by Syrie James
“Do not berate yourself, Professor. You are not to blame. And it is over now. They are all dead.”
“No; not dead yet, Madam Mina. Even this one, whose head the wolf nearly took off—even she may not be full dead. Do we not completely severe the head of each, they may reincarnate.”
I paled at this. “I will help you.”
“No. This is bloody work; the work of butchers. I would not wish for you to have that memory in your brain, Madam Mina, to trouble you in years after. I will do it.”
“I have come this far, Professor. I wish to see how it is done.”
Dubiously, he consented. He found his saws and other knives; and we completed the terrible, bloody deed, three times in succession. It was truly a thing of horror, and I shudder to recall it. The only consolation came at the last moment, when the blade made its final cut through each vampire’s throat; for at that brief instant, I thought I perceived a look of sweet peace cross each wizened face, as if the soul of her former, benevolent, human self had been freed to take its place among the angels. Then, before our very eyes, each body melted away and crumbled into dust, as embers in a spent fire, as though the death that should have come centuries before had at last asserted itself.
As we drove back to camp, the professor asked me how I had managed to get away from the holy circle in which he had left me. When I had finished my explanation, he again thanked me for coming to his rescue, and said, shamefaced:
“May I ask a favour of you, Madam Mina?”
“Of course, Professor.”
“Will you be so good as to not breathe a word of this to any one? I could not hold up my head, were the others to know how I so weakly fall under the vampire’s spell.”
I agreed, and said that he might write the events in his journal as he wished, leaving out my part in it.
Dark clouds had gathered in the late-afternoon sky, and the professor predicted that it would snow again. When we reached camp, I realised that I was starving, and got myself to eat a decent portion of the food I made. Dr. Van Helsing built a crude sort of lean-to with one of the tarpaulins to protect us while we slept. I lay awake most of the night, however, shivering beneath my fur rug until just before dawn. Over and over, I relived in my mind the horrors of that awful afternoon, and the dreadful women who had attacked us.
Was that the fate to which I was doomed as a vampire?
Nicolae had said he would train me to become like him; but what if he failed? What if I became a wanton, preying vixen like those seductive harpies, with no conscience or soul?
THE NEXT DAY—THE 6TH OF NOVEMBER—I WAS STARTLED AWAKE by the sound of Dracula’s voice in my mind.
Mina. Awake.
I opened my eyes groggily as I wiped sleep from my eyes. From my bed of furs beneath the lean-to, I could see that the ground was encrusted with a light covering of snow. I glanced out briefly. From the position of the sun, I sensed that it was late afternoon. The sky was filled with scattered dark clouds, and it was very cold, with the promise of more snow in the air.
I am here, I replied as I lay down again. The wolf: it was you?
It was. I wish I could have been there sooner—but it was day. I crossed a very great distance to reach you.
Thank you. I am sorry.
Sorry about what? My wretched sisters? It was their time. They were not growing with the world but against it. I would have done the deed myself centuries ago, but I could not bring myself to kill my kin and only company. My only regret is that it put you in such danger.
I am safe now. Except—
Except what?
I am becoming like you. There is no longer any doubt.
A small silence fell. Then he said, with regret in his voice: I am sorry, my love.
I have tried to think what to do. But not knowing how much time I have—
We will decide together. But it will have to wait a day, at least. The moment of truth is at last at hand.
Do you mean to-day—?
Yes. Jonathan and Godalming made it up-river to the Bistritza—at last. The other two are not far behind. Both parties now approach on horseback. The Szgany will soon reach the vantage-point and will unload my box from their boat. That is when I mean to climb inside it.
When will—it—happen?
An hour or two from now. Just after sunset. The timing is critical. I must be in full possession of my powers, yet there still must be light enough for them to see.
What do you mean to do?
This you will soon discover. Mina: this is important. The professor must be a witness. You must bring him there.
My pulse skittered. I glanced out of the lean-to at the professor, who was sitting on a log near-by, cleaning his Winchester rifle. Where?
Cut across the forest for about a mile. I will direct you. You will come to a road. Follow it eastward for another half mile. There is a perfect viewing spot on a hill-side overlooking a stretch of the road.
“Madam Mina: are you up?”
I crawled out from beneath the lean-to. “Yes, Professor.”
“You were sleeping so peacefully, I did not wish to wake you. I made coffee, and there is some bread and cheese. Would you like some?”
The smell of the coffee made me feel ill, and the idea of eating was again so repulsive to me that, as much as I would have liked to please him, I could not bring myself to the attempt. “No thank you,” I replied, to which he frowned.
Leave now.
“Professor,” I said, crossing to where he sat, “I have a strong sensation that Jonathan is drawing near and that the event we have all been anticipating is about to occur. We must go to him at once.”
WE STARTED OFF ALMOST IMMEDIATELY. WE LOOKED LIKE A PAIR of tattered soldiers, I thought, wrapped in furs to guard against the bitter cold, our clothing muddied and encrusted with the dried blood of the vampire women, and toting our arms: Dr. Van Helsing his Winchester rifle, and I my revolver. We made our way on foot, following the mental instructions which Nicolae was sending me. Our progress was rather slow, as the forest floor was thick with undergrowth and blanketed in a thin layer of snow, and inclined steeply downhill through the woods.
We soon came upon a sight that made me recoil in horror: a young woman’s body lay at the base of a tree, her red blood drenching the surrounding snow. “Oh!” I gasped. She was fair-skinned and fair-haired, and looked to be about my age. From what was left of her clothing, I guessed she was a peasant. Her face had been mutilated beyond recognition, and her limbs were half-eaten.
“Wolves,” Dr. Van Helsing said grimly.
As if on cue, there came the distant howling of wolves, a sound which made me shiver with fear. I saw now why Dracula had been reluctant to show me his wolf-form. He had been a most beautiful animal indeed, and I was filled with gratitude to him for saving our lives the day before; but it was disquieting to contemplate the extraordinary fact that the wild creature I had seen was the man I loved—and this poor woman’s body was a terrifying reminder of the vicious calibre of his deadly attack.
We came to a rough road and followed it eastward. We had gone about a half mile when I became very tired and had to sit down on a rock to rest. Nicolae’s voice came to me, pointing out a high rocky ledge on the hill-side above the road where we would be less exposed, and where he wanted us to watch and wait. I issued a subtle suggestion to Dr. Van Helsing, giving him the impression that he had chosen the spot himself: a sort of natural hollow in the rock, with an entrance like a doorway between two boulders.
“See!” the professor said, leading me in by the hand. “Here you will be somewhat in shelter, and I can protect you if the wolves should come.”
“More importantly, it is an excellent vantage-point,” I replied, gazing at the magnificent valley below us. “We can see for miles.”
The view was spectacular. The road below us snaked back and forth down the steeply wooded hill-side and then crossed a wide, undulating, wooded valley. Far beyond, the river wound its way into the distan
ce like a dark ribbon; beyond that, the tall mountains which encircled us rose towards the setting sun. When I glanced back, I could see Dracula’s castle on the peak behind us, cutting a clear line against the sky.
Promise me you will not leave that spot, Mina, Dracula commanded in my mind.
I will; if you promise that no one will be hurt.
I told you: no harm will come to your men at my hand, but this is all I can swear to.
What do you mean? I thought, alarmed.
The Szgany have agreed to leave your Englishmen alive, unless obliged to defend themselves—but they are gipsies, and everyone is armed. I cannot predict the actions of so many.
This news filled me with unspoken dread. Where are you now? Where is Jonathan?
Look and see.
In the distance, I thought I detected movement in the gaps between the trees. “Professor: where are the field-glasses?”
Dr. Van Helsing took his glasses from the case and searched the horizon. “Look! Madam Mina, look!” he cried suddenly as he handed me his glasses and pointed.
With the aid of the field-glasses, I was able to perceive a group of mounted men rounding a bend in the road not far below us, and heading in our direction. From the men’s clothing, I ascertained that they were gipsies; they must be the Szgany to whom Dracula had referred. In the midst of them was a four-wheeled cart—a long leiter-wagon which swept from side to side like a wagging dog’s tail with each inequality of the rough road. Atop the cart was a great, long, wooden chest, similar to the ones I had seen in Dracula’s chapel at Carfax.
The professor said excitedly: “Do you see it, Madam Mina? It is the very box we have been chasing since the day it left London harbour. The awful Thing that we seek is imprisoned there!”
Dr. Van Helsing could have no idea that the encounter we were about to witness was being staged for his benefit. However, he was right about one thing: Dracula was inside that chest. My pulse raced as I glanced at the setting but still-visible sun. Nicolae said that he must be in full possession of his powers or his ruse would not work—and it was yet day!
Now the hair rose on the back of my neck, as I experienced a sudden, overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The scene bore an uncannily similarity to the dream I had had some weeks previously—the dream in which a terrible battle had ensued, and one of my men had died. “Oh no!” I cried under my breath.
In fear I turned to the professor, only to discover that he had made another circle around me on the rock where I stood, by scattering it with Holy Host.
“Is that necessary?” I cried.
“Yes. No matter what happens, you shall be safe here from him!” Dr. Van Helsing took the glasses from me and swept the whole space before us, adding in a worried tone: “Where are our friends? If they do not come quickly, all is lost! The sun is sinking fast. At sunset, that monster can take his freedom in any of his many forms and elude all pursuit.”
I hoped against hope that this very thing would come to pass. After a pause, however, the professor gave a great cry and said: “I see two horsemen coming up from the south, cutting through the woods towards the wagon. Look! Who is it, do you think?”
He quickly gave me back the field-glasses. At that distance, it was impossible to tell who the horsemen were, but I said I thought it might be Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris. The howling of the wolves came louder now, filling me with trepidation. Sweeping the field-glasses all around us, I could see dark grey dots moving singly and in twos and threes and larger groups, converging towards the centre of activity.
“Wolves!” I cried in terror.
Friends, came Dracula’s mental reply.
“They gather to attack their prey,” responded Dr. Van Helsing grimly.
I now caught sight of two other men riding at break-neck speed through the woods on the north side of the road, heading towards the gipsies and their rumbling cart. The first man I recognised; it was my husband. Please God, I prayed, do not let Jonathan or any one else get hurt.
Leave God out of this.
“Jonathan and Lord Godalming are approaching from the north,” I said quietly.
The professor let out a gleeful shout as he picked up his Winchester. “Wonderful. They are all converging. Make ready your weapon, Madam Mina, in case of need.”
I removed the revolver from my holster, my heart pounding in fear and dread, for I knew the end was coming. The sun was low in the sky; but until that moment when it finally and completely sank beneath the mountain-tops, Dracula’s powers were severely weakened. Should the men catch up to him and attack him before sunset, they might well succeed in truly killing him.
How far off are they? came Dracula’s voice in my mind.
Not far, and closing fast! I replied anxiously.
Instantly, as if someone had opened a heavenly tap in the grey clouds above, it began to snow. This was immediately followed by a high wind, which caused the snow to swirl about fiercely; within seconds, the landscape below was entirely blotted out by a sea of white.
Did you do that? I thought.
As if with great effort, he responded: Just—buying time—until the sun sets.
It was strange to see the snow falling in such heavy flakes so close to us and to where I knew the cart and approaching horsemen must be, while in the far distance behind us, the sun still shone as brightly as ever, as it sank closer towards the mountain-tops.
“Curse this ill-timed storm!” the professor cried. “I can see nothing!”
Down came another blinding rush of snow. The wind came in fierce bursts, driving the snow with fury all around us in circling eddies. For several long minutes, I could not see an arm’s length before us.
All at once, the hollow-sounding wind roared by with a great rush, sweeping away every last flake of snow so that we could view all before us with perfect clarity. The gipsies and their cart rumbled into view on the road immediately below. Moments later, the four horsemen darted out of the trees.
“Halt!” shouted Jonathan and Mr. Morris in unison, coming at the cart from two opposite directions, their strong voices ringing with passion and command. The gipsies might not have known the language, but there was no mistaking the men’s intent from their tone. The Szgany reined in as Lord Godalming and Jonathan dashed up on one side, and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris closed in on the other.
Panicked, my eyes darted towards the mountain-tops, for the evening was drawing near—every second, the sun descended lower and lower—but it had not yet set.
The leader of the gipsies, a splendid-looking fellow who sat astride his horse like a centaur, fiercely shouted something to his companions, who lashed their horses and began to spring forwards; but the four Englishmen all raised their Winchester rifles in unison.
“Halt or we fire!” Jonathan shouted.
“Cover the rear,” Dr. Van Helsing commanded me quietly, “and do not fear to fire if necessary.” As he pointed his rifle at the leader below, I aimed my revolver at the party of gipsies behind the wagon, anxiety coursing through me.
The Szgany, seeing that they were surrounded, tightened their reins and stopped. Each man then quickly drew whatever weapon he carried, be it knife or pistol, and held himself in readiness to attack.
There was a brief standoff. I waited and watched in an agony of suspense. The wolves drew closer. I alone knew that this encounter, from the gipsies’ side, was being staged; I alone knew that the Szgany had been ordered by Dracula not to attack unless it was a matter of life or death; yet there were far too many weapons drawn for my comfort. It seemed to me that every man on that road was in mortal danger. Suddenly, the leader of the Szgany, with a quick movement of his reins, threw his horse out in front and, pointing to the sun and then to the castle, said something which I did not understand. In response, his men surged around the cart as if to protect it.
“Now, Quincey!” Jonathan cried urgently. “Before the sun sets!”
While Dr. Seward and Lord Godalming kept their rifles trained on the gipsies, Jon
athan and Mr. Morris threw themselves from their horses, drew their kukri and bowie-knives, and began forcing their way through the ring of men towards the cart.
As I watched breathlessly, I felt not only fear now but a wild, surging desire to be a part of the action; to do something. I suddenly realised that the barrier of Holy Host surrounding me was obscured by a thin layer of snow. Ignoring the professor’s protests, I darted out of the now-defunct circle to a more advantageous spot down the hill-side, where I trained my revolver on the crowd of gipsies surrounding Jonathan, looking for any man who might mean him harm.
The majority of the Szgany lowered their pistols and knives and stepped aside to let Jonathan and Mr. Morris pass. No doubt my men attributed this acquiescence to their awe-inducing impetuosity and singleness of purpose—but I knew the truth.
Not all of the gipsies were so compliant, however. With the corner of my eye, I saw one of their knives flash and cut at Mr. Morris. Dear God! Had he been wounded? To my relief, he continued to move forward unimpeded. Now Jonathan reached the cart and leapt upon it, where, with desperate energy, he attacked one end of the chest, attempting to pry off the lid with his kukri knife. Seconds later, Mr. Morris sprang up beside him and attacked the other end of the chest with his bowie.
In seconds, the sun would set. The shadows of the whole group fell upon the snow. Under the efforts of both men, the nails of the lid drew back with a screech. The top of the box was thrown back. Inside, I spied Nicolae lying upon a bed of earth. With a start, I saw that it was not the Nicolae I knew and loved, but the old, pale monster the men expected to find, his eyes glaring with a vindictive look. What did he intend to do? I wondered. Was this part of his plan?
Now I shrieked in horror. For just as the sun disappeared below the mountain-tops, Mr. Morris’s bowie-knife plunged into Dracula’s heart; at the same instant, Jonathan’s hand came down with a sweep and a flash, his great kukri knife shearing through the Count’s throat. Before I could even draw a breath, Dracula’s entire body crumbled into dust and passed from sight.