Realm of Night (Mina Murray Book 3)

by L. D. Goffigan

  Trepidation over the looming confrontation with Bathory and happiness over my engagement to Abe battled for dominance in my heart, but I chose to focus on the happiness for now. True happiness had been limited since I’d become involved in the war. I wanted to relish in it for as long as I possibly could.

  We decided to not tell the others about our engagement until after the attack on Bathory, though I longed to share the news with Gabriel and Emma.

  Yet I continually underestimated the perceptive nature of vampires. Gabriel, Emma, and Anara studied us intently when we joined them at one of the tables for breakfast the next morning.

  “What happened between you two?” Anara asked, her eyes narrowed. “Do not deny it—there is something different.”

  I couldn’t halt the grin that spread across my face at her words. I glanced at Abe, and he gave me a rueful nod.

  “Abe and I are engaged,” I said. Speaking the words out loud infused my heart with happiness.

  “It’s bloody well time!” Seward said, getting to his feet with a teasing smile. “I knew the first moment I saw you two in Arthur’s drawing room that you belong together.”

  I returned his smile as he embraced both me and Abe. Gabriel approached, enfolding me in a warm embrace.

  “After this is all over,” Gabriel said to Abe, when he released me, “make my sister happy. Mina deserves all the happiness in the world.”

  Abe smiled, giving Gabriel a nod of assent as Emma moved forward to embrace us both.

  “Felicitations,” she said, beaming. “You already seem as if you have been together for many years.”

  “Hold on to each other….love each other well,” Anara said, when Emma had stepped aside. “Human life passes in the blink of an eye. Savor every moment,” she added, her eyes flickering briefly over to Seward.

  “We will,” I promised, moved by her words.

  We gathered round the table to share a congratulatory toast of ale. I beamed at my friends, wishing I could preserve this happy moment in time.

  But we had to get to the matter at hand, and began to discuss our plans for the attack on Bathory as we sat down to eat.

  “You can’t possibly attack Bathory on your own,” Emma breathed, when Anara proposed approaching Bathory’s manor without the members of the Order.

  “The Order should have arrived by now,” Anara said, her brow furrowing with worry. “There is the possibility they’ve backed out due to cowardice—or they've been attacked by Bathory’s followers. We may have no choice. If we can—”

  A sudden pounding on the church doors interrupted her.

  We were instantly on our feet. Abe, Seward, and I reached for our weapons, while Anara and Gabriel moved into protective stances in front of us. Behind us, Emma stumbled back, her hand flying to her heart.

  A desperate sob came from the other side of the door.

  “Anara! It is Rudella—from Berlin! Please let me in—they have killed the others!”

  I lowered my kukri, but Anara looked suspicious.

  “Your scent is odd. What is our secret phrase? The phrase we decided on in Berlin?” Anara demanded.

  Rudella’s weeping only increased.

  “Anara, please! I—I don’t—“

  “Anara, perhaps—“ I hesitantly began, but she silenced me with a look.

  “The phrase, Rudella!”

  “Deya shir imel fin,” Rudella cried. "Please—Bathory's ferals killed everyone! Let me in!"

  Anara shoulders relaxed. She moved to the door, unbolting it and swinging it open.

  My heart plummeted in my chest at the sight that greeted us.

  Rudella was held in the arms of a towering female vampire…Elizabeth Bathory. With her black dress and cloak, she looked as if she’d stepped directly from a nightmare. Rudella’s eyes were wild; she looked as if she wanted to scream, but she did not move. Her words must have been forced from her by Bathory.

  The room seemed to tilt on its axis as Bathory twisted Rudella’s neck, and her lifeless body fell to the ground.

  Before we could attempt to strike out at her, Bathory paralyzed us all with a simple look, and our weapons fell from our hands.

  24

  FEAR

  Bathory entered the church, stepping over Rudella’s body as if she were discarded waste, her dark eyes sweeping over each of us with amusement.

  “I have known you were coming for me since you left France. Did you truly think I would be as easy to kill as those impetuous fools, Vlad and Aurel?” she asked, her powerful voice dominating the church.

  She stalked towards us; a snake approaching her helpless prey. She reached me and stopped, surveying every inch of me. Up close, I could see just how striking she was; ageless ivory skin, a heart-shaped face framed by flowing auburn waves, a full mouth that was now curved into a bemused smile, sparkling obsidian eyes. The coppery scent of blood emanated from her; if I wasn’t paralyzed I would have recoiled from the smell.

  “As much as I enjoy killing, I enjoy making new children even more. New loyal followers. Wilhelmina,” she continued, her eyes intent on mine. “You fascinate me. A mere human woman who has killed so many of my kind. What Skala did to you…it was typical of his lowly nature. There are more creative ways to get into your mind. More…enjoyable ways.”

  My heart pummeled against my ribcage, icy fear coursing throughout my body as she continued to gaze at me. Though I was terrified, I prayed that she would drink from me. If she were weakened, we’d be released from her thrall and could attack all at once.

  Instead, she leaned forward, pressing her blood red lips to mine. A wave of revulsion rolled through me at her touch, but it was soon replaced by an odd sense of calm.

  I watched in a daze as she did the same to the others, pressing her lips to each of theirs in a kiss. I tried to keep my eyes open, but a great fatigue had settled over me, and the church gave way to blackness.

  I AWOKE IN A WINDOWLESS ROOM, sitting up with a strangled gasp.

  Shaking, I looked around. The room was bare—nothing but wooden floors and walls. It was too upscale to be a cell; both the floor and walls gleamed as if they’d recently been cleaned. It could have once served as a library or private study.

  My limbs were stiff and heavy, I had to force myself to my feet. I stumbled to the door, turning the fine brass knob, but it was locked from the outside. Though I knew it was futile, I hurled myself against the door, hoping to somehow dislodge it.

  The door did not budge.

  I stepped back, my breathing ragged with panic. Where were the others? Why hadn’t Bathory killed us on sight? I thought of her words in the church. I enjoy making new children.

  Was it her intention to change us? Despite the horrifying possibility, a tiny flicker of hope sprang forth. If so, she would drink from me.

  A wave of dizziness suddenly hit me, the same dizziness I’d experienced in the church before I blacked out, and the room around me once again faded away.

  This time, there was no void of blackness. Instead, I found myself standing in a familiar-looking forest. I looked around, frantic. Was this in my mind—or was it truly happening? A torturous moan from a clearing up ahead pulled me from my panicked thoughts.

  I recognized the moan. It had reverberated throughout my nightmares for years.

  I stumbled towards the clearing, my hands flying to my mouth at the sight that greeted me.

  My father’s dying body lay in a pool of his own blood, his brown eyes weakly meeting mine. Grief seized me as I rushed forward, sinking to my knees at his side. Every feature of his face was as I’d remembered; from his brown eyes to the lines around his mouth. He looked so real. How was this happening?

  “Mina…” he rasped. “Why did you not save me?”

  It was the same words I’d uttered to myself over the years, whenever my guilt outweighed my grief. Heartbroken, I began to weep.

  “I should have stopped you…I think of you every day. I’m sorry, Father…”

  I clo
sed my eyes as I reached for his limp hand, sobs wracking my body. My father’s hand slipped from mine.

  When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the forest clearing. I was now in a small cottage.

  Directly in front of me, lying in the center of the floor, was my mother.

  She was naked, bleeding and bruised, curled up in a protective ball. Several vampires, including Matyas, stood around her, their fangs dripping with what I suspected was her blood.

  “Please…” my mother wept, looking up at them, her face beaten beyond recognition. “No more. Kill me. Please…”

  Rage paired with grief flooded every part of me at the sight. She begged for her life, Matyas had once told me. I was witnessing the last moments of my mother’s life. Was this a nightmare? A memory?

  I was now unable to move, and no one seemed to be aware of my presence. I could only watch with dread as Matyas sank down onto his haunches, baring his fangs.

  “As you wish, Ghyslaine,” he hissed.

  I tried to cry out, but unable to move, I could only watch as Matyas sank his fangs into my mother’s throat, draining the remaining life from her body.

  The cottage faded away, and I was in the cellar where Skala had tortured me, chained to the wall.

  I looked up, terrified. Skala stood opposite me, a twisted smile on his face as he lunged at me, wrapping his hands around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. I fought him, struggling to breathe, but I soon ran out of air, the cellar growing dim around me.

  And then I was standing in the drawing room of my home back in London. I reached for my throat, but no traces of bruises from Skala’s hands marred my skin.

  I stilled when I heard a scream from upstairs. It was Clara.

  I raced out of the drawing room and up the stairs, halting in my tracks. Clara lay dead on the hallway floor, a feral vampire hungrily feasting from her throat.

  “Clara!” I wept, darting towards them, but I found myself in the study of Abe’s home in Amsterdam.

  I pressed my hands to my temples, disoriented. None of this is real, I told myself. You are in a thrall. Bathory has done something to your mind.

  The thought did not quell my lingering despair over all I’d just witnessed. I turned towards the doorway, dreading what I would find here, when I saw Bathory and Abe.

  She stood in the doorway behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist as if they were lovers, her eyes focused on mine with a feral intensity. Abe looked dazed, blinking at me in confusion.

  “No—“ I began, but in a flash Bathory reached up, placing her hands on both sides of his head, and jerked it to the left with a thunderous crack.

  Abe sank to the floor, dead.

  I screamed. The grief that coursed through me was so wrenching that I sank to my knees, unable to tear my eyes from the body of the man I loved.

  “No,” I sobbed, ignoring Bathory completely as I crawled forward, resting my head on his still body. “Abe—“

  “He is gone,” Bathory said, her voice light as air as she looked down at me. “You have no one. No one but me.”

  “This is not real,” I gasped, lifting my head from Abe’s chest. “None of this is truly happening.”

  “Your lover is dead. Like your parents. Like everyone you love,” Bathory continued, as if I had not spoken at all. “You have no one.”

  “Stop,” I pleaded, shutting my eyes against the sight of her, the horrifying sight of Abe’s dead body. “Please—enough! Enough!”

  But it did not stop.

  Like clockwork, I was once again in the forest over Father’s dead body. The cottage with my dying mother. The cellar with Skala. London with Clara. Amsterdam with Abe. Over and over again; a nightmarish litany of my worst fears. I don’t know how often I lived through each torturous scene; I couldn’t close my eyes to block out the images, and nothing I did changed the outcome. It was far worse than any physical torture Bathory could have inflicted. After sobbing over Abe’s dead body for what seemed like the hundredth time, I longed for death.

  When I again found myself in the forest where Father died, I forced myself to calm down and think.

  Every monster has a weakness.

  But so did every human. Bathory was using mine against me. While we were unconscious, she must have probed our minds, unearthing our greatest fears.

  Mine was loss, had always been loss. Loss had been a part of my life since Mother died when I was a child. If Abe and my friends were undergoing the same torture, they were also living through their greatest fears.

  This had to be the reason why Bathory had so many loyal followers. She broke them down until she made them her own.

  Not me, I thought, feeling a sudden surge of determination as I once again watched Abe die. I would not allow her to succeed with me. In order to fight back against this mental torture, I would have to overcome my greatest fear. I would have to face my loss rather than try to fight against it.

  When I again found myself in the forest, I moved towards my groaning Father. I sank to my knees, taking his hand in mine.

  “I miss you every day, and I love you so,” I whispered. “Your death has haunted me. But I must let it go, Father. It’s the only way I can defeat the monsters who took you and Mother away from me.”

  As I watched my father’s eyes flutter shut, a deep sense of acceptance settled over me. I braced myself for the next scene, for the cottage where Mother was tortured…but instead I found myself in the windowless room I’d first woken up in.

  Astonished, I looked around. Had I somehow broken the thrall?

  I took a breath, remaining focused. I needed to stay alert. I needed to stay in the present before Bathory’s thrall pulled me back into my mind.

  Yanking back my sleeve, I raked my fingernails over my skin so roughly that they drew blood. I cried out at the pain, but hoped it would be enough stimulus to keep me in the present.

  I moved over to the left wall, praying that the others were in adjacent rooms. I knocked on the wall.

  “Abe? Gabriel?” I shouted. “Seward? Anara? Emma? It’s Mina!”

  There was no response. I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against the wall, fighting back a wave of frustrated tears.

  “Mina?”

  It was Abe’s voice. My heart leapt with joy at the sound. The image of his death had been so potent, there was some part of me that feared it was real.

  “Yes, Abe. It’s Mina,” I shakily replied. “I know what she’s doing. She’s using our fears against us. To keep your bearings, you must keep talking to me…or inflict pain on yourself. And you must face whatever horrible thing you are seeing...you must not fear it. It is the only way.”

  “You—you are not real,” Abe said, his voice strangled and broken. “I—I saw her kill you. She ripped your heart from your chest. I could not stop it.”

  “No,” I said, my heart breaking at the desolation in his tone. “It is me. I am real. You need to—“

  “Please—leave me be. Mina is gone,” Abe said, his voice catching on a sob.

  “Abraham Van Helsing,” I said sharply. “I am real and alive, and I fully intend to stay that way. We have a marriage and a lifetime to look forward to. It does not end here. Do you understand? It will not end here!”

  There was a silence that stretched for so long I began to worry.

  “Mina? My heart,” Abe breathed. “It is you…”

  “Yes. She is trying to break us—to turn our minds against us. You have to stay alert and present. Whatever you are seeing—face it. Do not let fear consume you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Abe replied, his tone steady now.

  “Can you knock on your opposite wall? I believe we are being held in adjacent rooms. Tell whoever is in the next room to do the same.”

  “I will,” he promised. “Mina?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  I took a moment to savor the warmth that spread through me at his words. My fear of loss was intimately tied to love;
I’d already lost my parents, the two people I loved most in the world. But my fear had been a weakness; I needed it to be a strength. I needed to use it as a tool to survive. Now, I allowed the love for Abe, my brother, and my friends to flow through me, increasing my determination.

  “And I you,” I whispered.

  I moved over to the opposite wall. I still didn’t know how we were going to get out of our predicament, but having our wits about us was a start.

  When I knocked on the opposite wall, Gabriel’s tormented voice responded. Like Abe, he didn’t believe I was real, and it took some time to convince him.

  “Did you see her?” Gabriel whispered, when I finally got through to him. “Did you see our mother? What they did to her—“

  “Yes. I—I saw everything. I know it is difficult—but do not give in to your pain and grief. Accept what is happening…has happened. If you succumb to your fears, she has won, and she can keep you trapped in your mind.”

  After I urged him to knock on the adjacent wall, the room around me began to fade. Panicked, I again raked my fingernails over the flesh of my arm, drawing more blood. It worked, the pain seemed to keep me in the present, and the room became solid.

  I walked back over to the opposite wall.

  “Abe!” I cried. “Abe—we need to talk to each other. It can help keep us present. Abe!”

  “I am here,” he said weakly.

  “I knew I loved you when I first saw you in Father’s study,” I said, seizing upon any happy memory that I could. “I was only fifteen then…but somehow I knew. Do you remember? I could barely meet your eyes.”

  “I thought you were shy,” Abe replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “How wrong I was.”

  “I was terrified you would meet a suitable woman and get married. I even asked Father if you were courting anyone,” I continued, resting my head against the wall. “I remember how happy I was when you first told me you loved me. I was afraid my love would be unrequited.”

  “Never,” Abe swiftly replied. “You are the only woman I have ever loved.”

  We continued to talk—about the very first trip we had taken with Father, the first time I had shown him around London, the first time he had shown me around Amsterdam, and other joyful times from our shared past.