“Arthur,” Abe said suddenly, looking up at his friend. “I know this may seem like a cruel and impossible demand,” he added, speaking very carefully, as if he expected an explosive response to his words. “But I think we should bring Lucy with us.”
Seward, Arthur and I stared at him in quiet disbelief.
“Why?” I asked. “She’s in no state to—”
“Lucy was possibly able to determine where they are taking Jonathan,” Abe said, addressing me but looking at Arthur. “We may be able to keep track of where these creatures are through her.”
“Dear God, Abraham,” Arthur breathed, looking ill as he stumbled back from the desk. “My wife may be afflicted with something monstrous, but she is still a human being! I will not let you use her as a compass. I have helped you thus far because you are a friend and for what you have done for us, but do not try my patience.”
Abe fell silent, and I could see a shadow of guilt in his eyes as he looked away, giving Arthur a curt nod. I sensed that had not been easy for him to ask.
But Abe was right. Lucy could help us greatly.
“Arthur,” I said, hesitant. “I–I think that Abe is right. Think of it . . . Lucy may be our only way of tracking these creatures down to destroy them. You know your wife. If she were lucid, would she want to do this? Would she be willing to help us?”
Arthur lowered his gaze, taking off his spectacles to rub his eyes, which were stormy with conflict. He moved towards the fireplace, gazing down into the flames for several long moments before turning back to face me.
“God help me,” he breathed, and his eyes now shining with tears. “My Lucy is a kind soul, and she would want to help. I–I suppose I have no choice but to give you my consent,” he whispered. “But I am coming with you as well. When we find the creature who did this to her . . . I am going to kill him.”
“Jack?” Abe asked quietly, turning to Seward, who still hovered silently in the corner of the room. “Are you with us? I will understand if you wish to remain in London.”
“I still think this plan’s damned foolhardy,” Seward said, raking a hand through his hair as he gave me an apologetic look for the oath. “But anyone outside of this room would think I’m mad—that we’re all mad fools. I’ve seen firsthand what these monsters have done to the innocent. I can no longer stand idly by while more are killed.”
The silence that followed was heavy; rife with the acknowledgement of the treacherous journey that lie ahead of us. I was not one to believe in destiny or fate, Father had always insisted that it was our choices that determined our path in life. But it seemed now as if my return to Transylvania was somehow predetermined; the path I had taken to escape what I‘d seen that horrible night had ultimately become cyclical, leading me right back and forcing me to confront the monster that dwelt there.
“Well,” I said, evenly meeting their eyes. “Let’s all be mad fools together, shall we?”
9
The Promise
Before leaving the Holmwood residence, we made hasty plans for our departure from England. The next train from Charing Cross to Dover, from which we would take a ferry to Calais, left in the late morning. Arthur was well acquainted with the captain of a cargo ship that was departing earlier from Tilbury Docks with a stop in Calais before continuing on to a port in Varna.
“The accommodations will be rather rough, but it would get us to Calais sooner,” Arthur said apologetically, looking at me.
“I don’t care about the state of our accommodations. I just want to get there as soon as possible,” I said, bristling at his focus on me, the sole woman in the room. I had traveled in plenty of ragged conditions with Father, and I never cared about luxury during travel. Especially under these circumstances.
“From Calais, we will take a train to Paris and board the Orient Express to Budapest. We can then transfer to Klausenburgh, in Transylvania,” Arthur continued. “We can disembark there and arrange for horses to travel the rest of the way.”
“That will take us through the countryside. We can gather potential reinforcements from the villages we ride through.” Abe added.
“I will send a wire to arrange for our tickets. Barring any delays, we can arrive the day after tomorrow,” Arthur said.
I nodded, hoping that would be enough time to get to Jonathan before any harm came to him. Unless it’s already too late, a dark thought whispered in my mind.
We then reviewed what weapons we already possessed. I had my kukri knives, Seward had a revolver, and Abe had an assortment of knives that he could share with us if it became necessary.
“I have a sword cane,” Arthur said hesitantly.
I looked at Arthur in surprise. He was every inch the London gentleman; I could hardly imagine him fighting anyone. From the looks on their faces, Abe and Seward shared my sentiment.
“It has been in my family for generations. My father insisted that Holmwood men be armed at all times. I once took lessons from a top fencing master,” Arthur continued, with a trace of defensiveness at our obvious surprise.
“We should be settled with weapons for now. If we need more, I have contacts along the route we are traveling,” Abe said, giving Arthur a quick nod. “But we will need more specialized weapons if we encounter more than one of those creatures along the way.”
Though I knew what we were facing, apprehension still pierced me at his words. Would I be prepared to fight one of those creatures? Even with my self-defense training, I didn’t feel confident in my abilities. But I had no choice. I would do what was necessary to rescue Jonathan.
We filed out of Arthur’s study after agreeing to meet at the entrance to the Tilbury Docks the next morning. While Seward headed to his home in Stratford, Abe left with me to collect some of my father’s journals and records from his office that could potentially be useful during our journey. He didn’t need to pack—the one bag he’d brought with him from Amsterdam had barely been touched.
As we traveled towards Highgate, unanswered questions swam through my mind. Why had Jonathan been taken? Who was that strange vampire who seemed to recognize me, and what did his words on Westminster Bridge mean? Why were vampires here in London? How many were there?
By the time we arrived at my home, I was quaking with anxiety, and Abe reached out to give my arm a comforting squeeze.
“It will do you no good to worry,” he said. “We will get him back. You need to remain focused.”
I nodded, trying to heed his words. We approached my front door, which swung open to reveal a worried Clara standing in the entrance hall.
“Mina! T’ank heavens. Where’ve you been?! I’ve been—” she began, sounding both angry and relieved. Her eyes fell on Abe and she fell silent, her countenance shifting from one of chastisement to confusion.
“Abraham?” she breathed, blinking at him in surprise. “What’re you—”
“Jonathan’s been abducted,” I interrupted, pushing past her to step inside.
My intention had been to quickly explain what happened so that we could be on our way, but saying the words aloud broke something within me, and a sudden rush of tears sprang to my eyes. Clara gasped, pulling me into the soothing warmth of her arms. The emotional barrier I had carefully erected to maintain my stoicism collapsed, and I began to weep.
“Oh, Mina,” she whispered, gently stroking my hair.
My fears for Jonathan and the journey that lay ahead came out through my tears, and I wept for several long moments as Clara rocked me in her arms.
When my tears subsided, I pulled back, wiping my eyes. Both Clara and Abe had seen me cry before, but I was still embarrassed by my outpouring of emotion. Focus on getting Jonathan back, I reminded myself. Tears will accomplish nothing.
“I–I will explain as much as I can, but we must hurry. I need help packing, and Abe needs access to Father’s study,” I said, taking a calming breath as I blinked back the remainder of my tears.
“Packin’?” Clara asked, an undercurrent of panic in
her voice.
“We believe we know where he is, and we’re going after him. We leave at first light.” I replied, in a tone that did not welcome argument.
“If Jonathan’s been abducted, can’t t’ police handle it?” Clara persisted.
“Jonathan’s abductor is not human, I am afraid,” Abe said bluntly. “The police cannot help us.”
Clara’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes went wide. I gave Abe a sharp look for his plainness, reaching out to gently grasp Clara’s arm.
“I’ll explain everything while I pack,” I repeated, my tone softer this time, but maintaining its urgency. “Please give Abe access to Father’s study. We need some of his records.” My despair of just moments earlier had shifted back to determination, and I moved toward the stairs without waiting for her reply.
Efficient as always, Clara managed to put her astonishment aside. She gave Abe access to Father’s study, made us both tea, and helped me put together a traveling bag. As I started to give her the full details of the night’s events, a knock sounded at the door.
Both Clara and I froze. I dropped the cloak I was holding and whirled towards the doorway of my bedroom, an impossible hope swelling in my chest. Could it be Jonathan? Was he still here in London—safe? Who else would be calling at this late hour?
I ran out of my room, flying down the hallway past a stunned Abe, who had appeared at the doorway of Father’s study at the sound of the knock. I could feel his and Clara’s eyes on me as I raced down the stairs, tore across the entrance hall, and flung open the door.
My hope deflated when I saw who stood there.
“Where is my son?” Mary Harker snapped, glaring at me with barely suppressed rage as she pushed past me to step into the entrance hall.
I closed the door, turning to face her. Before Abe and I had left the Langham, I’d informed the Harker carriage driver to deliver a message to Mary with a revised version of the night’s events—only mentioning the electrical outage and that Jonathan and I had been separated amidst the chaos. I made sure the message noted that I was in contact with Scotland Yard only as a precaution, as I was certain that I would locate Jonathan shortly. It was a blatant lie, but I did not have the time to deal with Mary’s outrage and hysteria.
“Did you receive my message?” I asked with stiff politeness, trying to maintain my calm.
“You mean your casual note about my only child disappearing?” Mary hissed. “Yes, I did. I immediately went to the Langham and then Scotland Yard to make my own report. Jane Newton was still at the Langham when I arrived. She told me everyone saw you and Jonathan having a row. You were dallying with another man and my son was reasonably upset,” Mary seethed, her outrage growing with every word. “He stormed off because you broke his heart.”
“That’s not true,” I said hastily, though she was not far from the truth. I silently cursed Jane Newton for her meddling. “I don’t know where Jonathan is, but—”
“We are looking for him,” Abe finished my sentence, entering the hall behind me.
I closed my eyes. I had been so focused on Mary that I didn’t hear him come down the stairs. He was only going to make things worse. Indeed, Mary’s eyes went so wide at his presence that it would have been comical under different circumstances.
“And just who are you?” she spat.
“Abraham Van Helsing. I was a colleague of Mina’s late father,” Abe replied, unperturbed by Mary’s outrage.
“I . . . heavens, if you are spending the night—” Mary sputtered, looking back and forth between us, her indignation growing. “For an engaged woman to have another man lodge with her! That is most—”
“He’s not lodging here, Mary,” I said, taking a deep breath in an effort to keep my tone steady. “He’s helping me look for Jonathan. We—”
“This . . . this is an outrage!” Mary shouted, as if I had not spoken at all. She turned her furious gaze back towards me. “I never understood what my son saw in you. You have no breeding and you are not a proper lady. When he returns, I will make it my priority to end your engagement. He will happily end it himself when I report what I have witnessed here,” she continued, looking at me and Abe in disgust, as if she had caught us in flagrante delicto.
I glared at her, my resolve to maintain calm rapidly failing. With all of the events of the evening, the usual politeness I wore like a shield around Mary fell away.
“I am not a lady,” I snapped.
“I beg your pardon?” Her tone was filled with disbelief.
“I am not a lady, and that is why Jonathan loves me. That is why I will find him, and that is why I insist that you leave my home immediately, or I will not be responsible for the consequences!”
Mary stumbled back, her hand flying towards her chest. I noted with pleasure that she looked a bit frightened, and she was trying unsuccessfully to hide it. She did manage to give me one last glare before whirling on her feet to storm out, dramatically slamming the door behind her.
Once she was gone, my shoulders relaxed. Though it felt wonderful to speak my mind to Mary, I knew that I had destroyed any hope of even a distantly polite relationship between us in the future.
“The future mother-in-law, I assume?” Abe queried.
I straightened, turning to glare at Abe, whom I had almost forgotten was there. I could tell that he was trying to appear mildly concerned, but the corners of his lips twitched as he suppressed an amused smile.
“You shouldn’t have come down,” I muttered, moving past him towards the stairs. “That woman doesn’t need another reason to hate me.”
“My sincere apologies, but it did seem like you needed help,” Abe said, trying to sound genuine despite the faint note of humor in his tone.
As we headed up the stairs, my irritation at Mary’s visit dissipated, and I turned to face him with an apologetic smile.
“I don’t care what Mary or anyone thinks. It is quite late. You can stay the night in one of the guest rooms if you’d like.”
Only a few hours ago, I would have been horrified at the thought of having any man stay the night ay my home, no matter how innocent, for fear of how the scandal would affect the Harkers. But the night’s events now made all those concerns seem trivial, and I was still feeling defiant in the face of Mary’s insufferable propriety.
“Now that is the Mina Murray I know,” Abe said, returning my smile with a wink. “Thank you. I may end up sleeping in Robert’s study—if I sleep at all. It has been some time since I have read through his older research; it is extensive. He–he had a brilliant mind.”
Abe looked distant for a moment, his eyes briefly darkening with grief. Abe’s own father had died when he was very young. My father had filled that role in his life, and I knew how much Abe had loved him.
On impulse, I reached out to rest my hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Besides Clara, Abe was the only other person who shared my deep grief over Father’s death. It was my combined guilt and grief in the aftermath of Father’s death that had caused the dissolution of our relationship, but his death still linked us.
Abe’s hand drifted up to rest over mine, and once again heat coursed through me at his touch. Realizing how close we now stood to each other, I took a step back and dropped my hand. There was a brief flicker of some emotion I could not identify in Abe’s features before it was gone again, and he turned to head back towards the study.
“Abe, I forgot to mention . . . Father’s most recent journal is missing. I haven’t been able to find it anywhere. It must have been misplaced. If you were searching for it, you won’t find it in there,” I said, as the memory of Father’s missing journal surfaced.
Abe halted in his tracks, looking back at me with a frown.
“I was looking for it. That is quite odd,” he said, puzzled. He stood there for a moment, his brow furrowed, before turning to head back to the study.
Back in my bedroom, Clara had already completed packing my traveling bag, and gave me an approving nod as I e
ntered.
“Good for you, speakin’ your mind ta Mary Harker,” Clara said, and I realized that she must have heard our entire exchange.
“I’m going to have to apologize,” I said grudgingly. “Though she’ll never forgive me.”
“Tell me wha’ happened tonight. Everythin’,” Clara said, waving away all talk of Mary Harker. She took my hand and guided me to the bed, taking a seat opposite me.
Clara knew of the tales of vampires that Abe, Father and I had collected during our travels in Transylvania; and she was very aware of how Father died. But we’d never discussed the possibility of vampires truly existing, and I had maintained that everything that happened in Transylvania had a rational explanation.
Now, I was nervous as I told her everything that happened—from Abe’s confronting me on the street to the events at the ball and the aftermath, including Abe’s hypnosis of Lucy. Clara remained silent as I spoke. When I finished, she was silent and pale, and not looking at me.
“I know it sounds as if I’ve gone mad,” I said, flustered by her silence. “But I know what I saw, and—”
“I believe you,” Clara interrupted. But she still looked uneasy, and her hands were now clenched nervously in her lap.
“Then what is it?” I asked.
Clara remained silent for a long moment, and when her eyes finally met mine, they were wide with agitation.
“Don’t go back ta Transylvania, Mina. You can’t,” she said. “Let the police find him. Please.”
“I just told you why we can’t rely on the authorities,” I said, stunned by her vehemence.
“I knew. I knew this day’d come,” she whispered rawly, closing her eyes.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Clara?”
“Your father,” she said heavily, her eyes now filling with tears. “He made me promise ta never tell you this. May God forgive me for breakin’ my promise.”
“What . . . what promise?” I asked, my body going cold with dread.
Clara got to her feet and began to pace the room.
The Beast of London: Book 1 of the Mina Murray series Page 7
