Memoirs of an Immortal Life

by Candace L Bowser

At the wishes of my father, I am now in the constant company of Dr. Seward’s associate Dr. Thaddeus Littleton, both day and night, as my father attends to poor Miss Lucy. How heartbreaking it is that there is nothing to ease her suffering. I can sympathize, even without knowing the true nature of her condition. How frail the human condition that so many anomalies can be present without diagnosis. I keep Miss Lucy in my thoughts and prayers hoping she will recover. Given the conversations overheard between father and Dr. Seward, I fear there is little hope.

  Dr. Littleton is to escort me to the opera this evening. I am filled with anticipation at the mere prospect. Father was kind enough to purchase a pair of opera glasses, so that I might be able to see more clearly, if we will be attending in one of the upper levels, some distance from the stage. I can hardly wait to leave.

  11:20 in the evening

  The opera was so much more than I expected. Dr. Littleton attended the performance before and was kind enough to explain it to me in detail. They had a brief intermission, which allowed us to step outside for a breath of fresh air. Dr. Littleton is very much a gentleman. If only I knew, I could look forward to creating more memories such as this one however, that decision is not mine to make. Perhaps, here in London, the world shall unfold and reveal itself to me in ways never dream imaginable. Perhaps, should father lessen his grasp, I might begin to live before it is too late.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vladimir Dracul’s Journal

  19 August 1893

  London

  I stood before the stained glass window of the Abbey as the fog rolled across the unkept gardens. A figure long absent yet familiar came into view across the cobblestone street. My solitude, I know, will not be long lasting. Ahbrim had located my whereabouts with little difficulty. I welcomed him into my home with great reluctance.

  He stood in the parlor surveying the contents without speaking until I could stand the silence no longer.

  “What is it you desire, Ahbrim?”

  “I come only to warn you of the dark days that come, old friend. You are in great danger.”

  He handed me a piece of paper, which had a single address written upon it.

  “Meet me late tomorrow and I will explain.”

  As abruptly as he had reappeared in my life, Ahbrim was gone. There were no formalities between us. His motives are ulterior. I know it is not solely based on his former intent.

  20 August 1893

  His choice of a meeting place I found most peculiar; a cemetery. Surrounded by the dead, I found some peace and familiarity. Ahbrim stood waiting next to the crypt of the Westerna family. I hardly thought his choice was appropriate, though it was fitting. He told me I am in great danger once more and that pursuing this folly of repossessing my Elisabeta will lead only to my death. He spoke of those who surround Miss Westerna and their loyalty to her. She is beloved my many. Ahbrim believes they will not stop their search for me, until they have consummated me to the grave, no matter the cost. I posed how it could be they even knew what had happened to her without his willingness to explain. Ahbrim laughed at my words, which only confirmed my suspicions. He desires some task from me that he has not yet revealed. Why else would he warn me when he is the one who has betrayed me?

  Eleven in the evening

  Her presence fills me with feelings I have not known in so long, I nearly weep. My wealth precedes me, as does my title of nobility as Prince. I found it was with little effort I secured a private room at one of the finest dining establishments in England. Watching the pleasure she derived from the succulent after-dinner pastries they served was greater for me, perhaps, than they were to her palate.

  I gave to her a small token of my affection, a ruby choker to match the gown she wore. How beautiful it was as it laid against her milky white skin. How much pleasure her mere company gives me. The delight in her voice as she speaks about the less fortunate children she tends as a schoolmarm and the simple joy she feels as they learn is blissful. Each moment I am granted, I am a fortunate being.

  She spoke of her dear friend, Lucy, this night, and her concern for her. How I was filled with remorse for what I have done. Yet, in a twist of fate, I would not have been able to procure our time together, had I not chosen to sicken her beloved friend with my curse. I provide her with contentment in her hour of despair. I wish it had not had to have been so.

  Mina makes no mention of her betrothed as though in my company he has slipped from her thoughts. If it is as Ahbrim has said, then I shall have little time to make use of in my courtship and will have to reveal the truth much sooner than anticipated. I cannot speak falsehoods to her. She must know the entire truth about the creature I am if I am to offer her eternal life. I cannot condemn a creature so pure to a life such as mine without her consent.

  21 August 1893

  His arrival was unannounced and unwanted, but given the news Ahbrim brought me, my gratitude was reluctant.

  “You must leave the Abbey at once. Jonathan and the others plan to destroy Carfax and the sacred ground within that you hold so dear,” he said.

  “Do you believe me a fool? Other properties have been secured throughout London, not all of which Mr. Harker’s firm is privy. You forget, Ahbrim, what my former profession was,” I replied.

  “I have come to warn you of the peril surrounding you, Vladimir. For once in your life, listen to me.”

  “Why should I cower to them? You have pursued me now for four hundred years and still have not found the courage to do what your oath to Pios dictated.”

  “My oath was first to serve you, which I have faithfully upheld. This is a different matter, Vlad. You have taken one of their own. This is not some peasant from a dark and dreary village or some unnamed whore from the bowery; this is a woman of refinement and wealth you lured into your clutches.”

  His expression was grave and fearful as he gazed at me.

  “They have seen the Book of Vampyre. All the knowledge of years past is in their hands, every shred of information collected is in their possession.”

  I paced before Ahbrim knowing the only means they had to acquire such information was through him.

  “Then let them come and they shall meet the same fate as all the others who sought to lay waste to me and my kingdom.”

  “Have you fallen deaf? Has a single word I have spoken meant anything to you?”

  Silence was my answer. In his frustration, Ahbrim stormed from the alcove and into the night. His consuming desire to save my soul, I find perplexing. His desire to right the wrongs of the past mean nothing to me now. No matter his actions, he cannot right what he has done. I will not allow Mina to slip from my grasp; it is the only chance I have at being reunited with my Elisabeta.

  Claudia Van Helsing’s Journal

  22 August 1893

  Father is saddened deeply this day at the passing of Miss Lucy at such a tender, young age with her life barely begun. How distressed her family must be; with the loss of their Lucy so suddenly and unannounced, when she was so young and vibrant, and without a day of sickness before she fell ill. Dr. Seward spoke so fondly of her and with such heartfelt emotion. He must be troubled by her death. She was stricken so suddenly, I can hardly imagine the difficulties she faced. I have suffered with this affliction all of my days and cannot fathom would it feel to be struck down so suddenly in the prime of my life with little to no hope of recovery.

  Father seems very complacent about her death. It is difficult to discern if Miss Lucy’s death has impacted him or if he has been forced to face the inevitable, that one day I, too, shall die, and there is not a single thing he can do to prevent it. Acceptance of my own looming mortality was a vision I had to embrace long ago. There is no miracle cure. No amount of experiments and serums can change my fate. Be my life long and grand or short and adventurous, it is time I embraced life with a sense of vigor to live it to the fullest. Miss Lucy’s short life taught me this if it taught no one else the importance of fulfilling a dream.

  Vlad
imir Dracul’s Journal

  19 October 1893

  Enroute to the Carpathians

  In this life, I have cared for many yet never did I experience a love so deeply it changed me, changed my soul, and stirred within me the desire to be a better man, to embrace life with a kinder side until Elisabeta became my loving wife. Four hundred years of lament were faced, knowing she could never come back to me, until Jonathan Harker came to be in my employment and her picture sat before me. A likeness so deep and memories so strong within her confirm my beloved has been returned to me despite what has been done.

  Now, Mina lies next to me, sleeping at the grace of Ahbrim’s warning. His words were stern and unyielding just as they have been so many times before when he warned me of the Vatican’s assassins and other perils, which I consciously ignored. How strange our lives have become in this tangled story that has become our existence and yet, somehow, I understand that this was how it was meant to be, he my valiant guardian through the ages and I his loving brother in silence.

  Vladimir’s Dracul’s Journal

  27 October 1893

  Sighisoara

  They come for us this night, Jonathan Harker and his companions, set on freeing Mina from my grasp. I know not what the future may hold. God is no longer within my grasp nor am I in his keep. I know only the depth of the love I feel for her, the love, which she so willingly accepted, and the truth that she was not fearful of when it was spoken. If it is meant that my life here shall end, then let God smile at my deliverance and death for a mere day in her arms has washed centuries of longing and despair from my heart.

  We await the fall of the sun below the horizon when our strength shall grow more formidable to enable the defeat of those who would keep us from our love. If Ahbrim remembers anything about the life I once lived, let it be that I gave my heart completely, be it when I was alive as Viovode and a servant of God or after my death and rebirth, let him know that all I have done I have done for love and let nothing else remain. In life, she was the light of all lights and let her be so upon my death.

  Claudia Van Helsing’s Journal

  1 November 1893

  Buda-Pesth

  I sit dutifully in the corner of the room with the stern instructions of my father playing through my head, as I watch this nameless man whom I have seen only a handful of times before to call out to my father should he show any signs of life.

  I find Buda-Pesth to be a strange and superstitious city, if it can be called such. I did not know my father had a home and laboratory here. Evidently, there is much I do not know about him. He said when I questioned him he had many such laboratories throughout Europe devoted to his studies from his youth. Did my mother know of these secret undertakings? Did my father have a life hidden from us? Could I have siblings that I have never met?

  “The answer to the questions you silently pose is no,” a voice said hoarsely from across the dimly lit room.

  A small piece of me wished to cry out as I had been instructed to do yet I could not. I instead crept to his bedside, my oil lamp in my hand casting small shadows upon his poor excuse for a bed. His neck tightly bound with blood soaked bandages. No normal man could survive such an injury. His smile was slight as he clutched his bandages.

  “Fetch your father, Claudia,” he said hoarsely.

  As I ascended the stairs, I wondered how it was our guest knew my name. I could only guess my father had told him.

  “Father,” I called. “He is awake.”

  My father leapt from the small kitchen table, pausing as he rushed toward the stairs leading toward the cellar, grabbing me by the shoulders and twirling me about as though some unheard waltz played.

  “He lives, Claudia. He lives.”

  And with his joyful announcement he closed the door, leaving me alone, and wondering even more deeply the importance of our strange and injured guest.

  I fear I am even more bewildered at this point than I was when he brought him to our temporary home in London acting as though madness had taken over him. He told me then never to mention seeing our guest to anyone. He was a man from abroad, a hunted man with whom we could not be known associating. I heard the two of them arguing. Their voices were elevated, filled with anger as they spoke. As quickly as he had arrived that night, he had left. Now we are in a land that quite frankly frightens me and my father behaves as though the transgressions of that night are forgiven. I am beginning to wonder how deeply rooted the relationship between my father and the bewitchingly handsome man held prisoner in our cellar truly is.

  I know in my heart my father is connected to him in some bizarre fashion he is not willing to admit. I also know how stubborn Abraham Van Helsing can be, if I force his hand in the issue and become demanding. Should I not exercise care, I will never learn his name. No mere man could survive injuries such as I saw in the dimly lit confines. How he manages to live confounds me. I can attribute it to only him being in the care of my father and nothing more.

  Near Midnight

  Finally, after much pleading, I was able to squeeze from my father’s lips his name: Vladimir. What a strangely clandestine name, like that of prince.

  I am weary after my bloodletting only an hour ago and must retire. This tale I will resume in the morning. I hope to speak with Vladimir tomorrow and learn more of his life.

  Abraham Van Helsing’s Journal

  1 November 1893

  Buda-Pesth

  Claudia called to me. I find him much recovered. In my heart, I find I am torn. For the vow I once took is broken to save her.

  His wounds, despite their severity, have healed. A fine scar I am sure it will leave to accompany the others he has amassed. Knowing Vlad as I do, I am sure he will tell me it will only add to his character.

  I stayed with him through the night, returning to him after Claudia’s bloodletting, supplying him with her blood. It was not what I wished to do, but in this dire circumstance I find us facing, it is what I must do to ensure our survival. I cannot afford him slipping into the cover of the night to seek that which sustains him and drawing them down upon us.

  His demeanor I find to be calm, despite all that has happened, which I admit is a bit of a curiosity to me. I know well his temper. I was certain it would be evident upon our arrival. He has shown no evidence of it.

  Should his strength be sufficiently returned in the morning, we will begin formulating a serum based on his blood to cure Claudia. I know he is the key. I hope to begin trials as soon as he is able.

  Claudia Van Helsing’s Journal

  2 November 1893

  Buda-Pesth

  My father behaves as though he is a warden at a facility for the incorrigible between Vladimir and me, afraid somehow I will become trapped in his gaze. I have, without my father’s knowledge, crept into the cellar in the middle of the night and watched our guest. He is a man and nothing more. His eyes appear filled with a great sadness, so deep I fear it reaches to the depths of his soul. Yet I see there is love in his eyes. He was quick to avert his eyes away from mine as though he were ashamed. In his eyes was a longing, not the longing of a man with lustful intentions, but the look of a kind and gentle love like that of a father for a daughter.

  I waited this morning beneath the covers till my father had gone before I crept from my room. He still keeps Vladimir in the depths of the cellar though we have more than enough rooms for him to stay upstairs, hidden within the bowels of the house for reasons I do not understand. I feel for Vladimir. He is all alone.

  I carried a small tray to him with the meager makings of a breakfast - a day old scone and hot tea. I lit a candle to light the way before opening the cellar door.

  “Vladimir,” I called out to him. “Have I disturbed you?”

  “You should not be here. It will anger your father.”

  “Only if he knows and I will not speak of it, if you do not.”

  I found him sitting in the corner in the only chair. I noticed a coffin stood in the other side of the room
and attempted to hide my uneasiness over the presence of it. His only company in his dark presence was the occasional scurry of a passing rat. He turned from me and in the dimness of the candle light, and I saw the scars covering his back. It was not my intention to gasp loudly; however, I did so without thinking.

  “Who did this to you?”

  “My punishment for disobedience before another man’s God,” he replied in nearly a whisper.

  “What manner a creature so vile would do that to another man,” I whispered.

  He did not answer me.

  “You should not be here Claudia.”

  “I thought, perhaps, you might be hungry. You should eat to restore your strength.”

  “Your father fed me late in the evening. Your gesture is kind and thoughtful, but not necessary. I would ask for only ink, parchment, and a pen, if I may.”

  “Of course.”

  I turned from him to secure the items which he asked, for I believed they were reasonable.

  “Claudia.”

  “Yes.”

  “Please remain in your room until your father returns.”

  His request was a strange one, but I agreed given he was our guest, even though to me it made no sense at all.

  Vladimir’s Journal

  3 November 1893

  Budapesth

  I find solace again in writing as I once did. I am recovering in the care of Ahbrim, having been cloistered here nearly two days. My life seems ever filled with complication. The anger I hold is difficult at times for even me to grasp. For in my presence is my own flesh and blood, the man who was once my spiritual guardian, the man who condemned me, and now he is the man who has pulled me from the brink of death. How strange the bedfellow fate can be.