Dracula, My Love: The Secret Journals of Mina Harker

by Syrie James

  I shoved away all thoughts of guilt. I was doing the right thing, I told myself. I would do what I had to do, to help Nicolae implement his plan. When the hunt was over—when the day came that Nicolae was free—then, I decided, I would (somehow) summon the strength to say good-bye to him for the rest of my mortal life. I would be Jonathan’s loyal wife, the wife he deserved, and I would remain faithful to him until the day I died. And then…And then…

  Nicolae was looking down at me, a beam from the moon illuminating his handsome face and compelling eyes. And then, I thought, I will be his for ever!

  He bent his head and kissed me: a deep and passionate kiss. As I returned his embrace, I sensed from him that the moment of our parting was near at hand. A sudden sadness welled up inside me. “When will you leave?” I whispered against his lips.

  “To-day.”

  “To-day!” Tears sprang into my eyes; I was suddenly too choked up to speak.

  “Do not be sad, my love.” He tenderly brushed a tear from my cheek. “We will not be apart for long.”

  “But we will. Anything could go wrong. Even if your plan succeeds, it will be decades before we can be together again.”

  “But we will be together, Mina. It is our fate, as inevitable as the sunset that follows the dawn. You are the blood of my blood; and even if we were not bound by blood, we are bound by mind and thought, and by the love that we share.”

  Urgently, he brought his mouth back to mine. As his kiss deepened, and his body pressed closely against mine, it seemed to me as if we were two halves making up a perfect whole. We caressed each other with our hands. All at once, I felt frustrated by the clothing which separated us, overwhelmed with a yearning to touch his bare flesh and feel his flesh against mine. I heard his thoughts; they mirrored my own. With his lips on mine, he swept the cloak I was wearing from my shoulders. His hand caressed my waist, my back, my arms, and then swept up to settle on my breast. My eyes closed, and I gave a little gasp. I heard his heavy breath in my ear and felt him pressed hard against me.

  “Ah, my love,” he murmured against my lips. “I ache for you.”

  I knew that he wanted me—and not just my blood. He wanted to make love to me. I could not deny that I wanted him that way as well. The very thought assaulted me with guilt. It could not be! It could not be! Not until—until I was Un-Dead. Just kissing and touching him this way was a deep enough sin, for I knew I was committing adultery in my heart.

  From behind my closed eyelids, I felt an intense, penetrating heat. Now his warm, insistent mouth was moving down to passionately kiss my throat. I gasped again, and my body tingled in anticipation. I knew that Dracula must not take any more of my blood; he had said it could prove dangerous—even deadly—for me. This was my last chance to stop him. My last chance…

  But I did not want to stop him. It was the last time in this mortal life that we would be together. The last time, for so many long years! Let me have this to remember him by, I thought, as I insistently pulled him closer. I heard an animal-like roar; then Dracula sank his teeth into my throat, and all rational thinking ceased.

  At first, as I felt my blood flowing outward from my body into his, I experienced the same delirious, languid ecstasy that I had come to take such pleasure in. There was another sensation too, a kind of dark, blissful tingling that seemed to pervade my every pore. But after a few moments, the feeling changed. His hands, which had been holding me to him with urgent gentleness, now gripped me with such fierce possessiveness that they hurt me; and his teeth clamped down with a renewed ferocity that caused me to cry out in pain.

  If he heard my cry, he paid no heed. Panic rose within me. I struggled in vain to push him away. What had always felt like an act of love now became akin to a violent attack. I felt myself growing weaker as Dracula continued to feed with a savage intensity that I had never experienced before.

  “Nicolae,” I whispered. “Please—stop—”

  My mind began to swim. Terrified, I thought: this is the end. I am going to die.

  And then I knew no more.

  WHEN I CAME TO, I WAS BACK ON THE BALCONY OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM window, in Dracula’s arms. The sky was still pitch-black. I could discern anguish, self-loathing, and regret in his voice as he whispered, “My love, I am so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.”

  He set me on my feet and gazed down at me. “My God. You’re still bleeding.” Before I could blink, he was pressing a handkerchief firmly against the wounds on my throat. “I am so sorry,” he said again. “If I harmed you to-night, Mina, I will never forgive myself.”

  We moved into each other’s arms and clung there. I shivered, unable to forget the pure terror I had felt when the animal in him had attacked me so brutally. “I should have tried to stop you before you began. But I did not wish to.”

  “I fear there may be consequences.”

  I looked at him, my heart pounding with trepidation. He had insisted that I would only become a vampire after I was old and grey, if I chose to become immortal. Did I still have that choice? “How will I know if I—”

  “When it happened to me, it was an immediate change. I died and was reborn. If it happens to you, this way, it will be different. It may take a while. From what others tell me, you will feel yourself slowly changing. You may become very tired. You will find it more natural to sleep during the day. You might feel chilled or light-headed. It might seem as if your senses are growing sharper. You will find food distasteful, and it will become increasingly difficult to eat or drink.”

  “If I feel those changes,” I asked, fear spiralling through me, “will it mean that I am going to die?”

  “Let us not conjecture. Let us hope you will be all right.”

  I nodded. The notion was too terrifying to contemplate. I will be fine, I told myself. I will be fine.

  He cradled my face with his hand. His fingers, I noticed, were warm. “I must go. The sun will be up soon.”

  “I shall miss you,” I replied, my voice breaking.

  “And I you. But we will be in each other’s arms again, I promise. And during this time apart, we will be together every day in thought.” He kissed me once more, and I closed my eyes, savouring it. “I love you, Mina.”

  I opened my eyes to return the sentiment, but he was already gone.

  I CREPT INTO BED IN THE DARKNESS, STEEPED IN SADNESS. I WILLED myself to think of something else, to relax and fall asleep.

  No sooner had I closed my eyes, than I began to dream.

  I dreamt that Dracula made love to me.

  IN MY DREAM, I FELT THE PRESSURE OF WARM HANDS AGAINST MY body, caressing my breasts through the thin fabric of my nightdress. The touch set my very flesh afire. Now lips were on my lips, hot and hungry, tasting and kissing me with fevered need. I did not need to open my eyes to know who my dream lover was: I was in Dracula’s arms again.

  Suddenly, there was no barrier of clothing between us. My nightdress had magically disappeared. I felt the weight of his long, hard, naked body pressed against mine. My skin felt searing hot against the warmth of his flesh. As his hands roved tenderly across my body, every nerve ending seemed to tingle at his touch. I recognised the guilt of my passion but I surrendered to it, straining to hold him closer to me.

  His warm, insistent mouth now travelled down to caress my naked breasts. I gasped with pleasure at his kiss and touch. Slowly, expertly, he moved lower, paying tribute with his lips, tongue, and fingers to every part of my body, parts which had never before been touched in such a manner, and seemed to come alive as if for the very first time. My senses began to reel, and then to mingle one with the other, so that it seemed as if I could hear the passion of his touch and feel the deep blue of his eyes. With every sharp gasp of ecstasy, I felt as if I were tasting air instead of breathing it.

  He never spoke a word; yet my entire body was aflame. With shameful joy in my heart, I trembled as I moved against his hands, seeking more of the delicious rapture he was giving me. He played me like a stringed instr
ument, awakening within me a harmony that I had never known existed, producing profound and unimagined tunes.

  When I felt him enter me I clung to him, pressing him ever closer, our two bodies fused as one. As he moved with me towards the brink of ecstasy, I was overwhelmed by an intense need that until that moment had never been recognised. All at once, just as I heard his own fevered exclamation, I felt the core of my womanhood explode with pleasure, as if my body had splintered into a thousand brilliant fragments of sensation and light.

  I awoke with a great gasp to find myself lying in a tangle of bed-clothes, my heart racing, my body still tingling with intense and wondrous sensation. I saw my husband’s sleeping form across the bed from me, and my cheeks burned with shame. I was naked! My nightdress lay on the floor beside me! I quickly sat up; and after I put the garment back on, my eyes were drawn to the window, where, in a shaft of light from the waning moon, I thought I detected the flickering remnants of a trail of dust seep out through the joinings; but no. It was just specks of dust; or perhaps I imagined it.

  My God, I thought, as a flush suffused my body, what manner of woman was I, that I had allowed my mind and body to betray me so? At the same time, I wondered: is that what love-making was supposed to feel like?

  Even though it had all been a dream—a shameful, magnificent dream—I could not prevent the secret smile which curved my lips. I felt reborn. Renewed. Alive. For the very first time, I felt as if I understood what it meant to be a woman.

  TWENTY

  AS THE FIRST RAYS OF DAWN CREPT OVER THE HORIZON, I called for Dr. Van Helsing. He had evidently expected such a call, for he arrived moments later, fully dressed.

  “Do you wish me to hypnotise you again, Madam Mina?”

  “If you wish; but I have called you for another reason.” I launched into the dialogue that I had carefully prepared. “I know that you will leave soon for the Continent, and that you intend for me to remain here with Jonathan. But I must go with you on your journey.”

  The professor and Jonathan both looked startled. Dr. Van Helsing said: “But why?”

  “I will be safer with you, and you shall all be safer, too.”

  “How can that be, Madam Mina? We go into great danger, and great unknowns.”

  “That is why I must go. The Count has control of my mind. If he wills me, I must try to go to him—by any means, and by any device, even if it puts me or those I love in mortal danger—even you, Jonathan.” The guilt which rose to my face as I spoke was not the product of any play-acting. “You men are brave, and strong in your numbers. Together you can defy me, but should Jonathan be obliged to guard me alone, I fear I would break down his endurance. Besides, I may be of valued service in tracking the Count. You can hypnotise me while we are en route, and learn that which even I myself do not know.”

  “I have been saying the same thing for days!” Jonathan cried eagerly. “Professor, I hate the thought of sticking it out here while you four share all the danger—and Mina will be better off with us.”

  “Madam Mina, you are as always most wise. You have convinced me. You shall come with us.”

  THE WEEK PASSED IN A KIND OF BLUR. THE MEN MET SECRETLY ALL day long, making their arrangements for our trip overseas. Although I was now to come with them, they shared almost nothing of their plans, treating me with cordiality but a decided wariness. Dr. Seward arranged for his friend Dr. Hennessey (who had watched over his patients earlier, while Dr. Seward tended Lucy in London) to take charge of the asylum while he was gone. Jonathan’s work schedule had been very slight when we left Exeter; still, he wrote to his assistant at the law firm, spelling out all the necessary arrangements that must be undertaken in light of his delayed return.

  Every day, Nicolae came to me in my mind, informing me of his progress as he journeyed back to his homeland. Every night as I lay in bed, I relived in my mind the magical dream of love that I had shared with him. Oh! I thought. If only Jonathan would touch me in that way! But Jonathan kept his distance.

  The evening before we were scheduled to leave England, as I was preparing to go down to dinner, Jonathan burst into our room, smiling and carrying a large box which looked like it had come from an exclusive London shop.

  “Mina, I have something for you.”

  It had been a long time since I had seen such an expression of exhilaration and eager anticipation on Jonathan’s face. I crossed to him. “Have you been to town?”

  “Yes. I saw this in a shop window, and I thought of you.” He laid the box on the bed. “Go ahead, open it.”

  I opened the box—and gasped in delight. Lying within was a long, white, wool cloak, trimmed in speckled white ermine, with a matching ermine hat. “Oh!” I cried. I instantly wrapped myself in the cloak’s sumptuous folds and ran my fingers through the soft fur collar. “Jonathan! It is gorgeous! But it must have cost a fortune.”

  “I care nothing for the cost. If I am right, this is something that you have been wishing for ever since you were a little girl.”

  I did not yet comprehend his meaning, but I donned the ermine hat and moved before the looking-glass, where I stared at my reflection. “I look like a queen.” As soon as I spoke the words, I recalled the childish wish to which Jonathan had just referred. My eyes caught his in the mirror, and I saw in his smile that we were sharing the same memory.

  “You were six years old, seven perhaps,” Jonathan said softly, “and I was just a couple of years older.”

  “We were playing dress-up in your mother’s sitting-room at the orphanage.”

  “You were the Queen. You were wearing a ratty old white tablecloth as a cape. And I was your subject.” With a grin, he re-created the scene: He picked up his umbrella, handed it to me, and then solemnly knelt before me. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing his head.

  With a smile, I touched first his right and then his left shoulder with the umbrella, and declared in an imperious tone, “I dub thee knight. Arise, Sir Jonathan. You may kiss my hand.”

  He rose and kissed my hand, then bowed with a courtly flourish. “I swear allegiance to you, Your Highness, and will defend your honour all the days of my life.”

  Our eyes met, and we burst out laughing. “I had forgotten that.”

  “You made a wish that day that your parents would find you, and that you would be recognised as a princess. And you vowed that one day, you would wear a long, white cloak trimmed with the finest ermine.”

  “How do you remember?” I said in wonder.

  “I remember everything about you. You have always been a princess to me.” As he spoke, he gazed down at me with warmth and affection—the way he used to look at me, before I had been branded.

  “Oh, Jonathan.”

  He stepped forward now and took my hands in his. “Mina: these past months have been a living Hell for me. I know they have been for you as well. And I know that I have been—aloof—this past week. I feel bad about that, and I want to say I am sorry.”

  “Jonathan: hush,” I said quickly. “It is I who have been aloof. You need not apologise.”

  “Yes I must. I know why you are silent. It is the poison in your blood that is doing it to you. And I have allowed the very poison which has infected you to pollute my own mind. All week, I have looked at you as if you were something tainted or evil. I have been afraid to touch you or talk to you. I let the others convince me that I should tell you nothing of our plans—nothing! Not by word, or inference, or implication!”

  “They are right to say so!” I interjected. “You should not trust me. For if the Count can read my mind—”

  “Damn the Count and his accursed tricks! I do not care if he can hear every word I am saying. I hate keeping anything from you. I hate being obliged to censor everything I say. You are my wife, Mina. I love you. I have loved you all my life. There should be no secrets between us.”

  I felt a great blush rise to my cheeks, and I could not look at him. “No; there should not.”

  “If I continue shielding my th
oughts with you,” he went on earnestly, “I fear we will grow even further apart. It will be as if a door is closing between us. I do not want that—and I refuse to do it any more.” He took me in his arms. “We leave to-morrow. We have a long journey ahead of us. But we will be together. And in as little as a week or two, this will all be over.”

  “Will it?”

  “I hope so. But if it should take longer, or God forbid, if we should fail at this attempt, I want you to know that I will not forsake you, Mina. I will follow that vile monster to the ends of the earth if need be, to set you free! I swear to do whatever it takes, to send him for ever and ever to burning Hell!”

  He kissed me then, and held me tightly. Oh! I thought, as I returned my husband’s embrace; what was I to do with such fierce, undeserved loyalty? How could Jonathan know that his loving, selfless offer was the last thing on earth that I could have wished for?

  JONATHAN MADE LOVE TO ME THAT NIGHT. IT WAS THE FIRST TIME we had been intimate in nearly two weeks, since we had left Exeter. As he took me in his arms, I was so eager to express my affection for him that I suppose I must have responded to his advances a bit more avidly and creatively than usual.

  “Mrs. Harker, what are you doing?” Jonathan asked at one point, a little taken aback.

  “I don’t know,” I responded softly. “Don’t you like it?”

  “I do, I do,” he said. As I glanced up at him through the darkness, I could see that his face was lit with a splendid grin. Soon, he pounced on me. I made a few suggestions of my own, which he was surprised but happy to follow.

  I believe we shared a very mutually satisfying connection.

  Afterwards, as I lay glowing within his embrace, he turned to me and said with a wicked little smile: “I suppose there are some benefits, after all, to that vampire blood in your veins.”