"Their joining us would have been damned helpful before," Seward snapped. “The surviving members of the Order have remained in hiding while we've done all the dangerous work."
"You have to understand their fear," Rudella said. "They have seen their loved ones die before their eyes—killed in great numbers. And many have been fighting on their own."
"We have seen our loved ones die," Anara said shortly. I knew that she was thinking of both Radu and Szabina. "I once wanted to stay out of the war, but I now see that we have no choice. We have continued to fight despite our losses."
"I understand," Nikolaus said, evenly holding Anara's furious gaze. "We cannot change the past. Szabina was my dearest friend, her loss—" his voice shook, "shatters me. She would want us all to work together. If we can gather all the remnant members of the Order who are willing to fight, then we can defeat Bathory and her followers."
Though there was truth in his words, the tension lingered as we finished our meal. Before we all left the house to go our separate ways, Nikolaus promised Anara he would continue to keep us updated about assistance from the Order via wire.
“Undertake your journey with caution. Bathory is far more powerful than Dracula or Skala,” Nikolaus urged, giving us a brief nod of farewell before departing with Kudret and the others.
“Nikolaus is right about the Order,” I told Abe, when we were in the back of a cab that made its way towards the train station. “This is what we wanted—the Order of the Dragon joining us to fight.”
“Where were they when we attacked Vlad’s fortress on our own? While you were being tortured by Skala?” Abe demanded, his expression stormy. “If they had joined us earlier, perhaps Arthur would still be alive. Or Radu…Szabina. Perhaps you never would have been captured by Skala. They have joined the fight when it is nearly over.”
Abe looked increasingly angry as he spoke. I somewhat understood his frustration—we had been on our own since the beginning. But I suspected his anger had more to do with my torture at Skala’s hands than anything else; I had no doubt that he blamed himself.
“Abe,” I whispered, taking his hands in mine and kissing his palms. “A wise man—I believe his name was Doctor Abraham Van Helsing—once told me it would not do to dwell on the past.”
Abe’s fury seemed to subside at my words. He smiled, leaning in to place a loving kiss on my lips.
When we arrived at the train station, Anara and Gabriel walked in tandem with me. Passersby cast me curious glances; they most likely thought I was an aristocrat or the daughter of some dignitary the way the vampires were hovering about. Before my imprisonment with Skala, I would have been irritated by their hovering, but now I felt protected by their proximity.
When the train hurtled away from Berlin towards Paris, I sat nestled in between Abe and Gabriel. My light mood had begun to fade, and like an ever-present shadow, images of my time with Skala once again flickered through my mind. His fangs stained with my blood. His eyes, wild and black as he lunged for my throat. His cold hands on my skin, casually breaking my bones.
“Mina,” Abe whispered, as I shivered at the memory. He had sensed what occupied my restless thoughts. “They are just thoughts. Do not allow them to carry you off to dark places.”
I nodded, but it was difficult to heed his words. He pulled me close and proceeded to distract me with stories. He told me of experiments he performed with Father, his own experiments, observations from his travels, amusing stories about his students. His words lulled me into such a state of comfort that I rested my head on his shoulder, drifting off to sleep.
When I awoke, both Abe and Gabriel were gone; the train was empty. Panicked, I stood up and looked around. I froze when I saw who stood at the far end of the empty train compartment.
It was Skala. He was crouched in an animalistic stance, one of his eyeballs now missing from its bleeding and empty socket, his bloodstained mouth open in a snarl.
Fear raced through my entire body, and I stumbled backward.
“No,” I whispered, barely able to breathe. “No…”
“Yes,” he calmly replied, and sprang towards me as I screamed.
“Mina!”
I came to as Abe shook me awake. I blinked, my breathing ragged and panicked. Gabriel was kneeling in front of me, his brows drawn together with worry, while Abe gripped my shoulders, appraising me with concern.
“You were having a nightmare. You are all right. We are here with you,” he said.
Other passengers were staring at me, and I flushed with embarrassment. I gave them a nod to indicate I was fine.
Gabriel sat back down next to me. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths as Abe pulled me close, stroking my hair. I feared that even in death, Skala would continue to torture me.
I was relieved when the train finally arrived in Paris. The crisp night air prickled my skin as I stepped out of the train, my arm linked with Abe’s. The carriage Anara had ordered was waiting for us, and we were soon being whisked down the wide boulevards of Paris, which were slick from a recent rainfall. The illumination from multiple gas lamps that dotted the streets cast ominous shadows of the few pedestrians we passed. The streets seemed quieter than usual, and unease crawled through my chest at the sight.
I had been to Paris before, accompanying Father and Abe to conferences. I’d spent some time exploring the multitude of shops, museums, and boulangeries, pungent with the fresh smell of baking bread. I’d even admired the Eiffel Tower with Abe, and though it was nightfall when we’d finally returned to our hotel, the streets still teemed with life.
Now, I exchanged a nervous glance with Abe. The streets of Paris usually bustled with humanity at night. The empty streets could very well be the work of Bathory’s follower Francois. Parisian humans may have been too frightened to wander the streets after dark.
Our carriage soon left the lights of the city behind. It made its way through the dark countryside, until it approached a sprawling country home. I studied it intently as we neared. This had been the home where my mother had spent her childhood. Here, she had been Isabel Ghyslaine, before she became Eva Murray, wife of Robert Murray, mother to Gabriel and then me.
After the carriage dropped us in front of the house, Abe and the others purposefully lingered behind while Gabriel and I approached.
It must have once been a grand home, with its stone facade, gabled roof, and multiple shuttered windows. But the exterior facade was now crumbling, the windows cracked with age and grime, and weeds grew untamed around the small winding staircase that led to a decrepit wooden front door.
Before we could even start up the steps, the door flew open. A woman stood there, blinking at me in astonishment. She was tall for a woman, with wide set brown eyes that seemed vaguely familiar, pronounced cheekbones, and a full mouth. Her curly brunette hair was gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck. This woman was vampire; I could tell by the coldness of her gaze.
Gabriel let out a protective snarl, shoving me behind him as the others rushed forward.
The vampire wasn’t at all alarmed by the threatening stances of my friends. Her astonished focus remained on me.
“My God,” she breathed. “You look exactly like her.”
Everyone froze. The vampire stepped out the front door and down the stairs, but Gabriel stepped forward with a warning growl.
“Stay where you are!”
The vampire stilled, her gaze finally straying from my face to Gabriel’s, and her hands flew to her mouth.
“Gabriel,” she whispered. “It is you. She told me you were beautiful.”
It was Gabriel’s turn to go still with surprise. The vampire pulled herself to her full height, a tentative smile tugging at her lips.
“You are Isabel's children. Wilhelmina and Gabriel,” she said. “Welcome home.”
14
Emma
I sat perched on a settee in a sparsely furnished salon next to Gabriel, clutching a mug of tea in my hands. The vampire, who told us her name
was Emma, sat opposite us, while Abe and the others hovered behind us.
Emma had informed Gabriel and me that she was a distant cousin of our mother’s. She had been close with her, especially when they were both children.
“We wrote each other letters over the years,” Emma continued. She spoke English well, though she had a trace of a French accent. “My family was never involved with the Order or the war amongst vampires—we kept to ourselves. I met you briefly when you were just a baby, Mina. I was introduced to you when you were still a boy, Gabriel— though I don’t expect you to remember me. During my last visit to England, Isabel and I had a row about her involvement with the Order. I thought she should stay in England with her children and husband, but she believed the world would never be safe with creatures like Vlad trying to wreak havoc on humanity. We did not speak after that, and I moved to America. Our row is the regret of my life. I was devastated when I learned of her death,” Emma said, her eyes glistening with tears. “Yet it made me even more determined to stay out of the conflict. I only left America because my beloved husband died,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. “My parents are dead as well…I thought my entire family was lost to me. I just arrived days ago…this house is one of the few connections I have to family. I intend to restore the house and settle here. It is too large for just me; I want to turn it into an inn—if it is all right with you both,” she added hastily. “The locals remembered me from years ago. They were the ones who let me in.”
“Are you like me?” Gabriel asked, disregarding her inquiry about the house. His gaze was intent on her face. “Were you born vampire? Or were you turned?”
“I am like you,” Emma replied. “My mother was vampire and my father human. My mother chose death after my father died of old age. Both my parents urged Isabel’s family to stay away from the Order and the vampire conflict…they seemed to know what was coming.”
I was silent, reeling from her words, though the existence of another vampire relative should have come as no surprise, now that I knew there was vampire ancestry in my family line.
“This is a lovely story,” Anara said. She’d been leaning against the wall as Emma spoke, studying her with suspicion. “How do we know you speak the truth?”
“Anara,” Seward said, but she ignored him, pushing herself away from the wall to stalk towards Emma.
“How do we know you’re not working for Skala or Bathory or any of the vampires on the other side of this war?” Anara demanded, stopping directly in front of Emma.
My first instinct was to stop Anara’s questioning of Emma, but I hesitated. Emma seemed genuine, but Rosalind had also seemed sincere.
“Why would I lie about such a thing?” Emma asked, looking at Anara with incredulity.
“We have been betrayed before,” I murmured.
I briefly told her of our journey; how we had killed Vlad Draculesti and Aurel Skala, our intention to find and kill Elizabeth Bathory through her follower in Paris, Francois. Though I told her of Rosalind’s betrayal, I did not mention my imprisonment with Skala for fear that speaking of it would bring those ghastly memories to the forefront of my mind. I had managed to keep them at bay since stepping off the train in Paris.
“My God,” Emma said, when I fell silent, her eyes wide. “That is why you are here…you have both followed in your mother’s footsteps. This—this is not what she would have wanted for either of you!”
A stab of guilt pierced me at her words; I averted my gaze from her anguished one. Emma spoke the truth. Both of my parents had wanted me to stay out of the war, but it was far too late for that now.
“Answer us,” Anara snarled, her fangs bared, unaffected by Emma's words. Seward still looked wary, but I saw his hand drop to his pocket where his revolver was tucked away. Even Abe got to his feet, his hand straying to the stake that was tucked in his back pocket.
Gabriel and I were the only ones who remained still, studying Emma’s face for any sign of deceit. But her face did not betray fear, alarm, or deception—she just looked heartbroken.
“This is why I hate war… it only leads to distrust,” she said bitterly.
“I am sorry,” I said, but I could once again feel Skala’s fangs on my skin, his cold eyes trained on me as I wept. I couldn’t risk another betrayal. “We need to know you’re telling us the truth.”
“Isabel loved to tell stories…even as a child,” Emma said, after a lengthy pause. “I visited London when you were still a baby…she was already telling you stories. I teased her and said you wouldn’t remember any of them, but she insisted that you would. She said they were more than just stories. They were lessons…lessons that would teach you how to protect yourself should the human world fall to vampires.”
My heart plummeted in my chest. I recalled my mother’s words in my dream—or was it a memory? Lessons, she had said. The stories are lessons. I turned to look at Gabriel. He looked stunned.
“If what you say is true, tell them one of these stories,” Anara demanded.
“Anara,” I said, getting to my feet. “I believe her. We believe her. There is no need to—“
“We believed Rosalind and now Szabina is dead,” Anara bit out harshly, before turning her attention back to Emma. “Tell them one, or I will not hesitate to—“
“The monster in the forest,” Emma snapped. Though she was addressing me and Gabriel, she glared at Anara as she spoke. “That was one of her favorites. It was a story about a monster lurking in the forest, and the little boy and girl who was able to hide from it…until it went away.”
I pressed my hands to my mouth. I remembered that story well; it was one of the last stories she told me before she died. Even though it frightened me, she had told it to me repeatedly, as if she wanted me to commit it to memory. Now I knew why.
“If you still do not believe me—if this is what our world has come to—then kill me where I stand!” Emma shouted.
“Stop this, Anara,” I said firmly, moving to stand in front of Emma. “She’s telling us the truth.”
It took several moments for the tension in the room to fade. Abe apologized on behalf of the group, while Anara fell silent, though I saw a look of regret flicker across her face. Emma still looked shaken by the impromptu interrogation; it was only mine and Gabriel’s repeated apologies and reassurances that seemed to calm her.
“I recently discovered that our family line has a distant vampire ancestor,” I said, once she had calmed. “Were you aware?”
Emma blanched, and I could have sworn that her skin went even more white. Her gaze briefly strayed to Anara and the others, but she shook her head.
“No,” she replied. “It certainly makes sense, given that there are at least two vampires in the family. You told me you are looking for Bathory,” she continued, abruptly changing the subject. “Through her follower, Francois?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Do you know of him?”
“He is the leader of the Parisian vampires,” Emma said, her mouth twisting with dislike. “All vampires in France know of him. He is behind the more vicious attacks on humans in the city—he loathes humans with a passion. One of his sycophants, Clement, has an infatuation with me…he seems to scent me anytime I’m in the city,” she added, with a shudder of revulsion. “He often invites me to Francois’ masquerade balls, but I always decline. Francois would hate me—I’m half human. Even so, I would never go to one.”
“Masquerade balls?” Abe asked.
“Francois holds elaborate masquerade balls every week at his chateau. He calls them Night Masquerades. The rumor is that he’s celebrating the coming end of the human world. The more humans he and his children kill that week, the more festive the celebration,” she said with disgust.
Hot anger seared me at her words; Abe and the others looked sickened as well. I thought of the empty streets of Paris, and my determination rose once more. We would put an end to Francois’ morbid celebrations.
“Can you arrange for our invitation
s to his next ball?” I asked.
“You—surely you are not serious,” Emma replied, slowly shaking her head. “Francois is strong, powerful, and absolutely mad. He—“
“We have heard all of these arguments before,” Abe interrupted. “They are irrelevant. We need to get to him—it is our best chance of tracking down Elizabeth Bathory.”
At the mention of Bathory’s name, Emma paled. She studied me and Gabriel for a long moment before she replied.
“If you are determined to go, then I'll not stop you. I’ll have to go into the city to see if I can arrange it.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her. “Truly, Emma.”
“Let me show you your rooms,” she said, avoiding my gaze as she stood.
She led us out of the salon. The interior of the home bore the same signs of fading grandeur as the exterior—the walls were peeling, the floors splintered with age, and it was permeated by a dank and musky smell. It was almost completely dark; Emma had to light a candle once we reached the hall to take us up the unsteady winding staircase to the second floor. She pointed out several sparsely furnished guest rooms where we could temporarily settle.
Our group soon scattered. Seward and Anara left to make certain the surrounding grounds of the home were secure. Abe excused himself to settle our bags in our temporary guest room, though I was certain he wanted to give me and Gabriel some time alone with our newly discovered cousin.
When it was just the three of us, I again apologized for our earlier distrust, but she waved off my apology.
“These are dangerous times,” she said. “Even though I wish they were not. I understand the need to be on guard…especially after all that you and your friends have gone through.”
Emma offered to give us a more detailed tour of the home if we weren’t too tired. We eagerly agreed, wanting to see more of the home where our mother had spent much of her years, even if it was in such a decrepit state.
The Mina Murray Series Bundle, A Dracula Retelling: Books 1-3 Page 42