Part 16 (1/2)

I love her and I hate her.

'Soon we will all be together,' I whispered. 'A family.'

She shook her head weakly. 'Elena, I would like to see Quincey, if you please,' she said.

'Then eat your breakfast,' I said, withdrawing from her, 'and I will bring him to you.'

MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL.

14 November, later I feel myself slipping, descending from grace into a dark place where I do not even recognize myself. I have looked back on my record of last night and think I should destroy it - yet my pangs of shame are dull, remote, and the revulsion I should feel is barely there at all. Instead the memories are dream-like; a kind of excitement, like the recollection, not of horror, but of a heart-warming delight. And that I feel so should appal me, yet it does not. I am too tired. Tired, and there is never enough air! I am so languid, I could have lain in bed all day, dreaming sweetly. (Would I have looked as sweet and rosy upon my pillow as Lucy once did, I wonder?) Instead I have forced myself to dress and write my journal, as a form of self-discipline, though it taxes me sorely to do so.

My memories are hazy now ... but it seems to me that after he drank from my veins, he held me tenderly for a time. I did not resist this, for my mind was awhirl and I had no will to escape him. But I remember also that he pierced his breast with his nail, and that I sucked and swallowed the ruby of blood that oozed out. . . oh, G.o.d, did that happen also or did I dream it? Then I am more unclean than the first time, for this time he did not force me ... But if I am unclean or ashamed, I cannot feel it. I feel.. . numbed, quite.

Elena has been and gone. She brought Quincey to me, and he seems content before the fire, drawing pictures. His cough is worse, but he does not wish to be in bed, and I will not force him if he is well enough to play. As long as he keeps warm ... Oh, but how long must we be imprisoned here, how many more 'bargains' will the Count demand of me before he will let us alone?

Of course, he will never let us alone! The limits of these bargains, he will extend to infinity, and he will renege upon every one!

What a fool I have been - but still, what else could I have done?

Evening I am unsure of the time, for darkness draws in early. Elena has taken Quincey to bed. They would not let him stay with me all night. I am a little stronger, but I fear this solitude; it can mean only that Dracula is coming to me again.

I sit and wait, s.h.i.+vering, for his firm step upon the stair. I am afraid and yet my hand creeps of its own volition to loosen my collar, to smooth my skin and push back my hair, and I watch the firelight gleaming like molten gold upon my arms, and I must keep wetting my dry lips with my tongue .. .

He has come and gone. How strange!

He entered quietly and placed his hand upon the sc.r.a.ps of paper that serve as my diary, preventing me from writing. He looked younger again; his hair was now all dark, very thick and profuse, as were his black brows. His face, though cruel, was smooth with the bloom of youth and blood. He has been a very handsome man, once, very striking, with great dark eyes. Is handsome even now.'Always you must be recording every moment of your life,' he said, as if amused. 'Elena has caught this habit from you, also. It is a form of English neurosis, is it not, this desire for truth, for order?'

'Perhaps,' I said. 'If it offends you, I will not do it. My memory is very good.'

'Strong enough to survive death?'

At that, a hand of coldness went through me, touching my heart. It was as if part of my mind suddenly awoke and said, Look what danger you are in!

'Write as you will,' Dracula added. 'It means nothing to me.'

'Nothing?' I said defiantly. 'By writing, last time, we outwitted you.'

'Piecing all together, like detectives,' he said, walking slowly around the room. His presence overwhelmed everything; how can I explain? The whole room seemed to be gathered and focused around him as if he were the centre of existence. I felt that if he left, all energy, pa.s.sion and hope would vanish with him. But these are the seductive illusions with which the Devil ensnares us!

Jonathan, much as I love him, has never seemed to fill the room as the Count does. That is because true goodness is modest and does not draw attention to itself! Animal magnetism, Van Helsing would call it; that is what Dracula possesses. And it is as evil as it is seductive. I tried to fight it. The tension of his presence - the devil in me wis.h.i.+ng he would touch me, the Christian part of me dreading his touch - was unbearable.

I spoke. 'We each kept our half of the bargain. How much more will you demand of me, before you set us free?'

He kept his back to me, and did not answer. I went on, 'I am asking, what must I do to make you leave us alone, once and for all? What ultimate, terrible thing will satisfy you? Tell me, and I'll do it!'

At that he laughed. 'You would, dear Mina. Anything at all to save your son. Murder your husband? Torture Elena with needles or watch her die slowly upon a stake? But you fear that nothing will satisfy me. Indeed, that I might keep you here for ever with false promises.'

He turned suddenly, and came so rapidly to where I sat that I started away. To my shock, he knelt down and gripped my hands. His are hairy, animal, and yet their texture, even their very hairiness, was soothing. 'There is something, beloved Mina. I cannot tell you yet, not until you give yourself willingly and freely to me.'

'Have I not done that?' I said bitterly.

'Not yet. You fight me, you fan the fire of your own despite constantly. If instead you would love me -'

I gasped. 'Now it is not enough that I let you wreak these foul designs upon my flesh - you want love? Never. I pity you but I will never love you.'

'You could. I think you do, a little. Stay with me.'

'What?'

'Stay with me for ever.'

How could I answer? I tried to pull away, but he pinned my wrists to my knee with one hand and rose, leaning over me, his other arm folding tight about my shoulders and his mouth clamping hard upon my neck.

I felt his hard teeth pierce me; I stiffened. Blackness rushed and whirled all through me, taking my mind with it, spinning through spasms of pain and unholy pleasure. But through this rush I heard sounds outside; indistinguishable s.n.a.t.c.hes of human or animal cries.

Dracula let me go. He had not taken enough of my blood to weaken me. He stood up, and I saw the Wood s.h.i.+ning on his lips and teeth as he turned to look out of the window. He forgot me; his attention was on the ground below the keep.

I said quickly, 'If you do anything to harm my husband or our friends, you will have nothing of me, willing or otherwise.

Nothing!'

The Count looked back at me for a moment, very grim. Then he went between the bars of the window and out through gap between cas.e.m.e.nt and frame like mist. Shocked, I rushed to the window, and witnessed him walking, head first like a lizard, down the outside of the wall.

A chilly, sickening fear stirred within me and spread its tendrils through my whole being. I could see nothing in the gloom and tangled undergrowth, although it was not full dark. Only Dracula's black figure moving down into the swampy darkness. I heard dogs baying, louder and louder; I heard human shouts.

I ran down to try the outer door to the keep, but we are locked in.

No one has returned to tell me what is happening. But I feel the resonance of danger, like ghosts in the walls, and a dreadful sense of foreboding.

JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL.

(Dictated by him and entered by Abraham Van Helsing)

14 November, evening A day of hope and despair.We found the gates of Carfax solidly locked, though there was indeed evidence of fresh carriage tracks pa.s.sing along the drive.

I had never thought to look on that great, brooding old house with its fortress walls again! A grey afternoon was thickening into the gloom of evening. Kovacs said, 'I can go in this way. But I can go no further into the house, without invitation, than the chapel.'

Then we will meet you at the chapel,' said Van Helsing.

Kovacs turned sideways and pa.s.sed through the join of the oak and iron gates, as if he had become as thin as paper. It reminded me of G.o.dalming's description of Lucy, pa.s.sing through the gap of a closed door to enter her tomb.

It was an easy enough matter to scale the walls of Carfax with the aid of a rope-ladder; not the first time we have had to do so, and I am all too familiar with the place. Van Helsing had armed us each with a wreath of garlic, a large cross wrought of silver, and other equipment for the disposal of vampires. But as we dropped down into the grounds, we heard the baying of a dog. It seemed far away; outside the walls, I thought at first, until it came rapidly closer, joined by the voices of its fellows.