Blood to Blood

Though the others do not speak of it, I know there is a moment of choice for our kind… Do we kill? Do we use? Do we feast on ecstasy? I know this now, and that Illona made certain I would be a killer like her.

From the journal of Countess Karina Aliczni

Joanna Tepes lay on the bare earth floor of her chamber, hidden deep within the labyrinth of caverns that cut through the rock beneath Castle Dracula.

There were few mortals who had ever possessed the courage to venture into the vampires' lair, and none who had ever prowled so deep. Nonetheless, the man and woman upstairs were like none she had ever known before, and she trembled and, wary, forced back the daytime sleep.

An impotent rage filled her, one she did not possess the courage to satisfy. Wasn't she also a Tepes? Didn't she deserve revenge? She tried to rationalize her terror. Even her brother knew that when the battle had been lost, it was suicide to face the enemy again so soon.

She forced a breath into lungs that had no need of air and exhaled a high-pitched, hysterical laugh. By the time she found the strength to confront that pair, they would be long gone from this place.

Could she follow them? Did she dare?

After centuries of nights each the same as the last, she realized that, no matter what her decision, everything had changed in the passing of a single night.

The rest were dead, truly dead, and for the first time in centuries she was completely alone.

She shuddered again, turned onto her side and clawed the soft earth beneath her with her delicate, killer's hands. A tear rolled down the side of her face. She brushed it away, then licked the dampness from her hand, tasting the salty warmth of her own blood.

Tepes
, she thought.
Tepes. Tepes. Tepes
.

As if she were claiming a legacy that wasn't her own, claiming a name that even when whispered could still cause fear.

May 25, 1891 Dearest Jonathan,

By now Van Helsing would have told you everything that happened to us on our second trip to Dracula's castle. You've undoubtedly also read the story the two of us invented to account for Lord Gance's death. The story is not so unlikely in that part of the world and was the sort of blatant lie Gance would have relished, I think. Hopefully, Van Helsing's many titles will allay any suspicions about the actual cause of his death.

Though I wished to do so, I did not accompany the body back to London. I feared that were we to wire Gance's family about his death, the press might have been alerted and been on hand to interview his traveling companions. Had we simply arrived with his coffin, another strange death stemming from a journey east, I might have been forced to identify myself. Though I do not care so much about my own reputation, I am pleased that no scandal has fallen on you or the firm.

This time I know it is over, Jonathan. Dracula is truly dead and his dark bride as well. As to the fair Countess Karina… no, I still cannot speak of her. I think it will be years before I can accept what we did to her and to Lucy.

I wish I could say that everything has changed, but in truth, dearest, it hasn't. I am no longer troubled by the dreams that forced me back to his dread castle to face him once again, but I am not free of the passion he forced me to feel. And I know now that it is no sin to give into it with one you love.

So come to me, dearest. I am staying in Paris and have enclosed the address. It is a beautiful house in the heart of a most incredible city. It is a place for lovers and for those who need to rekindle their passion for one another. I almost wrote "love" but in truth I love you still and I know you feel the same for me.

So come and let me hold you and kiss you and touch you and reveal to you all the passion that life has trained you not to feel.

With all my heart, your Mina.

It had not surprised Jonathan that the letter had been waiting for him when he returned from Lord Gance's funeral service. He had not wanted to attend the service of his wife's lover. However, as Gance's solicitor and a known friend of Van Helsing, who had brought Gance's body back, suspicions would have been aroused had he not attended. So he had stood in the back of the ballroom of the Gance estate, listening to Van Helsing explain how after the attack on Gance, he had been called to Gance's side by the Romanian authorities, who needed both translator and physician. Van Helsing added that Gance had undoubtedly saved the lives of the others in his party, then died when the exertion of the battle opened a recent near-fatal wound.

Perfect. Even the examination of the body by the authorities could reveal nothing to contradict Van Helsing's account. And the advanced state of decomposition, brought about by the damp hold of the ship, made it clear that no stakes and holy water were needed to ensure that Gance remained in his grave.

Now Jonathan sat behind the dark wooden desk in his office, holding Mina's letter as gently as he had once held her, looking out the window at the sunlit sky. He thought of Mina, her hair unpinned in an auburn cloud over her shoulders, her chemise fallen from her body into a satin halo around her bare feet.

Yes, he thought. Yes, he would go.

He picked up his pen, found a sheet of paper, and began to write a reply when Tom Pierson, a young man recently hired for Jonathan's old position, knocked on his office door. "Your first appointment is here to see you, sir," he said, passing Jonathan a calling card.

"In a moment," Jonathan replied, lovingly folding Mina's letter and placing it in his desk drawer.

Something in his expression made his clerk pause and ask, "Is everything all right, sir? If you wish to reschedule. Well, with it being so soon after the funeral, I'm sure Mr. Seeley would understand your situation."

Situation, Jonathan thought. The situation was dismal indeed, and he should have his mind on business as least while he was trying to work. Managing Lord Gance's estates had been an almost full-time duty for one of his clerks, not to mention the business that Gance's referrals had brought his way.

If he didn't replace it, who would he let go? Tom, who seemed so like himself not so long ago, and just engaged to be married? Frank Wallace, a bit irresponsible in his personal life but with excellent business sense?

Perhaps he was worrying over nothing. Perhaps Lord Gance's family would follow his lead and stay with the firm.

It was, he decided, a time to look industrious, confident. He conveyed both in his afternoon meetings, as he met with one client after another.

Late that evening before he left the office, he consulted his schedule and saw that it would be at least two weeks before he could get away. He had so many depending on him that he had to think rationally about his future and, he would make clear in a letter to Mina, her own as well.

He would remind her that she was in no danger now, and that if she were, he would not be writing but already on his way to her side. Then he would ask her to come to him instead. She had been practical once, determined to be a supportive wife. With a bit more understanding on his part, she could be again.

With these thoughts tumbling around in his mind, he took the information Mina had collected on Dracula and his wives out of his safe and went to meet Van Helsing and Arthur for a late-night supper.

Van Helsing had arrived at Robert's Pub a half hour before the others in order to claim a secluded table in a windowed alcove, a place where they could talk freely.

He had hoped that all the band could be together but Jack Seward had begged off, noting his duties at the asylum in London made the trip to Exeter impossible. Perhaps it was better that way. Van Helsing thought as he sipped a lager and waited for the others. Three men had loved Lucy Westerna. One was dead; two were still mourning. It might be best to speak to Arthur separately, especially since Seward knew most of the story already.

It never occurred to him to think that there were some things Arthur didn't need to know. Honesty above all had always been his motto, even in a case like this, where the truth seemed to constantly shift.

Poor Mina actually mourned the death of one of them. Incredible!

Jonathan and Arthur arrived at the restaurant at the same time, stopping just inside the door to shake the rain off their hats before joining him. Jonathan had a bit more color in his face than usual. Perhaps he had walked from his office, or perhaps he felt naturally embarrassed at what Van Helsing would likely reveal. Nonetheless, he'd agreed to the meeting, trusting Arthur's discretion as Arthur had trusted his.

Under normal circumstances, Van Helsing would have preferred to dine first and discuss the situation after the table was cleared and they would have no interruptions. But Jonathan seemed to grow more uneasy by the moment, so Van Helsing took pity on him and started in as soon as they'd been served their drinks.

"As I told you in my letter, Madame Mina discovered some additional information about the vampire and his consorts," he began telling Arthur. "It was in the form of a journal she found at Dracula's castle."

He went on, explaining how she had not wanted to worry them before she knew the contents, and that once she did, she understood why she felt so pulled to return there. "Unfortunately, Jonathan did not believe her, nor did Jack Seward."

"So Gance became her ally," Arthur said. Noticing Jonathan's surprised expression, he added, "I was a friend of his, after all. Probably the only one who understood what he'd discovered. I suspect I know why he went. Such power would be a terrible temptation to someone like him."

"We have the complete translation of the vampire's journal," Jonathan said, laying a hand on the thick envelope he'd brought with him. "We both have read it all, and Jack most of it. We think you should too."

Jonathan slid the envelope toward him, but Arthur pushed it away with such force he nearly overturned a mug. He started to stand, then looked at the pair, at Jonathan's relief and Van Helsing's concern. "What in God's name is in there?" he asked, falling back into his chair.

"Information on the youngest of his consorts, the one Dracula told Mina reminded him of your Lucy."

Arthur picked it up, holding it lightly as if the paper itself might cause him harm, finally setting it beside his hat on the window ledge.

Out of sight, Van Helsing thought, wondering if Arthur would ever open the envelope.

They changed the subject, discussing everything except what mattered most—Gance's funeral, Mina's absence and the envelope Arthur had set aside. As Arthur was getting ready to leave, Jonathan said softly, "When Dracula came to my Mina, he told her that Lucy would have had no choice but to become in time, as he was. Remember that as you read this account."

"Are you saying she wasn't, not… then?"

"She was a vampire, yes," Van Helsing said, "but her soul was not yet his to command."

Arthur looked down at the envelope. For a moment it seemed that he would toss it back on the table. Instead, he clutched it more tightly. "Will we ever be free of his curse?" he asked.

"I no longer dream of them," Jonathan said gently. "Mina writes that she does not dream at all. And you?"

"Only of my Lucy," Arthur said and left them without another word.

Jonathan started to stand, but Van Helsing motioned him to remain. "What do you hear from Madame Mina?" he asked.

"She wrote me. She asked me to meet her in Paris. I intend to write and ask her to come home instead."

"Is that what you want to do?" Van Helsing questioned as gently as his nature would allow.

"It's what has to be done if we are to remain as husband and wife. That's the heart of the matter, isn't it?"

"I would consider carefully before you send that letter."

Jonathan frowned, and Van Helsing could already see that Victorian stolidity surfacing. He thought, as he had more than once since Mina had arrived at his house in Bukovina, that if he were younger he would not be offering Jonathan such good advice. Instead he would fight to possess her. "And I would not consider the matter too long," Van Helsing added. "Remember that she also has much to forgive you for."

Jonathan might have taken a cab home. He chose to walk the two miles instead. The May evening was chilly but not overly so. The walking kept him warm, and he felt a need for the solitude he wouldn't have once he arrived at home.

Van Helsing's words had stung because they had been so true. In the months since their band had invaded Dracula's lair to destroy him, Jonathan had ignored Mina, then all but abandoned her when he thought she'd gone mad.

Now she wanted him to come to her, to walk the streets of Paris and in that beautiful city try to rediscover what they had once felt for each other.

And yet, all around him were signs of misery… beggars on street corners, urchins darting among the crowds looking for easy pockets, women in dresses mended too many times, heading for uncertain houses where their last farthing might give them a place to spend the night.

He would never fall so low, but he could hardly hold on to what he had without some diligence.

Send the letter or not? He could reach no decision that night, nor the following day. He worked well into the night, at the office, then at home, convinced that so many extra hours would free up enough days for at least a week in Paris.

He wrote her to say he would be coming on the fourteenth and reminded her that the date was special, the anniversary of the day they first met. He put the letter with the others to be posted the following morning and returned to his work.

That evening, as his employees were leaving, a gentleman arrived to see him. His card identified him as Samuel Perry, a solicitor with the prominent Mayfair firm of Quarles and Brady.

"I'd hoped to find you in," the man said as Jonathan locked the outside door and led him into his office. "Actually, I'd hoped to contact you earlier today, but the train from London was delayed. Some problem with the track."

Perry laid his coat over one of the Chesterfield chairs, careful that the damp side not touch the leather, and ran a hand through his graying hair, smoothing it down before taking a seat across the desk from Jonathan. "This is a private matter," he began with some hesitation.

"Well, that's hardly a problem at this hour, since we're alone here. And this concerns…" Jonathan let the question trail off.

"Your wife, sir. I need to contact her."

"May I ask the reason?"

"She's come into an inheritance, the details of which should be first discussed with her."

Jonathan eyed the visitor intently, reading in the blush spreading over his already ruddy cheeks exactly who had left her the money. "Is this from Lord Gance?" he asked. "If so, I am… or was his solicitor."

"In most matters, yes. But Lord Gance thought that, given your business relationship, it would be best to alter his will in Mrs. Harker's favor through a different firm."