Diaries Of The Family Dracul - Lord Of The Vampires Part 18

"No." He tilted his head, and looked at me with utter understanding and compa.s.sion, as if he felt my sorrowful desperation as keenly as I. "When the ma.n.u.script is lost, the power is lost, only to be gained by the next owner. She is not strong enough to defeat him directly now- but if, through skill or cunning, she obtains it again, then she will be the powerful one, and he the weak. Believe me, Elisabeth is nearby, awaiting her chance-and that is something to be greatly feared, for she is one of the strongest and wickedest of all the sholomonari."

"And what of Zsuzsanna? Does she not know of the ma.n.u.script?"

His expression became curiously veiled. "She knows. She knows almost as much as Vlad, now; and she, too, seeks the first key."

"And if she-or Vlad, or Elisabeth-solves the sixth line, and the riddle of the first and second key..." I could not bring myself to finish the statement, for the thought was too terrible to give voice.

But Arminius did. "... she will become as the Dark Lord: omniscient and omnipresent, so powerful that she controls all evil upon the earth. And if Vlad succeeds, he will have no need of covenants to prolong his immortality -and therefore, no need of your soul to buy him another generation of life. He will be as a G.o.d, able to do whatever pleases him. But until he solves the mystery, he might lose the ma.n.u.script-just as Elisabeth lost it to him. Were that to occur, he would most a.s.suredly depend upon the covenant, and your continued existence, so that he can corrupt you before your death, and thus buy himself life.

"What he did to you tonight, in choosing to kill you, was the most arrogant of errors. He is already coming to think of himself as an immortal, invincible... and that, I think, will lead to his failure." He fell silent at last, and gazed calmly at me whilst I considered his story. His last words gave me hope; but the entire tale had filled me with foreboding. My task was harder now than ever I had imagined during all those difficult years spent hunting down and destroying Vlad's evil sp.a.w.n upon the European continent. For now I had not only to kill a powerful vampire and his mate, Zsuzsanna- I had to prevent them from becoming as G.o.ds. And not only them, but the fearsome Countess of Bathory, as well.

"Arminius," I said, "you have relayed to me a disturbing tale; my duty, it seems, has grown harder than ever I imagined. Will you stay with me, and help me? And not only me"-here I gestured at the three men sitting motionless outside our sphere-"but my friends, who also are sworn to destroy Vlad?"

Again, the idiot's smile beneath the sage's eyes. "I promise you, Abraham, that I will come when I am again needed. But not before. Remember: Your task is to redeem your family from its curse; and part of that job is the difficult journey itself."

"Can you at least honour one request?"

He lifted his eyebrows, so thin and translucent white that the bright pink of his baby-skin showed beneath the hairs.

I stood up and held his gaze, intent on convincing him of this one thing. "Will you keep Miss Lucy in her tomb until morning? Vlad can no longer be restrained by talismans, and has removed them that we might not destroy her."

He said nothing; only held me with that marvellous and knowing gaze, then rose in one graceful movement to stand beside me. As I looked into his eyes, the edges of his body seemed to grow indistinct, then fade away into shadows as the sphere of light containing us suddenly dimmed.

Paler and paler he grew, until at last I stood staring at the great iron door of the Westenra tomb.

Beside me, the vile Lucy-creature hissed, spewing blood-flecked spittle, in the ellipse of light cast by my lantern. It sat on the ground where I had laid it an eternity- or only minutes- before. I sensed, rather than saw, my three friends standing behind me in a semicircle; John, I knew, was nearest, holding aloft his own silver crucifix to hold his undead beloved at bay.

Oddly, the sudden s.h.i.+ft in time did not disorient me; perhaps the recollection of my tutelage under Arminius had prepared me, for it was a trick he had often used in those long-past days. I took it as silent confirmation that he would grant me my one wish, and began at once to remove c.h.i.n.ks of Host-infused putty from the tomb door.

When I had pulled out a sufficient amount, I stepped aside and let the vampiress rush unhindered past me. Whilst the others gasped, she became two-dimensionally flat, then collapsed into a needle-thin line like a lady folding a fan. This moved through the air as an eel travels through water, though infinitely faster; in less than the blink of an eye, she had disappeared through a crack as thick as a piece of paper and no wider than my thumb.

Immediately I replaced the putty in the crevice, sealing her inside. And then I turned to my friends-all just as they had been before the Impaler's appearance, Arthur pale and trembling at the sight of his sweet Lucy so defiled, and Quincey tight-lipped and drawn, with his big freckled hand gripping Arthur's arm in support. Neither was in the least bit dishevelled, as if Vlad's attack had never happened, as if my work at the tomb door had never been interrupted.

As if Arminius had never appeared.Nor was so much as a single one of John's hairs out of place, and his expression was darkly grim and troubled, as befitted the situation. Yet when I glanced at him, he caught my gaze, so sharply and pointedly and with such poignant confusion that I knew he recollected at least some of what had pa.s.sed.

But Arthur and Quincey clearly did not. So I nodded to my companions, took my lantern, and walked over to the child she had dropped beneath the yews. He was a little street urchin, his golden hair and thin face crusted with dirt-and his neck with blood. Fortunately, we had encountered Miss Lucy just as she was beginning to drink, and so he still had some colour on his sallow little face. He had fallen from trance into a sound sleep upon the dying gra.s.s-in such cold, poor thing. I took him into my arms and said to the others, who had followed: "Let us leave him someplace warm for the police to find. He is not badly off, and by tomorrow night will be entirely well."

And so we went away. Arthur and Quincey were headed to the asylum with John, so I made the pretense of going to the hotel instead, for we had been keeping the lie that I was staying elsewhere. From there, I returned instead to Purfleet, and crept to my lonely cell under the guise of invisibility.

Dr. Seward's Diary 29 SEPTEMBER, MORNING.

It is aggravating to have to keep writing this by hand, as it takes forever and makes me feel like Neddy Ludd; I had thought to keep a separate cylinder with my "private" entries, but the chance is too great that I might make a mistake and let the wrong ears listen to information they ought not to know.

Still, I must unburden myself this morning, or go mad as poor Renfield. Too many revelations, too many heartrending emotions...

It was enough, last night, to see the dead woman that I loved turned into a slavering she- devil; that alone was more than any man could bear without going insane. And then, to see Vlad himself-far younger and stronger than described, ablaze with wicked glory-hurl my beloved professor to his death- More than I could bear, more than I could bear. And yet I bore it.

But when I saw the angelic figure save him less than a split second before his demise, I told myself: There it is, Jack; after all this time, you've finally achieved total lunacy. How convenient that home is already an asylum...

And I listened to them speak together like long-lost friends, or rather, long-lost teacher and student, with Van Helsing in my role, and the s.h.i.+ning angel in his. Oh, it is one thing to read of the occult and toy with auras and discuss theories of vampires and other noncorporeal ent.i.ties and how might one deal with one, but- Well, it is another thing altogether to jee such beings. And to then find time itself interrupted, ancj an event dispensed with. In this case, it was as though Vlad had never appeared, and I and the professor never been endangered; worse, when we had finished at the graveyard, I knew from Art and Quincey's expressions and speech that they had not seen the same impossible events as I. That was a dreadful instant, for I was convinced for the s.p.a.ce of a few seconds that I had truly gone insane. Until, that is, I looked into the professor's eyes, and saw that he knew too.

So then, it really had happened. Fortunately, neither Quince nor Art was in the mood for idle chatter after such a horribly painful evening; after I had the maid set them up in guest quarters in the private part of the house, they both went directly to their rooms.

Though by then it was almost three o'clock in the morning, I knew sleep would be quite impossible until I had answers to some troubling questions. I had no way of knowing whether the professor had returned, but I was desperate; so after a bit, when I was sure that Art, Quince, and the maid had all settled into their beds, I crept back to the asylum and went directly to the professor's cell. I knocked softly, calling: "It's John. I must speak to you."

The door swung slowly open. I could see no one inside though the lamp was dimly lit, but a soft veil of blue wavered in the air just inside the threshold. Boldly, I entered and stepped through the cerulean glimmer to find the room just the same-except that now the professor was sitting cross-legged upon the floor in his stocking feet.

He had removed his spectacles and set them upon his lap, so that his dark blue eyes seemed somehow unclothed, and the greying red-gold hair was dishevelled, as if he had been worriedly running his fingers through it. At the sight of me he sighed, replaced the spectacles, and in a weary but kindly voice, said: "h.e.l.lo, John. I suspected you might come."

I could not help being somewhat cool with him, for I felt at best very awkward, and at worst, very betrayed. "And do you also suspect what I am about to ask?"

He sighed again. As the air escaped his lungs, all his cheer, all his strength, all his bravery, seemed to leave with it, until I realised, to my discomfort and dismay, that I was looking upon a frail, heartbroken man with shadows beneath his myopic eyes. "I do not suspect; 1 know. And the answer to your question is yes, John."

"I am your son," I said, my tone flat with disbelief, as I thought: Then he is mistaken; he has forgotten all about what he shouted to Vlad, and he thinks I have come to ask about something else.

"You are my son," he said, with such quiet conviction, such tenderness, such heartfelt apology, that 1 believed him at once. Conflicting emotions a.s.sailed me: doubt, rage, love, relief. It seemed horribly, horribly wrong; it seemed horribly, horribly right.

At my distress, his expression grew concerned. "You did know, John, that you were adopted?"

"Yes," I said, my voice strained almost to breaking; to my embarra.s.sment, I was wavering on the precipice of tears. "Yes, but that's not it. I want to know why-" And at that point, my voice did break; I could say no more.

"Why I have been your friend and teacher all these years and have not told you."

I nodded blindly, blinking back tears, as he motioned me to sit.

I sat upon the cold floor. And he began to tell me a story which began long ago, when a prince named Vlad, who came to be known much later as the Impaler (Tsepesh) or the son of the Dragon (Dracula), made a bargain with the Dark Lord. Every generation that his family continued, he would offer up the soul of the eldest surviving son in exchange for continued immortality. But before that soul was offered, its owner had to have been willingly corrupted. If the sacrificial lamb died a good, honest man, then Vlad himself would lose his immortality, age, and die."My father, Arkady, was the eldest son of his generation; he died uncorrupted, but in desperation, Vlad bit him, to trap his soul between heaven and earth. Then Arkady was destroyed... and Vlad grew weaker, and older-but for some reason, did not die."

I stared at him as a revelatory thunderbolt struck; I knew the professor had only one sibling, a brother who had long ago died. "Then you-"

"I am Dracula's heir," he said bitterly. "And the eldest surviving son of my generation. You heard, I think, Arminius speak of the ma.n.u.script?"

I nodded, once again dumbstruck.

He looked away. "Only because of it did Vlad dare threaten me. John," he said, turning back to me abruptly and seizing my arms in desperation. "I swear by everything good that I would never have come here had I known of Vlad's increased powers. He was weak, failing; I was far more powerful than he, and believed my mission would be accomplished months before now. I would never have endangered you so..."

I signalled my acceptance by clasping his arms in return, but my mind had moved ahead, and was struggling to understand my own past, and my own destiny. "I-I am your eldest son, am I not? You had a little boy, who died..."

He stared down at the floor and, for the first time since I have known him, spoke in a voice thick with tears. "A little boy, whom I killed," he said, and a spasm of such intense and violent grief crossed his face that I looked away. "My Jan. My little Jan..." And he broke into such raw, wrenching sobs that I could do nothing but stare down at my lap and watch my own tears spill.

After a time, we both collected ourselves, and he continued hoa.r.s.ely, "Zsuzsanna-Vlad's niece and vampire mate-bit him, turned him into a tiny monster. I had no choice but to free him."

"So when you had another son, you sent him away," I said. "Far away, and told no one who he was."

"To protect him. But see, John"-and he spread his hands in despair-"see what has become of all my efforts to spare you the grief I have known. As the Buddhists say, it is your karma to suffer at Vlad's hands; without the vampire even knowing of your existence, he sought out and murdered your lady love."

"But your... friend, Arminius, is here to help."

"Yes." He gave a glum nod. "He is here to help. And he will help us, I think, make sure Miss Lucy is freed from the curse. But he comes when he lists, and I cannot predict when help will come again."

"Let us not worry any further until tomorrow's work is done." I pushed myself to my feet, and helped him up. By then I felt nothing for him but compa.s.sion and grat.i.tude, for I saw what a dreadful burden he has carried all his life, and carries now; I wanted nothing more at that moment than to ease it for him. I put my arms round him and said, "You know, I trust, that I have always looked upon you as a father; and now, my affection for you is doubly justified. I realise that all you have done, you have done out of love."

He was too choked to speak with words, and so returned the embrace with a squeeze. We parted in silence, with tears in our eyes, and even deeper grief in our hearts.

For a long time, as I lay in bed, sleep would not come; and in the midst of my restless turning, the bittersweet thought seized me: Dear G.o.d! That poor mad woman is my mother!

I woke to the sunlight this morning a different man; more troubled, yes, but even more resolved to rid the world of the evil that is my heritage. We are off to Lucy's tomb at mid- day, and so my first effort is almost begun.

The Diary of Abraham Van Helsing 29 SEPTEMBER, NIGHT.

It is done, thank G.o.d; dear Miss Lucy is at peace. John was right to make me let the three men who so loved Miss Lucy be present, and Arthur strike the blow that freed her. He did so with a resolve and courage-despite the gus.h.i.+ng blood and shrieking of the vile creature in the coffin-that made us all proud, and gave me hope for the coming battle. I can see they are all the better for having aided me, and surely they are worthy. Our brave little group is expanding; before John took me to the station, he received a telegram from Madam Mina saying that she would arrive shortly to stay at the asylum, and that her husband would follow the next day.

I only pray Arminius does not desert us again.

I write this on the train. I told the others that I was bound for Amsterdam, and for once, I truly am. Arminius' a.s.sistance notwithstanding, I know the most dangerous task is to come; so I go to spend a few hours at Mama's bedside, lest she survive me.

Chapter 15.

The Diary of Abraham Van Helsing 1 OCTOBER.

Returned from Amsterdam yesterday, late afternoon, to find both the Harkers, and Arthur and Quincey, moved in. It makes little sense to continue the charade that I am staying at a hotel, so I declared that I was moving in as well (but when I sleep, Jonathan and the others will be hard-pressed to find me). Everyone, it seems, has fallen quite in love with Madam Mina-including, I confess, myself. She has taken on the role of lady of the house, bringing us cups of tea and seeing to our comfort; this is all our fault, of course, because we have all lived as bachelors so long that such behaviour is irresistibly endearing. It makes John's gloomy house, filled at times with the groans and shrieks of his patients' mental anguish, seem like a cheerful home-and we the family.

As for Amsterdam: Poor Mama was no longer lucid, and barely able to sit up to eat. Most of the time she merely lies with eyes closed, and rarely converses, according to Frau Koehler.

But she had been well cared for, as she had been freshly bathed, and her bedsores lovingly cleaned and salved. The good Frau has done the impossible in preventing their spread. I thanked her most sincerely for her marvellous care-thanked her as though I might never see her again, and I think she somehow sensed it, for her eyes filled with tears. She has clearly come to love Mama, and I think it will grieve her greatly when her patient finally dies.

As I was leaving, Frau Koehler showed to me the acc.u.mulated mail, including a package which had arrived that very day from Buda-Pesth from an "A. Vambery." I could not imagine what it might contain, and so I took it to my study and opened it in private.The contents were wrapped within several layers of black silk; this both intrigued and troubled me, for I knew that only an educated occultist would take such particular care in order to prevent a magical charge from escaping the contents. Could this have been a trick of Vlad's-to expose me to some noxious spell? I decided not, for despite the protective layers, I felt a strong sense that the contents were intended not to harm, but to help.

And indeed they were: The instant I unfolded the last layer of silk, a burst of power from the contents filled the room with such pure white radiance that I actually stood and breathed deeply, feeling as though the very act cleansed lungs, body, soul.

The A. stood for "Arminius," I decided, and though he had not appeared personally, he had again provided me with help. For within lay some twenty small silver crucifixes, and an equal number of sacred wafers wrapped within a thick padding of tissue. The heavy sorrow of seeing Mama so incapacitated lifted a bit, and indeed, as I took within my hand one of the crosses and felt its power surge tingling down my arm, I felt honest joy. Arminius must have personally charged each one, for these, I knew, would be sufficient to protect my friends from harm, and to keep the Impaler at bay.

I took them with me to England, and arrived in London much more confident than I had been in many months. On the way to Purfleet in the carriage, I gave John three of the talismans: one to wear always upon his person, one to put over his bedroom window, and one over the window in Renfield's room. It was a deep relief to be able to provide protection for my friends.

That evening, the six of us met in John's study and I told the others what I wished them to know about the vampire, bearing in mind that Jonathan's loyalties were questionable.

However, I am coming to think less and less that he is under Vlad's control, for he relayed the outcome of his "research": He had tracked the fifty boxes of earth spoken of in his Transylvania diary right here to Purfleet- and the estate next door, Carfax!

The truth is sometimes too strange to believe; but when I learned of Vlad's proximity, I was gladder than ever to have Arminius' talismans in hand. Without explaining their origin or speaking of their special charge, I gave two each of the little crucifixes to Arthur and Quincey, bidding the men to hang one over their bedroom windows and wear one. I tried to do the same with the Harkers-one for the window, two for each person-but they both demurred, revealing that they were already wearing crosses round their necks. Still, I managed to press one upon them for the window, and noted with interest that Harker waited for his wife to pick it up. (Was it a vampire's influence, or merely chance?) The act did me a world of good, knowing that all would be protected-especially now that we knew Dracula was so close at hand.

By the end of our meeting, it was decided that we would rise in the wee hours next morning, and go at once to Carfax to inspect the boxes whilst Dracula was, hopefully, still prowling in the night. However, all the men were of one mind regarding Madam Mina: after Lucy's recent death, none of them could bear the thought of her endangerment, and so pressed her to remain at the house, where she would be unquestionably safe, for the front and rear doors and every window of every occupied room would be sealed with a talisman. So before we discussed our plan of attack, we dismissed her, on the grounds that we were protecting her and the less she knew, the safer she would be. This she reluctantly agreed to, especially since her husband was quite adamant, though I was of two minds about it. I did not wish to see her endangered, but also was sorry to lose one of our best minds; frankly, of all of us, Madam Mina is made of the strongest mettle.

And, as John said in his angry grief, what good had ignorance done poor Miss Lucy?

Nonetheless, Madam Mina left before we made our plans for Carfax; with her gone, we agreed to leave at four the next morning. When our gathering dispersed, I went off with John for a private conversation, for during our discussion I had noticed his especial excitement in mid-meeting, sometime after Jonathan revealed the information about Carfax.

So it was that we took our leave of the others and stole to my cell, where we could be a.s.sured of remaining unseen and unheard.

The moment I had stepped inside and closed the door, John, who had entered before me, exclaimed, "Carfax! Don't you see, Professor? It's the crossroads!"

"What?" I neared him, frowning with curiosity.

"Quatre face," he said, and when I continued to look at him askance, added, "Ah, I suppose you do not speak much French. Quatre face, the Old French for 'crossroads." That's where the name 'Carfax' comes from!"

We stared at each other as the revelation overtook me; the smile which gradually spread over my face was mirrored in John's own. "The crossroads," I said softly, "where buried treasure lies. The first key!"

He joined with me on the last three words, and we laughed with delight-gently, though, and not overlong, for Dracula had been residing there some time. What if he had already found it?

John and I agreed at once that we would both look carefully for signs whether this had happened-and in case it had not, for places where the first key might be buried. Thus we went early to bed, for I was quite exhausted (not having had a sound sleep in the past two days, as I was either in a boat, train, or carriage).

So I slept deeply but woke intensely alert around three; I dressed and made my way to John's office. He, too, rose early and met me there. By three forty-five, both Quincey and Arthur had joined us, so we waited for Harker.

Before he arrived, the attendant rushed in to tell John that Renfield was pleading to see him. I frowned, thinking that this clearly was the result of Dracula interfering with our plans, and John caught my gaze and began to tell the young man that Renfield should have to wait. But the attendant persisted: "He is more desperate than I have ever seen him, sir, and if you do not come, he will throw one of his violent fits."

So John went; and I and Quincey and Arthur joined him. To everyone's surprise, Mr.

Renfield seemed not only sane but positively elegant, making a very persuasive case that he had come to his senses at last, and begged to be let go. And he honestly seemed sane to us all, and most sincere-but John, who has dealt long with madmen, decided to observe him a period longer; and I, of course, trusted him not at all, and attributed his desperation to Dracula's influence... and the fact that the stronger talisman was indeed prevailing. Why should we free him that he might be used against us?

We left, whereupon most of Mr. Renfield's newfound composure deserted him, and he began to beg piteously for release.

By five o'clock we were at the door of the old Carfax estate, each of us with a small electric lamp affixed to his breast, and sporting one of Arminius' crucifixes-except for Mr. Harker, who wore his own. And all of us-except for Harker, whom we were all reluctant to trust- bore in our pockets pieces of Arminius' sacred Host in order to make the boxes uninhabitable to our foe. (In this way, even if Dracula were privy to Jonathan's thoughts, he would not be warned in advance of our real intention.) In addition, Arthur wore a silver whistle about his neck to call on canine a.s.sistance, if need be, for none of us doubted the old building was crawling with rats.John utilised his surgical skill and an old skeleton key to get us in the front entry, and we moved quickly inside, and soon discovered a table in the hallway containing a ring of keys.

These I gave to Jonathan, and bade him lead us to the chapel, as he was familiar enough with it to find the way. In my life, I have never seen so much dust collected in one place; in fact, the floor was buried under a carpet of dust and dirt some several inches thick, so that I could not tell whether I was walking on earth or stone or wood. Despite our desire to be as quiet as possible, lest the Impaler had abandoned his hunting early, both Arthur and John burst into a paroxysm of coughing at the throat-tickling clouds stirred up by our footsteps.

The walls, too, were covered with a grey film and laced with thick, ancient spiderwebs, many of which hung low and swayed languidly in our wake, broken by the weight of the dust collected thereon.

I felt secure the Impaler had gone, for his aura had become so intense and large of late that I would have sensed it very near the entry. This notion was reinforced when we arrived at the arching wooden door to the chapel. After some false starts, Jonathan found the right key and unlocked the door.

When it swung open, the vile stench of the vampire's lair wafted out. I was inured to it after so many years, and proceeded directly in, but the others behind me had not expected it, and so were overwhelmed. Nevertheless, they forced themselves to follow.

Within was a pathetic ruin of what had once been a vast, high-ceilinged place of family wors.h.i.+p: a few rotting timbers left of what had once been pews and an altar, and, on the filthy wall beneath a veil of spiderwebs, the outline of what had once been a large cross.

Perhaps it had been a beautiful place, for there were two large arching windows -perhaps of stained gla.s.s, but long ago covered, as always, with the thick film of dust.

The room spoke strongly of gloom, decay, impermanence. This in itself was discouraging enough to see-but far worse was the realisation, after some sileni counting, that the wooden boxes set out in careful rows were not fifty in number, but twenty-nine.

Twenty-one missing! I sidled over to John, and whispered for him to quickly tell Quincey and Arthur not to seal the boxes off with the Host. Doing so would only alert the vampire to our plan, so that he might more cleverly hide the remaining boxes. John managed to tell the other two men whilst Harker was distracted counting and looking about for some other place the crates might be hidden. I then instructed all the others to sift through the dirt and dust and come up with any clue that might lead us to where the other boxes had been moved; of course, John knew well that he was meant to search for traces of the ma.n.u.script or first key.

As we all searched, I sensed an abrupt change in the room-a glimmering hint of indigo which disturbed me... and yet did not. At that same instant, Arthur and Jonathan both reacted to something in the shadows. "I thought I saw a face," Arthur said apologetically.