Dracula Theory, page 13
Another clearing of the throat. This time, however, Van Helsing extracted his flask and took an extended drink before saying, “I do, sir. The machine will be ready to perform by sunrise.”
I couldn’t believe what I’d just witnessed. Once again, the Baron chose to hold profit over family. The man’s moral compass placed true north in the fiery pits of Hell; of that there could be no doubt. Without even bothering to acknowledge my distaste for the Baron’s misplaced priorities, I took my leave and stormed from the house. To my surprise, Mr. Renfield was waiting outside.
“Mr. Harker,” Renfield glanced over his shoulders and back to me. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”
“What is it?”
Renfield pursed his lips. “We have a problem.”
“Indeed, we do, my good man. Indeed, we do.”
“How did you know?” Renfield asked, his voice riddled with confusion.
“Because I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Pardon me for being so bold, Mr. Harker, but that’s not possible. I stood before the Count when it happened, and you were nowhere to be seen.”
“Wait. When what happened?”
“Dracula. He’s … he’s changed. One minute he was the dashing Romanian gent, and the next he was a wolf. After a bit of pacing around the cage, he transformed again, this time into a bat. He flapped and fluttered within his confines but couldn’t escape through the bars. When he finally returned to his original form, he screamed at me to release him.” Mr. Renfield grasped his head between his hands. “To this moment, the Count’s voice rings in my ears.” Tears streaked down Mr. Renfield’s cheeks. “I was standing before the man, conversing about the nature of evil, when he raised his arms, blinked his eyes, and transformed. With each shift in shape, his voice grew louder within my mind, demanding to be released. I cannot lie to you, Mr. Harker, the temptation to free the man was nearly greater than my resolve. You behold before you a weak man. Nay, I am less than weak, for I am nothing.”
It took every ounce of energy I had to not lose my temper at the thought of one more person considering Dracula over the life of my love. Renfield was fortunate, in that he was ignorant of what had transpired in the manse. “Mina took flight in the same fashion, escaping with Lucy Westenra in her clutches. She is clearly under the vampiric thrall of Dracula. Unless we can somehow convince him to release Mina, I fear she is forever lost.”
“What if we release him from captivity? Certainly he would be grateful for our kindness—”
I stopped Renfield short. “Although I agree with your intent and good will, we cannot forget the man is a vampire … and the cause of Mina’s condition.”
“Beg to differ, Jonathan, but he was stolen away from his home, caged, and is to be drained of blood which will be sold on the market for financial gain. How, may I ask, is Dracula the monster?”
Renfield was correct, of this I knew. However, there was no escaping the fact that, because of the Baron’s morally bankrupt scheme, Dracula had become dangerous. “I refuse to argue this point. Suffice it to say, you’ve given me all the proof I need to have that creature committed to a windowless cell for eternity, if need be.” I felt the desire to cleanse the palette of my heart at condemning an innocent man for the crimes of another. And yet, I found myself ready to do just that to insure Mina’s safe return. My only hope was to find Mina in time to stop the Baron’s dastardly plot. Before Mr. Renfield had a chance to reply, I marched past him to hail a carriage.
“What are you planning, Mr. Harker?”
“To threaten Count Dracula within an inch of his life.” I shouted over my shoulder. “Whatever it takes to get Mina back, before Van Helsing begins draining the vampire dry.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Father Davith’s voice sounded off from the other side of the street.
“Please do,” I replied.
Davith shuffled across the cobblestones and greeted me with a tip of the hat. He turned his attention to Renfield. “Name’s Davith. And you are?”
Before replying, Renfield snatched something from the air and tossed the catch into his open mouth. “Mr. Renfield, your majesty.”
“Davith. My name is Davith.”
“Very well then. Davith.” Renfield shot his fly-catching hand out to be shaken. To my surprise, Davith grabbed the proffered hand and gave it a hearty shake.
A carriage arrived. After informing the driver of our destination, we climbed in, one after another. I shut the door and slapped at the ceiling to indicate we were ready for travel. The carriage lurched forward, and we were off.
“I have given this situation careful consideration, Mr. Harker. I believe it best if we move forward with the exorcism, even without the church’s blessing. I spent the night researching the rituals and believe I am now as ready as I could be.”
“Unfortunately, Davith, I believe we are well beyond the point of exorcism. What we need are tools to fight a vampire. Stakes, holy water, silver … all of the old myths are in effect.” I paused to allow Davith a moment to take it all in. “With that bit of knowledge, are you still wanting to follow Renfield and me into battle?”
“I vowed to fight evil, no matter the cost. If there is one person you should want to have on your side, it’s me. Besides—” Davith opened his satchel. “I come prepared.”
Tucked away in the bag were vials of liquid. My gaze flicked between the glass bottles and Davith's face. “Holy water?”
“Indeed it is. Only this time, I will not allow anything to keep me from my priestly duty.”
“I certainly hope that’s the case, Davith. We cannot afford another lapse in judgement. What we’re about to do inches dangerously close to looking into the eyes of Satan himself. If you think, for a second, that you are not prepared for such a battle, pull out now. I cannot afford to be worried about myself, the plan, and you.”
I caught Renfield starting at me, an accusatory look painted over his face. “What is it that pains you now?”
Renfield bit his lip to bleeding before he spoke. “Not twenty-four hours ago, you were claiming Dracula to be innocent and insisting the Baron release him from captivity. And now? You are certain the man is a demon sent from the bowels of Hell. Your change in posture confuses me so.”
“Quite frankly, Mr. Renfield, if the Pope himself were to have brought harm to my Mina, I would wish the same fate upon him. If you’re still confused, feel free to voice your opinion to the back of my hand.”
“Jonathan,” Davith patted my knee. “I am one of the Lord’s warriors. With my holy weapons of destruction, there is no need for you to worry. Keep your concern focused on yourself and Mina. We have faith on our side.”
“Spoken like a true priest,” Renfield mumbled.
Davith bristled and, for the first time, allowed his temper to rise. “What did you mean by that?”
Renfield hesitated to reply. When finally he opened his mouth to speak, the carriage came to a stop.
“We’ve arrived.” My voice found its calming center, saving our little troupe from another unnecessary quarrel. “Shall we confront the Count?”
We made our exit and approached the door to Van Helsing’s manse. After a brief consideration, I opted to forgo the usual pleasantries and barged in, unannounced. I could hear Renfield and Davith following in my wake.
“I say, Jonathan,” Davith spoke softly. “Shouldn’t we—”
Renfield interrupted. “We have the run of the place, priest. Silence your complaints.”
We wound our way through the maze of walls until we stood before the door to the stairwell. As I reached for the handle, I could feel a presence—a threatening, yet familiar, force.
“Jonathan.” The voice whispered from every corner of the house, a sound so intimately familiar to me.
“Mina?”
“What is it, Mr. Harker?” Renfield’s words chased the voice from my consciousness.
I turned to face my cohorts. “Did you not hear the voice?”
“If by voice you mean yours, then yes, I heard it.”
“As did I,” Davith added. “Should we have heard another?”
“You didn’t hear Mina speak my name?”
Renfield grabbed my arm. “You know I’ve been experiencing the same phenomenon, only the voice is Dracula’s. What are we to do?”
“You are to get hold of yourselves, gentlemen.” Davith looked between us. “We must be vigilant against evil, for it will present itself in many ways. To one it will be a lover. To another it will be a figure of strength and virility. Do not be fooled by voices and apparitions. The spirit of evil will do anything it can to tempt you from the path of righteousness.”
Davith’s words were sobering.
“You’re right.” I turned back to the door. “We must continue on, unabated.”
The door to the laboratory creaked open, loud enough to echo through the hallway. Had anyone been home, they would most certainly be aware of our presence. Instead of hesitating to listen for footsteps or voices, we entered the stairwell and began the descent in silence. As I recalled from my last visit, the temperature continued dropping as we climbed downward. By the time we reached the floor of the lab, my breath was visible, and my skin prickled against the chill.
The laboratory was illuminated via gas lamps, the glow of the flame flickering and dancing off the walls like lovers entwined in a romantic waltz. As the sun had taken its leave against the backdrop of night, Count Dracula was, as I expected, awake. Instead of pacing or raging against his confines, the man stood at the foot of his trunk, hands steepled at his chin. He immediately recognized me.
“Mr. Harker.” Dracula’s full lips turned up into the slightest smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
I tossed caution to the fear-chilled wind and stepped up to the cage. “I believe you know exactly why I am here.”
Dracula unfolded his hands and held his palms upward. Before my unbelieving eyes, the man rose from the ground—without the aid of any sort of mechanism or wire. The Count hovered for a second and then floated toward the gate before setting down inches from me. “Whatever became of your dearest Mina?”
My temper flared, and I reached through the bars and grabbed a handful of Dracula’s coat. I attempted to pull him to me, but the man wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard I tugged, he remained in place.
“She’s mine now, Jonathan. You have lost the only thing that gave you purpose and meaning.”
Davith’s arm reached through the cage. In his hand he clutched a gleaming silver cross. “Back away, devil.”
To my shock, the Count slowly complied. Once he was out of Davith’s reach, he lowered himself onto all fours and transformed from man to wolf.
“Dear God.” Davith continued with a prayer. “Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.”
The wolf leaped at Davith, clamping his mouth over the man’s arm. With a tortured scream, the priest dropped the cross to the floor within the cage and fought to pull his limb to freedom.
As Davith continued to struggle, Mr. Renfield fumbled in the priest’s bag. After a moment of digging, Renfield stood tall and splashed a bottle of holy water over the wolf. The creature released Davith’s arm, howling in agony. The maddening sound died down as the wolf transformed back into the man and stood, skin blistering and eyes glowing red. Renfield tore at Davith's sleeve and wrapped the fabric around the wound to staunch the bleeding.
In the span of two heartbeats, Dracula crossed the cage away from us. The vampire stood, arms at his side, glaring. “You attack me as if you are unaware of the dangers I pose, as if there is anything you can do to stop what has already been set in motion. Kill me and a hundred more will arrive to smite this town and wipe it from existence.”
“What has been set in motion?” My voice matched Dracula’s rage.
“The army of the night will descend upon you, killing everything and everyone you hold dear.” The Count’s fangs hovered over his bottom lip. He touched the tip of his tongue to one and then the other. “I would share with you the means by which you could stop the slaughter, but what joy would that bring me?”
Count Dracula raised his palms upward and, once again, lifted from the ground. He hovered for a moment and then floated back to the center of the cage. “You had your chance to prevent this war. Very soon, I will enjoy the spoils.”
And with that, Dracula lowered back to the floor, closed his eyes, and remained there, statue-still.
Renfield drew up to the cage. “What’s happening?”
“He’s seemed to have gone into some sort of torpor,” Davith responded, before flicking holy water toward the slumbering beast. The drops landed, blistering the flesh, but did not wake the Count.
“What do you think he meant by all that blabbering about a war, and spoils, and set in motion?”
I glanced at Renfield. “It’s quite possible he’s trying to frighten us into releasing him.”
“If that’s the case, he’s doing a bang-up job. I do believe I wet myself. If I were in charge, that bastard would already be on his way back to Romania.”
Renfield’s cowardice carried with it some semblance of sense. Even with Mina’s life possibly hanging in the balance, it seemed to me the best course of action would be to release Dracula and send him on his way back home.
“It’s a shame you’re not in charge, Mr. Renfield.” Davith voiced my own opinion. “This manner of creature has no business amid such a large population of innocent people.”
Renfield laughed. “Innocent? Really? You don’t get out much, do you, priest?”
“I often find myself surrounded by the citizens of England. They are certainly worthy of protection against a beast the likes of him.”
“Enough.” A single word silenced the bickering men. “We have to figure out what to do, given the circumstances.”
Renfield leaned his head against the cage. “Why don’t we just open the damn gate, leave the laboratory, and hope like hell Dracula escapes England and never looks back?”
“We cannot trust that the Count would follow your suggested course of action. If we were to release him, who knows what carnage would follow in his wake.”
“Unfortunately, Davith is right.” I stepped away from the cage, considering every possible outcome of every move we could make. The chess game had become exponentially more complicated and showed no signs of easing up. “There is no way of knowing what kind of danger this man poses. Ergo, there is only one solution to the problem presented before us.”
Renfield looked up to me, one eyebrow significantly higher than the other. “And that is?”
“We allow Van Helsing to drain the bastard and hope his death with bring Mina back.”
I turned away from the cage and made my way to the stairs. “Come, my brothers. I have a need for drink.”
THIRTEEN
Debauchery And Danger
My favorite tavern was crowded. Voices being raised in some celebration or other, while drinks flowed like water through the Thames. Half the crowd was the usual drunks, while the other half were an unfamiliar sort. I never liked when my spot of choice was overrun by strangers.
“I see a table in the back,” Renfield shouted over a gathered collection of roustabouts singing “Fathom the Bowl.”
“My father he doth lie at the bottom of the sea. No stone at his head, ah, but what careth he? While that clear crystal fountain over England doth roll, give me the punch ladle, I’ll fathom the bowl.” The singers were all out of pitch, which was most likely due to the numerous empty mugs on the table before them.
The three of us wound our way through the crowd, to the back of the room, where, lo and behold, the table still awaited. We sat, just in time for a barmaid to swing by and take our order. We each asked for drink and the house special—which consisted of the traditional fish and chips. Truth be told, I could have devoured a half-cooked catfish and a raw potato. Fortunately, the situation didn’t call for such desperation.
As soon as the maid set the drinks down, we each scooped them up and clanked our mugs together.
“To saving England from the peril of Dracula,” I toasted.
“Don’t you think you’re making a rather grand assumption there?” Renfield questioned me.
“I have no idea. To be honest, Mr. Renfield, the only way of ridding England of that menace is to kill him.” Renfield scoffed at my notion. I rebuffed him. “You heard the threats he made.”
Renfield took a deep drink of his ale. “That I did.” Another drink. “Maybe you’re right, but I cannot help feel like…” The man’s attention faded away from us. I snapped my fingers inches from his face and he remained in his hypnotic state.
“I say, Mr. Renfield?” Davith slapped the man on the back, a move that shocked Renfield back to the here and now.
Renfield shuddered, before snatching a fly from the air and popping it into his mouth.
“We’re missing some crucial piece of information about Dracula.”
I was about to question Mr. Renfield’s proclamation, when a row from the front of the tavern stole my attention. Fights were commonplace this time of night, what with too many men consuming too many drinks. It was inevitable that someone would challenge the masculinity or the temper of another until the situation rose to fisticuffs. It had become a nightly occurrence, which was wearing on the regular patrons.
This time, however, the intensity of the argument seemed significantly heightened. It wasn’t until a man of sizable girth and weight was tossed into the air high enough to make me question my sight and sanity, that I realized something all too familiar was amiss.
“Mina,” I mumbled and rose to my feet. When it became abundantly clear I couldn’t see above the crowd, I steadied myself on Davith’s shoulders and climbed onto a stool. As expected, I spotted Mina and Lucy, standing at the front of the tavern. Both women were wide-eyed, their flesh slick with what looked to be blood. Mina spotted me standing above the crowd and began shoving her way toward us.
