Realm of Night (Mina Murray Book 3)

by L. D. Goffigan

  I tried not to panic, struggling to recall anything I could, until I seized upon a distant memory. I'd once asked her how to defeat the monsters she told me about in her stories. Weaknesses, she had replied. Every monster has a weakness.

  I was in no position to physically overpower Skala, and my own pain had prevented me from entering his mind. If I couldn’t go after a physical weakness, I would have to go after a mental one. Even monsters like Skala had a heart, something or someone they cared about. Rosalind had unknowingly given me a gift when she told us Skala loved Ilona. It was the only weapon I had at my disposal.

  Skala again gripped my hair, lazily dragging my kukri along the base of my throat, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

  I would have to move quickly. Soon I would lose consciousness, and Skala would force me to drink his blood.

  I twisted my head away, spotting something on the ground. My potential salvation. A wooden splinter, the size of my hand. It was small… but it could work.

  Skala jerked my face back towards him, positioning the blade at the center of my throat. Before he could press it into my skin, I gave him a twisted smile.

  Skala faltered, blinking in surprise.

  “Ilona never loved you,” I said, my words coming out in a thin rasp. “Never you. You never even existed for her.”

  Skala went very still. Though he tried to keep his face impassive, I saw a flicker of something in his expression. A flicker of something human. All monsters have weaknesses.

  “Silence,” Skala spat. He held my kukri still, though his powerful body vibrated with rage and tension. I could only pray that I would survive his pending onslaught of fury.

  “You—you were nothing to her,” I rasped. “You always knew that, did you not? She would not care about you avenging her. You meant nothing—“

  Skala let out a ferocious growl, dropping the kukri. He reached down to grip my bruised arms, yanking me towards him so violently that the chains that bound me to the wall disintegrated. He threw me onto the ground, and a bone in my shoulder cracked upon impact. Skala straddled me, his fangs bared and his eyes, which had gone completely black, focused on my throat. He was no longer concerned with deriving pleasure through torture. He craved my death. He was going to tear out my throat.

  I moved as quickly as I was able. With my free hand I reached for the wooden splinter that I’d subtly slid behind my back while taunting Skala. It still rested against the wall, and I grabbed it.

  He was still focused on my throat. I lifted up the splinter with my bruised arm, sinking it into his left eye. Skala howled with surprise. Temporarily blinded as blood gushed from his eye socket, he scrambled off of me.

  I sat up, trying to get to my feet, but I had lost too much blood, and I was too faint to stand. The cellar began to dim around me. It would only be moments before the darkness claimed me, and Skala would have his vengeance with my death.

  Skala leapt onto me, his once handsome face now monstrous, his left eye missing, the eye socket empty and dripping with blood.

  If I had the strength to scream I would have, as his fangs were soon on my throat. I could feel my flesh peel away; my blood gushing from the open wound.

  I tried, Mama, I heard the little girl version of me whisper to my mother in my mind. I know, my darling, her voice was distant and sad. I know.

  From somewhere far away, I heard a shot ring out, and the cries of vaguely familiar voices, but the world was already fading around me to nothing.

  I COULD NOT TELL if I was awake, dreaming, or dead.

  I was aware of moments, instances suspended in time.

  I sat cradled in Abe’s arms in the back of a carriage. He wept as he held me in his arms, his face crumpled with grief.

  I lay on a bed while Abe wiped blood from my skin with a cool cloth, his eyes shadowed and his face stubbled with unshaven growth.

  I lay beneath the thin covers of a bed, a dull ache radiating throughout my body. I could hear voices. An argument? My blood can heal her faster, we should try—I do not want to risk trying anything, let us see how the transfusion takes—When will she get her strength back?—It does not matter!

  And there were nightmares. I was once again in the cellar with Skala as he tore into my flesh with his teeth and my knife. Or I was in Transylvania, standing in a forest clearing between the dead bodies of my parents, too numb to weep or feel any grief. Or I was a mindless feral, feasting upon and killing innocent humans, while my true self cried out in protest.

  I shifted between these states in an endless circle, until I gradually became aware of my true surroundings, like a submerged swimmer making her way to the surface from the depths of a murky ocean.

  I opened my eyes. I was on a bed, in a room I recognized. It was the guest bedroom of the professor's home. I was still in Berlin.

  Outside, I could hear the bustle of a city street—muffled voices, the clatter of multiple horse hooves, the distant bell tolls of a church. From the room below my bedroom, I heard a familiar murmur of voices—Abe, Seward, Anara, Gabriel—and others I didn’t recognize.

  Remnant pain throbbed throughout my limbs as I looked down at my body. Bandages were secured around much of my skin, including a large one wrapped around my throat. On the exposed skin that was not bandaged, I could see the various wounds Skala had made. I again saw him in my mind’s eye, grinning with pleasure as I screamed.

  “Mina.”

  I jumped. Abe stood at the doorway of the bedroom. His eyes were bloodshot with fatigue. He’d grown a small beard, his hair wild and untamed. The last time I’d seen him so unkempt was in the days after my father’s death.

  Yet the sight of him filled me with love. My face crumpled and I sat up, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain that pierced my body, holding out my arms.

  He was at my side at once, holding me close and stroking my hair as I wept into his chest, the horrible memories of my torture filtering into my mind. Someone else must have appeared at the door as I wept, because he whispered, “Leave us.”

  I wept until I had no more tears, and even then Abe did not press me to talk; he simply held me in his arms.

  “Skala is dead. He cannot harm you—or anyone—ever again,” he finally whispered.

  Relief flowed through me at his words. We held each other for a few more moments before I spoke.

  “There—there is something I need to tell you,” I began, my voice raw from disuse. I needed to tell him about the revelation of my vampire ancestry.

  “No. You need to heal first. That is all you must focus on.”

  “I will,” I promised. I didn’t know how long it would take for my mind and body to fully heal from the trauma I'd undergone with Skala, but I would not force it.

  I pulled back from Abe, looking down at the bandages on my body. Though I was still sore, I seemed to be more healed than I should be, given what Skala had done to me.

  “A week has passed since we rescued you. I had to give you a transfusion. If you are wondering why you're more healed than you should be…it is because Gabriel insisted on giving you his blood. It appears he was right…it has accelerated your healing process,” he said, looking guilty at the admission. “I know that having vampire blood in your system may be upsetting, but we were afraid that you—“

  "There may be another reason I've healed so swiftly," I interrupted. "I need to tell you what I've discovered about myself."

  12

  THE ORDER

  After I told Abe about the revelation of my vampire ancestry, he went pale and silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he informed me that two members of the Order of the Dragon were downstairs, along with our allies, Nikolaus and Kudret. Though he trusted them, he wanted to keep my news to our core group.

  Moments later, he herded Anara, Seward, and Gabriel into the room. After Gabriel embraced me, whispering his relief that I was well, I revealed what I had learned.

  “This answers many of our questions,” I said, trying not to focus on how the
y were all looking at me—as if I were a completely different person. “It explains why my mother was able to give birth to you, Gabriel. Why I’m able to break the thrall and enter the minds of vampires. Why my blood has made some vampires sick. Why those vampires left me alive after the train derailment weeks ago. Why the Ghyslaine family stopped hunting vampires—one of them mated with one. Why I was able to fully recover from the confrontation with Vlad Draculesti.”

  “Bloody hell, Mina,” Seward whispered, his gaze raking over me with vague suspicion. “This whole time you’ve been vampire?”

  “She’s not vampire,” Abe said, glaring at him. “This just means that one of her ancestors—most likely a distant one— was vampire. Mina is human, but she carries a trace of vampire blood.”

  “We need to keep this amongst ourselves,” Gabriel said, giving the others a firm look. “I believe the others downstairs are true to their word, but we need to be more cautious after what happened with Rosalind.”

  Abe informed me of the details of my rescue. After I’d snuck out of the inn, Anara had gone into the city to check for any contact from our allies at a hotel. Nikolaus and Kudret had indeed sent a wire, with a message that they'd found two members of the Order in Germany who were willing to help us. They’d arrived in Berlin that same morning.

  “Szabina was right to send them away to seek allies…they succeeded,” Anara said, her eyes glistening as she spoke of Szabina. Anara replied to their wire, and Nikolaus and Kudret had come to the inn, bringing with them the Order members, Rudella and Clovis. It was shortly after their arrival that the group discovered I’d gone missing from my room.

  My friends immediately suspected I'd gone after Skala on my own, but they found no sign of him on Oudenarder street. It wasn’t until Anara ensnared a group of Skala’s ferals hovering in an alley nearby that they were able to determine where I was being kept prisoner—at Rosalind's estate, in one of the cellars.

  “How was Skala killed?” I asked, fury filling me at the very thought of him. If only I hadn’t been so injured and frail, I would have gladly killed the monster myself.

  “Seward weakened him with his revolver. I ripped his heart from his chest,” Anara said, her voice dripping with hatred that matched my own. “It was too kind of a death for him. But we had no time; we had to battle his followers just to get inside. We were fortunate that so many of them were newborns and died with him.”

  “While you’ve been recovering, we’ve been scouring the city for any of his remaining survivors—or any dangerous vampires at all. It seems as if many of them have fled,” Gabriel added. “We fear they may have gone on to serve Bathory, continue Skala’s work—or both. The attacks in Berlin have lessened—but they continue in other cities.”

  “Are we any closer to finding Bathory?” I asked.

  “That is none of your concern,” Abe interjected. “You will rest and recuperate for at least a fortnight—longer if necessary. Regardless of your ancestry, you are still human and need time to heal.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with him. My body ached, and I was still shaken over the torture I’d suffered at Skala’s hands.

  Everyone left the room to allow me to get more rest, but not before each of them embraced me, even Anara, who urged me to rest and heal.

  Over the course of the next few days, I dutifully remained in bed, eating the meals I was served and drinking copious amounts of water and tea. Abe periodically inspected my healing wounds beneath my bandages. Though he tried to maintain the clinical dispassion of a doctor, I could see the anger in his eyes at the visible reminders of what Skala had done to me.

  I tried not to think of my time with Skala, but during my restless sleep, memories of Skala’s fangs on my skin, his hands on my throat, and his blade carving wounds into my back consumed my nightmares. I often awoke in the middle of the night, trembling and attempting to stifle my sobs. Each time Abe would rush to my side from the next room, rocking me in his arms until I fell asleep once more.

  “I tried to stop the torture,” I whispered, after one especially gruesome nightmare. “I tried to enter his mind…but I was too weak. There was too much pain.”

  “What that monster did to you was not your fault,” Abe murmured against my hair, holding me close. “You survived, and he is dead. That is all that matters.”

  Gabriel would come to sit at my side during some of the days. We would mostly sit in companionable silence as I ate, or he would give me cursory updates as to what the others were up to. I still had not formally met Rudella or Clovis; Abe wanted me to focus fully on my recovery. Gabriel did tell me that they were making inquiries as to Bathory’s whereabouts, but he would not give me further details, and I did not press.

  After a full week passed, Abe grudgingly informed me that I should start taking walks to get some sunlight and refresh my stagnated limbs—but my walks would be confined only to the street the professor’s home occupied in case we were still being watched.

  I didn’t realize how much I missed the outdoors until I was once again in the sun, walking tentatively down the street on my sore legs, my arm linked with Abe’s, flanked by both Gabriel and Nikolaus. As I took in the sights of everyday life—women perusing the local shops, couples and families walking through the nearby park, carriages jostling their way through the streets—I realized that this was one of the things we were fighting for. The simplicity of everyday human life.

  “What is it?” Abe asked, pressing me close to his side when he noticed the shift in my countenance.

  “I never thought I would see such a sight again. Sunlight, shoppers, markets, carriages,” I whispered.

  Abe did not respond, but raw emotion flared in his eyes. When we returned to the house, he helped me settle back into bed, taking my hands in his.

  “I will not scold you for going after Skala on your own—not after what you have endured at that monster’s hands,” he whispered. “You know that I will never ask you to give up this fight—but please do not ever put yourself in danger like that again. I need your word. Swear to me, Mina.”

  “You have my word,” I said, and I meant it. I had paid dearly for my rashness. I knew my nightmares would be filled with images of what I’d suffered in that cellar for weeks—perhaps even years—to come.

  Abe leaned forward to press his lips against mine. It was meant to be a gesture of assurance and love, but it quickly deepened, and we kissed fervently, our bodies humming with mutual need and desire. Physical longing for Abe spiraled within me; I wanted his body pressed to mine, to be assured that he was real and safe and I was alive, we were both alive, but I knew he wouldn't want to risk hurting me.

  Abe reluctantly ended the kiss, resting his forehead against mine.

  “We have lost so much during this journey,” I whispered, wanting to explain why I’d gone after Skala on my own. “I’ve already lost my parents. We've lost our friends—Arthur, Radu, Szabina. I feared you would die at Skala’s hands. Losing you is unbearable to me.”

  “Loss is a part of life, my heart. We knew this journey would be treacherous. The best way to ensure our safety is to work together…not rashly go off on our own.”

  He was right, though the fear of losing him was still palpable, even after what I’d gone through. He leaned back and placed a loving kiss on my forehead.

  “Rest,” he urged, before leaving the room.

  I continued to spend the days resting in bed or taking brief walks with the others. Nikolaus and Kudret often shadowed me on my walks. Their presence was both familiar and comforting, they had accompanied me as my protectors back in London. I was curious about their own journey in finding allies to help us, but I did not ask them, heeding Abe’s advice about focusing on my recovery. I knew that the others were busy planning how to track down Bathory and destroy her, along with any stray followers of the two vampire leaders we’d already killed.

  I caught glimpses of the two members of the Order when I returned to the house after my walks. Clovis was a ta
ll and lanky vampire with curly dark hair and eyes the color of indigo, while Rudella was a petite human woman with long red hair that she wore defiantly loose, and intelligent eyes. They watched me with curiosity but never introduced themselves; I suspected that my friends had asked them to let me recuperate and not involve me in their plans.

  Towards the end of the fortnight, the physical signs of what I had gone through at Skala’s hands began to vanish. My body aches faded to a dull echo, my bruises began to disappear into faint traces on my skin. The emotional trauma lingered—Vlad’s face had been replaced in my nightmares by Skala, even my waking hours were haunted by the image of his savage and leering face.

  I had to actively put aside the dark memory of my time in the cellar and bury it someplace deep in my mind. I needed to occupy my time—I needed to rejoin the fight.

  After the full fortnight had passed, I pulled Abe and Gabriel aside in the drawing room to tell them I was ready to be involved.

  They exchanged an uneasy glance. After a long moment, they gave me a reluctant nod. They called the others into the room, and I was formerly introduced to Clovis and Rudella.

  “We have been making inquiries,” Clovis informed me. “A member of the Order in France sent us a wire informing us that one of Bathory’s most prominent followers is in Paris—his name is Francois. He has been rather brazen in making newborn vampires—even humans have become aware of his activities, though they think the ferals he’s created are the result of the new illness—the Blood Plague. Our contact told us that Bathory herself was spotted visiting him weeks ago before she vanished again. Sometimes she appears at the masquerade balls he has at his home. If anyone knows where she is, it would be him.”

  “Paris is where we must go,” Gabriel agreed. “And not just because Bathory’s follower is there. Mina, Mother’s last home is a country residence just outside of Paris. I’ve only been once; it’s crumbling and in need of upkeep. I allow the local villagers to use it as an inn from time to time, but it’s usually vacant. We’ll have a safe place to stay outside of the city.”