Fortress of Blood (Mina Murray Book 2)

by L. D. Goffigan

  “Jonathan—” I began, deciding to address what had happened during my dreams. I got out of bed to approach him, but he held up his hand.

  “I do not want to discuss it, Mina,” he said wearily. “Anara informed me that we need to appear unified if we are to deceive Vlad and Ilona. We need to sleep next to each other tonight.”

  He moved past me towards the bed, still avoiding my gaze as he sat down and removed his shoes. It was as if his earlier tenderness towards me had never happened at all.

  “I cannot help what I saw in my dreams,” I said. “They were like memories. You know what it is like—you’re going through the same thing! This isn’t going to work if you treat me with such coldness, Jonathan.”

  I was talking about more than the plan to kill Vlad and Ilona, and I could tell that he understood my meaning. His shoulders stiffened, but he still did not turn around.

  “I know you cannot help what you see when you undergo the transformation,” he replied. “But you forget that my mind is still not my own, and I can still see the images that Ilona put into my thoughts. Hearing you say his name repeatedly has only made matters worse.”

  “I told you, you need to fight. You need to use your love for me as a barrier to keep the darkness away. It is the only way we’ll succeed.”

  Jonathan remained silent, and my entire body deflated. Had I truly lost him? Even if my plan to kill Vlad and Ilona worked, how could things ever go back to the way they were before? The weight of the day’s events—the feral vampire at my throat, my dark dreams, the impending danger that awaited us in London, and Jonathan’s renewed coldness settled over me, and my eyes burned with tears. I turned away from him, pressing my hand to my mouth to stifle a sob.

  But I soon felt gentle hands on my shoulders. Jonathan turned me around to face him, his face grave with regret and sorrow as he pulled me into his arms.

  “I do not deserve you, Mina,” he whispered into my hair, sounding bereft. “Forgive me. Forgive my jealousy. I curse the monster who has done this to us. I will happily destroy her. I am trying to fight the darkness, my darling. I will continue to try.”

  He took my hand and guided me towards the bed, pulling me down next to him and enfolding me into his arms.

  “You need to take the advice you gave me. You have been through much these past few days,” he whispered. “Rest, darling. Sleep.”

  I obliged, my lingering fatigue now seeping in to every part of my body, and my eyes fluttered shut. Jonathan continued to hold me close as I drifted off to sleep, whispering words of endearment into my ear. The sleep I fell into was heavier than any sleep I had ever known, filled with snatches of memory both familiar and strange.

  I awoke with a start. The space where Jonathan had lain beside me was now empty, and the early morning rays of dawn streamed past the heavy velvet curtains into the room. I blinked, turning away from the window. The faint sunlight seemed exceedingly bright, and I realized that I felt different. I felt . . . more.

  I could clearly hear snatches of conversation coming from downstairs, when the day before I’d been unable to hear past this room. Outside, I could hear two street vendors bickering in the central square. I could see every intricate detail of the patterns woven into the rugs on the floor and in the curtains. From the kitchen, I could smell freshly baked bread, the sweetness of fruits, and the heavy aroma of coffee. I could also smell the musk of sweat and the coppery scent of blood from the other human and vampire occupants of the house. It seemed as if all of my senses had come to life, and I was truly experiencing them for the first time.

  Shaking, I reached up to feel my teeth. They were sharper and more elongated than before. As I touched them, I felt a whisper in the back of my mind, like the soft caress of a lover, firm and insistent.

  The end is the beginning, my children. The world will be ours.

  It was a coldly familiar voice. It was Vlad’s voice.

  13

  Rage

  “I have never seen the transformation take hold so swiftly,” Szabina said with a worried frown, examining the pallor of my skin and my sharpened teeth. “It usually takes much longer for any physical changes to occur.”

  After hearing Vlad’s voice in my mind, I shouted for help, and everyone came into the bedroom at once. I was now seated on the armchair by the window as Szabina examined me. Abe, Jonathan, and the others hovered around us.

  “Then we need to stop it before it progresses further,” Jonathan said, his voice firm. “Kill the feral now.”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, practically shaking with worry. “I’ll do it.”

  “I agree,” Abe said. “It is too much of a risk to—”

  “No,” I interrupted. “If I’m hearing him in my mind, I can communicate with him and lure him to Purfleet. We arrive in England tomorrow—that’s only another day.”

  “Mina—” Jonathan protested.

  “I can endure this for another day,” I insisted, before turning towards Szabina. “Do I still have time before the transformation is complete?”

  “You do,” Szabina replied, but she looked uncertain as her vivid eyes roamed over my face. “From the way you look, perhaps two or three days at the most.”

  “Then another day in this state will do me no harm,” I said, though I had to suppress my own trepidation as I got to my feet. The thought of becoming permanently vampire terrified me, but I was determined to carry out my plan. It was the only chance we had and the time for our confrontation was almost at hand.

  Everyone looked trepidatious, especially my husband, Gabriel, and Abe; but they reluctantly nodded in agreement. They all filed out of the room so that I could wash and change, except for Jonathan. We kept silent, but I sensed his eyes on me as I washed and put on a dark red traveling dress that Anara had loaned me from one of the wardrobes in the house. As I dressed, I was intensely aware of every sight, smell and sound—the brightness of the sunlight filtering in the window, the voices from downstairs and outside, Jonathan’s overwhelming scent of honey, blood, and oak.

  “Mina,” he said, when I finished getting dressed, approaching me to cup my face in his. I hungrily took him in; with my heightened vision, he looked even more handsome. His pale skin gleamed like fine ivory, his hazel eyes a vivid green speckled with gold, his mouth sensually full. I could even sense his emotions—love, worry, fear.

  “I know how you are feeling. It is as if the entire world has come alive around you.”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I can feel everything.”

  “I know it is difficult, but try not to let it overwhelm you.”

  I gave him an agreeable nod, and moved over to the mirror to put on my veiled hat.

  “Perhaps . . . perhaps you shouldn’t look at your reflection,” Jonathan hedged.

  But it was too late. I had already glimpsed my reflection. My skin was ghostly pale, my eyes shimmered like golden fire, and my lips were red and flushed with blood. Though I was not yet fully transformed, I already looked like one of those monsters.

  Jonathan watched me with concern as I hastily turned away from the mirror, putting on the veiled hat that concealed my face. I gave him another nod to indicate that I was all right, though I was still shaken by my appearance.

  As we descended the stairs to join the others, I tried to steel myself against the multitude of smells and sounds that seized my senses. When we reached the front entrance hall at the base of the stairs, I could even feel the emotions of the other humans and vampires in the house, as powerfully as any scent or sound. There was anxiety, tension, and great distress.

  I halted in my tracks, overwhelmed. How could I hope to confront Vlad and Ilona when I felt so deluged by my heightened senses?

  “Try to focus on one thing at a time; that has helped me,” Jonathan said gently, taking my hand. “Focus on the feel of my hand in yours.”

  I heeded his advice, focusing on the coolness of his hand over mine as we made our way to the dining room, where the others were gathered.
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br />   I took everyone in when we entered the room, as I had barely paid attention to any of them when Szabina was examining me. Gabriel appeared to me just as he had before, darkly beautiful, his silver eyes glittering. Seward also looked the same, though his boyish features appeared slightly more pronounced.

  But like Jonathan, Abe seemed even more handsome to me now, his blue eyes more vivid, his wavy chestnut hair shot with gold as it caught the light, his lean muscles pronounced beneath the crisp white shirt and dark vest he wore. I was unable to suppress the jolt of desire that shot through me at the sight of him, and I had to avert my eyes. If Jonathan sensed the emotion, he made no indication of it, taking the seat next to me as I tried to eat. Thankfully, I did not yet feel a desire for blood, but the plate of fresh bread and fruit did not entice my appetite. I still forced myself to eat, though the food was tasteless in my mouth.

  “We have time before the train leaves,” Szabina spoke up. She was studying me with concern; no doubt my struggle to acclimate myself to my awakened senses were evident. “Perhaps Mina should take more time to adjust before we depart.”

  Everyone’s eyes turned towards me, and I flushed. They all nodded in agreement, my husband and Abe enthusiastically so.

  “Wilhelmina,” Szabina said, giving me a gentle smile. “Shall we take a walk? Your husband can accompany us as well. It will be good to get you acclimated to your new senses.”

  Moments later, the three of us, and two vampire guards who followed us from a distance, left the house to make our way down the bustling street.

  At first, the array of senses that hit me were too much, and I felt myself reeling. Sounds that I had long ago grown accustomed to—horse hooves clattering on cobblestoned streets, vendors shouting about their wares, even the conversations around me—seemed to reverberate around me. As we walked, I could hear the details of an argument a couple were having inside a home, the distant peal of laughter from a child, even the whispered words of what sounded like two clandestine lovers in a bedroom.

  A cacophonous array of blood, copper, and sweat hit my nostrils, while every visual detail of the street around me was amplified—the color of the houses, the detail of cobblestone patterns, the vivid blue of the sky.

  “It took me a full year to adjust to my heightened senses,” Szabina said, studying my face with concern. “This is just what you’re seeing as you go through your transformation. If you were to complete the transformation, everything would be even more vivid.”

  “It’s . . . it’s too much,” I whispered, stopping as Jonathan grasped my shoulder. “I don’t know if—”

  “We can kill the feral and end this now,” Jonathan said swiftly. “Say the word, and we will do it.”

  I closed my eyes, but Jonathan already had my arm in a firm grip as he began to lead me back to the house. But I remembered all that was at stake—the human lives in London, Europe— the world.

  “No,” I said, but Jonathan kept dragging me along. “Jonathan. No.”

  He stopped and turned to face me, his mouth set in a grim line.

  “I can adjust,” I whispered, turning to look at Szabina, who gave me a smile that was edged with worry. “Let’s continue.”

  I turned and continued to make my way down the street, taking deep breaths to maintain my calm. I took Jonathan’s earlier advice and focused on one thing at a time rather than allow my senses to be assaulted all at once, and gradually, I felt myself relaxing. We made it as far as the train station before turning back to head back to the house. I could feel Szabina and Jonathan’s eyes trained on me the whole time. Once we reached the house, Szabina gave me a broad smile. She looked relieved.

  “You did well, Wilhelmina,” she said. “You must rest now. Your senses have endured much these past few hours. We must be careful not to overwhelm you.”

  As we entered, Abe and Seward were emerging from the drawing room, and at the sight of Abe, I had to force myself to quell a sudden burst of longing; I’d felt a minor version of it before, but the power of it was so great that I almost stumbled back. Jonathan stiffened at my side, but kept his grip firm on my arm as he led me upstairs to the bedroom.

  “Rest,” he said, his tone hovering between polite and curt, before he left the room.

  Somehow, I managed to rest, quelling my restless senses by closing my eyes and focusing on the steady sound of my breathing, the rush of blood through my veins. It seemed as if not much time had passed before Gabriel had come up to my room to fetch me.

  “May I ask you something?” he asked, as we made our way out of the room and down the hall towards the stairs.

  “Yes,” I replied, with a curious frown.

  “How is it different? I’ve always been this way,” he confessed.

  “It’s as if everything was dull and muted,” I said, after a brief pause. “And now . . . there is nothing but color. But it is all difficult to adjust to . . . like looking directly into the sun.”

  Gabriel studied me curiously before giving me a small nod. When we reached the top of the stairs, he reached out to grasp my arm.

  “Vlad and Ilona are monsters. When one of them is in your mind, try not to forget who you are.”

  “Of course,” I replied, baffled, but he held my gaze for several long moments before proceeding down the stairs.

  It took great effort, but by the time we left the house and arrived at the train station, I managed to somewhat acclimate myself to my increased awareness without allowing it to overwhelm me.

  We boarded the first train of the day to Budapest, taking up several different compartments around the train to avoid attracting too much attention from the other passengers, who would no doubt take notice of so many unnaturally tall and beautiful men and women.

  When we switched trains to board the Orient Express in Budapest, I felt a great sadness that I realized was caused by the memory of Radu. I would always associate the city with the compassionate creature I had known so briefly, who had given his life to help us destroy his children. As I had long ago linked Amsterdam with Abe, Budapest would always be synonymous with Radu.

  The Orient Express was the finest train I had ever traveled on, and Anara had arranged for our group to have our own sleeping carriage. With my perceptive vision, the gilded drapery, leather chairs, velvet curtains, and mahogany paneled interior seemed even more resplendent. I could only assume that Anara had inherited Radu’s wealth for her to afford such accommodations.

  But there was no time to appreciate the luxury of the train. Jonathan and I settled into our compartment, but as soon as the train pulled out of the station for the long journey to Paris, we went to find Anara and Szabina.

  Both Anara and Szabina were in the compartment next to ours, and they separated us to begin our training. Szabina led Jonathan back to our compartment, while I remained with Anara.

  Once we were alone, Anara sat down opposite me, fixedly holding my eyes, and I was reminded of Radu’s intense gaze.

  “When I first became vampire, my rage and hatred towards humans was strong. Radu’s love managed to pull me away from those emotions, but they remained beneath the surface. I felt that hatred when Gabriel brought you and your friends into our home. You radiated with fear, and I have experienced the very worst of human fear. It made me react violently,” she said. Her words were not an apology, and she spoke with frankness. “I’m telling you this because it is rage that you need to convince Vlad. He is all rage—no love. It is what he understands; it is what drives him. I believe there is rage in you, Mina. But you are a good person,” she added, the statement sounding more like a denunciation than regard. “Your goodness makes you suppress, rather than embrace, your rage. Gabriel told Radu that you nearly killed him when he revealed himself to you.”

  I lowered my eyes, flushing with shame at the memory.

  “Yes. But that was when I thought all vampires were monsters, and I did not know if I could trust him. It wasn’t—”

  “Your reaction proves that you are capable
of allowing your rage to drive you. For the next two days, you need to embrace your rage, as you did when you nearly killed your brother. That is how you’ll connect to Vlad and lure him. Who else do you feel anger towards?”

  “My parents,” I whispered, after a long pause. It felt like a betrayal to admit it aloud, but it was true. “They kept many secrets from me.”

  “Good,” Anara said, looking pleased. “That will be your reason for joining them. Your parents betrayed you. In a way, they both abandoned you. What about your life in London? Besides Jonathan, was there anyone you were close to? What about enemies?”

  There was Clara, of course, but she was my sole ally. I thought of Mary Harker, Jane Newton, Horace Welling, and the rigid society men and women who had been so cruel to my Father and attempted to shun me.

  “I was a bit of an outcast,” I said hesitantly. “But the snobbery of London society is hardly enough—”

  “It is everything. Humans have been cruel to you. They do not deserve your loyalty. Focus on the cruelest things they’ve done to you, and use it. When you speak to Vlad in your mind, focus on your rage towards them. All of them.”

  A part of me wanted to protest, to defend my parents; especially my father. But I did need to convince Vlad that I wanted to join him, and any persistent loyalty towards my parents would dissuade him from believing me.

  “Tell him that you know where the last members of the Order are hiding. That will entice him,” Anara continued. “And remember, you want to lure him out of London and to the estate in Purfleet. When you are ready, close your eyes, and focus on your breathing.”

  I obliged her as she put me under hypnosis, as Szabina had done the night before, and closed my mind off to my surroundings. Soon, the sound of the wheels on the train tracks and the murmured voices of the others in neighboring compartments faded into nothing.

  “Search for Vlad’s whisper in your mind. Speak back to him, as if he were in this carriage with us. And do not forget your rage towards your parents and other humans—their betrayal, their cruelty.”