Part 9 (1/2)

Or is it mat our own minds turn against us - deceiving us that our memories are at peaceful rest, only to rear out of sleep like a fiery dragon when least we expect it?'

Later Sleep will not come. My lip is swollen and pains me, my head aches from turning our conversation over and over in my mind.

Now dial I am watching for something to happen, nothing does!

A while ago, I went to Jonathan's room. All I wanted was to slip my arms around him that we might comfort each other and thus find easeful rest. I went to his bedside and put my hand upon him, whispering, 'Jonathan?' But he started away from me. When he turned up the lamp, his eyes were fierce with dread. 'Keep away from me, Mina!' he said.'Until I am free of him, you must not come near me!'

'But Jonathan,' I said, 'I am not afraid of you. I refuse to be afraid! I can't sleep. Let me comfort you.'

Then a look of such cold suspicion crossed his face dial it makes me weep to recollect it. 'Did you come in here thinking to find him?'

The inference so horrified me that I gasped, and backed away. 'If you think that, I - I cannot stay until I am free of this stain of suspicion!'

As if stricken by what he'd said, he reached out to me. 'Mina - I am sorry - I -' But I fled the room, I could not bear any more. I feel so alone, I will see if Elena is awake.

Strange, Elena is not in her room! Nor was she in the kitchen, where I might have expected to meet a fellow non-sleeper. She may have been with Quincey - but as there was no light under his door, I did not wish to disturb him. Now I feel sleep coming at last, thank G.o.d. I will not fight it.

JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.

4 November Relations remain difficult between Mina and myself. After all these years without a cross word, never a moment of disharmony!

I cannot believe it is happening - but I cannot forgive her, can barely bring myself to look at her.

It was not me to whom she submitted when those black fits came upon me, but to Dracula. She cannot, or will not, admit it, but I know the truth. We both know, and therefore we cannot speak openly, cannot even look each other in the eye. Of course we maintain the veneer of civility for the benefit of our guests - Elena suspects nothing - but Van Helsing is too shrewd to be fooled.

After breakfast he took me into the study and spoke fervently. 'My friend, I beg your forgiveness for bringing this trouble to you!'

'What do you mean?'! said, puzzled. 'The trouble is all ours; you are helping to alleviate it.'

'I mean that by hypnotizing you, I brought to the surface matters between yourself and Mina that were better left unsaid. But now they are said, they poison the love between you. Ah, this is all my fault! I would do anything to undo it!'

To this I could say nothing, for he was right. Not that I blame him in any way!

For who is to blame? Myself, for being so weak as to let Dracula's vile phantom inside me, or Mina, who resisted his attack on her mind yet welcomed his vicarious embrace? Oh G.o.d, dear G.o.d. Or is Dracula alone to blame? But how can we deny all responsibility? For every time we fail to resist evil, we collude with it.

Is it possible that Mina loved - loves - Dracula? How else could she welcome him so fervently into her arms? Or is it simply that I have gone mad?

How I despise myself for casting such vile stains upon my wife's character - she who has always been a perfect angel, to me and to everyone about us! But each time I look at her I remember her gleaming eyes, her parted lips, as if she had turned into one of those fiends from Castle Dracula.

I am sitting on the terrace as I write, trying to make sense of all this. Elena has come to sit beside me. She seems so serene. She says nothing yet her presence soothes me; as if, standing outside our trouble, she has the power to cleanse the taint from my soul...

for a little while, at least.

MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL.

4 November Again I feel refreshed for a morning with Elena and Quincey, two innocents untouched by all this!

Van Helsing is talking of bringing Dr Seward and Lord G.o.dalming here, but we have said no, not yet. We cannot ask them to fight an invisible enemy! Van Helsing is taking this so seriously, it alarms us more. It is a strain to carry on as normal, yet we must; it is our only hope, and of course our duty is to protect Quincey and others.

I am doing all in my power to ensure a happy day and a peaceful night; that is, keeping everyone busy, and praying at every spare moment!

5 November All is quiet at last. I am exhausted but I must record what has happened, painful as it is.

Last night, an hour after I had gone to bed and still lay awake, I thought I heard sounds of disturbance from another room - Van Helsing's or Jonathan's, for it was a man's voice I could hear. It was hard to discern. It sounded as if he were arguing with himself, a sort of low growling punctuated by the occasional shout, and thumps, as if the furniture were being violently moved about. It was unspeakably chilling to hear these sounds, so faint I was not sure if I imagined them. I got up, put on a dressing-gown and went along the corridor.

The sound was coming from Van Helsing's room; I met Jonathan, approaching from the other direction. 'Perhaps he is ill,' I said. I was glad to see my husband, despite the barrier that has fallen between us.

Jonathan knocked but there was no answer. The sounds from inside the room were now distinct. Van Helsing was groaning, uttering staccato barks of pain, and there were m.u.f.fled thumps as if he were throwing himself around the room. Urgently Jonathan tried the door, but found it locked. He knocked briskly, calling out, 'Professor, what's wrong? Let us in!'

At once the door shook, as if Van Helsing had thrown himself against it. He shouted gruffly, 'No! You cannot come in! Leave me, for your own safety!'

My sense of foreboding transfixed me. I took a step back, but Jonathan didn't hesitate. He flung his shoulder to the door and the lock gave. The door burst inwards. Van Helsing, in his white night-robe, was standing a few feet away; his bed was in disarray, his reading table overturned and books scattered everywhere. The wall mirror lay broken on the carpet. But this was nothing to the chaos of his expression. His pale hair was on end, his face savage and wild, and his eyes so bloodshot the whites were near scarlet.

'Professor, what has happened?' said Jonathan.

He started forward, but Van Helsing put out his hands saying in a tortured, cracked tone, 'No, no, Jonathan, keep away! Take your wife away, don't come near, I beg you!'

I saw that he had a big knife in his right hand; the very bowie knife, I believe, that Quincey Morris used to slay Dracula. We both stood still a moment; I could find no power to speak or move. As we watched, Van Helsing, breathing fast and hard, turned the knife and began to force it towards his own left wrist. Sweat streamed down his high forehead.

Ignoring his warnings, Jonathan rushed to him. He tried to seize the arm mat wielded the knife, crying, 'No! What the devil are you -'

Van Helsing's eyes blazed red and his lips drew back. Never did I dream that good wise face should show such savagery - but I never dreamed it of Jonathan, either. I cried out but neither man heeded me. Then Van Helsing turned the knife from himself and began to lash out at Jonathan instead. My husband put his arms up to defend himself. The blade came stabbing viciously at him and I held my breath as Van Helsing drove him around the room, slas.h.i.+ng at him, his expression hideous.

'Fools!' he cried. 'Now you see that I have power over each one of you, and I have all eternity to torment you to your graves and beyond!'

He slashed the arms of Jonathan's nights.h.i.+rt to rags. Red blood oozed through. Jonathan fell back on the bed, his arms across his face. He was crying out in agony. A great crimson weight of blood was gathering in his sleeve, dripping through the material on to the bedlinen. With a sob I rushed to him. Van Helsing, meanwhile, stumbled against the side of the bed and stopped, appearing to struggle violently within himself.

He gasped. He spoke strangled words of Dutch, which I could not discern. His face flickered - almost physically changed - between his own physiognomy and another that was evil but horribly familiar to me. He lifted the knife, turned it towards himself and to my astonishment began to force the point two-handed towards his own diaphragm. His struggle was terrible to witness. I wanted to stop him but could not move. His mouth was wide open and his red eyes held mine all the time, making me feel somehow embarra.s.sed - exposed - almost violated, as if an appalling intimacy were pa.s.sing between us.

The blade indented the folds of his nights.h.i.+rt. A spreading stain of blood appeared. I shrank back, cradling Jonathan against me, because I was sure Van Helsing meant to kill himself- but as soon as he drew blood, he uttered a terrible cry and fell heavily on to the bed beside us. The knife clattered away. Van Helsing lay gasping and shuddering.

I cannot say how long we remained there; a few minutes only, though it seemed a frozen, ghastly tableau at the time. Then Van Helsing sat up and put his head in his large hands. He was weeping. 'My friends, it is worse, far worse than I could imagine. Your minds did not deceive you. Even dead, the vampire has a spirit that reaches through time to wreak vengeance. What are we to do?'

Some time later, after I had bound up both men's wounds and we had taken some wine to fortify ourselves, Van Helsing told us what had happened.