Dracula Ascending (Gothic Horror Mash-up)

by Cindy Winget

  Victor, already feeling better as life-giving blood poured into his veins, was alarmed to note that the mist was coming their way. “Van Helsing, be vigilant! The monster draws nigh!” he cried.

  Van Helsing looked up in time to see the mist forming back into a man at his side and hastily reached into his saddlebag, pulling out a large cross and holding it out toward Dracula.

  With a shriek of rage and frustration, Dracula retreated from the artifact.

  Jack and Jonathan both rushed forward at the same time, silver knife and wooden stake flying as they attempted to get an edge on Dracula and stab one or the other into his unholy flesh. Van Helsing took the opportunity to reach into his waistcoat pocket and bring forth a handful of the holy wafers. Crumbling them in his hand as he did before, he began to sprinkle them around himself and Victor, forming a circle of protection from Dracula as they finished the blood transfusion.

  A sudden burst of sunlight rose up over the horizon and shed forth light upon the small group of men that fought so ferociously for their lives.

  “Sunrise,” marveled Van Helsing, whispering the word to himself. Louder he called out, “Sunrise! It is Sunrise! Vampyrs’ powers are weaker during sunrise and sunset!”

  Seemingly renewed by this revelation, both Jack and Jonathan became even more determined, thrusting and slicing at Dracula with all the strength they possessed.

  To Victor’s amazement he saw that Dracula no longer moved with that inhuman speed that had, until now, made him impossible to keep up with. Neither did he turn into a bat or a cloud of mist. But although he seemed to be without certain aspects of his powers, his speed and agility were still far superior to anything Victor had ever seen before. Victor himself had taken special care to use only the best materials when creating this monstrosity. By right of his sheer stature alone, no mortal man was a match for his strength.

  “I am finished,” said Van Helsing. Victor turned his attention away from the battle raging only a few yards away and saw that the needle had been taken from his arm and all of Van Helsing’s instruments placed carefully back into his bag.

  “Thank you, my friend.” Victor tried to stand up but felt dizzy and quickly sat back down.

  “Give it a few minutes,” advised Van Helsing.

  As soon as Victor’s head began to clear he said, “Now let us go lend our strength to Jack and Jonathan.”

  “You read my mind,” said Van Helsing as he pulled forth a silver knife and grabbed a hold of the cross he had used to ward off Dracula. Victor picked up his own knife and wooden stake and clambered to his feet. His head swam for a moment as he did so, but within seconds he was feeling better and ready to join the fray.

  To Victor’s surprise Van Helsing did not immediately run forth to help his friends, instead he walked swiftly toward Mina Harker’s still unconscious body and picked her up in his arms. He carried her back over to where Victor stood and placed her within the circle of holy wafers. Should Mina awaken she would be kept safe within the circle, but also unable to leave it and thereby no harm could befall them from her being compelled by Dracula.

  “Good thinking,” Victor told Van Helsing.

  “I may be growing in years, but my mind is still as sharp as it ever was,” Van Helsing responded.

  With a grin, Victor followed his old professor into the battle against that parody of life he had quickened in his ignorant and idealized youth.

  With four men upon him, Dracula received several cuts from the silver knives that burned and sizzled his flesh as though the men used red-hot pokers instead of metal. But to the men’s dismay, the wounds quickly closed up once more and did not seem to faze him much. They couldn’t get at his heart. He was still too fast; too strong.

  “Think of Mina!” called out Jonathan.

  At first, Victor thought he meant to use Mina as a rallying cry. A way to boost their morale as they thought about who they would be saving and protecting from Dracula’s evil, but as he watched Jack and Van Helsing lunge forward and manage to get a hold of either one of Dracula’s arms, he suddenly understood.

  Without hesitation, Jonathan plunged his wooden stake deep into Dracula’s heart.

  Victor flinched at the manic noises that issued from the fiend’s mouth. Dark warm blood gushed forth from the lethal wound, dripping grotesquely upon the cobblestones.

  Dracula made to pull out the deadly weapon from his chest, but Victor ran forth, raising his silver knife as he did so, and finished the job, slicing cleanly through Dracula’s neck. The monster’s head fell with a sickening thud upon the ground.

  “Quickly! Bring me my bag! We can’t take any chances of Dracula reanimating,” Van Helsing said.

  Jonathan ran and brought it to him.

  Van Helsing reached in and grabbed some garlic and shoved it unceremoniously into the demon’s now slack mouth.

  “Help me carry him,” he told the others.

  Complying, Jack, Jonathan, and Victor came forth and picked up a different part of Dracula’s prostrate form.

  “Place him into his coffin,” Van Helsing instructed, grunting as he struggled to do his part of the heavy lifting. They shoved Dracula’s body into the open casket in the churchyard, leaving the holy wafer where it was.

  Van Helsing reached in and placed a garlic wreath and the silver cross upon the body. When he was done, they shut the lid and soldered it shut, rubbing more essence of garlic along the edges of the casket. They each grabbed up a shovel they found in an old groundskeeper shed and buried the monster, nevermore to wreak havoc upon mankind.

  Victor ran back and grabbed a hold of the detached head by its hair and buried it far away from the body.

  “There, that should do it,” Van Helsing said.

  The men cheered and slapped each other on their backs. Jonathan then walked purposefully to his wife and picked her up gently in his arms.

  “Do you think it worked? Do you think my Mina is saved?” he asked Van Helsing.

  “It’s too soon to tell. We will get a better idea when she is awake.”

  “Look!” Jack cried suddenly. He was pointing at Mina’s forehead. The livid red mark that had marred her perfect skin where Van Helsing had touched it with a holy wafer, had vanished.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was with a sigh of contentment and relief that Victor disembarked from the stagecoach, glad to be back on his native soil. A great weight and burden had been lifted from his young shoulders and he was anxious for his life to progress on a positive track.

  Mina Harker had awoken soon after the group had returned to Whitby and she did not show any signs of being affected by Dracula. He was good and truly gone.

  Victor left for home within the week and would soon marry his dear Elizabeth. He wanted her to have the wedding of her dreams, but he would not wait a moment longer than he had to. He had postponed his own happiness long enough.

  “Victor! Victor!”

  He glanced up to see Elizabeth waving at him with one white-gloved hand, the other gripping a lace parasol. He was stunned at her beauty. Was his memory really so faulty? How could he have forgotten how pretty she truly was? The plumpness of her lips and the sun-kissed loveliness of her skin beckoned to him.

  “Elizabeth!” He strode towards her. In his haste, he nearly knocked over a stout little man in a dove gray suit and bowler hat.

  “I beg your pardon!” the man growled angrily. “Do mind where you are stepping!”

  “Sorry, sir,” Victor said, though the smile upon his face may have not properly conveyed his apology. He was far too giddy at this moment to let such a little thing affect his mood. By this time, Elizabeth had appeared by his side and she hid a giggle behind her hand.

  The man glared at the pair of them, turned on his heel, and stalked away.

  “Where is my father and Ernest?” Victor asked Elizabeth, admiring her flowered dress done up in soft tones of blue, pink, and creme. She was lovelier than any number of garden flowers, and it was all he could do
to not openly gape.

  Her hair was pulled up high on her head with curling tendrils hanging down, framing her face. “I selfishly requested that they remain at home so that I may have you all to myself for a little while. Your father gave his assent—quite knowingly I might add.” Her face flushed, but she was laughing. “But I am afraid poor Ernest was quite put out with me.”

  “I am glad. As anxious as I am to see father and Ernest, I am happier still to have some time alone with you. Although, are you sure your virtue is safe around me? Perhaps we better stay out in the open, seeing how you are without a chaperone. I am known to be quite the rake.” Victor waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Victor!” Elizabeth shoved his shoulder in mock horror. “Is this true? And what, pray tell, have you been doing with your time in England in order to warrant such a reputation? How many trollops have you been entertaining?”

  Victor nearly choked, flustered by the turn this conversation had taken. “None!” he sputtered. “I only meant—”

  Elizabeth was laughing once more. “Oh, Victor, you are much too easy to tease! I know your heart belongs to me. I have never doubted that, though we need to have a serious talk about you sending more missives when you are out and about. You know I worry! It’s cruel to leave me wondering constantly whether you are all right or not.”

  “My darling Elizabeth. I promise to never leave your side again. Or at least not for a very long time, and only if strictly necessary,” he told her ardently.

  She smiled radiantly at him and threaded her arm through his. Together they began the long walk back to the Frankenstein estate.

  Victor told her only vaguely what he had been up to in England, leaving out everything that had to do with Dracula. He was gone, and Victor was quite content to never speak or think of him again. He spoke of Lucy having a wasting illness that eventually took her life and how her mother followed suit soon after. He told her that Mina had also contracted the disease, but that Professor Van Helsing had arrived in time to cure her.

  “That poor family! I am so glad you were there to help your friends during this difficult time. It makes me feel incredibly selfish to think how much I pined away, missing you, when you were dealing with so much!”

  “Sweet Elizabeth, you are a lot of things, but selfish has never been one of them. You are the kindest woman upon this earth.” Victor was gratified to see a deep pink hue spread across her freckled cheeks. “So, what have you been up to in my absence?”

  “Well, I admit that I was quite depressed at first. You had gone away again, for who knew how long, and the one person I would normally seek comfort and solace in was Justine. I am afraid I worried your father with my melancholy, but in time, I got past it and threw myself into something that would make me happy. I have been sewing nonstop for my trousseau,” she confessed. “You did promise your father that you would marry me upon your return, so I have been getting ready.” The stain upon her cheeks deepened further.

  “I am glad to hear it. I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary to make you mine.” Elizabeth seemed pleased by his eagerness.

  The following weeks flew by in a blur as Victor and Elizabeth happily prepared for their wedding. Victor caught his father with suspiciously wet eyes on more than one occasion, but he denied it if Victor mentioned anything.

  “Father, don’t worry. We are not abandoning you. We have talked it over, and we intend to have you live with us. Ernest, too.”

  “I don’t worry about that, son. This old bag of bones has some vitality to it yet. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can Father, but Elizabeth would never allow it. She would worry constantly over your welfare. She would never forgive me if something were to happen to you and she wasn’t around to help.”

  “Yes, that sweet girl is an angel,” Alphonse agreed.

  “Then it’s settled,” said Victor.

  “Not quite.”

  “Whatever do you mean?’

  “I don’t want to live with you.”

  Victor frowned, ready to argue his point.

  Before he could, however, Alphonse interrupted him. “I want to remain on the Frankenstein estate. I have so many fond memories of your mother here, and I would hate to see it fall into disrepair. By birthright, the estate belongs to you now anyway.”

  “Not until your passing, father.”

  “Well, I pass it on to you early then. In any case, I had rather hoped that you and Elizabeth would live here instead. I have already drawn up the necessary paperwork with the lawyers.”

  Victor was smiling now. “Of course, I would love to live here in my childhood home.”

  “Excellent. You make an old man proud.”

  When the blessed day finally arrived, Victor was more than a little irritated that he did not get to see Elizabeth. He realized that there were a plethora of things to get done and it was said to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but he had gotten used to seeing her every day since his return.

  “My, aren’t we antsy today?” teased Ernest.

  Victor ignored him and went on eating his breakfast. Instead of being put off by his brother’s reticence, Ernest seemed to take it as an opportunity to talk without being interrupted. All throughout breakfast, and while Victor dressed in his tailored wedding clothes, Ernest talked incessantly. He babbled on about what life would be like now that Victor and Elizabeth were to be married, about the girl he was currently courting himself, and badgering Victor about when he could expect to become an uncle.

  “Does that mouth of yours ever quit?” Victor growled at him as he pulled on his newly shined boots and stood up.

  “On occasion,” Ernest said, taking Victor’s rankled state in stride.

  Victor shook his head in exasperation and walked past him. “Well, come on, it’s time to go to the church.”

  Ernest followed him out of his bedroom and out to the waiting carriage.

  Alphonse was already situated on the seat. He chuckled as his two sons climbed inside. “Leave your poor brother alone, Ernest. I can see by the annoyed look upon his face that you have been making a nuisance of yourself.”

  Ernest scowled at his father and folded his arms. He stared out the window, not saying a word for the entirety of the journey.

  Victor was astonished at the number of flowers that had been used to decorate the chapel. Bouquets of lilies—Elizabeth’s favorite flower—festooned every pew and window seal of the church. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, creating rainbow patterns upon the wooden floors, made smooth by endless footsteps. The church was already packed with guests who had arrived early in order to receive the best seats available.

  Victor grew suddenly nervous, though he couldn’t say why. He made his way to the front of the chapel, trying to avoid greetings and small talk from the patrons as much as possible along the way, and took his place next to the parish.

  The ceremony was lovely, and his nervousness ebbed away when Elizabeth entered the room. He knew that she had spent countless hours sewing her wedding dress, making sure that every stitch and seed pearl was perfect, but Victor hardly paid any attention to it. He wouldn’t have been able to tell, if anyone had asked, whether it had long sleeves or short, how long the train was, if it was elaborate or plain, or what type of material it was made from. All he saw was Elizabeth. Soon to be his Elizabeth. Her eyes twinkled and her face glowed with happiness. He couldn’t take his eyes off her enchanting smile. Her presence was intoxicating, and he had to constantly remind himself to listen to the words of the priest.

  The rest of the day was a blur for Victor. He danced with his new bride, sipped wine, talked to the guests, endured rice thrown in his hair, and wrote his name in the parish register of the vestry.

  When it was all over, he breathed out a sigh of relief, took Elizabeth by the hand, and walked her out to the wedding carriage that had brought her here. Pulled by a gray horse—which was said to bring good luck upon the happy couple�
��they waved their goodbyes and headed toward the secluded cottage by the sea that Victor’s father had procured for their honeymoon.

  That night, Victor sat upon the edge of the bed, pulling his boots off and dumping them unceremoniously off to the side. He didn’t want it to be a reflection to his young bride of future slovenliness, but neither could he bring himself to care overly much at the moment. Although it had been a good day—the best day of his life, in fact—he was weary and not in the mood to put away his things. He ran a hand through his dark hair, mussing up its former tidiness.

  A slight clearing of the throat from behind him caused Victor to turn his head in the direction of the doorframe. There stood Elizabeth, wearing a midnight blue nightgown with black lace along the bodice and hem. She was stunning. Her expertly done up-do from earlier had been pulled out and her hair had been allowed to flow freely down upon her bare shoulders in lovely waves of amber. Victor gazed upon his new bride in wonder.

  “Do you like it?” she asked shyly.

  “You look…” he couldn’t come up with an adequate word to describe her beauty.

  Elizabeth smiled giddily, her freckles standing out more prominently. Victor was relieved to see the girl he knew and loved in the face of the beautiful woman standing before him. This was still Elizabeth. His Elizabeth.

  How he had longed for this day to come. He couldn’t have possibly envisioned a more perfect day. He stood and walked to her; placing a hand on either shoulder, he leaned down and kissed her ever so gently upon her full lips. They became compliant under his ministrations and she leaned into him, her body fitting perfectly into his.

  He moved his hands into the soft curls of her hair. Walking backwards, he pulled her with him as he continued to kiss her, and together they fell upon the bed. As their love and devotion took its natural course, Victor reflected once more upon the events of his life that had led him to this moment in time, and he took solace in the fact that he did not need to look over his shoulder for that dreadful being he had created. No longer did the weight of fear pull him down into its awful depths, and he fervently hoped that he could now begin to heal.