The coffin lid lifted … and it was empty inside.
Quincy reached in and touched the satin interior just to make sure.
“Where the hell is she?” he said.
Before anyone could say anything, we heard a noise. It was coming from just outside the mausoleum. It sounded like it could’ve been a cat or some other animal, but as it drew near the terrible recognition of what it was dawned on all of us: the cries were from a baby.
The crying began to echo off the walls as the baby was inside the mausoleum now. I’ve never felt my heart beat in my chest quite like that. I could hardly breathe. I noticed that the other men couldn’t take their eyes off the stone steps either.
Suddenly, a shadow was cast against the walls. It expanded to gigantic proportions from the angle before it shrank down to human size. To my utter horror, I saw who it was.
Lucy was holding the child gently in her arms. She took a few steps down, saying, “Shh,” to the child to calm it. But it wasn’t affectionate. Protruding from her mouth were what appeared to be fangs, and she licked her lips before leaning down and running her tongue over the child’s face. She noticed us and smiled.
“Arthur, my Arthur. Are you here to save me, Love?”
Something was off. Lucy was … compelling. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her and I could swear she was more beautiful than I had ever seen her.
Van Helsing grumbled, “Let the child go, demon.”
“Demon?” she said, as if she was hurt at the accusation. “Arthur, who is this man? Why did he call me a demon?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur stammered, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Lucy stepped down the stairs and was on the floor with us, absolutely radiant in the light of the moon, her alabaster skin shining brightly, blue eyes sparkling.
Van Helsing took out a crucifix and held it out. “Let the child go!”
Lucy laughed. In an instant, the baby was dropped and she was on top of Van Helsing. She ripped the crucifix away and flung it against the wall. The three of us were in such shock we didn’t move at first.
Lucy flung Van Helsing against the wall. Her lips were near his and she reached down and put her hand down the front of his pants. “Don’t you want me,” she whispered. “Don’t you lust after me. I’m so wet.” She groaned with pleasure. “I need you. Take me now, right here. I want them to watch.”
Van Helsing was in a daze. Not just figuratively; I could see that his eyes had glazed over. It was then that the screaming of the child snapped me out of my spell. I ran to it and cradled it to my chest. Little droplets of blood stained the blanket it was wrapped in. On its arm were two puncture marks.
Van Helsing had dropped the machete and the spear. He was now kissing Lucy passionately as Arthur and Quincy looked on as if they couldn’t move. I placed the baby down. With a deep breath, I went for the weapons.
I grabbed the machete and lifted it over my head. With a shout, I swung down on Lucy’s head.
Missing completely, I struck her shoulder and the blade embedded into her flesh. She screamed and turned toward me. Swinging with her arm, she struck me on the side of the face with such force I flew off my feet and hit the wall, sliding down to the floor.
She leapt on top of me, blood still staining her mouth, and pressed me down. She lifted my chin and said, “It was you, Jack. You were the someone I was in love with.”
Her teeth elongated and she went for my neck.
I felt a pinprick on my chest. My eyes were closed and as I opened them, I saw that Lucy’s head was thrown back, her teeth exposed, her tongue out of her mouth.
The tip of the wooden spear was sticking out of her chest. Bits of flesh were hanging off of the tip as Van Helsing twisted it out and stuck it through her again.
“Arthur!” Van Helsing shouted. No response and Van Helsing looked to him. “Arthur, it must be you. You have to do it. Do it now! Arthur!”
Lucy suddenly leapt into the air like a monkey and clung to the ceiling, but she couldn’t hold on for long as Van Helsing still had the spear in her. She fell to the ground, writhing like a bug that was fighting for its life.
Arthur, still crying, picked up the machete.
“I can’t hold her! Arthur!”
With a scream, tears streaming down his face, Arthur swung. The machete caught her on the neck. It got halfway through as blood spattered over the mausoleum walls. He ripped it out of her, and swung again, taking her head completely off. The body fell limply to the floor and Van Helsing let go of the spear and collapsed.
EXCERPT FROM “LOVE IN THE AGES”
An account of the mysterious rise and demise of Blood Burn as described to the author by the parties involved.
By Belamy Woodwards
First Draft
CHAPTER 29
The Velvet Rabbit sits on two acres of manicured lawns and fountains twenty minutes outside of Boston. Founded by W. Henry Breckenridge in 1938 as a retreat for the wealthy that profited during the Great Depression rather than suffered like 95% of the population, it has never lost its exclusive atmosphere. With dishes ranging from peanut butter quail soup, to chilled buffalo liver, its menu is something you might have found in ancient Rome.
The wait list stretches more than three weeks if you have influence, and much longer without. Roaming around on the property, one can easily run in to several of the free roaming peacocks or swans that are given reign over the property. For the ultra-rich with money to burn, cabins are available for rent on the property for the princely sum of $4200.00 per night.
It was in this atmosphere that the limousine let out Mina. She stepped out by herself and her hand was quickly taken by the Count who helped her out of the car. He was dressed in a suit, but unlike any suit Mina had ever seen. The thread shimmered in a certain light and it seemed as if one could be perfectly content staring an entire day away simply looking at its intricate patterns.
The maître’d gave them a look that said What on earth are you doing here? and Mina suddenly felt grossly underdressed.
“You are a diamond among swine,” the Count said, anticipating her thoughts. “These people do not deserve to gaze upon you.”
“I feel out of place. I’ve never been somewhere like this.”
“It’s a veneer. Underneath, these people are venom; they think covering it with money prevents the world from seeing.”
The maître’d said, “I’m terribly sorry, but we do not have any space available tonight.”
The Count simply peered at him. “You will get us a table. I would like the surrounding tables cleared so we may have some privacy.”
The man’s eyes seemed to gloss over and though he opened his mouth no words came out. Mina watched him with utter fascination and wondered exactly what about the Count had struck such terror in him. Before she could speak, a manager came over and began yelling at the maître’d.
“Don’t you know who this is? Move, you damned fool.” He turned to the Count. “I’m terribly sorry Heir Draculea. He is relatively new.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Shall I prepare your usual table?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They were taken to a corner of the restaurant surrounded by windows that overlooked lush gardens outside. Though the tables around them were occupied, the staff immediately cleared them and promised the patrons that they would find them suitable dining elsewhere in the city.
“How did you do that?” Mina asked when they were sat.
“Simple. I own this restaurant.”
“You own it? What was all that talk about veneer and venom?”
“What I said was true.” His brow furrowed. “Perhaps I have such venom too.”
Wine was served at $1800 per bottle and Mina spoke of mundane things. Her education, her hopes for the future, her dreams of what she would become and what she would accomplish.
“Tell me about your home?” she asked.
“There is no more beautiful place in all
of creation.”
“Yes,” she said, leaning forward, “it must be to match you. A place of forests that cover vast stretches of land of many colors. Mountains that range in blue and white to red and brown. And on the ground flowers of such intense frailty that they would whither if you touched them.”
The Count watched her a long time, a single tear coming down his cheek. “You speak of my home as if you’ve been there.”
“I think it’s just your voice. I’ve heard it before. It’s like a voice in a dream that I forget when I wake. And what about the princess?”
“Princess?”
“In my dreams there’s always a princess in a flowing gown. She appears sad and her tears roll off her cheeks into a river below.”
“There was once a princess … Elizabeth. But deceit took her from her ancient prince. She leapt to her death in that river you spoke of.”
She looked away. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m married.”
“You may leave at any time. Yet you do not.”
DR. SEWARD’S EVERNOTE JOURNAL
September 21
I’ve thrown myself into my work. I’ve spent hours a day with various patients and then hours at night combing through research journals to find tidbits to help with my next project. Arthur, after crashing at my house for a week, has left. Van Helsing has gone back to MIT. I am here by myself and more alone than ever. I see now that Lucy was a shining beacon in my life. A light that led me away from darkness and illuminated the path to my future. I feel lost and despondent without her. The worst part of it is, I never told her how I felt. She very well may have died thinking I cared nothing for her.
I had the most unusual conversation with Mina today. She called me out of the blue and said she needed to talk. I was close to her and Lucy all through college and have known Mina almost twenty years so I didn’t think too much of it. I figured she just wanted to reminisce about the mutual friend we had both lost. But instead she asked me what I thought of her.
“What are you talking about?” I asked her.
“I mean, what kind of person am I? Am I a consistent woman? Do you think I’m a good person?”
“You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, Mina. Kind and with a generosity that this new generation just doesn’t have. Where’s all this coming from?”
“I don’t know … I’ve … I don’t know if I can tell you. I know you’re friends with Jonathan too.”
“I was friends with Jonathan because of you. You’re the oldest friend I have. You can tell me anything.”
“I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Someone, like a male someone?”
“Yes.”
“Mina! You just barely got married.”
“I know. I haven’t done anything … physical. I’ve literally just been seeing him. Going places.”
“Who is he?”
“You wouldn’t know him.”
“Have you told Jonathan?”
“Of course not. It would break his heart. And he’s different now, Jack. You haven’t spent enough time with him to know. But ever since he came back from LA he’s been different. He’s paranoid and frightened … not at all the Jonathan I knew before he left. He snaps at the simplest things and goes into a rage and then he’ll just start crying. I don’t know what’s going on with him. He won’t talk about it with me.”
“Mina, listen to me very carefully: if you respect me at all, you will stop seeing this man and devote yourself to your husband. I don’t know what it is that Jonathan went through but I heard it was terrifying. So just be there for him. That’s all he wants. He doesn’t need anything else. Just when he needs you, be there.”
She sighed, “I miss her, Jack. I miss her so much sometimes I don’t know what I’m going to do. This morning I dialed her number to speak to her.”
“I know. I miss her too. But what’s done is done.”
We spoke a few more minutes and then she promised that she and I and Jonathan would have dinner tomorrow night. I felt more joy at that than I thought I possibly could, but depriving myself of people’s company, at least the company of those that are not mentally ill, for as long as I did has had it’s effects.
Almost before I placed the phone down, it rang again. It was Van Helsing. He was coming back into town and wanted to have dinner tomorrow. I told him I would be with Jonathan and Mina and he said, “Even better!” and invited himself.
September 22
I met Jonathan and Mina first for drinks at a small bar called the Purple Door. I still couldn’t get over how much older Jonathan looked. He could’ve been my father. The conversation was mostly driven by me and I saw immediately what Mina had been talking about: Jonathan was distant. He would answer questions but never ask any himself. I was about to ask him what happened in LA when Van Helsing burst into the bar.
“Jack! I starve. Feed me!”
The professor forced me to shoot whiskey like an old man and then we took a cab over to Simone’s Grotto and were sat at a table overlooking the pier. I could see a storm out over the ocean. It was night now and brilliant flashes of lightning would break the darkness every so often.
“You never told me how Lucy died,” Mina said to me.
Before I could answer, Van Helsing said, with a mouthful of calamari, “We stabbed her through the heart with a spear and then cut off her head and burned it.”
“Doctor!” Jonathan shouted.
Mina looked like she was about to pass out. I fumbled with a few words and was saved by Van Helsing.
“There are things that walk the night, gentlemen and ladies, that science hasn’t categorized. Hasn’t even identified. We live in a demon-haunted world but because we have candles we pretend they’re not there.” He looked to Jonathan. “You yourself, Mr. Harker, have seen some of these dark corners if I’m not mistaken.”
Jonathan looked away.
“Lucy was Lucy no longer. She was dead. The man who made her did that to her as a curse. But I don’t know why.”
“You sound like you know this man,” Jonathan said.
“Oh I do. I’ve been chasing him my entire life. He’s the reason I went into the field I’m in.”
“Why? What do you care about him so much for?”
“My mother, Mr. Harker, experienced him.” Van Helsing, for the first time that I could remember, completely drifted away on a thought and was no longer with us. “She was a sweet woman, completely innocent, and beautiful. The most beautiful in our little village of Augsburg, which is a modern city now. But fifty years ago it was not much more than a village one might see in the dark ages.”
“Fifty years?” Jonathan asked. “How old are you?”
Van Helsing grinned. “Your Lucy suffered the same fate. We gave her a blessing by putting her out of her misery. She was cursed to walk the earth, starving for living blood. From what I can tell, it is not hunger. Hunger is controllable. These creatures are in a constant state of starving, no matter how much they drink.”
Jonathan scoffed. “You’re talking about vampires.”
“Nosferatu, yes. Call them what you want. I’ve seen them break open the bones of men to suck at their marrow. They’re monsters, plain and simple. Now, Mr. Harker, I would be very interested to know exactly what you went through.”
Jonathan glanced to Mina. “I don’t know if it was real. I doubted my own mind. I still feel … insane. Like I don’t know what is real and what isn’t.”
Van Helsing leaned forward. “Well know this: vampires are real. And this one we fight, Dracula, is the most dangerous I have ever seen.”
EXCERPT FROM “LOVE IN THE AGES”
An account of the mysterious rise and demise of Blood Burn as described to the author by the parties involved.
By Belamy Woodwards
First Draft
CHAPTER 32
The corner of Baker and Harvard Lane appeared like any other street in Boston. It was a residential neighborhood, filled with upper-middle class workin
g families that had worked all their lives to get their families out of the rougher south side boroughs. Mina, a dark-haired beauty with a curvy figure and the jet black eyes that were her Eastern European heritage, a gift from her half-gypsy mother, looked out of place. Something about her always struck people as elegant, though unconsciously so. Affectatious was never a word used to describe her by anyone.
The limousine pulled to a stop in front of her and she stepped inside. The Count sat with a cane between his legs, the handle made of solid gold with sapphire trim. He wore circular sunglasses and his hair appeared shining though not wet. Mina sat next to him but stared out the window as they were driven through the streets of Boston to the rooftop restaurant where they would be dining tonight.
“You seem troubled,” the Count said.
“This isn’t the way to the restaurant.”
“We’re going somewhere else tonight. Somewhere special.”
The limousine drove them to the pier. During the entire ride, not twenty words were exchanged between them.
When they arrived, a yacht was waiting. Unlike anything Mina had ever seen, it was easily seventy to eighty feet with a full crew. A table was set out on the deck and several of the crew went about the task of decorating it while several others began to set the silverware and china.
Mina climbed up the ramp, the Count gently holding her hand. They were sat at the table as the yacht pulled anchor and drifted out into the darkening sea.
Once the yacht stopped and they were alone, Mina glanced to the moon which was full tonight. It appeared cold and her skin felt icy at its glow.
“You have something to ask me,” the Count said. “You may ask me anything. I told you before, I am your slave.”
“Who are you? I mean really. Not the rock star. Who are you?”
“I am he that man hunts. I am nothing.”
Mina was quiet a moment. “Take me back to shore.”
Dracula (A Modern Telling) Page 16
