by C J Lutton
Without waiting, Holmes took off. He fell numerous times, only to pick himself up again and continue his journey. He ran ahead until he was out of our sight. Thaddeus came over to me and we limped along slowly. ”Just keep going, Doctor. He'll not let anything happen to us. Sherlock Holmes has more sheer willpower than any man alive!”
He continued talking and encouraging me, yet I knew that Thaddeus was in as much pain as I. This young man was fast becoming a true friend.
Then came the sound of a whip, cracking in the air. Thaddeus heard it first! “Doctor? Listen,” he said as he shook me out of my stupor. I did and heard the shush of the rails of a sleigh as it floated across the snow.
”It's Mr. Holmes!” he cried, ”What did I tell you, Doctor?”
”Just in time!” I replied, hoarsely. My feet had gone numb. I could not feel my fingers or my hands. I was becoming drowsier with each step. My ice—laden clothes weighed more and more as they gathered clots of snow. But suddenly, I was wide awake again. I picked up my pace. I had hope!
Coming out from behind a stand of snow—laden trees was Holmes, standing up in the sleigh. He brought it to a stop and jumped down. My body was quaking and shivering as I climbed into the rig and collapsed back in the seat. Thaddeus sat next to me, covering us with the large horsehair blanket. Our teeth chattered as we huddled together in violent spasms of shaking. Holmes took one blanket for himself and tossed another over Thaddeus and me. I thought I'd never feel warm again. The great detective looked at us worriedly. Cracking the whip expertly, he turned the sleigh around and headed back to the hotel.
A few moments later, Holmes pulled alongside the sleigh that Thaddeus and I had commandeered earlier. Holmes jumped down. He ran around behind us and tied our horse’s reins to the back of the sleigh he’d been driving. That done, Holmes climbed back into the front seat and we took off again. The horse slowed as he got closer to the entrance of the hotel. A whinny from the animal announced our arrival.
We left both sleighs standing at the kerb and burst through the lobby doors. My friends and I were in such a tattered state that the clerk at the desk gasped and hid behind the counter. The promise of a hot bath had us running up the stairs. We actually took the steps three at a time. We ran to our suite and peeled off our clothes, leaving behind stiff piles of soggy fabric in the middle of the floor. Each of us raced to fill our tub with water, and soon steam filled the suite.
After a long soak, I toweled myself off and walked through the main living area. I checked in on Holmes and Thaddeus only to find them in their rooms, under the covers, asleep. Heavy—eyed, I shuffled to my room and found the caressing warmth and comfort of my own bed.
I awoke the next afternoon to the smell of breakfast. Famished, I hurriedly dressed. Holmes was sitting on the sofa and reading a newspaper as I entered.
”Watson! I knew the aroma of food would wake you from your hibernation. Come, let's partake of the hotel's cuisine and dine at the table as civilized humans.”
After serving ourselves bacon, eggs, toast, and potatoes from large platters on a sideboard, we carried our plates to the table and sat down.
”It would seem that we three gentlemen are the talk of the town,” he mused, thrusting the newspaper in my face. His long finger stabbed at the offending article. ”Imagine,” he continued, getting up to pour both of us coffee, ”calling the three of us scoundrels! All this for stealing a team of horses and sleighs.”
“We didn’t steal anything. Thaddeus left him a substantial payment,” I said. “The owner could have bought a new sleigh and team with all that money.”
Holmes glanced at me, set down his cup of coffee and asked, “Did you actually point Porthos at the man?”
He correctly read my silence. After a long pause and a sidelong glance, I added, “The driver was a fool.”
”Well, Watson,” Holmes said, ”I have been assured by our friend, Major Ryder, that the delicate matter would be handled by his people. In all seriousness, our presence in the dock will not be required.”
Ignoring his jab at me, I asked, ”Where's Thaddeus?”
”I was wondering when you would come round to asking about him. He's snoring away the day as the world passes him by. It would seem that we two old men have more going for us than just our looks.”
I chuckled at his jest. Then I said, ”Thaddeus almost died for you, Holmes. You do know that, don’t you?”
”So did you,” Holmes replied, ”and I'm surprised that you're not cross with me. I expected you to be a bear today.”
”I've long given up the notion of trying to kerb your movements, Holmes. What you do, you do, and you always have a logical purpose.”
I walked to the window and gazed at the street below. It was a magnificent day. Opening the sash, I heard the rumble of the falls and a sudden chill involuntarily made me shiver and back away.
”Is it not remarkable how the mind works?” Holmes said, coming over to where I stood.
”Yours, perhaps, but mine just plods along. There's nothing remarkable about it.”
Holmes arched his brow. ”Wrong, Watson. You do underrate yourself. Your mind is remarkable, nonetheless!” He returned to the sofa and resumed reading the paper. Holmes sighed deeply, peering over the top of the paper.
Thaddeus entered the room, rubbing his eyes like a child.
”Good afternoon, young man!” I said, recalling his similar greeting to me previously.
Holmes jumped up from the sofa. ”Thaddeus, it's so good of you to join us. Hurry and eat your breakfast. We've some scouting to do.”
After wolfing down his meal, Thaddeus hurried back to his room. A short while later the young man came out fully dressed. He had Athos at his side. Holmes and I had quickly dressed in the meantime and had strapped on our weapons. Thanks to Holmes’ early rising, we were able to pull on freshly cleaned coats. He’d had the hotel dry and clean them for us. Once suitably attired, we strode down the stairs and out into the bright sunshine.
”Where are we going, Mr. Holmes?” Thaddeus asked, stifling a yawn.
”To the scene of the crime,” he said, waving a hand in the air.
Holmes’ driver from last night's encounter leaned against his sleigh and smiled as my friend came into view.
”Where to, Mr. Holmes?” asked the driver, opening the door.
”That way!” Holmes replied, raising his arm in the air, bending his gloved hand at the wrist, and pointing in the direction we had traveled last night. We climbed in and covered our laps with the blankets.
The driver followed Holmes’ instructions and took us to the exact spot where we had entered the river. We stepped from the sleigh and walked about the area. I was awed by the raw power of the turbulent waters. It was no longer a field of solid ice. The massive icebergs bobbed up and down on the current, rushing towards their destruction at the bottom of the falls. Watching the slushy mixture swirling around was hypnotic. Shards of wood and debris caught in whirlpools near the rocks and plummeted under the waters only to rise and shoot into the cold air a few hundred feet farther down river. We climbed back into the sleigh, and Holmes again gave the driver instructions.
We drove inland, away from the falls, and the rumble receded behind us. The sparkling, crisp air was rejuvenating.
The leisurely paced ride wended its way over hills and down valleys, and through some of the most stunning forest and landscapes I had ever seen. The broad—trunked evergreens held the bounty of last evening's snow proudly. We found ourselves suddenly traveling along the river at the bottom of the falls.
Holmes stood up and peered intently at the shoreline.
”Slower, driver!” Holmes shouted, as he jumped from the sleigh and walked alongside the vehicle. Occasionally, he would venture down to the river, only to return disappointed. We continued in this manner for some time. Holmes was growing more agitated with each disappointing foray. Dejected, he climbed into the sleigh, but never turned his eyes away from the river's bank. Something caught
his attention, and once again he jumped from the sleigh, planting his feet firmly in the snow. With hands on hips, he glanced up and down the length of the river, snapping his head, as if he were a bird of prey.
Something that he saw bobbing at the water's edge sent him fitfully plowing through the waist—high snowdrifts. Thaddeus and I jumped down and followed in his wake.
Holmes, falling to his knees, came to a sliding halt at the river's edge and gestured wildly at the weathered grey object poking out of the water. It was the broken spar! Incredibly, it had somehow survived its arduous journey over the falls. And defying incalculable odds, it had ended up here for Holmes to find it wedged between two rocks.
19
A Brutal Farewell To Moriarty
At the top of the spar, grotesquely bloated and still impaled on Holmes’ stake, was a mangled and shattered body... Moriarty!
”It’s him!” cried Thaddeus.
In response to Thaddeus’ outburst, a gust of wind caused the creature's wings to billow, giving rise to the illusion that Holmes’ nemesis was still alive. Unnerved, Holmes threw open his coat and unleashed Aramis. Its thunderous roar echoed through the mountains, and Moriarty's head was gone! I say Moriarty because that's who it was. In his last violent seconds on earth, the creature had partially transformed back into the professor. The corpse had the body and wings of a bat but the head was Moriarty's. He had died as half man and half bat. Holmes let loose the other barrel, and Aramis screamed at the blasphemy before us. Caught up in the moment, Thaddeus and I fired our weapons, until there was nothing left of the creature or the spar. The acrid smell of our gunpowder burned our nostrils, and we turned away and never looked back. Holmes walked on ahead of us. I watched as he reloaded Aramis. Thaddeus and I did the same.
”Back to the hotel,” Holmes told the driver. Back in our rooms, the three of us tossed off our coats and lounged about for the rest of the day.
”Holmes,” I began, during one of the lulls in conversation, ”what did you and the professor talk about?”
Thaddeus pretended interest in the arm of his chair. Holmes blinked back his surprise before answering, ”What leads you to believe we talked?”
”The tracks on the river. First, there were only yours and then out of nowhere, there were two sets. It was as if Moriarty dropped from the sky. From the appearance of the footprints, it would seem that you heard him coming and stood by calmly as he transformed from that hideous creature into a human being.”
”Go on.”
”You two walked side by side for a distance. Thaddeus and I saw no signs of a scuffle until you neared the wreck. Knowing your insatiable curiosity, it's safe to assume that you didn't walk in silence. Surely, you had questions?”
”We spoke of many things,” Holmes said, his voice flat and devoid of all emotion, “and I must admit that my blood ran cold watching him changing shape. Somehow, I knew we weren't going to battle immediately. I believe he was just as curious as I. He spoke of the incident at Reichenbach, and what had actually happened. He said that he went over the falls but never reached bottom. Dracula was willing to risk everything, for he was in dire straits. So he braved the sun's rays long enough to catch Moriarty, just as he was about to hit the ground. Then the fiend carried Moriarty into his cave. As powerful a mind as Moriarty had, it was still no match for Dracula's. The professor quickly fell under the spell of the Lord of Darkness. Whilst the vampire slaked his thirst for blood, Moriarty grew weaker and more dependent on Dracula.”
”It's just too horrible to imagine,” I said, shaking off the nightmare. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Thaddeus shivered.
”What I could gather from Moriarty's story, not from what he told me, but rather that which he left out, it would seem he was being groomed to be Dracula's protégé. The professor's pride and conceit would never allow himself to admit that he was Dracula's slave, forever begging for his Master’s protection.”
”But, Holmes,” I interrupted, ”Moriarty was more than that! Look how powerful he was!”
”Not at first. You must remember that the incident at Reichenbach was many years ago. After that, it was Moriarty's job to gather up small animals, children, and sick people for Dracula's consumption. It was Moriarty's good fortune that Dracula was greatly weakened. His battles with Stoker had taken much out of him, and he was forced to flee Transylvania because of Bram.”
Thaddeus and I sat wide—eyed with wonder and begged Holmes to continue.
”If you recall in Bram’s novel, the vampire was killed. But a novel is fiction. What actually happened was that Stoker and his associate did manage to drive a stake through Dracula's heart, but it wasn't the Limb of Death! Dracula's demise, if you will, was only temporary. When he's cornered and an ordinary stake is driven through his heart, he becomes mist. To those present, it would appear that he was destroyed. But I've now found out that slow drifting vapor is another one of his clever defensive transformations. Numerous witnessed accounts all have a common thread. At the supposed death of Dracula, the mist is blown away, as if the hand of God scattered the vampire to all corners of the earth. In actuality, the fading haze is Dracula escaping. He would resettle in another place and remain dormant until a drop of human blood is spilled on the ground where his spirit is hiding. It is then that he becomes a vampire again. Each time that he's reborn, he's stronger than before. He’s more capable of withstanding daylight. His powers are greater. There will come a time when his powers are omnipotent. He'll be free to travel the lands in daylight and in any form! With Moriarty gone, my brother could well become Dracula's next slave.”
”How ghastly, Holmes,” I said. ”What are we to do?”
”Do? We shall kill the Father of Lies, once and for all. That is what we shall do. And if Mycroft is now acting in the same capacity as had Moriarty, then he too must die.”
Thaddeus shifted his weight restlessly. ”Mr. Holmes, how was Dracula able to get your brother to America in such a short span of time?”
”I asked Moriarty the very same question. His answer was curious, but it is corroborated by Harker's statement. When I confronted with the question, the professor replied, that 'things are not what they appear to be.' When I pressed him further, Moriarty said that Dracula has the power of placing living people in two places at the same time. Or least, that’s how it looks. It’s an illusion. The two people are not really the same. The body remains where it was, but the soul and spirit follow Dracula.”
”What does that mean?” I asked.
”If the soul is fully consumed, the body withers away and dies. If the spirit is saved, it rejoins the earthly body and becomes as it originally was.”
”You mean your brother is not actually with Dracula?” asked Thaddeus.
”That’s right. Only his spiritual self is with Dracula. Without a soul and spirit, Mycroft is only a corpse. If we don't save his soul, he'll die where his body is.”
”Where is his body, Mr. Holmes?”
”I've no idea, but I've cabled Harker and Dr. Bell, and they've been instructed to turn London upside down, if necessary. I told them to start with the Diogenes Club. If they find my brother, they're to do nothing but post guards and cable us back. I've already informed them that our next destination is Cobleskill. I hope we'll have some news upon our arrival.”
”Holmes, why did Moriarty tell you all of this? Surely, it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart.”
”There can only be two possibilities. First, the obvious. He thought I was going to be killed and that I'd take the information to my grave.”
”And the second?” I persisted.
”That I would become one of them.”
”How horrible!”
Holmes cocked his head, listening to something that our ears had yet to hear. “We've a visitor! Come in, Major Ryder!” the detective called, before a knock could be heard.
Ryder entered, saluting Holmes and nodding to us. Handing my friend a map, the major said, ”I hope this is wha
t you need, Mr. Holmes.”
”This will do nicely, Major Ryder. Thank you. Is there anything else?” Holmes asked.
”I was advised by the engineer that the train is ready to leave whenever you are.”
”Excellent. Please inform him that we will leave at dawn tomorrow.”
”Very good, sir.”
Snapping a salute, Major Ryder turned on his heels. Just before the military man reached the door, Holmes called out, stopping him. ”Oh, and Major? My thanks for handling the matter of last evening. You and your men are to be commended.”
”Just doing my duty, Mr. Holmes. I'm glad that I've been of some assistance,” he responded, glowing with pride at my friend's recognition. Lifting his chin, he exited our suite.
”God save us all from tin soldiers!” Holmes groaned, shaking his head. Turning his interest back to the map, Thaddeus and I peered over Holmes’ shoulder.
”That,” exclaimed Holmes, jabbing his finger against the paper, ”is our next and final destination.”
”Will Dracula know we're coming, Mr. Holmes?” asked our young friend.
”I'm counting on it!” he replied. ”Thaddeus, I need you to run an errand. I want you to get these items.”
Holmes wrote down his request and handed the note to Thaddeus, who glanced at it and folded it away in his pocket. ”Use Major Ryder or one of his men to assist you, Thaddeus. There should be at least one of them hanging about the lobby.”
Thaddeus pulled on his coat and checked to see if Athos required any shells. Satisfied that he was well—supplied, he left the room.
”Watson, I want to thank you for talking with Thaddeus. I've observed an immediate change in his manner.”
”I am glad to have been of some assistance to you, Mr. Holmes,” I replied, mimicking the Major’s obsequious voice. Turning our conversation back to Moriarty, I asked, ”What else did you and the professor talk about?”
Sherlock Holmes steepled his fingers and peered at me through narrowed eyes. ”How do you know we spoke of other things?”