by Joseph Rubas
CHAPTER SEVEN
The morning of April 14th, 1912, dawned like all the rest aboard the R.M.S. Titanic: Cold and clear. Van Helsing, who slept poorly most nights was up with the sun. John Seward was slumped in an armchair near the window, his feet propped upon the small table which Bruce Ismay would rather have destroyed versus losing money from Lord Godalming. He had tried to make John spend a night in the bed, but he refused, saying that he rather liked sleeping in the chair. Likely story. As Van Helsing sat on the edge of the bed in the dim room, he let out a sigh, slightly perturbed that he was considered something akin to a fragile woman by the younger men.
John was snoring away in the darkness, but a dark, abstract form, as Van Helsing weakly arose and hurriedly dressed. He worried that he was making too much noise, and that John would awaken, but he was still snoring as Van Helsing softly eased the stateroom door open and stepped into the lighted corridor.
Standing before him, almost as if he had been waiting, was Art, dressed in a fine tan jacket and a pair of dark slacks, his face ashen and his eyes red from lack of sleep. Another thing that bothered Van Helsing, and very much bothered John Seward, was that Art had taken to keeping the night’s watch solely by himself.
“Art, what are you doing up?” Van Helsing asked.
“I’ve been up most of the night,” Art said heavily, and smiled. “Someone has got to keep Dracula from storming us in the dead of night.”
“John would like to have a chance,” Van Helsing said, “and so would I. Arthur, you must sleep. I and John are capable of handling Dracula should he come.”
“I am very well aware of that,” Art said. “I just…I want, Doctor Van Helsing, it to be me he encounters when he comes back.”
There was no doubt that Dracula would be back. As Van Helsing had told the others the previous day, Dracula was a prideful creature, one who would not let the transgressions against him go unpunished.
The only thing that truly unnerved Van Helsing was whether or not they had actually gotten his boxes when they purified the hold. If they hadn’t, then Dracula was still able to draw strength from his infernal dirt, and would be in top form when the final battle came. Van Helsing was confident that they could handle him even so, but it would be much better for them if he was weak.
At the present moment, it had been days since the cleansing of the hold, which would mean that Dracula was weakened, but not nearly weak.
“Arthur…this is a…a team effort; you cannot do it all by yourself.”
Art nodded. “I know, but I have the most reason…after all that he has done to me.”
Van Helsing nodded sympathetically and placed one of his gnarred hands on Art’s shoulder. “We all want to find him. But this is not about revenge, Arthur, this is about protecting an entire innocent city, and an entire world. Dracula is not a man you can dual with, he is the un-dead, a creature of the pit.”
Van Helsing stopped to fill his lungs with air, and Art, head hitherto hung down, looked up. “You are right. This is not about me.”
Van Helsing smiled, “Good, then you see?”
Art nodded.
“Good. I was just going to go on a stroll and see if I can find anything amiss, would you like to come?”
Art’s eyes lit up as if he were a child at a fair, and a bizarre grin overcame his face. “Yes, more than anything else in the world.”
Walking side-by-side, Art and Van Helsing made their way down the hall, up the grand staircase past a few rushing stewards, and to the smoking room, which was totally deserted at this hour, save for a few stewards taking a break from preparing the tables in the dinning saloon for breakfast and an elderly man in Van Helsing’s favorite spot by the fire (nearly now a bed of glowing coal), silently engrossed in a thin book. Art and Van Helsing settled for a beautifully polished table surrounded with four green leather wingback chairs. A small glass ashtray, sparkling like the finest piece of modern crystal, sat in the middle for their use. Art removed his cigarette case from inside of his coat, and offered one to Van Helsing, who took it, for he had left his pipe and tobacco back on his nightstand. Art struck a match and then inhaled deeply. Van Helsing used a match from Art’s book to light his own smoke; it tasted horrible, noting like the tobacco that he was used to.
“Do you like it?” Art asked, “It’s Turkish.”
Van Helsing coughed and tried desperately to wave away the offensive smoke. “It is awful,” he said, and Art grinned. “How can you smoke this? It tastes like acrid steam.”
Art shrugged. “I guess you have to let them grow on you.”
Van Helsing had no idea why anyone would want to let such terrible tobacco grow on them, but he said no more.
“As you were saying earlier,” Art began, then took a long puff on the end of his cigarette, “we all want to find Dracula.”
“Yes,” Van Helsing replied, weighing whether to continue with the abominable cigarette or to snub it out.
“But…frankly, we aren’t doing enough. We’re covering the same ground just hoping to bump into him. I think it’s time we…intensified our efforts.”
Van Helsing pulled on the cigarette. The second puff wasn’t as bad as the first, but it was still repugnant. “How do you propose we do that, Art? There’s not much else we can do. I am of the mind that Dracula will not be found until he is ready, making all of our work for naught. It is…it is what they call busy work. It gives us a sense of satisfaction and purpose to actively look for him, but the chances are that we will find him when we are not looking, the way you found him the other night.”
Art nodded thoughtfully, chewing the butt of his cigarette. “That may be right, Doctor, but if we were to throw all of our resources into finding him, we very well could put him on the run, and force him into a fight. I agree; he will come, but wouldn’t we rather face him on our terms?”
Van Helsing considered for a long, smoky moment. Art had a point, but Dracula would not face them on their terms. The last go around had taught Dracula that dirtier was better, which was why they always had to be on the lookout. Dracula would not come from the front and toss you a sword to counter his own…he would drop out of the rafters and snap your neck.
He told Art as much, and Art nodded. “True, but we could force him, Doctor. See here: We’re sure that we have destroyed his boxes, are we not?”
“Not entirely,” Van Helsing said cautiously. “He could have only one hidden away in a stateroom somewhere.”
Art sighed. He had entertained that idea himself. “Let’s just say,” he said hopefully, “that we have destroyed his boxes. Without them, he is weak.
“Not nearly as weak as I would like, but yes, he is weak.”
The door to the smoking room banged open, and a man in officer blues strode in. Art waited for him to pass before replying.
“This plays greatly to our advantage. Do you remember what you read to John and I yesterday?”
No, in fact, he didn’t, at least not off the top of his head. He grasped for a moment before it came to him: “Yes, about the forms the vampyre can take.” Even as he spoke, Art’s meaning struck him. “That is right! It takes much energy to change shape, and even more to maintain it. Without his boxes, there is no way that he can recharge himself. He will most likely be in man form to save strength.”
Van Helsing could have slapped himself for nothing thinking of it himself.
“That’s right. Even if he still has the brawn of eight men, he will be in man form, solid man form. As such, he cannot float or crawl away.”
Art nodded. “And we’ve cut him off from the hold, meaning that he cannot hide there. He will be out and about, perpetually walking the decks and the halls. He will be easier to spot. We can put him on the defensive, run him down, force him into a fight.”
Van Helsing saw Art’s point. It would be harder for him to stay hidden, meaning that he would thus be easier to find, just as Art had pointed out. Still, even confined to the limitations of men,
Dracula was a shrewd and cunning beast; he would try his best to avoid them, and he may just do a good job too.
“You said it yourself, Doctor,” Art was saying, “there is not much we can do. We can either take him, or wait for him to take us.”
“I know,” replied Van Helsing as he leaned over the table and snubbed the nasty cigarette out in the ashtray. “I am just…”
Just what?
“…Cautious. You are right that we want to pick the time and place, not him. We will do that. I just worry that being as wise and powerful of mind as he is, we will be unable to find him still. I tell you, though; he will come to us. He is weak and must act quick.”
If we purified his boxes.
