Mina Part 30

I

Soon after Gance abandoned Mina, Van Helsing received a wire from Jonathan informing him that Mina was returning to Castle Dracula. Jonathan also wrote he would post doc.u.ments that would explain a great deal about her decision.

Van Helsing had no patience for the mails. He wired back, asking for details immediately.

The following day, a messenger from the telegraph office came to his door carrying a thick envelope. "I am to tell you that this is no message, but a d.a.m.ned epistle," the man told him. "And a strange one at that."

Van Helsing pulled out the pages. There, in its entirety, was the Countess Aliczni's story and a longer communication from Jonathan giving details of Mina's apparent breakdown, Ujvari's death and the Sebescues' attack.

Once, Van Helsing and Ion Sebescue had been allies in the struggle against the undead, and friends as well. Then Sebescue had lost his daughter and a good part of his sanity to the creatures in the Borgo. As soon as he had recovered from the shock of the girl's death, he had taken his son to England to start a fresh life. Had the memory of the creatures gnawed at Ion's reason even after so many years? Age could be to blame, for Sebescue's mind had been slipping when Van Helsing saw him a decade ago. As for the son, being raised with such bitterness could have accounted for his own obsession. After all, it was the poor child's sister that the vampires had consumed.

He raised his gla.s.s of slivovitz in a silent toast to the tragic family. As he reached for the bottle to pour another shot, he realized how much he had drunk.

"Fool!" he bellowed to himself. "Fool! You have sat here waiting for something to happen. It was exactly the laziness those monsters wanted." With a sweep of his arm, Van Helsing pushed the gla.s.s and bottle off the table. The contents of both dripped slowly across the already filthy floor, in a clear sweet puddle.

Van Helsing's clothes and books, and the journals he had kept of his work, had long since been crated for shipping back to Amsterdam. Yet he had remained here, doing none of the work he had come for, indeed doing nothing at all in the last month but drinking. At first, it had been in the company of others; lately, he drank alone, and the little house that was supposed to have been a refuge had slowly turned into a cell. There was nothing keeping him here, yet he could not leave.

As soon as he'd finished the reading, Van Helsing wired a message to the hotel in Varna asking Mina to come to him. Afterward, he went home and stared at his reflection in the little wall mirror he used for shaving. He looked younger than he felt, and the two- day stubble on his chin gave him an uncivilized air.

He shaved. He washed. He put on clean clothes. Mina was coming. He had to be ready. There was work to do.

Days pa.s.sed, but his belief did not waver. Mina had a choice, even now. Though Jonathan hinted that her blood was still tainted by Dracula's, her will was strong. She would come.

And so he was neither disappointed nor surprised to see her standing at the end of his walk one evening, the brilliant setting sun painting golden highlights in her hair. He threw open the door and went outside, taking her hand, staring into her eyes.

"It isn't over," she said. "Do you feel it too?"

"I thought I was just an old man who had to have an enemy if he wished to survive," he said. "You were always the perceptive one. You saw the truth." He turned and went inside, noting carefully how she followed him without any need of invitation.

II

May 6, Bukovina. When I saw the inside of Van Helsing's house, I had the urge to cry, Mina wrote. Van Helsing, who has always been scrupulously neat about himself and his work, now lives surrounded by filth. There were dust b.a.l.l.s in the corners, dishes on the sideboard caked with moldy food. The few books he possessed were stacked on the single bookshelf, many with their spines turned inward. Saddest of all was the fact that, in spite of the mess, his bed was made and the table in the center of the room was clear and washed. He had known I was coming and prepared. What would the place have looked like if he'd had no warning of my visit?

I sat at the table. He sat across from me. I was afraid that he would touch me. Aware of the dangers I would ask him to face, I felt terribly guilty and I took his hands. As I did, I looked at his face and saw, in his eyes, the same concern I had seen in Brother Sandor's as he had spoken to me.

"Whatever still lives at Castle Dracula will not rest until we go there," I told the professor. "Jonathan feels it too. I know he does, but he has his work to keep his mind off the compulsion. I have nothing. "

Nothing but Gance, I thought, and he gave respite for only a little while. "I am the life the creatures crave. I am the one who can appease their hunger, and I can never rest until I face them again. "

"If you knew all this, why didn't you write me? I would have come. I would have translated the journal, and tragedy would not have been necessary," he said.

"I held Lucy's death against you. I still do, but I understand that need to protect. I have done the same with Jonathan. "

"You are a strong woman," Van Helsing said.

I heard the caution in his voice, as if even my admission of past anger frightened him. "And Lucy was not, is that what you are telling me?"

There were tears in his eyes as he began to answer. "Yes, Madam Mina, Lucy was not. I would not go with her to the Borgo Pa.s.s, not once but twice. I would not place my life in her hands as I do in yours. As for Lucy, I have prayed .

for her soul, and for mine for what I did to her. It is all I can do." He began to cry openly.

I kissed his hands, and then, because it seemed so right, I embraced him as a daughter would a father. We held on to one another until we were both in control once more.

"If we are to go tomorrow, I must prepare," he said. "There is a priest here in Varna who will bless hosts and water for me. It is best that this be done tonight."

Holy water! What good would water do in the face of a need for blood? "They are no use to us," I said. "Leave them."

"What will we use if not those?" he asked simply.

"Nothing," I said. "We will go armed with faith."

"Madam Mina! It is suicide."

I shook my head. "There are things you must know before we leave."We talked the rest of the day. When I had finished, he asked simply, "You do not need me. Why did you come for me?"

I answered with the truth. "I was afraid to go alone ... No, not that my resolve would falter but that someone would stop me before I reached the castle."

"Madam Mina," Van Helsing replied gravely. "I will take you there, and this time I will trust your judgment." There was nothing more to say. While Van Helsing made coffee, I read the final pages of the countess's translation, thinking of Gance and what he had done out of love for me.

My hope that Gance has somehow survived the meeting grows stronger. His wealth and the force of his personality would be a great temptation to the countess Karina. And if what I read is true, she and the others are still there waiting for me-my sister-kin.

I slept that night on a stack of cushions in the corner of his room. He was old, and from what I could see, far from well. I would not let him give up his bed for me.

In the morning, we spoke again and consulted Karina's translation. How odd it feels to write her name. It seems an act of intimacy, as if we are old friends. By noon we were ready to leave.

The journey has been so different from the l.u.s.t. We are on horseback rather than in a wagon. Though we brought heavy coats to keep out the nighttime chill, there is no need for furs or boots.

And the land is so green! Last winter when everything was dead and shrouded with snow, I would not have imagined such fantasy shades in needled and leafed trees, such beautiful little flowers in white and blue and bright russet covering the meadows around us.

Van Helsing says that the summer is so short that everything must bloom quickly. And die just as fast, I thought, while around us the mountains stand as a testament to time. I did not dare to tempt my resolve by thinking of parallels then. I see them only now as I sit in Bukovina, setting down this brief account while I eat my meal alone in the same inn where Gance stayed only days before.

Van Helsing, it seems, has friends here. I left him to his conversation because I do not speak the language and he was too polite to let me sit with him without translating. Before I went, I asked one question through Van Helsing. Gance looked well, I was told.

May 7. We are in sight of the castle and have stopped for one final meal before going on. We are in no rush. The creatures we have come to face awaken at dusk, and we wish to be rested. The walls, outlined by the setting sun, are black and sharp, the rocky cliffs around them treeless, flowerless, forboding. Van Helsing says it was this way before. I cannot remember. Last time I came here, I was possessed by the vampire. Now, though I am called back, I feel freer, as if the burdens of my past have been lifted from me.

Do I have a choice? Dracula said I do, but it is here that I must make it.

I paused, to stare out at the land and to let the ink on this page dry for a moment, then I looked down at my writing, so stiff, as if forced from my hand. I promised Winnie that I would let her know the outcome of this struggle-this final struggle--and I will set every detail of it down. I have all the money that Gance left for me. If I die and wake in their life, I vow to see that this journal is sent to her. And, Winnie dear, if it comes to that, see that Jonathan reads it. Even after all that has happened, I love him too much to leave him forever wondering at my end.

These seem such terrible words, yet they are not. I feel no despair, only acceptance for whatever will come. In this state of calm, the meditative state that Brother Sandor had taught me was easy to achieve, I felt the grace of G.o.d move through me as potent as blood.

May 8. The struggle has pa.s.sed. The beautiful night has come again.

I have never felt such peace.

We had just finished last evening's meal and were packing up our belongings when we saw the wolves moving silently up the winding road to the castle. They might have been coming to stop us, more likely to hurry us on. Nonetheless, Van Helsing helped me onto one of the horses. "Go up, Madam Mina," he cried. I rode furiously. At the next turn, I saw him following me, his pistol drawn. There were so many beasts chasing him that I knew he would die if he paused to make a stand.As my horse thundered into the courtyard, I heard Van Helsing following behind. I dismounted then paused, unwilling to go into the castle without him. As I stood outside, uncertain of what to do, the gates of the outer walls, huge slabs of rusted metal, began to close. A second groaning merged with their sound. The castle doors were also swinging shut.

"No!" I screamed. I would not be stopped, not after coming so far. As Van Helsing thundered through the outer gates, I ran inside. The great doors slammed behind me. Van Helsing was a prisoner outside, for what reason I did not know, and I stood trapped in the castle alone.

The great hall was dark, reeking, silent. As I stood, not certain where to go or how to light my way, the torches of the room flared of their own accord. Rats that had been gnawing at the carca.s.s of a dead horse looked up at me; then, as if sensing I was no threat to them, they returned to their feast.

I heard Van Helsing screaming my name. I went to the door and called to him, saying that I was all right. Though he pushed and I pulled, the doors would not move. I had not expected them to open. Whatever waited for me here wanted me alone.

I heard a steady, distant beating from some lace far above me. "Gance?" I screamed. The pounding stopped. I called his name again and climbed the stairs to the second floor, following the noise to a winding tower staircase, u rising black tunnel with crumbling walls. My pace slowed as, with my skirts in one hand, my other hand pressed tightly against the wall, I began a slow climb. As I did, torches flared around me as they had in the hall below. I was meant to come this way, and quickly.

Faith, I reminded myself. Accept.

I went on, and with each step the rightness of what I did became more clear. Outside the barred door at the top of the tower, I called to Gance once more.

"Mina! Is it truly you or some other trick of these creatures?"

"I've come. One moment, Gance."

I paused, my mind moving inward, silencing the turmoil of my hopes, the distraction of my fear. I performed the simple exercise as Brother Sandor had taught me. With my mind fixed only on G.o.d, I said a simple prayer of rebirth and renewal, slid back the bar and opened the door.

A pair of candles on the table gave the only light to the room. I saw no sign of fire on the hearth, no food or drink.

Gance seemed paler than I remembered him, and his eyes glowed red as he looked into the more brightly lit hall. I shuddered and reminded myself that his eyes had caught the light in this way the first night we met.

His expression was another matter. There was an intensity to it that I had never seen in Gance save in the midst of my first seduction or at the height of pa.s.sion. Now, with his hand resting on the table for support, he seemed less ready for either than for collapse.

"Gance!" I cried and moved toward him.

For an instant, his expression changed to one trapped, desperate and a little mad-an expression I would have expected from him or any mortal under the circ.u.mstances. "You came," he said. "I knew you would. "

His voice was his own yet not his own. The inflections were wrong. The way he looked at me seemed too full of need. I understood, even before he spoke, with such cold and terrible pa.s.sion. "This body must kill if it is to serve me. Mina, dearest, come willingly to me."

"Dracula."

He nodded. "And Gance," he said. "His memories are my memories, his will mine to control. I need only you to make my possession of this body complete."

"Will I live or die?" I asked.

"That is your choice," he replied and held out his hand. I went to him eagerly, kissing him, kissing Gance, accepting all the pa.s.sion of my nature. His lips moved to the side of my face, brushing my cheek, my neck.

I held him close as he bit, marveled at how even now the act of giving myself to him could create such pleasure. For that moment, I did not care if I lived or died.

Then the arms holding me fell slack, the teeth withdrew from the wound, and a shriek, more desperate than any I had ever heard, came from deep within him. As he fell, a whirlwind seemed to fill the room, reminding me of the storm that came on so suddenly the evening our little band believed that Dracula had died.

"Mina." Gance's voice, so soft in the center of the storm.

I knelt beside him. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"I saw eternity, Mina. Just for a moment, I saw it."

"I know, darling," I whispered. I said a prayer for his soul then held him close while he died. As he did, the whirlwind subsided from a storm, to a breeze, to the misty unformed presence I knew so well.

I stood. Dracula was all around me, impossible to see or to touch. "Tepes! Will you exist like this, an impotent ghost in a deserted castle?" I asked him. "You were the servant of G.o.d, the .savior of your people. You are a saint to them, even now. "

"Tepes! What is blood but life and water? This vessel is blessed by a holy man, a priest of the Orthodox faith. Your blood in me is blessed as you were once blessed before you rode into battle. Take my body. Use it to reclaim the heaven that even now you deserve. "

The mist coalesced at my feet. It whirled around mc, then vanished.

I felt him move through me, felt the drain of my life, an energy pull so much like the pull of blood I'd felt before. My,

body, blessed as it was, gave no welcome, but he remained, a warrior with no fear of pain or death, a warrior with the promise of heaven to keep his soul resolute.

"For all the years of loneliness, of d.a.m.nation, accept the sacrament I offer you, the sacrament of my body. Take it, my lord, my lover. Accept the grace of this sacred vessel to redeem your soul. End the torment for both of us. "

I expected another whirlwind, a painful good-bye. Instead he was present in me one moment, gone the next. I sat alone, beside Gance's body, crying for them both.

Karina formed in the air beside me. Though I was astonished at her beauty, I felt no enmity. We were sisters, she and I, bound by how we had been used. She looked at my tears as if she had never seen such a thing before. "You grieve for him?

No, Mina, you must not. In time, Lord Gance would have had no choice but to be as I am. No will is stronger than our power and our need.

"Still, I tried to make him one of us," she said in her beautiful voice. Her accent was quite lovely, her English almost flawless. "Tepes and I learned the language together," she said, reading my thoughts as Dracula had done.

"What will you and Joanna do now?" I asked. "Joanna." I sensed the feeling words could not convey. Joanna, always mad, had hidden herself in the caverns below the castle. On her own, she would never have the courage to leave this place. Instead she would remain, company to Illona's ghost forever. The walls would one day crumble around them, and they would haunt the land and the caves below.

Or perhaps she will eventually find the resolve to flee far enough that no one will recognize what she is. The world is full enough of half mad creatures, feeding off the lives of others. I can picture her walking the nighttime streets of Paris or London, her dark eyes and red lips luring men to the shadows and to death.

"And you?" I repeated.

"I killed Illona, the one who made me. I am free to go wherever I wish. "

I thought of the words she had written, the end she had asked for. "Shall I remain until dawn and give you death?"

"Death?" She shook her head. "If only I could live." She did not look like the others. With her golden hair, her eyes such a brilliant blue that I could see their color even in the dim light of the torch mounted on the wall, her tiny hands and bow- shaped mouth, she could have been alive. Rouge would hide the whiteness of her face, gloves the pallor of her hands. She could live anywhere now. I wanted to ask her to return to London with me.

As what? A replacement for Lucy? A friend for Winnie and me? An exotic animal to keep in my cellar as the infamous poet Rossetti had the menagerie in his yard?

No! Not the last, though the others were true enough. I held out my hand to her. She clasped it and moved close to me.

Softly, pa.s.sionlessly, she kissed my lips, then tilted my head up and back as her maker had once done to her.