Henry Hunter and the Beast of Snagov

by John Matthews

  I had a sudden, powerful desire to apologise. For being there. For shining a light on her. For existing. Finally I managed to get some words out, “My friend. He’s down there. Can you help us?”

  “It’s amazing you’ve survived this long,” she said. She leaned forward with her hands on her hips, and peered down into the hole. “You down there. Where are you exactly?”

  If Henry was surprised to hear a girl’s voice he didn’t sound it. “I’m in a kind of chamber. About ten metres down, I think.”

  “Can you see a stone that’s a different colour from the rest? Just above your head?”

  “Hang on a minute,” Henry’s voice echoed. Down in the darkness I saw another match flare briefly.

  “I see it,” Henry called, still sounding very calm despite the situation.

  “Good. Press it,” ordered the girl.

  I heard the sound of stone scraping against stone, which went on for a minute then stopped.

  “It’s a hidden door,” Henry said, quite matter-of-factly. But then he was used to this kind of adventure – nothing much shocked Henry Hunter. “And… a passageway.”

  “Follow it,” the girl told him. “It will bring you out onto the side of the mountain. We’ll meet you there.”

  “Okay,” said Henry. “See you in a bit.” Then he added, “Everything all right up there, Dolf?”

  “Um… I think so!” I called back.

  “He thinks so,” muttered the girl. “How like a boy.”

  “See you soon, Henry,” I called into the darkness, but there was no answer. Henry had already gone.

  BELLA

  I followed the girl as best I could, though she moved with surprising speed – despite never seeming to break into a run – and I was hampered by my rucksack. I felt glad that the moon, almost full, had appeared from behind the cover of clouds. By its light I could see well enough to avoid falling over.

  In what seemed no more than a few minutes we arrived at a place where a couple of hardy trees grew out of the mountain. The girl slowed to a stop, reached out and pulled aside a curtain of branches, revealing a dark hole leading into the mountain. I wondered if we were going in, but then I heard the scuffle of footsteps, and Henry emerged.

  Unusually for HH, he looked a bit the worse for wear. He had cobwebs and leaves in his hair, his jacket was torn at the shoulder and I spotted a cut on the side of his face that oozed a trickle of blood.

  “That was impressive,” Henry said, beaming. “How did you know the passage was there?”

  The girl narrowed her eyes as if she didn’t particularly like what she saw. “I live around here, silly boy,” she said simply.

  “Well, thanks anyway.” Henry stuck out a hand. “My name’s Henry, by the way, and this is Dolf.”

  “Bella,” snapped the girl, ignoring Henry’s proffered handshake. “You shouldn’t be in this place after dark. It’s not safe.”

  “You mean, because of the vampires?” said Henry, his voice steady.

  The girl hesitated before she answered, and I thought I saw a gleam of laughter in her eyes. “Many different kinds of creature live in these mountains,” she said, avoiding the question. “It is not wise to be out here.”

  “You don’t seem to mind,” said Henry.

  I glanced between the two of them, not sure where this conversation was going.

  Bella frowned. “That’s because I know the place and the place knows me. My family have lived around here for a long time.”

  “Well, in that case, do you have any idea what this means?” Henry pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. As he passed it over I caught a glimpse of a roughly-sketched drawing. It depicted people with either spears or swords attacking a huge worm-like creature with a long spiked tail that spat fire.

  Bella’s reaction was instant. Her face clouded with anger and she rattled off a whole series of sentences in what I assumed was Rumanian. Then, not knowing Henry was actually pretty fluent, she seemed to realise who we were and switched to English.

  “Where did you find those?” she demanded, staring so hard at Henry that I thought he might actually burst into flames.

  Of course HH wasn’t fazed. “They were scratched onto the walls of the well shaft,” he said. “While I was down there I copied them. I thought they might be useful.”

  “Useful for what?” said the girl.

  “It’s a long story,” answered Henry.

  Bella folded her arms and continued her stare. In the moonlight her eyes seemed to glow again. “So tell me,” she said.

  I could see Henry weighing up whether or not to be truthful. I have to admit I was quite surprised when he told her how our journey began, with the Unbelievable Times article. Henry sketched our adventures briefly, and when he mentioned Whitby Bella’s eyes flickered – she clearly recognised it, but said nothing. But I noticed he did not mention the mysterious attackers in Whitby, or the strange events at the restaurant yesterday.

  When he finished, Bella stared at him in silence for a moment. Then she looked away, up towards the castle and then at the moon, which was lower in the sky now.

  “It will be dawn soon. I must go home.” She looked at both of us intently and said, “You should not be here. It is not safe. Go back where you came from.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that – not till we find out what’s going on.” Henry fixed his eyes on her. “Why have you been following us?”

  Good old Henry, direct as ever.

  At first I thought Bella wasn’t going to answer. Then she suddenly laughed, a surprisingly pleasant sound in the darkness.

  Just as quickly, she went back to frowning again.

  “I was curious. Two English boys, wandering about my country, asking questions about vampires. Coming up here, after dark, alone. You are either very stupid or very brave – I cannot decide which.”

  Henry flashed his famous grin, and pushed his hair back from his brows. “So what can you tell us about the pictures at the bottom of the well?” he asked.

  “Not now,” replied Bella. “It is better for us all if we leave this place.” She seemed a bit uneasy and kept glancing at the sky as if looking for something.

  “I will guide you down the mountain to the road,” she continued. “I hope your man with the car will return for you at dawn.”

  “Perhaps we can talk later?” Henry persisted.

  “Perhaps,” Bella responded, glancing at the sky again.

  Maybe because we were going downhill or perhaps because Bella knew the way better than us, we were soon standing by the roadside. There was no sign of Mr Antonescu. I wasn’t surprised. I glanced at my watch – it was almost four a.m. Suddenly I felt tired. We had been on the mountain for most of the night and at that moment the idea of a shower, a hot chocolate and a warm bed seemed more important than solving any mystery.

  “Take my advice. Go away from this place,” the girl said to us again.

  Then she was gone, so suddenly that neither of us could see where or how she went.

  “Well, she wasn’t very friendly,” I said.

  “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t get out much,” answered Henry thoughtfully. “Did you notice the strange dialect of Rumanian she spoke when she got angry? Really old-fashioned. A bit like if you or I spoke medieval English.”

  I was still thinking that a) I had no idea what dialect the girl spoke, and b) how weird it would be if HH and I started spouting some old language, especially as I was pretty terrible at anything other than basic English, when there was a sudden rush of footsteps. Before we could react, about a dozen dark figures surrounded us. I tried to stay calm even as I noticed they all had nunchuks in their hands and one carried what looked like a rather big knife.

  Not this lot again, I thought, steeling myself for a repeat of the punching and kicking we’d received in Whitby.

  But to my surprise we were spared, because a brilliant light suddenly illuminated the scene, accompanied by a noise loud enough to wake any un-dead
vampires who might have been hanging around. I just had time to see that the girl who’d just left us was straddling a large black motorbike before all hell broke loose.

  The bike skidded to a stop and Bella leapt gracefully from the saddle, leaving the engine running. She hit the group of startled attackers like a sledgehammer, scattering them in all directions. Cries. Yells. Screams. Henry and I just stood there staring as the slender girl waded into the gang like a knife into a block of cheese.

  It was then that both they and we spotted Bella’s fine set of fangs, and eyes that blazed with light.

  In the heat of the realisation, I couldn’t help but shout out, “She’s a vampire!”

  The attackers who were still standing saw Bella’s face clearly in the light from her motorbike, and they reacted exactly as you’d expect. More cries. More screams. More yells. I distinctly heard one man shout, “The Count’s daughter is among us!” Then they fled, with those who could racing away, and those who’d received Bella’s punches and kicks limping or staggering off into the darkness.

  As quickly as it began, the attack was over. Bella returned to her bike, hauled it on to its stand and switched off the engine. The night was suddenly very quiet, though I could almost hear Henry’s mind ticking over as he struggled to decide what to ask about first.

  In the end he settled on a rather shaky, “Thank you. That’s twice you’ve saved us.”

  Bella shrugged. “I told you to go home,” she said. The fangs had vanished – withdrawn, just like in the movies – and her eyes were clear blue again. I found this comforting since I assumed it meant we were not about to be attacked, but at the same time I saw again the small trickle of blood on Henry’s face.

  Bella must have caught me looking, because she began to laugh. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t attack you. I gave all that up two hundred years ago.”

  Henry and I both chuckled – a bit hysterically – while Bella leaned against her bike and studied us seriously.

  “Who exactly are you?” Henry managed at last.

  “Bella Dracul,” she answered without hesitation. “The only daughter of Prince Vlad Dracula.”

  I goggled, trying to take this in. I had no doubt she was telling the truth. Meanwhile Henry’s logical mind kicked in.

  “I thought vampires couldn’t have children.”

  “My father was not always a vampire,” returned Bella.

  “But…” I just about found my voice as questions still ran around my head.

  “It is a mistake everyone makes. Tourists! Film people! What do they know? Always coming here in search of clues.”

  “You mean there was another vampire before Dracula?” I asked.

  “Of course. Many more. All of them are gone now. Or else are in hiding, like me.”

  Henry was surprisingly quiet, but I had been doing the maths. “If you’re Vlad Dracula’s daughter you must be… over five hundred years old!”

  Bella tossed her head. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a girl her age?” she said with a smile, then her eyes turned serious. “I was born in 1461, not far from here. My mother was a mortal, like my father at that time. It was only later that he…” She paused, as if she didn’t want to say the words.

  “You mean that your father… made you a vampire?” said Henry, breaking the silence.

  Bella gave a quick nod, and I thought I detected something like sadness on her pale face. She looked up at the sky again. The first edge of greenish light was creeping above the mountains. “I must be gone from here. It will be dawn soon and that at least is one story that’s true – my kind cannot be out in sunlight. But don’t worry, I do not think those people will be back in a hurry. I will come to you tomorrow night and we will talk some more.”

  And with that the girl who was Dracula’s daughter climbed back onto her bike, started the engine and roared off into the night.

  MORE ABOUT THE BEAST

  Henry and I didn’t talk much after Bella left us to wait for Mr Antonescu. We were both exhausted and I could see that HH was digesting the information we had gathered that night.

  “Who do you think they are – that lot in black?” I ventured at one point.

  “No idea. But I’ll tell you one thing – they knew who Bella was. The real question is, Dolf, not who they are but what they want with us.”

  I frowned at Henry, wondering if that fall down the well had affected his brain. “Um, well, I’m guessing they aren’t exactly friendly, since they keep attacking us.”

  “Perhaps,” mused Henry. “But that was before they knew we were friends with Bella Dracul.”

  “Friends,” I repeated. I supposed we were. But the idea was so enormous – that we were actually friends with Dracula’s daughter – that it silenced me. Then again, were we really? Friends, I mean? Actual friends? Or was there another reason why Bella had helped us?

  Mr Antonescu returned for us an hour after Bella had left. He looked surprised to find us still alive, but although I could tell he really wanted to ask about our night, he drove in silence. We were soon checking in to another of those tourist-friendly hotels he seemed to like. Henry and I fell into our beds with barely a word spoken.

  When I woke, the sun was already low in the sky – I’d slept for most of the day. As usual Henry was up before me. I found him in the dining room working his way through a plate of eggs and bacon. I was starving, I realised, and ordered a double English breakfast with extra sausages, which they produced with a smile despite the fact that it was long past breakfast time. There was no sign of Mr Antonescu – Henry told me he had gone off to put some more petrol in the car.

  “He’s really bursting to know what happened,” said Henry. “But of course we mustn’t tell him. It’s Bella’s secret.”

  What I was more concerned about was how we were going to talk to Bella again without Mr Antonescu finding out.

  I needn’t have worried.

  We heard the rumble of the car as our guide returned from his trip, but he went off to bed without even looking in on us. About five minutes after the sun had set, as Henry and I were sitting in our room, we became aware that we were not alone. One minute we were pouring over Henry’s strange drawings from the well, and the next Bella was sitting in a chair next to us, looking at us with those strange, intense eyes. Neither of us had any idea how she got in, though I was busy imagining coils of mist seeping under the door, as I’d seen in all the best Dracula movies.

  “Still here then?” she said.

  “Afraid so,” answered Henry. “We’re hoping you can give us a heads up on some of this mystery. It’s the best way to get rid of us,” he added, grinning.

  “Then I suppose I have no choice,” said Bella, with a straight face but a glint of laughter in her eyes. “But first I want to know exactly what’s happened to you – ever since you decided to follow that mention of vampires in the newspaper,” she demanded.

  “It’s a long story,” said Henry.

  Bella folded her arms.

  “I have all night,” she said.

  So Henry (with occasional additions from yours truly) told her the whole story this time, right from the moment he had read the article in the Unbelievable Times to the previous night’s escapade. Bella listened closely until Henry finished his account. Then she sat back in her chair and crossed her leather-clad legs.

  “So who do you think these people are – the ones who keep making your lives so difficult?” she asked.

  “I was hoping you could tell us,” said Henry.

  “I have no idea,” said Bella. She frowned. “They must know what you’re doing here because they knew about the manuscript and where to find it. And they must have been following you, because they found you last night.”

  “I thought it was you who was following us,” I put in.

  Her blue eyes looked right through me. “Only for the last few days. I heard about two English schoolboys asking funny questions and thought I’d better check you silly boys out.”<
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  “So it was you at Cimpulung,” said Henry. “Our invisible visitor!” He frowned. “Sorry about the Holy Water.”

  Bella shrugged in reply, and smiled, which made her face a lot nicer; then she seemed to realise what she was doing and stopped.

  “It only stings a little,” she said. “I wanted to scare you off.”

  “Why?” asked Henry.

  “Far too many people come around here, poking about, thinking they can prove vampires exist – or that they don’t. Tourists. Film people. Always wanting to know about the ‘evil’ Count Dracula. Sometimes I like to give them something to really think about.”

  “I promise we aren’t trying to prove anything,” said Henry. “All I want to do is find out the truth about the Snagov Beast.”

  Bella’s face changed at once. Her eyes widened – as if she was both angry and even a bit afraid.

  “You want nothing to do with that,” she said sharply.

  “So you’ve heard of it?” Henry said calmly.

  Bella closed her eyes briefly, and then replied. “There have been rumours for many hundreds of years about something terrifying living in the mountains. My father mentioned it once, but even he seemed afraid. He warned me never to go anywhere near Snagov.”

  “But isn’t that where your father’s… um… grave is?” I blurted.

  “Yes,” Bella said bluntly. “But I do not go there, and I have already told you not to either.”

  Henry was looking thoughtful. “It could be the best way to get some answers.”

  Bella glared at both of us. “Listen to me,” she said. “You are both just silly boys. In this country we take vampires seriously – for you it is just an adventure! My advice is that you go home as soon as you can and forget all about this place and what you have seen. In any case, I no longer want to talk about this.”

  Before either of us could say another word, she simply melted away into a drift of greenish smoke.