Dracula Ascending (Gothic Horror Mash-up)

by Cindy Winget

  “Hush now, my love, don’t talk like that. We will destroy the monster, I promise. And everything will be all right after that.” He held her close to him for some time before finally letting go and regretfully informing her that they had to leave if they were to reach Dracula’s lair before nightfall.

  Mina sniffled and swiped a hand across her cheeks, ridding them of her tears, and nodded to her husband. “Go. I will be fine.”

  With a frown, Jonathan turned and motioned for the others to follow.

  They had determined earlier that riding horses instead of taking a carriage would save them time. The servants already had them saddled and ready to go, their supplies secured in the saddlebags. With one last wave back at Mina, the men rode off toward either success or devastating failure, for they would not return until they defeated their foe or else death claimed them.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The place was just as Victor remembered it, eerie and silent, with the sense of ill intent lurking in its dark corners. The sun remained burning in the evening sky, and instead of dispelling the shadows, it created new ones, lending an even more sinister feeling to the atmosphere. There was no masking the cloying smell of decay that seemed to seep up through the very grounds. No noise indicated that Dracula was anywhere on the premises, but even so, they walked with slow and cautious steps. Victor sincerely hoped that they would not be met with rats this time around.

  “Do you suppose he is in there?” whispered Jack.

  Victor shrugged, feeling that to break the silence with his own voice would somehow spell danger for the group. They continued to creep toward the manse, silver knives and wooden stakes held firmly in their hands.

  Upon making a thorough search of the building, they found it empty. The grime and dust caked onto every surface, rotting floorboards, and the musty smell of disuse made it seem as though the place had not been disturbed for decades. But they knew better. Despite the fact that the only footprints that made tracks in the dust were their own, they knew that this was the lair of that very fiend that they had come here to destroy.

  As they wandered each room they removed the doors from their hinges and left them propped up on the wall or else lying on the ground. They had agreed beforehand not to allow themselves to be caught unaware and be made prisoners as Jonathan had been. To that end, they were sure to unblock all escape routes to and from each room as they entered.

  When it was discovered that Dracula was nowhere to be found inside the manse, they headed outside. Out in the churchyard they discovered an open coffin lying inside a newly dug grave.

  “This must be where he sleeps,” said Van Helsing.

  “So much for your theory that he would sleep indoors,” Jack said to Victor. Victor could only shrug.

  Reaching into his vest pocket, Van Helsing pulled out the now familiar and ever-present envelope of holy wafers. He placed one inside the coffin, sliding the rest into the inner pocket of his waistcoat. “There. That should prevent him from reentering it.”

  The sound of fluttering wings brought the men’s heads up with alarm. They waited with bated breaths but saw nothing.

  “What do we do now? Do we leave or wait for the monster to return to his lair?” asked Jack.

  The decision was made for them when a shadow appeared, lengthening as its host drew nearer to the group of gentlemen.

  “Good evening,” rang out a voice, unpleasant as the sound of nails on a chalkboard. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Jack’s jaw tightened in anger at the sight of Dracula, standing regally, dressed in his finest garb.

  A trickle of blood ran from Dracula’s mouth. His ruby lips parted into a sly grin that showed off his long, sharp eye teeth. The black cloak he wore, fastened at the throat by a ruby encrusted clasp, billowed out behind him as he stepped closer, his cane making a slight clip-clop sound on the cobblestones. His hair was slicked back from his face, revealing a widow’s peak.

  The sun had finally set and the moonlight that poured out of the sky lent an even more sinister quality to his hulking form, taller than any man they had encountered. The crafty intelligence of his dull yellow eyes and pale irises, made Victor tremble with fear as he had the first time he had seen them.

  “We have come to kill you,” Van Helsing stated boldly. “Or rather we intend to fight until either you or we are utterly destroyed from this human sphere of existence. At least in our case we would be entering back into the bosom of that heavenly being who gave us life. I fear that the same cannot be said of you. If, in fact, you have a soul, I know not where it shall end up, but can only assume that you shall become closely acquainted with that angel who was thrust out of heaven for disobedience.”

  Dracula let forth a laugh that was liable to stop Victor’s heart, for in it was no fear, only certainty that it was not he who would meet his untimely end this night. The cruelty in its tones froze the blood in Victor’s veins and his hand, slick with cold sweat, nearly dropped the silver knife which it held.

  “If anyone shall leave this mortal coil tonight, it shall not be I. Have I not made myself clear yet that I am immortal?” Dracula said.

  “Yes, so you have mentioned. However, owing to the fact that we were able to dispatch Lucy proves that you are not quite as immortal as you would have us think,” said Victor.

  “Ah, yes. Dear Lucy. Such a shame that she shall not be my bride. However, Mina makes quite a pleasant substitute.” He grinned wickedly in Jonathan’s direction.

  “Not if we have anything to say about it!” Jonathan growled in return, running forward with a speed that surprised Victor. Before Jonathan could even reach Dracula, however, the fiend was gone, transformed in an instant to nothing but dust motes and dark flecks of matter swirling above the churchyard.

  “Where did he go?” asked Jack.

  “Behind us!” cried Van Helsing.

  Victor spun around in time to watch Dracula re-coalesced into a man.

  Yips and snarls rang out in the dark night as four large wolves appeared on the horizon, called forth from the trees by their master.

  Victor was at a loss for what to do. Should he charge Dracula or turn his attention upon these new foes?

  A swarm of bats swooped from the sky and enveloped Dracula. As they rose up higher into the inky night sky, Victor lost sight of Dracula and could only assume that the monster had transformed himself, yet again; now indistinguishable from the other bats.

  “Blast!” cried Van Helsing in frustration.

  The wolves had stalked closer, now a mere pace away from the men, and they had no choice but to switch all of their focus onto them. All four wolves charged at once, each leaping at a different man. Silver knives soon grew crimson as the men stabbed and slashed at the tough hides of the gray and black wolves. With a deep, throaty growl, the wolf closest to Victor pounced again, knocking him to the ground and sinking its sharp teeth into Victor’s shoulder. He cried out in pain as hot blood ran down his arm and dripped onto the soil.

  Seeing his distress, Jack ran forth and stabbed his silver knife into the wolf’s back haunches. Doing little to deter the wolf, it did not let go of Victor. It merely growled deeply and began to shake its jaws, swinging Victor about as a dog would with a favorite toy. Jack pulled back his knife and delivered a second stab, this time to the wolf’s side. The wolf yelped in pain and promptly dropped Victor, who landed with a soft grunt of pain, the air rushing out of his lungs. Jack stabbed at the wolf once more and with a final yelp of fear and pain, the wolf ran back to the trees, not so much as looking back.

  “Thank you,” Victor told Jack, who only nodded. He ran forth to help dispatch the other wolves as Victor rose unsteadily to his feet.

  Van Helsing appeared by his side. “We need to stop the bleeding,” he said. Tearing off the bottom five inches of his shirt, Van Helsing proceeded to wrap it around Victor’s shoulder and tie it off.

  “Where has that bloodsucker gone off to now?” howled Jack in frustration.

/>   Victor looked around and realized that the other wolves were either dead or had also retreated back to the nearby woods.

  “There!” cried Jonathan, pointing to the wall of the manse.

  Victor turned in time to watch Dracula descend from a third story window, head down and crawling along the wall as a lizard upon a mountain rock. The sight sent chills down his spine. It was unnatural. He recalled Jonathan’s letter stating that this was how Dracula left his castle each night in search of sustenance, but seeing it in person was wholly different. The speed by which Dracula descended the wall in this manner was astonishing and within seconds Dracula had reached the ground and was straightening up his tall frame.

  “You did not like my pets?” Dracula crooned.

  In answer, both Jonathan and Jack lunged toward him, their silver knives upheld and slashing. Dracula dodged them as quickly and easily as though they were old men. Every attempt to stab at him was met with decisive disappointment. How were they to succeed against such a foe? He was too fast! Victor ran forth to give aide to his friends when Dracula suddenly appeared in front of him.

  “Well met, Father and Creator,” he said mockingly. “I shall finally end your suffering this night. I will slake my thirst with your blood, and then I shall leave these shores. I have decided to return to my home in Transylvania; taking Mina with me of course. But in my merciful benevolence I will leave what remains of your friends alive.”

  Before Victor could respond, Dracula was upon him. Victor cried out in pain and shock as he felt Dracula’s fangs sink deep into the soft flesh of his jugular. He would have slumped down in agony if not for the iron grip Dracula had upon his shoulders. Victor thrashed and tried to break the monster’s hold upon him, but he was too strong. Within moments, Victor’s pain gave way to a sense of surprising euphoria. It became almost pleasant; the feel of Dracula’s lips upon his neck and the pulling sensation of blood being sucked out of his artery.

  Victor was faintly aware that his friends were trying unsuccessfully to pull Dracula away from him. He glanced over and watched as a swarm of bats descended from the sky and enveloped Jack and Van Helsing who began to slice and swipe at them in an attempt to get at Dracula, but the cloud of dark mammals was too dense and fierce for them to either retreat or break forth from. Jonathan stabbed at Dracula’s back with a wooden stake, but without letting go of Victor, Dracula’s pale hand rose up just in time and ripped it from Jonathan’s hands without so much as looking at him.

  “Count!” Jonathan called forth, causing Dracula to finally raise his gaze. As he did so, Jonathan pulled forth a hand mirror from his coat pocket and held it out toward the Count. Dracula’s eyes widened in shock and his scarlet lips relinquished their tight seal upon Victor’s neck. Enraged at this new insult, Dracula let go of Victor, who fainted dead away from loss of blood. The bats that surrounded Jack and Van Helsing rose up with simultaneous screeching, loud enough to wake the dead, and flew off in a frenzy.

  “You dare to reflect my grotesque visage back to me, you insolent pup!” Dracula growled.

  Jonathan was grinning. “I remember your reaction to my shaving mirror while I was a guest at your residence,” he said mockingly. “I just thought you would be interested in seeing what you really are, you bloodsucking cretin.”

  Jack, who had taken Dracula’s distraction as an opportunity to sneak up on him, thrust his silver dagger into the vampyr’s back, causing him to scream out and arch his back with pain. With a cry of rage, Jonathan scooped up his fallen wooden stake, leaped toward the fiend and thrust downward with all the strength his mortal arm would allow, aiming for Dracula’s heart.

  Just before the weapon could descend and drive itself into Dracula’s torso, however, a blur of white interceded.

  By sheer force of will, Jonathan managed to stay his hand an inch before the heaving chest of his beloved. “Mina? What are you doing here?” he gasped.

  She appeared to have already retired for the night, wearing a white nightgown, her hair disheveled and her face freshly washed. The whiteness of her apparel was marred by streaks of crimson. Jonathan looked on in horror as he discovered the reason for the blemish upon her gown. Her long dainty fingers were bloody, the fingernails cracked or, in one case, torn off completely.

  “What have you done to yourself?”

  Mina didn’t answer. She glared at him with a hateful gaze, her eyes hard and menacing as she attempted to block Dracula from Jonathan’s view, impossible due to his tall stature and her slight frame. The soft honey tones of her irises had darkened, and her eye teeth poked out from between her pale lips, evidence that although she was beginning to turn, she had at least not feasted upon human blood in her haste to get to Dracula’s lair.

  At once, Van Helsing and Jack were at his side.

  “Be wary, my friend. I fear she may have already made the change for good this time,” warned Van Helsing.

  Jonathan noticeably flinched, mirrored by the look of pain upon Jack’s face, who was also personally acquainted with having the love of his life change into a monster before his very eyes.

  Dracula gave out a bellowing laugh of scorn. “She is mine. I have compelled her here to me and see how she comes. Ever obedient to my will.” Dracula patted Mina on the head as though she was a loyal dog.

  That is when Jonathan realized the reason for his wife’s bloody fingers. In her desperation to come to the aid of her new Mister, Mina had pried open one of the windows which had been nailed shut—either successfully or else before succumbing to defeat and breaking the pane—being unable to leave the house any other way because of the silver cross upon the front door.

  Dracula vanished in a mist of swirling dust particles as Mina crouched down into a defensive posture, her bloody hands held out in front of her like scarlet claws. She gave a deep growl; a warning to stay back.

  Van Helsing and Jack shared a look and lunged for either of her arms, holding her fast.

  Jonathan remained where he was in stunned amazement. He lowered his right hand, which held the wooden stake, and it dropped from his numb fingers, landing upon the ground with a soft thud.

  “Hurry, separate her head from her body!” yelled a desperate Van Helsing.

  Unable to do so, it fell upon Victor—who had regained consciousness during the exchange—to perform the deed. Although weak from blood loss, he rushed forth, bringing his silver knife forward and preparing to slice it cleanly through Mina’s neck.

  “Stop!” roared Jonathan, staying Victor’s hand. “I cannot let you do this. I believe she can yet be saved from this malady.”

  Quick as lightning Mina whipped both arms out of their grips and gave each man in turn a mighty shove that sent them rolling and tumbling through the air, landing with grunts and groans of pain as their forms met the hard ground.

  Van Helsing and Jack regained their feet, and before Mina could attack, Van Helsing pulled a handful of wafers from his inner waistcoat pocket, crumbling up the delicate crackers as he did so, and shoving them into Mina’s mouth. He did not remove his hand, but rather prevented her from spitting the Host back out by keeping his hand firmly enclosing her mouth.

  Mina gave a loud, if muffled, shout of rage.

  Jonathan looked on in sorrow, not wishing his beloved to be in such pain, but knowing it was a necessary evil.

  Van Helsing was crossing himself and muttering a prayer in Latin. In mere moments, that felt interminable to the men who loved her, Mina’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and her slender form collapsed. She lay unconscious upon the ground. Van Helsing waited another second or two before removing his hand from her mouth.

  “Is she all right?” asked a concerned Jonathan.

  “Yes. She is fine for the moment. No physical harm has befallen her,” Van Helsing assured him.

  Victor was unsteady on his feet. His head felt woozy.

  “I think you may need a blood transfusion,” Van Helsing told him.

  “I think you may be right,” Victor
concurred, holding his head in one hand as another bout of dizziness hit him. “I need to sit down.” He collapsed where he stood and Van Helsing hurried to the saddlebag draped over his horse’s back.

  “Lucky for you, I have brought everything we need. I must admit that I saw this as a distinct possibility. I shall give you the transfusion myself while Jack and Jonathan stand guard. I doubt Dracula is finished with us yet.”

  As if to prove Van Helsing right, Dracula appeared once more, bats swirling around him, causing his black cloak to twist and bend in the air currents of their beating wings.

  Jack stepped forward, twirling the silver knife in his hand, still slick with Dracula’s blood.

  Jonathan held forth the looking glass as though it were a talisman of immense power, the wooden stake in his other hand, held limply down by his side.

  Victor, no longer able to remain upright, lay sprawled upon the ground, feeling useless and weak.

  “Hold on, my boy,” Van Helsing told him.

  Victor watched as Van Helsing tied a tourniquet around his own left bicep and inserted a needle into a vein. Victor winced slightly as another needle, attached to a rubber tube, was inserted into his own arm.

  “Do you really think you can surprise me again with that little trinket of yours?” Dracula was telling Jonathan.

  Jonathan did not respond, his grip remained firmly upon the mirror.

  “I grow weary of these games,” Dracula told him. Quicker than could be properly tracked by the human eye, the fiend was standing before Jonathan. Dracula ripped the mirror from his hand and smashed it upon the cobblestone path that led from the churchyard to the manse.

  Jonathan cried out in dismay as Dracula shoved him up against the wall of the building and prepared to bite down on his neck in the same manner as he had done to Victor.

  Jack was by Jonathan’s side in an instant, slashing at Dracula with his silver knife. He did not get the chance to stick Dracula again, however. Dracula’s head turned with a snarl, and he burst into a dense mist.