Heart of Darkness

by Claire Marta

  My Elizabeth but not. The girl is an enigma.

  I will woo her. Seduce her shamelessly until she is under my spell. Over the centuries, I have perfected the art.

  “Sir Westenra told me you teach at the local school. Do you find such work satisfying, Miss Murray?”

  “Do you hold the same opinion as Lucy’s father that woman should not work? I’m content with my life, Mr. Tepes. Teaching at the school brings me great joy. One day I’ll have a family of my own to raise,” she replies with a hint of sass.

  An image of a blood covered bed insidiously flashes into my mind. My beloved Elizabeth our child dead in her womb. It’s so vivid I sway with pain it brings.

  “Are you all right?” Mina asks in concern, her wide eyes focused on my face. We halt at the mouth of the maze, the shadows and seclusion of the labyrinth beckoning us in.

  Hand pressed to my temples, I swallow down the thickness in my throat. “I felt dizzy for a moment.”

  “You’re probably not used to the sea air.”

  “I’ve been enjoying it, especially with my present company.”

  A blush glows in her cheeks at my comment, a small smile fluttering onto her kissable lips before it is gone. “I’m certain we haven’t met before, but there is something familiar about you. Something just out of reach.”

  Mapping every nuance of her beloved face, I survey her intently. “Do you believe in past lives? That a soul can reincarnate more than once?”

  “I believe the soul goes to heaven when one dies or hell if someone has sinned.” Her clenched hand moves to rest over her heart.

  Heaven and Hell. I have seen neither. Trapped in an in-between here that could be seen as purgatory. My sins are so great that even the most virtuous angels would shudder in my presence.

  Raising my own hand, I gently caress the curve of her chin, the skin smooth and soft beneath my bold touch. “Perhaps some are destined for greater things.”

  Mina startles, taking a step away. “I should take you back inside. I wouldn’t want to overexert you.”

  How easily I could enthral her. Break her will and bend her to my own. Yet that’s not what I want. Bowing politely my mouth twitches in a smirk. “As you wish, Miss Murray but only if we break formality, and you call me Vladimir.”

  Amusement flashes over her expression as she relaxes. “Then you must call me Mina… Jonathan you came!”

  Breaking into an unladylike run, she dashes past me. Turning to find the source of her happiness, I see her throw herself into the arms of a stranger, her laughter light and happy.

  The handsome young man hugs her back, caught up in her exuberant mood. “I’ve been away from you too long my love, and London couldn’t keep me any longer.”

  They stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, unaware of anything else around them, sharing an intimate kiss. Jealousy comes hard and swift. Exploding up like a fierce volcano, it consumes me. Rigid, as if I’ve been turned to stone, I watch the exchange with barely leashed rage.

  Mina is mine.

  Whoever this boy is he will learn that in time.

  Mina gives a soft giggle as she pulls away. Tucking her arm through his possessively, she tugs him toward me. “Vladimir, I would like you to meet my fiancé, Jonathan Harker. Jonathan, this is Vladimir Tepes, a guest of Sir Westenra.”

  “An honor to meet you, Sir.” My bow is stiff, my countenance carrying the right amount of interest hiding my true feelings. “You work in London?”

  Clear, trusting brown eyes meet mine beneath the young man’s dark, curly hair. “With a well-known solicitor. Once we’re wed, Mina will be joining me at my lodgings as my wife. It’s modest but respectable.”

  Mina’s head turns sharply in his direction. “And leave Whitby and the school?”

  “There are plenty of schools in London, Mina, that would be happy to employee you when we get there. Besides once we’re married you won’t have to work at all,” Jonathan argues with exasperation. Flattening her lips into a thin white line, his betrothed flashes him a look of anger. Tension ripples between the couple. A tiny crack in their happy façade.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Extracting myself from their company, I stalk toward the front of the building. Loneliness cocoons me. I want what I once had. Love. Acceptance. A life that was so cruelly ripped from me. The one soul whom I’d loved beyond anything else.

  I will need to be more ingenious and won’t be denied my prize.

  Chapter 7

  Descending the steps of the coach that Renfield has hired for my use, I notice the beggar on the side of the road. The shabby overcoat, which clothes him, is thread bare and not enough to keep out the cutting autumn chill. I’ve seen plenty in London blending in with the pavement. One of the forgotten. No one to care if they draw their next breath. In times of desperation, they have sustained me with their meager blood. Easy prey when drunken and addled.

  A tattered hood obscuring his features, he lifts a filthy scarred hand as I pass.

  The smell of whisky is strong as he mumbles words I can’t even make out.

  Digging in my pocket, I pull out a few loose coins tossing them into his dirty open palm.

  Mind still focused on Mina and her fiancé, his raspy voice thanking me in Romanian takes a moment to register. Freezing in my tracks, I spin on my heels only to discover him gone. Searching the street, I see no sign of him.

  Unease blossoms in my chest, a sensation I haven’t felt in a very long time. With one last scan of the busy street, I enter the foyer of the hotel. I find Dorian in a whirlwind of movement, directing his manservant with his luggage.

  “Dorian.”

  Swivelling to the sound of my voice, my friend acknowledges me with an elegantly raised eyebrow. “I’m heading back to London. Will you be accompanying me?”

  Crossing the checkered marble floor, I come to a standstill beside him. “I think I’ll stay in Whitby a while longer.”

  “You’re very taken with Miss Murray, aren’t you?” Dorian guesses perceptively.

  The heat of the fire roaring in the large stone hearth washes over my skin as I lower myself into one of the high back, leather chairs positioned to enjoy its warmth. “She is a puzzle I hope to find complex but not without answers. As far as anyone is aware, I intend to tour the Yorkshire coastline and enjoy the sea air. I will not be engaging with Westenra again, if that’s what you have on your mind.”

  Dorian takes a moment to glance around before leaning toward me. “Henry is keeping me apprised of Westenra’s plans and the alliances he’s forming.”

  “You’re using him as an informant?”

  “Henry can never say no to me.” My companions smile oozes with smugness. “Besides I think we’ll all sleep better knowing we have a man on the inside.”

  The hum of voices has me aware we are not alone. Gaze flicking to the large gilded mirror above the fireplace, I watch the concierge chatting with an elderly couple. White stylized columns form an arch leading from the foyer to the next room. Above, the crystal chandelier twinkles and sparkles.

  “Where would we be without our little deceptions?” I murmur as Dorian joins me, sprawling carelessly out in his own chair.

  “Subterfuge does make everything more intriguing, doesn’t it?” he agrees with a chuckle. “Be careful, my friend. These are dangerous times for men like us, and I would so hate to see our friendship cut short. I should probably give you this, as you are determined to stay.”

  He produces a cream-colored envelope from the pocket of his fashionable suit jacket. Taking it from his offered hand, I examine the neatly written writing. My name and the address of the hotel.

  “An invitation to a dance,” Dorian explains. “I’m sure Miss Murray will be attending with Miss Westenra. But beware the Smythe’s are holding it to find suitors for their daughter.”

  Tearing the top, I slip out the paper and scan over the details. “Oh, don’t worry I have no interest in being caught in that web.”

  The event is to
be held tomorrow evening at the Smythe’s estate. It gives me time to learn all I can of Miss Mina Murray. Renfield will be put to use. I don’t savor seeing Sir Westenra again, but I will not give up the opportunity to see Mina.

  I remain with Dorian long enough to see him safely off in his coach his warning fresh in my mind. The encounter with the man on the street has left me unsettled. A minion of Professor Van Helsing? One of his hunters? They hunt monsters, yet they do not know who I am. What I am.

  Entering the crowded ballroom, my attention centers on the impressive, large golden-gilded, wall mirrors. It is said when you look into a mirror you are looking into your soul. The devil has mine. It no longer resides in my body.

  I sense the silver laced within the backings. That is the true reason a vampire does not have a reflection. With the centuries come wisdom. Centering my power, I sweep it around my form. It buzzes, strengthening my aura. Strolling from the entrance, I gaze at my reflection, satisfied with what I see.

  Moving through the crowd, I watch the couples dance to a waltz. The men converse over politics and their ruler’s sovereignty, the women chattering over the latest fashions. All the English upper classes with their respectable homes and assembly halls where they dine and dance with their womenfolk. Bred debauchees in abundance. How easily they fall to corruption. Indulge their perverted sides in private.

  My sensitive hearing picks up the whispers. I'm an object of gossip. Something exotic. Lusted after. The foreign aristocrat of wealth and means. Rumours surround me. Half-truths and misconceptions I have no desire to correct or deny. The air of mystery only enhances my reputation.

  Professor Van Helsing.

  I spy the old man amongst a group of men. Observing the mirrors, he casts an intent look over the throng. Tonight is more than a social gathering. He and his league of hunters are prowling. They may be cunning, but they will not catch me. If they are set to entrap a monster, it will not be me.

  Dismissing them, I turn my attention to the rest of those attending. Amon Jahi, tall imposing, is stationed in a far corner. The Egyptian watches those around him with a cool detached interest. Catching my stare, he dips his chin in silent greeting. Mimicking his gesture, I offer him a half smile. We’re not the only creatures lurking among the crowd tonight. I’m surprised to see him after the other evening. Perhaps he has no fear of being discovered.

  One more swift glance, I locate my prey. Lucy stands with a group of women, Mina at her side.

  The satin damask dress she wears is a vivid yellow with black trim, reminding me of the first stirrings of dawn. Lace adorns the sleeves and neckline. Her bodice is tight but modest, the full length of her skirts settling behind with a dramatic train. Hair braided at the sides in the favored fashion, it hangs in tight ebony ringlets, kissing her shoulders.

  How I’ve missed her. Longed for the sight and sound and scent of her. Like an opium addict I crave it like a drug. She’s intoxicated me from the first moment I saw her.

  Lucy beckons me with her fan. Without hesitation, I cross the room toward them.

  “Miss Westenra. Miss Murray.” I bow over their offered hands one at a time brushing a kiss to their gloved knuckles. Mina’s I keep longer than etiquette decrees. Long enough to draw her gaze to my eyes.

  “Mr. Tepes,” she breathes, a wash of pink tinging her cheekbones.

  I sense the pull between us and the resistance.

  Releasing the hold on her hand, I keep her gaze entrapped by mine, staring at her intently. “Miss Murray, may I have this dance?”

  “Yes, of course she will.”

  “Lucy,” Mina scolds in astonishment at her friend who stands watching our exchange with a feminine look of amusement.

  “Jonathan hasn’t claimed you for a dance once,” Lucy mutters, fanning herself. “Do you want the evening to be nothing but a bore?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Then it is settled.” I tell them with a charming smile.

  Taking Mina’s hand before she can argue her way out of a dance, I lead her confidently onto the ballroom floor.

  “You look beautiful this evening, Mina.” The second my hand slips to her waist, the other to clasp her delicate hand in mine, logic evaporates.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes lower shyly, fresh color blooming in her cheeks.

  So close to her, I grow drunk on the clean fragrance of her hair, mixed with jasmine and the elusive scent that is all Mina. My fingers itch to tangle themselves in her locks as I whisk her onto the ballroom floor. Rescue them from the neat coils they’ve been styled in to let them cascade free.

  “Your hair always looked the loveliest when it was down and woven with the blue summer flowers,” I murmur before I realize my mistake.

  “Flowers?” Mina studies my face. Searching to glimpse something hidden. For what, though, is the question.

  We drift into the long, flowing steps of a waltz. “Forgive my words. You remind me of someone I knew long ago.”

  “Someone dear to you?” she asks softly, keeping in time with the movements. I hold her frame a fraction nearer than English propriety dictates. If she’s noticed, she doesn’t point it out.

  My attention dips to the ripeness of her mouth. “She was my heart.”

  She continues to study me with innocent, guileless eyes. “What happened to her?”

  “She died.” Bitter, unforgiving, pain laces my tone.

  “I’m sorry.” Mina’s gloved hand squeezes mine gently in solace. I’m aware of the faint friction of the material as I glide her gracefully round the room. We continue through the crowd, but all I’m conscious of is the woman in my arms.

  “Tell me does your fiancée bring passion to your life, Mina?”

  “P…passion?” She flusters in confusion, my brazen question throwing her off balance.

  I sweep her quickly into a perfect turn.

  “Deeply, irrevocably, dragă mea. Do you feel him in your bones? Your blood?” My words are scandalous to her ears, the hand on her waist urging her a fraction closer. “Can he see the passionate woman who lies beneath? The one who yearns to be loved, desired. Her hopes and dreams. All the hidden secrets I see yearning in the depths of your eyes waiting to be set free.”

  I can hear Mina’s heart hammering loudly in her chest. Something flashes beneath the surface of her shocked expression. The shift is swift and sudden. Recognition. Lips parting, she sucks in a breath as if she’s about to speak.

  A presence to our left prevents Mina from responding.

  “May I cut in?” Jonathan observes us, the only sign of upset the tight lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes.

  A maddening sear of jealously engulfs me. Hatred for the boy.

  I keep my countenance composed, voice normal. “Of course.”

  Reluctantly giving over Mina into the keeping of her fiancée, I stroll from the dance floor. I cannot afford to create a scandal. I’ll need discretion in my dangerous endeavours. Will not rest until Mina Murray is mine. There is no other purpose in my life now.

  “Mr. Tepes, I thought you had left for London with Mr. Grey.”

  Swiveling to the accented voice, I survey Professor Van Helsing with an aloof look. “I’ve decided to take the sea air a while longer.”

  Pulling a thin cigarette out from a slim tarnished gold box, he taps the end of it before offering it to me. “Where again in Romania did you say you were from?”

  I shake my head declining one. “I didn’t.”

  “There are creatures of the night among us, Mr. Tepes. Your homeland is filled with superstitions of such creatures. Minions of the Devil who wish to devour the souls of mankind. We’re all that stands between them and Hell on Earth.”

  “Fairy tales made up by peasants to explain away things they don’t understand,” I tell him with a dismissive curl of my lips. “As a man of science, you should know better. If you’ll excuse me.”

  I feel his intent gaze on me as I walk in the opposite direction. Tread carefully, old man, I
silently warn him. If he comes between me and what I desire, I’ll not hesitate in killing him.

  Letting the music and the murmur of the crowd surround me, I stalk the object of my obsession. Watching from the shadows. Bidding my time. Plotting.

  Her fiancé twirls her around in another dance. Mina’s happy laughter has my jealously pulling at its leash like a wild beast. Some perversity keeps me there, a form of self-torture. My chance comes when she finally returns to Lucy Westenra’s side.

  Mina.

  My insidious call whispers across the distance separating us into her mind. A subtle tilt of her head in my direction, and I know she’s unconsciously heard me.

  Come to me dragă mea.

  Focusing all my will, I plant the subtle suggestion in her thoughts. Lure her toward the terrace doors and the grand gardens beyond.

  Excusing herself from her friend, Mina moves gracefully to where I bid. A quick look assures me her fiancé is busy with a group of guests. Van Helsing is in deep conversation with the Egyptian Amon Jahi. For all their well laid plans, she slips easily through their protective net.

  Extracting myself smoothly from my own group, I move across the room. On nimble feet, I reach the terrace doors before Mina, slipping out and blending with the darkness.

  I catch a glimpse of yellow satin. Her silhouette framed by the light spilling from the doors. Fingers curling around her bicep, I pull her to the side into the safety of the dark.

  My lips assault Mina’s in a bruising kiss. I’ve been starving for her. A desperate man who would do anything to have her. I expect her to fight. Instead I taste her hunger in the first instinctive response of her mouth. A treacherous sweetness, quick and hot. The heady poison of desire. It would take nothing to drag her deeper into a darkened corner. Ravage her innocence and drink her blood. I want her more than ever.

  “Elizabeth. My Elizabeth,” I mutter heatedly between kisses in my native Romanian tongue. “I never thought I’d see you again. There has never been anyone else for me. I have always begun and ended with you.”