Dracula Theory, page 22
I turned to Davith, who’d been knocked to the ground with such force to render him unconscious. He shook his head to fully rouse himself. Our gazes locked, and he nodded his approval. “Only if the priest may join me.”
Dracula blinked once. “That is a most acceptable proposal. Do you wish to accept the vampiric embrace, Father Davith?”
“Had I not witnessed your kindness and charity, I would have begrudged your offer. However, I see you and your children walk a path of faith.” Davith glanced around the room. “What I am trying to say is … I do, Count Dracula.”
“What about me?” Van Helsing interrupted the poignant moment.
Dracula drew near to Abraham. “The hunter becomes the prey?”
“The hunter accepts a new reality and denounces his previous life,” Van Helsing countered. “Besides, now that I’ve witnessed, first hand, the values you and your people hold dear, the hunt has come to an end. I certainly cannot justify the murder of such innocent people. You once stole from me the only love I ever knew. That was the inciting incident which spawned a lifetime of hatred.”
“Abraham.” A voice cried out from the crowd.
Abraham turned to see a woman rushing toward him. “Judith?”
“It is I, my love.”
“But I thought I—“
“Your arrow pierced my lung and not my heart.” The woman met Van Helsing and wrapped him in a lover’s embrace. No more words were spoken between the two. No words were necessary. This was a reunion made possible by the very hand of fate.
The Count raised his arms into the air. “William Shakespeare once said to me, ‘So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.’”
Abraham pulled from the embrace and turned to Dracula. “I believe he also said, ‘Pray you now, forget and forgive.’” Van Helsing reached his hand toward Dracula, who took up the offering and gave it a gentle shake. “I will humbly accept your gift, Count.”
EIGHTEEN
The Rite Of Passage
While the coven took flight and returned to Romania, Davith, Van Helsing, and I boarded a train to take the slow route back. Before departing, Mina arranged for the family fortune to be routed to her new home—which would be our home. At first blush, I was surprised at Mina’s cold acceptance of her father’s death. Upon careful consideration, however, the lack of emotional response to a man as unfeeling as he came as no surprise. The Baron was as bad a father as one could be, without raising a hand to a child. Had his offspring been profit, he’d have won awards for parenting.
The train ride and boat journey were taken without incident. Between Van Helsing, Davith, and me there was a lot of slumber and little discussion—which, in and of itself, was completely counter to our recent circumstance. Given the hellish nightmare we’d experienced, a rousing debate about the nature of evil would have been both welcome and understandable. The silence, however, was most glorious.
Upon arrival at our new village, we were greeted with open arms and warm smiles. We were, after all, the center of attention—at least for one night.
Why? The ritual.
“Jonathan.” The Count greeted me in his most formal of attire. The smile on his lips laid bare his deadly fangs.
“Dracula.” I reached out my hand. To my surprise, the Count accepted the proffered gesture and gave my arm a few congenial shakes.
“When first we met, I was certain the fear you were hiding would be your undoing.”
A laugh escaped my mouth. “Odd, considering I found you most welcoming.” I looked around the area to take in the gathered coven. “I cannot say the same for your children. Save Constantin, the citizenry of this village would have been happy to drain me alive. What began as little more than a theory had shifted to a most remarkable reality. The grand assumptions we’d made about you and your coven had been so profoundly wrong, it’s surprising you magnificent creatures were willing to accept mortals prone to falling prey to such ignorance. And yet, here we are, about to embark on a physical and metaphysical journey I wouldn’t have ever believed until now.”
“Veni, vidi … vampire.” Van Helsing cheered. To my surprise, everyone joined in to repeat the chant.
Dracula placed his hands on my shoulders and stared deep into the wells of my eyes. “Unlike Mina’s father, you’ve given us a reason to once again respect the mortal creature. It has been many years since we’ve trusted those beyond this village. Jonathan Harker, what you and your friends have done for us is beyond measure, for you have given us hope that we vampire might someday co-exist with the living.”
Davith stepped into the conversation. “So long as we three exist, know that you have a trinity of champions fighting for you.”
And with that, Dracula guided me into position for the ritual. My body lay sprawled on a stone slab. I wasn’t bound or restricted in any way, nor was I gagged or blindfolded. A calming peace stirred in the air, something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Standing at my feet, was Mina. She wore a dress of black silk with a collar which rose well above the back of her head. She smiled down upon me and nodded as if to say, “You are doing the right thing.” Of that, there was no question. I could feel the logic in that choice to my bones. I wanted to transcend the human condition, unshackle myself from the flaws of mortality.
It didn’t hurt to have the love of my life at my side. She who would become my vampire bride.
“Do you accept the blood of the vampire as your own?” Count Dracula asked.
“I do.”
“Do you willingly leave behind your mortal life, your family, friends, and all the trappings thereof?”
I looked to Mina, feeling as if she were my loophole to requirement, winked, and said, “I do.”
“As you have already tasted my blood, it is only necessary that I complete the circle.”
And with that, Dracula leaned down to me, pressed his lips to my neck, and punctured the skin with his fangs. As the dagger-like teeth entered my flesh, a wave of ecstasy washed over me, unlike anything I’d ever felt. The sensation was akin to floating in the most tranquil river, connected to everything and nothing at once. As I drifted, a voice began to fill the void of silence. At first it was a single spoken bit of nonsense, which was soon overcome by a chorus of words and tones. Every so often, I was able to pick out a voice—Constantin, Dracula, Mina, Renfield. The whole of the choir spoke in unison, “The blood is life.”
A heat rose in my core, hotter than anything I’d ever experienced. As the sound of the voice rose, so too did the temperature. Any second my body would go up in flames and the whole of Van Helsing’s Dracula theory rendered moot. I would have died for naught.
The wave of ecstasy ended with a jarring shock, to be replaced by a bolt of unbearable pain. My heart rate shot up, nearing Dracula’s. The two pulses danced in parallel as the pain continued to press down on my every nerve. It felt as though my very molecules were being reordered, reshaped, and redefined. Standing before me was a reflected image of myself, naked and stoic. I stared deep into a pair of eyes that had become the single most familiar thing on the planet. That window into my own soul stared back, an abyss of memory and past life lost. I was afraid of what might come next. Unfortunately, my fear was well-founded. The flesh covering my face melted away like wax, to revel the pristine-white skull beneath. Jonathan Harker had been redacted. The eyes of my reflected me melted in their orbits, a sticky-slick mess of clear liquid pouring down my cheeks.
The melting of flesh continued until my reflection was skinless from the shoulders up. I wanted there to be pain in this transaction, to see the mirror me gnash and wail in agony. To my great surprise, there was none to be found. During the entire meltaway process, the replacement me watched me watching, as though he were taking notes on a scientific level I’d never understand. Eventually the entirety of flesh was gone. Staring before me was a rather unusual sculpture of the truest human depravity.
With my outermost layer consumed by entropy, the process began to slowly reverse. Melted flesh reformed over meat and bone until I’d been born anew. All the while, my pulse continued drawing nearer to the Count’s.
Just as I was certain my demise was upon me, Mina’s voice cut through the cacophony. “Arise, my love.”
And then, as if it had been meant to be since my birth, the twin pulses converged—mine and Dracula’s. Each beat rose and fell in perfectly synchronous harmony. I was he and he was me.
We were Vampire.
I opened my eyes. Everything was exactly as it had been, before I’d fallen into whatever hypnotic trance the Count had me under. There was no pain. In fact, there was no sign of a single malady. I raised my arm to get a close-up look of my skin. In counterpoint to the dream narrative, my flesh looked pristine. Somehow time had reversed, given me another chance. The only change to the scene was the rivulet of blood running down the Count’s chin. I reached a hand to my neck, felt warmth, and drew it away. Staining my fingers was blood. My blood. There was truth in the scarlet moisture. I had been reborn, reimagined.
I stood on wobbly legs, to a chorus of applause. Surrounding me was a crowd bearing comforting smiles, filled with weapons of the night—only not. What I’d once thought to be a plague among nature, turned out to be a graceful salvation, a loving family of strangers.
Among the crowd stood Davith and Abraham, cheering and smiling to celebrate a successful transformation. I could see on their faces they, too, had endured their own rebirth—there was a beauteous suffering etched on their brows.
Mina led me to stand with my fellow fledglings. We faced Count Dracula, who stood behind a dais, clothed in black and red robes to put any given Catholic Cardinal to shame. He raised his hands, and everyone fell into a perfect silence.
“My children.” Dracula took in the crowd. “We have overcome such profound adversity, all the while hiding ourselves away from humankind. Even though we deserve our place among the living, we have known for centuries they are not—and may never be—ready to accept us as anything but monsters. And so we exist in a self-induced exile, willingly casting ourselves into the shadows in order to avoid the damning hatred of the living. Know that you are welcome among our numbers, that you will forever be accepted as a member of this coven. Also know that there are rules you must abide. First among them is that you must never make contact with the living. Until humanity reverses its ignorance and hatred of that which it does not understand, the mortal realm must not know of our existence. Next, you must never wound or kill another creature. We believe in harmony, that without such an order to the world, there is no hope for a future. Finally, you must respect the land on which we live. For everything we take, we give back, and to upset that balance has tragic consequences.” Dracula gestured for us to turn and face the crowd. “My children, welcome among you your new brothers.”
The crowd cheered. Hands reached out to us, pressing palms to flesh as though our very skin contained some mythical power to be gifted through contact. Little did they know, there was no such magic to be found here. At least not on the surface. Beneath the veneer of reality, however, there was so much more to be had. Someday … I promise to make that happen. Until that day, however, I will enjoy living my life to the fullest as a vampire.
Van Helsing grabbed my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Davith leaned into us and asked, “What’s next?”
It was Abraham who responded. “I overheard a pair of wise older members of the clan say there’s a storm brewing—one of dire consequences. What do you say? Are you up for an adventure? Vampire style?”
I couldn’t help but question the man. “What are you rambling about?”
Van Helsing whispered, “I’m saying not every vampire on the planet is nearly as enlightened as Dracula.”
The ceremony wound down, with the inhabitants of the small village leaving the site without saying a word. Only Mina, Dracula, Van Helsing, Davith, and I remained. The Count looked to each of us and stopped at Van Helsing.
“Know that I hear everything. Your thoughts are my thoughts.”
“I don’t—” Abraham started.
Dracula silenced the man with a wave of the hand. “The rumors are true. There does exist another coven of our kind—one of a barbaric and vicious nature. Should you roam beyond the reach of my protection, I cannot guarantee your safety. However, if you decide to venture out in search of these despicable creatures, I will consider it an act of bravery and will reward you accordingly.” Dracula drew out a pause, which lent an air of danger to the moment. “Should you return.”
Mina clasped my hand in hers. “Come, my love. Let us retire to bed.”
Van Helsing waved to Mina. “What about us?”
“I have arranged quarters for the priest at the Serpent’s Inn. Retire there for the evening and tomorrow we’ll find you a place to call home.” Mina looked to Van Helsing. “As for you, your love awaits.”
Home.
What an odd word, that. I’d been displaced from the country I’d called home for all of my life, to find myself in a strange land filled with even stranger inhabitants. And yet, I’d never felt so welcome in all my existence.
It took becoming a vampire to find a place I truly belonged.
About the Author
Jack Wallen is what happens when a Gen Xer mind-melds with present day snark. Jack is a seeker of truth and a writer of words with a quantum mechanical pencil and a disjointed beat of sound and soul. Although he resides in the unlikely city of Louisville, Kentucky, Jack likes to think of himself more as an interplanetary traveler, on the lookout for the Satellite of Love and a perpetual movie sign … or so he tells the reflection in the mirror (some times in 3rd person). Jack is the author of numerous tales of dark, twisty fiction including:
I Zombie I
My Zombie My
Die Zombie Die
Lie Zombie Lie
Cry Zombie Cry
Fry Zombie Fry
Buy Zombie Buy
Zombie Radio
Zombie Radio 2
Zombie Radio 3: Radio Chaos
T-Minus Zero
The Last Casket
Teenage Wasteland
Kiss & Hell
Punk Ass Punk
POTUS
Suicide Station
Suicide Machine
Frankenstein Theory
Hell's Muse
The Nails of Calvary
The Dark Side Down
The Dark Seduction
Dead Twin Sister
Screampark
Klockwerk Kabaret
Tick Tock Girl
Shero
Shero II: Zombie A GoGo
Shero III: Death by Cosplay
A Blade Away
Gothica
Endgame
Control
Published by Devil Dog Press
A Tale of Two Reapers
To Kill A Reaper
For Whom The Reap Tolls
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Jack Wallen, Dracula Theory
