The Mina Murray Series Bundle, A Dracula Retelling: Books 1-3

by L. D. Goffigan

  “The last attack—” Gijs began, faltering at the memory. “I awoke and looked out to see many of those beasts in the streets. They . . . they pulled men out of their homes and took them away. Two beasts came in my home. I had Katrien and our two children hide in the cellar. I held up a cross, but it did nothing. They laughed, the beasts! They took my knife. I prayed they’d kill me, leave my family be. Didn’t fight when they pounced on me.”

  “Gijs,” Katrien whispered, tears spilling from her eyes at his words. Gijs placed his hand over hers, his eyes haunted. The other villagers were silent, their expressions matching Gijs’, and I wondered how many of them had similar stories.

  “You don’t have to tell us, if it’s too—” I began, but Gijs shook his head and continued.

  “The beasts—they drank from me, but stopped feeding. Looked at me as if I were the monster. Grabbed their throats like they couldn’t breathe, and fled. I was weak, and fainted. When I woke, they’d all gone.”

  “You were not infected in anyway? Or transformed?” Abe breathed, his gaze traveling over Gijs with medical scrutiny.

  “No,” Gijs replied, sounding amazed as he shook his head. “Days before, I played with my children in the wood. Came across a plant—we call it monnikskap; it’s poison. Touched it with my bare skin. Katrien put together a tegengif before it could kill me.”

  I didn’t recognize the word tegengif; Abe translated it as ‘antidote’ for me and Seward.

  “Your blood still carried trace of this poison during the attack,” I whispered, my mind racing. “That’s what affected the vampires?”

  “Yes. It saved my life,” Gijs replied, solemn.

  “Monnikskap,” Abe said, closing his eyes, before continuing in English, “Wolfsbane. Of course!”

  “Wolfsbane?” Seward echoed with a puzzled frown.

  “In Dutch, it is monnikskap. In English, wolfsbane. The scientific term is aconitum, or aconite—it has many names. It is a poisonous plant, especially deadly to wolves. I recorded it in my notes as a potential poison for vampires, and I started to experiment with it in my lab. But I did not dare test it on Lucy . . . not when I was trying to save her.”

  “It’s how we’ve been able to remain here,” Gijs said, his voice now filled with pride. “We sent our children to Amsterdam to live with Katrien’s kin, and many others chose to flee. The rest of us take in the monniksap and antidote—it taints our blood for the beasts. Only one attack since then—no one died.”

  He seemed proud of this fact, but Abe frowned at him.

  “You should not do that to yourselves. Ingesting poison—even in small amounts—will have a perilous long term effect on your bodies.”

  I closely studied Gijs, Katrien and the other villagers. I could now see that they all had an unhealthy pallor to their skin.

  “We’ve no choice,” Katrien said, her eyes still shining with tears, speaking in Dutch so rapidly that I had to concentrate to understand her. “We went to the police in Rotterdam . . . even Amsterdam. They think this is the fault of wolves or some illness—they think we are foolish villagers.”

  At her words, I was flushed with guilt, and again, Abe and I exchanged glances. We had once thought the same thing of the villagers in Transylvania.

  I studied their resolute faces; the desperation paired with defiance in their eyes. I thought of the attack on the Demeter, the abductions in the Langham, and how helpless I had felt during both. How would I feel if my home were constantly suffering the same attacks, and no one believed me? I would be willing to do whatever it took to defend myself and fight back. But they couldn’t poison themselves indefinitely. Soon it would take its toll on their bodies, and the vampires would take advantage. They would be slaughtered. Unless . . .

  “Come with us,” I said on impulse.

  At my side, Abe stiffened, translating my words for Seward, who looked at me with quiet surprise. Gijs stilled, while Katrien and the others frowned.

  “We fight the same evil. We want to fight with villagers like you who’ve been terrorized by those monsters. You must know that you can’t keep poisoning yourselves,” I continued.

  But Gijs was unmoved by my words. “This village is home. My family has been here for years. I’ll not leave it to the beasts.” He turned to face his wife and the other villagers who stood around him. “You can go with them if you choose. I stay.”

  “I’ll not leave you, mijn geliefde,” Katrien whispered, grasping his hand.

  The villagers exchanged glances. After a long silence, a tall stocky man with piercing steel grey eyes and graying red hair stepped forward.

  “We stay,” he pronounced. He seemed to speak for the others, as they all nodded in agreement. “Ijsbran is home.”

  Disappointment flooded through me as I took in their resolute faces. Having other villagers join us was a crucial part of our plan. Would other villagers we encountered along the way be just as determined to remain behind and defend their villages? If so, how could we even hope to take on such a massive threat alone?

  Gijs was defiant as my eyes met his, as if daring me to challenge them. I gave him a nod to indicate that I understood.

  “If any of you should change your minds—” Abe spoke up.

  “We’ll not,” Katrien interrupted.

  “If you do,” Abe gently repeated. “I will leave behind my address in Amsterdam. Any messages you send there will be forwarded to me, wherever I am.”

  Gijs changed the subject, telling us that he knew the train schedule well. The nearest train station was in Rotterdam, from which the last train of the day had already departed. He offered us shelter for the night, and then transport to Rotterdam the next morning in one of the village’s fishing boats, which would be faster than traveling overland.

  Abe politely began to ply them with questions about the village, and I could see Gijs and the others begin to relax. They must have thought that we’d continue to press them to join us or dissuade them from using the wolfsbane.

  Gijs told us of the bustling fishing village that Ijsbran had once been, and the families that once lived here—many of whom had dwelled here for generations. His face darkened as he told us of the villagers who fled, their distress and pain at having to leave, something they did out of desperation rather than desire. Silence fell over the kitchen as he spoke of them, the shared woe on the faces of the villagers plain as they thought of their departed brethren—both alive and dead.

  When we were finished with our meal, Katrien led us to the same two cottages that we had changed in. We would rest there for the night. We thanked her, and gathered in the minuscule kitchen of my cottage after she left us.

  “I do not think we should depart from Paris as we originally planned,” Abe said. “We should instead depart from Amsterdam—we will not lose much time; we can travel to Munich and continue on to Klausenburgh.”

  “We’ve already been delayed enough,” I protested. “Why do you want to depart from Amsterdam?”

  “The aconite—wolfsbane. It could be a valuable weapon for us, but not the way the villagers are using it. While I have been away, my assistant has been researching ways of killing vampires en masse and sending me updates via telegram. The last one sent to me in London was quite promising, but I need to get my laboratory in person to assess the possible use of aconite as a weapon.”

  I hesitated. The attack on the Demeter had proven how unprepared we were to fight against a group of vampires, but I was reluctant to delay our journey yet again.

  “Abe’s right, Mina. You saw what happened on the Demeter. We lost one of our own and barely survived. How do you think we’ll stand against fifty of those bloody things? More?” Seward asked.

  “All right,” I reluctantly replied. “But we leave from Amsterdam tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” Abe said.

  Seward and Abe left to retire to their cottage for the night, but Abe soon returned.

  “I am leaving behind Arthur and Lucy’s belongings. It is too cumber
some to keep carrying their bag. Lucy has dresses you may be able to wear.”

  I thanked him, though the thought of wearing the deceased woman’s clothes seemed morbid. But I had only brought three dresses with me, and already lost one.

  “Abe—” I said hastily, stopping him before he could leave. “You can talk to me about Arthur at any time, if you feel the need. I know that he was your friend.”

  “Thank you, but I am all right,” he said, not meeting my eyes as he gave me a forced smile. He turned and left before I could reply.

  Before I settled in to bed, I packed two of Lucy’s dresses that proved she had been a fashionable woman: a fine violet walking suit and a rose-colored dress made of silk brocade, along with two veiled hats adorned with satin ribbons.

  When I crawled into bed, I held up my engagement ring, thinking of Jonathan as I gazed at the ruby stone. The more I learned about vampires and their attacks, the more I feared for him. Why had they taken him? Had they harmed him?

  I awoke early the next morning after a fitful sleep. I washed and dressed, leaving the cottage to cross the village square towards Gijs and Katrien’s home. Abe and Seward were already in the kitchen, seated opposite Gijs and some of the villagers, speaking in hushed tones over a breakfast of potatoes, bread and chicory, discussing the past attacks on the village. I frowned, irritated that I hadn’t been awoken to join them, but Katrien intercepted me.

  “I told them to let you sleep,” Katrien said with a warm smile as she handed me a plate.

  Breakfast was over quickly, and when we were finished eating, Gijs led us to the docks on the very edge of the village that hugged the shore.

  A small fishing boat was waiting for us, but before we could board, Katrien presented Abe with a small pouch. He opened it to reveal at least a cluster of wolfsbane plants, securely nestled inside.

  “I am grateful, but we cannot use this,” Abe said immediately, handing the pouch back to Katrien. “It is too dangerous to travel with these as they are, and there are only three of us. You have far more need of—”

  “Plant grows plentiful here,” Gijs interrupted, reaching out to push the pouch back towards Abe.

  I could tell that they would refuse to take it back, so I reached out to accept the pouch. Abe gave me a sharp look, but I smiled politely at Gijs and Katrien.

  “Thank you. And thank you for all of your kindness.” I said, tucking the pouch into my bag.

  Katrien returned my smile, but her dark eyes were hard as granite, and she replied in English.

  “Thank us by killing those beasts.”

  15

  Symbiosis

  Gijs transported us to one of the many docks at Rotterdam’s busy port. He bid us a solemn farewell, urging us to be careful.

  We took a cab to a telegraph office, where we each sent wires. I sent a wire to Jonathan’s boss Peter Hawkins, alerting him that Jonathan was missing if he wasn’t aware, and inquiring about what he and Jonathan had discussed the night of the ball. Abe sent a wire to his lab assistant to let him know of our pending arrival and to relay instructions, while Seward wired both Scotland Yard and a police contact of his in Amsterdam. He told us he wanted to inquire about any similar incidents of murders or disappearances in Amsterdam that echoed the ones in London.

  During the brief train ride from Rotterdam to Amsterdam, Abe was oddly quiet, his haunted gaze trained out of the window, likely thinking of Arthur. Across from us, Seward read through the captain’s journal, raking his hand through his hair. I was consumed by thoughts of my own. I thought of Gijs, Katrien and the other villagers poisoning themselves to survive. How many other villages throughout Europe had suffered such attacks? What had they resorted to in order to survive?

  I managed to set aside my worried thoughts when we arrived at the train station in Amsterdam. At my urging, we purchased train tickets for later that same day to Klausenburgh, with a connection through Munich.

  We emerged from the station and quickly found a cab. As it clattered away, I took in the outskirts of the city, struck with a sudden rush of nostalgia. I had accompanied Father here when he attended lectures at the Royal Academy of Sciences, or gave guest lectures of his own at the Municipal University of Amsterdam.

  But most of my memories of the city were linked with Abe. Though Abe had been born in Harleem, he spent most of his adult years in Amsterdam, and for me, the city had become synonymous with him.

  While Father attended to his own matters, Abe would take me on long exploratory walks around the city, from Dam Square to the Grachtengordel neighborhood, where the myriad of canals built during the seventeenth century hinted at the city’s Golden Age. We had spent many hours in Vondel Park, either cycling along its paths or finding a quiet space to read. It was during one of our walks in the park where we first confessed our love for each other. We had initially decided to keep our courtship a secret from Father, uncertain as to how he would react, but planned to inform him of our engagement right before his final tragic trip. And though I ended our relationship after Father’s death over my guilt, shock and grief, I greatly regretted that Father had never known of our love.

  I glanced at Abe, wondering if he had been struck with similar memories, but his features were unreadable as he focused on the passing sights of the city.

  Abe lived close to the train station, so we decided to stop briefly at his home for extra clothes, supplies and weapons before heading to our destinations.

  “There are dresses in one of the guest rooms, should you need more,” Abe informed me, when the cab stopped at his townhouse.

  At his words, I felt an abrupt, surprising and completely inappropriate twinge of jealousy. I knew that Abe wasn’t married—he would have mentioned such a thing. A mistress, perhaps? I doubted that as well. Even before Abe and I had begun courting, he had never seemed concerned with women; his only focus had been on his studies and research. But Abe was undeniably handsome; a well-educated man of the middle class, even if he would eschew such a distinction. I didn’t expect him to remain unwed forever, especially when I myself was engaged, yet my chest still tightened at the thought.

  Abe unlocked the door and led us inside. From the narrow entryway, I could see the drawing room from where I stood; it looked just as it had when I’d last been here.

  There was no indication that anyone other than Abe lived here. The walls were mostly bare, the few items of wooden furniture simple. Like Father’s study back home, every surface, including the floor, was practically brimming over with stacks of books and papers. I knew that Abe had a housekeeper come over on occasion, but he had once told me he hated his things being fussed over. He preferred a sort of organized chaos when it came to his belongings.

  “I left in a bit of a haste,” he apologized, following my eyes to the cluttered drawing room. “Seward, I have more knives in the cellar down the hall. Mina, do you remember where—”

  “Yes,” I interrupted, moving of my own accord up the stairs to the second floor, where I headed towards the guest bedroom at the end of the hall. It was a small room, dominated by the bed, wardrobe and central table, with a narrow window that looked out onto the street below. It was the room I stayed in when we visited Amsterdam. Here, I would read late into the night, waiting until Father fell asleep in his own guest room. Abe and I would then find each other, tucking ourselves away in the drawing room or slipping outside, where we would walk hand in hand along the canals. How happy I had been in those days, unaware of the darkness that lie ahead.

  A shimmer of tears clouded my eyes. I blinked them back, overwhelmed by all the memories the city had inadvertently brought to the surface, and made my way to the wardrobe.

  I froze in astonishment when I opened it, finding several of my traveling dresses and cloaks folded inside. We had visited here so often that I had begun to leave clothes here. With the suddenness of Father’s death and subsequent end of my relationship with Abe, I had forgotten that they were even here. Why had Abe never gotten rid of them or se
nt them to me?

  The question was still on my mind as I changed into a brown traveling dress and hat that fit as well as I remembered, and carefully folded one more into my bag, leaving Lucy’s finer dresses behind.

  Abe and Seward were waiting for me in the entrance hall as I descended the stairs. Noticing the dress I wore, Abe avoided my eyes and asked if I was ready to go, to which I gave him an abrupt nod. Seward studied us with curiosity. Perceptive as always, he had picked up on the slight tension between us.

  When we made our way down Abe’s quiet residential street to flag down cabs, I felt it. The now familiar and chilling sensation of a cold gaze on the back of my neck.

  I whirled, frantically looking around, but the street around us was empty. Abe and Seward stopped mid-stride, looking back at me with puzzled frowns. I took another look around the empty street before meeting their eyes. I could no longer dismiss this.

  “For the past week, I’ve sensed someone watching me. Back in London at my parents’ graves, then at Tilbury Docks right before we boarded the Demeter. And just now,” I concluded.

  Abe stiffened at my words, turning to scan the empty street, while Seward looked cautious.

  “You are certain?” he asked.

  “Yes. The vampire who took Jonathan at the Langham . . . he looked right at me, and I felt the same chill. The—the same chill I felt the night Father was murdered, when that creature looked at me.”

  “Was the sensation of being watched cold? A sort of frost on your skin?” Abe asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, surprised by his accuracy.

  “I have felt a similar sensation,” Abe said, answering my silent question. “The night Robert was killed, the ball, the docks, and just now.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?” I asked, stunned.

  “I thought I was being unnecessarily apprehensive––paranoid,” Abe said. “But if you have sensed it as well . . .”

  Seward now looked alarmed, straightening to search the street around us.