seward said, changing the subject. “The one next door to the asylum.”
“What about it?” Van Helsing asked, suspicious.
“It belongs to Draculya,” Seward said. “Harker’s firm was the one that sold it to him.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You neglected to mention this before.”
“For what reason would I do so?”
“The monster is practically on my property,” Seward said. “I know you read Harker’s journal, but you never told me that I was so close to the fiend who is responsible for this.”
“Everything is not as it appears,” Van Helsing said. “I know what Harker’s journal said, but your neighbor is not the monster you think he is.”
“But you validated everything in the journal,” Seward said.
“I believe those things did happen,” Van Helsing said, “but I believe they were filtered through the eyes of a man who did not understand them fully, and one who was slowly losing his mind. You know as much as anyone, my dear friend, that once the mind is convinced of something, it will see everything to come through a certain filter to allow the world to align with the perception.”
“So Harker was wrong about what he saw?” Seward asked.
“Yes and no.”
“What sort of an answer is that?”
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