Dracula Theory, page 10
“Yes, my love?”
“Dra—”
Before Mina could finish, she fell limp. Upon feeling her head loll onto my shoulder, I picked up my pace until I was practically sprinting. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest and my lungs to lock up. Physical discomfort had to take a backseat to getting Mina the help she needed.
I crashed through the door of the makeshift infirmary. At once, every doctor in the room descended upon me, asking all manner of questions. I finally made my way to Mina’s bed and gently laid her down, only to be confronted again by a curious mob of doctors. In a panic, I described everything I’d experienced after catching up with Mina. The curiosity of the doctors reached a fever pitch as they examined every square inch of the woman in the bed. The whole ordeal had me feeling profoundly alone and confused. Had Mina been about to utter the name of the Count before passing out? If so, why? Her only connection to the man was the single dose of his blood coursing through her veins.
“Jonathan?” Mr. Renfield’s voice stripped me from my reverie. “What is happening?”
I filled my partner in on the situation. The odd little man was consumed with the minutiae of the story. His curiosity had him asking far too many questions about Dracula—questions to which I had no answers.
“How old is the man?”
I didn’t know.
“What is his lineage?”
Again, I didn’t know.
“Was his blood powerful enough to bring about such a reaction from Mina?”
The final question held me in a downward spiraling rapture. As my thought process was about to bottom out, Mr. Renfield pulled me from the room and into the hall. While the entire staff attended to Mina, we were alone.
“I believe we need to have a visit with the Count.”
I pulled away from Renfield. “Are you out of your mind? We are now both employees of the Baron. If we go against his wishes, the consequences would be dire. So no, Mr. Renfield, we do not need to have a visit with the Count.”
“Suit yourself, Jonathan, but I need answers.”
Before I could respond, Mr. Renfield marched off. I debated ignoring his proclamation, but given Mina was currently surrounded by caregivers, it seemed I had time for a distraction.
“Maybe we could have our visit with Dracula and not inform the Baron?” My question had the desired effect of stopping Mr. Renfield in his tracks. “After all, why should he need to know our every bit of business?”
Renfield chuckled. “You’re coming around Mr. Harker. It’s about time.”
Together, we quietly made our exit from the Murray manse, found a carriage, and sped off to the home of Van Helsing.
TEN
Mad Machinations
Van Helsing greeted us at the door. We’d hoped to make it down to the laboratory without his knowledge, but that wasn’t to be the case.
“Afternoon, Harker.” Abraham nodded. “Renfield. What can I do for you?”
I decided our best tactic was the truth. “We want to have a chat with the Count.”
Van Helsing laughed. “I would like, more than anything, to oblige you such a notion. Funny thing, that.”
My curiosity was piqued. “What?”
“Why don’t I show you.”
Abraham led us through his home and to the door of the stairwell leading to the lab. The door groaned its angry complaint, and our host gestured for us to enter. I tossed a curious glance to Mr. Renfield, who responded with a crooked smile.
The three of us entered the stairwell and slowly made the descent in complete silence. With each step we took, the temperature lowered until, at the bottom of the stairs, our breath exhaled in visible puffs of white.
Van Helsing gestured toward the cage. Count Dracula was lying, face up, in the trunk, arms crossed over his heart and fingers grasping each shoulder. The position looked born more from a need to protect rather than be comfortable during his respite.
“Watch this,” Van Helsing stepped up to the cage and screamed the Count’s name with an unbridled vengeance. To my surprise, Dracula remained motionless. I, on the other hand, nearly soiled myself. “I’ve been trying to wake him all morning to no avail. Oddly enough, Dracula was awake the entire night, bellowing and begging to be released, swearing that a storm of hatred was almost upon us. The second the sun rose, he fell silent. I assumed he’d wrecked his vocal apparatus, but no, the Count was simply fast asleep.”
Mr. Renfield leaned against the cage to get a better view of the Count. “Is it possible the travel from Romania has his internal clock confused? I live in a state of confusion. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that particular condition is my dearest chum. Yes. We suit one another well. But him,” Renfield pointed to Dracula “I don’t imagine he’d deal well with such travels.”
“If that were the case, my good man, we’d be suffering from the same misalignment.” Van Helsing corrected Renfield. “I firmly believe something else is afoot with the man. Besides, this could serve as a safety net for my procedure.” Abraham shot an arm into the air, a gesture which ended with a pointed finger. “Speaking of which…” Van Helsing made his way across the room and returned with an apparatus the likes of which I had never before seen. “Here we are.” Abraham presented his device to us.
“What is it?” Renfield asked in a curious whisper.
“My latest invention. This modern miracle is the heart of the process that will extract a very precise amount of blood from Count Dracula. Because of this nameless piece of brilliance, we will be able to automate the exsanguination of the Count, knowing that every dose will be exactly the same measure.”
“That tiny piece of metal, gears, and springs is capable of doing all of which you say?” Renfield asked.
Another laugh from Van Helsing. “No, my friend, no. This is only one portion of that rather large puzzle. Without this piece, the whole would fail spectacularly. Honestly, I was shocked this technological wonder came together so quickly. Under normal circumstances, something this elegant and complex would have taken me weeks to design and build. However, given the timely nature of the project, I suppose inspiration came at me with a speed and fury I’d never before experienced. And so … this.”
“Does it have a name?” Renfield enquired.
“Does it need a name?” Van Helsing responded.
“I assumed every great invention had a name.”
“Gentlemen,” I interrupted the back and forth. “Name or no name, it’s finished,”
Van Helsing shook his head. “I never said anything about it being finished. Not the whole machine. This,” Abraham indicated to the clockwork mechanism in his hand, “is the only bit I have completed. There is still much work to be done.”
“Might I offer my hands to assist?” Renfield said with a bit of overstated pride. “At one point in my life I was considered a rather accomplished clock maker.”
“You know,” Van Helsing tilted his head until his neck cracked, “I could use a hand completing this project. So yes, Mr. Renfield, I would happily accept your offer.”
Mr. Renfield beamed.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” Abraham made his way to the stairs, “we must be diligent and efficient. Come, Mr. Renfield.”
“I’ll be there in a moment, sir.”
“Indeed.” And with that, Van Helsing started the ascent.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Inserting myself into Van Helsing’s mad machinations. Doesn’t it make sense that one of us be here at all times, keeping watch on the Count? I could be that person. I am a watcher of things. I’ve watched all of my life and will continue doing so until my clock winds down.”
Renfield had a point. I certainly couldn’t continue whisking between Mina and Dracula, at least not without drawing suspicion to my motivation.
“Very well. But I expect you to keep me apprised of every step that man takes. I don’t care if you must keep a journal of what he does—”
Renfield tapped the side of his skull. “It’ll all be in here. I have a memory like a sprung-wound trap. Trust me, Mr. Harker, I will report to you everything Abraham undertakes.”
I turned to Dracula’s makeshift bed. “Keep track of what that man says and does as well. I must warn you, however, you would best avoid conversation with him. No matter how elegant and well-heeled Dracula may seem, there is hidden danger beneath the surface. Don’t even so much as look into his eyes.”
“Trust me, Jonathan, I know my way around such men. I’ve had many a dealing with the devil.”
I patted Mr. Renfield on the shoulder. “I fear this man is far worse than the devil we know.”
“We shall see.”
“I shall head back up. Will you be coming along?”
Renfield didn’t take his eyes off the Count. “I believe I’ll remain here and wait for the man to wake.”
“We’re a long way from sundown, Renfield.”
“Worry not for me. Go about your business.”
No need to argue with the man. I ascended the stairs and set about searching for Van Helsing. Every room I passed overflowed with books, statues, and collections of all sorts. One room was dedicated solely to weapons, while another to religious iconography. Yet another room was packed with what looked to be medieval implements of torture, and another stocked with tools of unknown origin and purpose.
“Find what you’re looking for?” Van Helsing’s voice caught me off guard, causing me to nearly jump out of my very skin.
A nervous laugh spilled from my mouth. “It seems I have now.”
“What can I do for you, Jonathan?”
“Actually, I was thinking to ask the very same question. Given how busy you are, I thought maybe you could use yet another pair of hands.”
“Are you adept with tools?’
“I cannot say as such.”
A look of disappointment crossed Abraham’s face. “I have no need for a man of legislation and law at the moment.” A thought fired behind the man’s eyes. “However, I have something of most import you could do for me.”
“Speak it, and it shall be done.”
“There is a gentleman who holds a particular piece of equipment I need. Unfortunately, two things prevent me from procuring it. First, it is the only one of its kind in this city. Second, the man has no desire to release the item to me. As to why that is the case, let’s just say his wife had a rather delightful proclivity for meeting me after nightfall in the seedier areas of town.”
“So you want me to convince this man to relinquish whatever it is you need, without him knowing I am working on your behalf?”
Abraham snapped his fingers. “Precisely, my good man. Either by means of bribery, purchase, or theft—I care not the manner by which you accomplish this task. Here,” Van Helsing scribbled on a piece of paper, “this is the address, the man’s name, and the item I require. He will balk at the idea of handing the piece over. To wit, he will argue with you. Do not give in to his refrain. Do not leave his establishment without that.” Van Helsing handed the scrap of paper to me.
“Very well. I’ll return with the,” I glanced at the note, “Centrifuge?”
“Well said, Mr. Harker. Now off you go.”
Without another word, I made my way through the convolution of halls, walls, and doors. Out in the open, I inhaled a deep breath of cool air, glad to be away from the oppressive environment. A quick glance at the address, and I began walking toward the promenade. The area was tightly packed, so the destination was easily within walking distance.
As I strolled at a pace far brisker than usual, my mind wandered off into thoughts of Mina. What had happened to cause her to swing toward such violent and erratic behavior? In all the years I’d known the woman, she had been a model of grace and delicate kindness. Of course, every thought converged back on Count Dracula. The manic swings toward rage had began almost immediately after the transfusion. Should that be the cause, the very idea of marketing the man’s blood as a restorative against the onslaught of time could unleash an outbreak of similar behavior in anyone who could afford to purchase the Murray Fountain of Youth.
I faced two clear choices: I had to stall the operation until Renfield and I could uncover the truth about Dracula, or inform the Baron he was about to make a grievous mistake. Unfortunately, knowing Mina’s father as I did, I was aware the idea of a fortune to be made would negate all rational thought and truth.
There was, of course, a third option. If the Baron were to see Mina’s behavior for himself, he would certainly be given to second thoughts about moving the project forward. The one problem with that plan was putting Mina in danger. I’d much rather my fiancée remain sedated in a bed, than to parade her around, hoping she’d swat another doctor across a room, or go up in flames during a stroll through the garden. Although that plan had merit, the idea of placing Mina in danger wasn’t a viable option.
The solution to my dilemma? Stall. The next question? How? The answer to that rather challenging issue presented itself, in the form of my current quest.
I arrived at my destination without a single child having accosted me for change or a ne'er-do-well rifling through my pockets for my wallet or watch. That, in and of itself, should give me some measure of success for the day. Today, of course, was not one to be held among the ordinary.
The doors to the business were considerably out of proportion with the size of the building, as though the establishment was either run by the tallest human on the planet, or sold items of magnificent height. The glass was inscribed, in beautiful scrollwork, Mr. Petifores' Scientific Curiosities. I grabbed the handle to enter but found the door locked. A quick glance around the entry revealed a rope with a sign stating, Ring For Service. I gave the cord a tug but heard no sound. A second and third pull had me thinking the bell must have been broken. After a moment, however, the door opened, and a gaunt man with flaming red hair and steel gray eyes peeked his head out.
“What brings you to Mr. Petifores’ Scientific Curiosities?” The gent smiled wide, his head nodding quickly enough to send his piled scarlet coif bouncing on his head.
“I am here to acquire a piece of equipment.”
The door swung open a bit wider.
“Oh, a buyer. You are always welcome in my shop. Please, enter.”
Inside, I found myself surrounded by stacks of boxes, trinkets, gizmos, and inventions that likely had never seen the light of day. The entryway was stuffed so tightly with such items, as to give anyone a profound sense of claustrophobia.
The man held out his hand to me. “My name is Simone Petifores. And yours?”
“Harker. Jonathan Harker.”
“Welcome to my domain, Mr. Harker. You will find I have most every possible technological advancement to be found in England, right here in my humble abode. You name the piece, I’ll name the price.”
I unfolded the paper. “I’m looking for a bench centrifuge.”
Simon’s entire body spasmed. “Well then. I’m sorry, but that is one item I cannot oblige. What else would you be needing?”
“That is the only thing on my list, good sir. It is absolutely crucial I have one, so money is no object.”
“Indeed it is not. For there is no price that could be paid to have me part with the only centrifuge of its kind in England at the moment.”
A quick glance around the shop gave me an idea. The plan would require the slightest bit of fraudulence on my behalf. Given the circumstances, I had to be okay with that. “I am a lawyer, Mr. Petifores. I would require to view your license to sell medical and scientific equipment, post-haste.”
Simon’s face registered purest confusion. “I don’t understand. I’ve never been required to hold a license to do business.”
“This isn’t the England of old, sir. As of last month, Parliament passed a law requiring merchants, such as yourself, to be licensed, in order to sell particular items. Without such a permit, I am bound by law to shut you down for an indeterminate amount of time. Trust me on this, Mr. Petifores, given the backlog of processing in our government, do you really want to await the necessary processing for this case to pass a judge's desk? Even then, there’s no guarantee he will rule in your favor. Your place of business could be shut down permanently.”
“That cannot be, Mr. Harker. This is my only means of income. Without this business, I would be cast onto the street, a broken and penniless man.” Simone grabbed my shoulder. “Please, tell me what I can do to avoid such a disaster?”
“Hand over the centrifuge, and I will overlook your missing paperwork. I will, of course, pay you for the device.”
“Yes, of course.” Mr. Petifores disappeared behind a door. “I have the item here. The price is, I’m sorry to say, non-negotiable, as this little gem was remarkably hard to come by.” Simone returned, a large wooden box in his hands. “You’d be hard-pressed to find another.”
I handed over more than enough currency to cover the cost and assuage my guilt that I’d lied to an innocent man.
Mr. Petifores counted the bills and looked to me, confusion lining his brow. “Sir, you gave me far too much.”
“For your inconvenience, Mr. Petifores.”
“You are most kind, Mr. Harker. And I have your word, my lapse in paperwork will not find its way to those above you?”
I offered a curt nod. “You absolutely have my word. Good day, Simone Petifores.”
“Good day, Jonathan Harker.”
And with that, I took my leave of the establishment. The next step in my plan required I make a stop at my residence, before returning to Van Helsing’s. The centrifuge will lie dormant in my basement, not to come out of hiding until I saw fit to allow it so. Given the need to prevent Van Helsing’s Dracula Theory from moving forward, that device would remain hidden in perpetuity.
*****
“What do you mean he no longer had the centrifuge?” Van Helsing roared. “I was assured Petifores—”
“It was recently sold.” A slight lie of omission.
“To whom?”
I hadn’t thought the plan this far through. My imagination couldn’t account for Van Helsing’s persistence. “The only information the curator could share was that the gentleman who purchased the item was from out of town. He had no name or address for the buyer, so there’s no way of tracking the purchase. To make matters worse, Mr. Petifores had no clue how long it would be before another centrifuge would cross his path again.”
