VROLOK

by Nolene-Patricia Dougan

  “I will,” Renfield vehemently agreed.

  “Very well, you will leave tonight.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” Renfield groveled.

  Isabella was shocked. Renfield obviously knew what Vlad was and yet he was letting him go home. Isabella knew this was completely foolish and when the coach came for Renfield that evening she would make sure that she was on it. For she would have to kill him.

  Renfield stumbled onto the coach. He wanted to get away as fast as he could and his haste was making his steps clumsy. Isabella was already sitting inside. Sweat was dripping down Renfield’s brow. He kept looking at his watch. Isabella did not have to strike up a conversation with him, for he started to speak to her before she had a chance.

  “How far are we from Bistrita?”

  “Twenty, perhaps thirty miles,” Isabella answered.

  “That far?” Renfield asked nervously.

  “It should only take a few hours to get there,” Isabella said, trying to reassure him in an effort to gain his confidence.

  “A few hours, surely not that long?”

  “Why are you in such a hurry?” Isabella asked.

  “I’m not, I…I just want to get home.”

  “Your business in the Carpathians is concluded?”

  “I have done all that I can do,” Renfield answered.

  “What was your business?” Isabella asked. At this Renfield raised his glance to look up at Isabella’s face. During their whole conversation he had not lifted his eyes from his watch.

  “Why are you so curious as to the nature of my business?” Renfield demanded.

  “No reason at all, just making conversation.”

  “I am sorry,” Renfield apologised. “I just want out of this place.”

  Isabella moved over beside him and touched his head. Isabella saw jumbled images in his thoughts. A lost daughter, a fear of death, a fear of hell, and an eventual betrayal. He would not stay loyal to Vlad—he had to die.

  Isabella stayed with him until he got the boat to England from Varna. She watched the ship until it was out to sea. She turned her back on it and looked up to the skies stirring up the winds. A storm engulfed the boat; Isabella believed the ship would be swallowed by the sea. Unfortunately, the ship was sturdier than Isabella had hoped and Renfield arrived in England unharmed. Renfield kept his promise to Vlad and sent Jonathon Harker to finish what he had started.

  Isabella was satisfied that Renfield now occupied a watery grave, that he could not tell a soul and he could not send anyone else. She returned to the castle to appease Olya. As she entered her old room she was struck by how pale Olya looked; she would not last much longer.

  “It is all right, Olya, he will not tell anyone anything.” Isabella did not tell Olya that she sent the winds to kill him. For Olya would have felt in some way responsible, and that was too much for her good heart to stand.

  “That’s good,” Olya struggled to get the words out.

  “Olya, I am afraid to leave you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I have to. But will you not come with me?”

  “No, a force that is beyond whispers to me that I must stay here.”

  “All right, but if anything should happen, get word to Anna and I will come back.” Olya nodded. Isabella got up to leave.

  Olya called out after her, “Thank you, Isabella, for all you have done.” Isabella nodded and left.

  A few months went by and Isabella stayed in Bistrita, for she wanted to be close if Olya called for her. During this time, to Isabella’s dismay, another man arrived from England. Renfield had survived to tell the tale.

  Jonathon Harker stayed in the Golden Krone hotel, and even before he arrived there was a letter waiting for him from Vlad. Isabella paid one of the hotel workers to let her see it but it had nothing of any importance in it. Isabella watched Jonathon for a few days from a distance. She decided that he probably posed no threat whatsoever. He obviously did not know anything of Vampires, but just in case she would try and scare him into not going. Isabella waited for the landlady of the hotel to come down from Jonathon’s room.

  “Well?” Isabella enquired. “Did you frighten him?” Isabella asked.

  “I did, but not enough. He still has every intention of going,” said the landlady.

  “He is a fool.”

  “He may be…he scribbles everything down in a diary.”

  “A diary. This may prove useful to me, thank you.” Isabella gave the landlady some money and then left. She observed Jonathon the next day as he was waiting for a coach. Vlad had sent his own coach to collect him.

  Isabella had decided to travel with him. She climbed the steps into the coach and as she did she caught sight of the landlady from the night before. She was obviously talking about her to the villagers who were there. They all made a sign of the cross as the coach pulled out. Isabella thought to herself how stupid these people still were that they believed that their foolish suspicions could ward her off. Isabella glanced over at Jonathon; he was looking at the villagers as well. He was getting increasingly frightened of what was ahead of him. Isabella thought that he should be scared. She had no idea what Vlad had planned for this man, but she suspected he would not be allowed to leave the castle as Renfield had, so she would let him carry on with his journey.

  Isabella sat with the other passengers, who were anxious and agitated—they knew who she was. That was the wonderful thing about the Carpathians. It was the only place in the world that Vampires were known and recognised, despite Isabella’s efforts to the contrary.

  The coach was traveling at a horrendous speed. Isabella knew what the coach driver was up to; he was trying to out run Vlad, he was afraid for himself and those who travelled with him. It would never work. As the light was fading the other passengers were terrified of Isabella, afraid she would strike out as soon as the darkness engulfed them. The coach came to abrupt stop and the coachman jumped off his seat and pushed his head through the open window to talk to Harker.

  “I see no sign of another coach,” he said quickly. “He has not sent anyone to get you. I suggest we go on to Bukovina and you can see what has happened to him from there.” His words were interrupted by the sound of another carriage approaching from what seemed like nowhere. Isabella smiled; she knew Vlad would have predicted this.

  “I don’t think you have to be moving on to Bukovina,” Isabella stayed inside the coach; she did not want Vlad to see her.

  “Mr Harker, my master sends his compliments and will ensure that the rest of your journey is as comfortable as possible.”

  “Thank you,” Jonathon answered. Jonathon climbed onto the other coach and went with Vlad towards the castle. Isabella was slightly reassured; Vlad had not changed that much; he would not be foolish.

  Isabella stayed in Bukovina and waited for word. Six months went slowly by and there was nothing, until Anna sent a message to Bukovina asking for her to come home. Isabella hurried home. She feared the situation that awaited her there.

  “I am so glad you are here,” Anna began.

  “Why, what has happened?” Isabella asked, a certain amount of concern in her voice.

  “Soon after you left the castle a baby was stolen from one of the villages near by.”

  “A baby?”

  “Yes. Just an infant, no more than a few months old.”

  “Was it a Slovak?”

  “No.”

  “Then I have no grievance with whoever took it.”

  “I know that, but you will have a grievance.”

  “Why?”

  “You should come up with me to see Olya; she has something to tell you.” Anna would not tell Isabella anything more than that. The pair walked up to the castle in silence. Isabella was astounded at the thoughts that were running through her head. She worried not for herself and her own safety. She was worried, desperately worried, for Vlad. She tried not to be; she tried to tell herself she did not care but she could not lie to herself anymore.


  When they arrived at the castle, Isabella made straight for her old room. Olya was lying in her bed exhausted and dying. Isabella smelt death around the room Olya’s time was very close to being over.

  “Olya,” Isabella began. “What has happened here?”

  “Isabella,” answered Olya, her voice weak and fragile “sit down, please.”

  Isabella looked over at Anna, who looked as if her world was starting to come apart. Isabella had tried to touch her arm on the way up to the castle but she would not let her. She knew Isabella could read her if she let her take her hand. Isabella sat down on the bed and waited for Olya to relate what she had to tell her.

  “I helped the Englishman Harker to escape,” said Olya.

  Isabella was relieved when she heard this. “Is that all?” Isabella said. “I don’t care. I have helped many a human in my lifetimes. I realise that we can sometimes feel pity for them. There was a time when I would not have killed a human without good reason.”

  “Isabella,” Anna said loudly, silencing Isabella. “Listen. She has more to say.”

  Isabella continued listening, her brief sense of relief completely dissipated.

  “I let him go for a reason,” Olya continued.

  “What was your reason?” Isabella asked.

  “I saw his future,” Olya answered.

  “What did you see in his future?”

  “Start earlier than that Olya, she must hear everything to understand completely,” Anna interrupted again.

  “A month ago the three other Vampires that occupy this castle brought a child up from the village below. Just a child, an innocent; they slaughtered it without any sign of conscience. I was disgusted. From that instant I knew this all had to stop. Those women, the abomination that they had become, it all had to end.” Isabella now realised what she was about to be told.

  “Continue,” Isabella said firmly. Her concern had changed to anger.

  “Dracula left the three Vampires behind him when he left; they fed on Harker every night. I could hear him crying when they left him and screaming when they returned the following night. They were slowly torturing him, prolonging his life for the sheer enjoyment of it. I couldn’t stand it, Isabella. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the baby they had killed. I had to stop it…I had to.”

  “So what did you do?” Olya now sensed that Isabella would not be sympathetic.

  “I went up to see him. He was exhausted, barely alive, as I was trying to make him more comfortable. I touched his arm… I saw a vision of the future.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I saw the blackness that I have been sensing for years but now I saw what it was and how it would come about. I saw the three Vampires being killed and I saw…”

  “You saw?”

  “I saw an end to it all.”

  “An end?”

  “Yes, I saw Vlad, I saw him dead, I knew if I helped Jonathon escape it would set off a chain of events that would mean the end to all Vampires.”

  “So you let him go just because three Vampires killed a baby?”

  “I did.” Isabella got up and walked towards the window. She was standing with her back to the two women and she said, “You let that man escape from here when you knew it would result in Vlad’s death?”

  “Yes, Isabella, don’t you understand, I had to.” These were the last words that Olya would ever utter. While Isabella was standing with her back to the two women. She had unsheathed her grandfather’s sword and poured some of Abraham’s blood on the blade. Isabella spun around to face Olya and thrust the sword through the air at tremendous speed. The tip and then the full blade went through the middle of Olya’s throat. The sword was thrust with such strength that it penetrated the head board behind Olya‘s back. Only the stone wall behind the bed was able to stop the sword’s motion. Olya touched the blade with the tips of her fingers. She was trying to pull it out of her throat but she could not. A few seconds later her head slumped and she was dead.

  Anna had sat frozen, unable to even close her eyes or pull them away from the gruesome scene. After a few seconds, when the numbness had passed, Anna ran to Olya, crying out her name. Isabella walked calmly over to Olya’s body and placed her foot on her stomach and pulled out the blade from Olya’s neck. This last action severed the head completely and Anna collapsed in grief.

  “Why?” Anna shouted, begging Isabella for an answer. Isabella now coldly wiped off the blood from her sword.

  “You know why.”

  Anna, who was still sobbing on the floor, said, “She knew this would be your reaction—she told me.”

  “She was right then, wasn’t she?” Anna was shocked at Isabella’s callousness.

  “I said that it was not true you could never kill her,” Anna said, still not really believing what she had just seen.

  “Anna, I have never lied to you; never forget I am a Vampire. She let a human who will kill Vlad escape. I would never have let her live under any circumstances.”

  “You don’t understand, I am not crying for Olya,” Anna said. “She said if what she had seen started to come true, my son… would also die.”

  “I am sorry Anna; I will try my best to stop it,” Isabella answered. “You must tell me everything she told you.”

  “She did not tell me much more than that. She told me that Harker and an American would slay Vlad.”

  Isabella saw a glimmer of hope in Anna’s words. “That is impossible, humans cannot kill Vlad. Did she say anything else or mention anyone else?”

  Anna tried to think and remember, but she was still in shock. “She did she mention a Dutchman named Abraham.”

  Isabella fell onto the bed in shock. “The Dhampir! Vlad really is in danger!” Isabella ran for the door and turned back towards Anna. “If I can save your son, I will, I promise you that.”

  THE EARTH IS FREE FROM A MONSTER OF THE NETHER WORLD

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Isabella journeyed as quickly as she could. For the first time in her conscious permanence she had not a moment to spare. She got a coach to Bistrita and then a coach to Varna. She boarded the first ship she found and stirred up the winds to let the ship sail to its greatest capacity. She had to rescue him…she couldn’t let him die. She felt responsible for the danger that Vlad was in. She should have killed Van Helsing when she realised what he was. She left the Carpathians with the firm intention of correcting her original error. She arrived in England a week later and swiftly travelled up the coast to Whitby.

  Whitby was the perfect setting Isabella reflected. If she did not know for certain that Vlad was somewhere here she would have known as soon as she saw it. The ruined Benedictine Abbey looked down on to the village below, as his own castle looked down on the forest and the many villages that had settled on the forest edge. But unlike his home, Whitby’s population had grown and flourished. It manufactured Jet, which was the only respectable jewellery worn by ladies in mourning. In a world where death was always abundant, anyone who could profit from it always had infinite custom.

  On seeing Whitby Isabella knew that Vlad would have settled up the hill a certain distance so that he could look down on the busy port below him. As Isabella walked up the path, she noticed a clipping from a newspaper flapping in the breeze. She picked it up to read it.

  The article was from the Daily Telegraph and spoke of an accident that had happened the previous month; a ship had run adrift on to the shore.

  The people of Whitby had watched it as it came hurtling towards the bay at great speed. Crowds had gathered because a storm had started suddenly out of nowhere. Then the fog started to roll in, almost obscuring all of the boats that were still out at sea. The people of Whitby were frightened and feared for the crews of these vessels that were now completely obscured by the fog, which was made worse by the rushing winds of the storm.

  All of the ships except one arrived back safely, but this ship was still in difficulty. No one recognised it. It was obviously a foreign
ship just coming into port. As it approached, people in the crowd noticed that there was a dead man lashed to the wooden steering wheel of the ship. A few people ventured out and approached the ship when it ran onto dry land, and within seconds the black clouds above them had dispelled, the fog and the rains swiftly rolled back out to sea. The onlookers gasped as a wolf jumped from the ship onto the English shore and ran away from the crowd.

  Isabella finished reading what was left of the article. She knew the wolf was Vlad. She smiled to herself, almost laughing, thinking about what Olya had said. “He wants to be respectable?” Isabella stated under her breath. She had sat down to read the article; she stood up again and walked up the path to look for Carfax Abbey, Vlad’s new home.

  Isabella soon found the abbey, though she did not find Vlad there. She waited for his return. A few hours later she heard men shouting outside. She walked over to the window to see who was shouting and why. Five men were approaching the outside of the house. They were brandishing torches and various weapons. Isabella recognised Abraham as one of their number. Since she saw no sign of Vlad she began to worry: was she too late?

  She continued to watch these men, hoping that Vlad was close behind them; the men entered the chapel at the front of the house and were partially obscured from her sight. She could see them opening the crates that lay inside the chapel. They were sprinkling some sort of liquid on the contents of the crates. Isabella knew it was Dhampir’s blood. She wondered what was in these crates that these men felt that they would have to poison them. An hour had passed; Van Helsing and the men left as abruptly as they had come. Isabella sat down again and waited anxiously, yearning for Vlad’s return, hoping that he would return to her unscathed.

  Just before sunrise he did return, not quite unscathed. He had a cut on his forehead and the wound looked old; it had not healed and showed no sign of healing, His eyes were not their usual black but red and piercing; they almost looked as if they were on fire.