Blood to Blood (31 page)

He was coming for her! Terrified, she fled toward the river.

She had hoped to be out of sight by the time he came outside, but her skirts made running difficult. She ducked into the bushes past the formal gardens and, keeping low, headed through them toward the wall that separated their gardens from their neighbors: Nearly five feet high, it offered some privacy without cutting off the sun. Now it was merely another obstacle blocking her escape.

She reached it before he'd even seen her, tried to pull herself up. Her feet slipped on the stones before finding a toehold. She had one foot over the top when he reached her, pulling her back. "Help!" she called, a weak sound not likely to be heard by the family in the distant house, already shut against the night's damp.

"Please, doctor. I meant no harm," she said. "But my loyalty is to my mistress, and you've frightened us both."

She expected him to drag her back to the house, not grip her so tightly by the neck that speech became impossible nor to pull a knife from his pocket. Even then, she thought she knew him and that he intended to use it to control, not to kill. So the first quick slash across her shoulder and neck came as a surprise. She held up her hand, and the second slice cut across her palm. As he raised it again, they heard a shot, another, the sound of breaking glass.

"Damn her!" Rhys muttered. He slashed again, this time slicing her arm, then let her fall as he turned and ran toward the house.

Essie pressed her bleeding neck with her hand, the cut on her arm with the wounded palm. Though she could not see her wounds, the front of her dress felt sticky and wet. She had just decided to try to make it over the wall when her strength failed her and she slid slowly to the ground.

Mina's first shot had lodged in the hallway armoire. The second had been better aimed, going through one of the panes of glass in the rear doors. She considered a third but decided not to waste her bullets. Instead, she remained where she was, back to the front door and side against the foyer wall, the gun balanced on her bent knees. Her eyes were a bit out of focus and her head pounded, but as the doctor came through the doorway, she got off one more shot. She saw him jerk as the bullet hit, saw him fall and lay still.

She'd hoped to sound an alarm and save Essie's life, but the blood so obvious on his white shirt made it clear that she had been too late. Now Rhys was dead himself, or wounded. She should make certain, she knew, but what she had managed to do had taken the last of her strength. No matter. She'd sounded an alarm. Any neighbor who heard would either go for help or come to the door to check on her soon.

In the meantime, she would rest.

Her eyes shut, her muscles went slack, her grip on the gun loosened.

Rhys raised his head slowly, his expression grim as he began to crawl to her. "Why did you do this?" he asked as if she could still answer.

Van Helsing's train pulled into Exeter a little before one on Sunday morning. He should have gotten some sleep while he traveled, but he had been too caught up in how he would explain everything that had transpired in the last day to the Harkers. He tried to look at his story through their eyes and was convinced they would both think him mad.

He decided, finally, that it would make no difference as long as they were warned.

Even at the late hour, there were still some cabs for hire. The doctor hesitated before giving the Harkers' address in town. His rationale was simple: It was the most likely place to find Jonathan. If Mina were with him, they would likely be safe. If Mina were not—well, he was getting too old and stiff for anything but a battle of wits. Young Harker would have to provide the brawn.

As Van Helsing's cab pulled away from the station, Jonathan was arriving home. His meeting had gone on even longer than he'd feared, and they'd still reached no agreement on how to deal with increases in taxes and tariffs and their devastating effects on British businesses. The speaker had actually referred to the colonies a number of times, as if the United States were somehow still as much Britain's as was India.

Afterward, a group of them had stopped at a nearby pub for an informal meeting on the matter that had consisted less of further discussion than of alcohol-softened mutual misery.

None of this discussion put Jonathan in an amorous mood. Since Mina was also likely asleep by now and he didn't want to disturb her or Essie, he decided to spend the night in town.

He'd just gone inside when he heard the sound of hooves and wheels, looked out the window and saw Van Helsing getting out of a cab. Jonathan pulled open the door. Seeing him, Van Helsing called from the street, "Is Madame Mina here?"

"She spent the night at the cottage," Jonathan replied, more annoyed than concerned at the late disturbance.

"Come, come. Put your coat on. We must go to her at once."

"Doctor, if this is about the"—it occurred to him that one or more of his neighbors was likely privy to this loud exchange—"the matter in London, we really—"

"It is not. Come, I tell everything to you on the way."

With no choice but to go, Jonathan grabbed his coat, locked the door and joined the old man at the cab.

They'd traveled only a little way when Jonathan, having heard the main points of the story, leaned out the window and asked the driver to please hurry.

"And I had thought you would be so hard to convince," Van Helsing said.

"No, doctor. The moment you said that you would accept the word of one of those creatures, I knew you were deadly serious. Now tell me the rest of what you know, every detail."

Van Helsing did, including what he knew of the murders. "Rhys and I met in London three times since I met him. There was one killing when he was there. Now this one as well. I think we must be cautious."

"He may still be in London."

"We can pray so, but Jonathan, he speaks of your wife so often and with such reverence that I cannot help but believe that with a so-troubled mind, he would be compelled to go to her."

Jonathan nodded and said little else, for they had turned onto the river road. He called to the driver to stop a few doors down from his house. "No use announcing our arrival," he said.

They got out, paid the driver and walked quietly toward the cottage. Along the way, Jonathan pulled out his key and gripped the revolver Van Helsing had given him.

Like all the other houses around it, the cottage was dark and silent, though as they approached the house Jonathan saw that the inside was dimly lit. The gate creaked as they opened it, their footsteps audible now on the cobblestone path. Staying well to the side of the door, Jonathan slipped the key in the lock and opened it.

The door swung open. Jonathan entered slowly, Van Helsing close behind. Though the room was nearly dark, they could smell what had transpired—scents of gunpowder and blood.

They moved toward the back of the house. Jonathan ready to fire if need be. But as soon as he saw Rhys, he realized he was too late.

Mina was on the settee, asleep or unconscious, a damp rag across her forehead. Rhys sat on a chair beside her, one hand holding the tip of a surgical knife pressed against her neck the other her revolver, which he pointed in Jonathan's direction. "I was expecting you," he said to Jonathan, then glanced toward the doorway where Van Helsing stood just out of sight. "And the doctor as well. Both of you, come in."

Jonathan shuffled in and moved toward the doors while Van Helsing stopped just in sight near the front hallway. Rhys wisely focused on Jonathan, who having noted the blood on Rhys's shirt, realized that some of it was undoubtedly from a bullet wound, and wondered if he would be able to attack without bringing harm to Mina.

As if reading his mind, Rhys said, "Mr. Harker, put your gun on the floor and slide it over here, please."

Jonathan started to obey, but before he could slide the gun forward, Rhys's attention was diverted by Van Helsing's question. "What are your plans for all of us, Felix?"

Rhys looked at him, expression blank. Jonathan thought he would never have a better time. He stood, kicked the gun hard into the side of Rhys's foot and lunged.

Jonathan had gambled and won. Rhys didn't act on his threat. Instead, he swung the knife up and sideways into the soft spot on Jonathan's side, just below his ribs. He might have twisted, or thrust up with a killing stroke. Instead he shoved Jonathan backward, dropped the knife and with both hands aimed the gun at Jonathan's chest. "Don't force me," he said, his voice still calm and even.

Without taking his attention away from Jonathan, he spoke to them both. "Mr. Harker, take a seat on one of the side chairs. Doctor, there is a rope on the table. Please, use it to make certain Mr. Harker cannot charge me again."

"He is wounded. I should see to him," Van Helsing countered.

"Do what I ask, then see to Mrs. Harker first. After, I will let you examine him."

"What have you done—" Jonathan began, but Van Helsing moved close to him, motioning for him to be silent.

"Come, we do as he tells us," Van Helsing said, helping Jonathan to stand.

He secured Jonathan to the chair, as loosely as he thought Rhys would allow.

When he had finished, he advised Jonathan, in a voice loud enough for Rhys to hear, "Just be silent. Let us old friends work this disagreement out."

Noting that Jonathan's wound was not bleeding overly much. Van Helsing turned his attention to Mina. "What happened to her?" he asked Rhys.

"She fell down the stairs, hitting her side and head hard as she landed. She lost consciousness for a moment, then again later. I moved her as carefully as I could but can find nothing wrong."

"How long has she been like this?"

"About three hours."

"A long time. Let me sit and look at her."

Rhys moved aside for him, getting the lamp when Van Helsing requested it. He lifted her eyelids, examined their reaction to light. He ran his fingers over her forehead and the back of her neck, looking for signs of swelling. He took a stethoscope from his bag and listened to her heartbeat, then removed her shoes and scraped a fingernail down the center of her feet, pleased when reflex made her legs move.

"No sign of internal or back damage. A slight concussion perhaps," he said loud enough for Jonathan to hear, then turned to Rhys. "You say she fell on her side?"

"The right, yes."

He had Rhys help him undo the buttons on the back of her blouse so he could take it off and the corset as well. Lifting her chemise only as much as he needed to, he felt each rib, pausing at one of the lower ones. "None is broken, but I think I feel something here." He took Rhys's hand, had him feel the spot. "A crack, perhaps?"

"You're right. But that doesn't explain her unconsciousness."

"It may be nothing more than pain. We should bandage her. I have none in my bag, however."

"I saw a towel in the kitchen. If we fold it over the fracture and lace the corset tighter than normal, it will brace the rib."

Van Helsing looked at him. "An excellent idea, Felix. But one of us needs to get it," he said.

"Your word that you will stay at her side?"

"If I may treat her husband next, then yes, you have my word."

Satisfied, Rhys went to the kitchen, returning with a soft cloth and a pitcher of cold water. "For her head," he explained, moistening the compress he had been using, placing it over her forehead again.

Van Helsing lifted her torso. Rhys placed the folded towel over the fracture, then put the corset in place and tightened the laces. She cried out once, a response both doctors saw as good sign.

As they lay her back down, she touched Van Helsing's side, hitting it twice. "Mina. Mina, can you hear me?" he asked.

Her eyes twitched but did not open. Her lips moved. He held his ear close to them, trying to catch her soft words. "I'm dreaming," she whispered.

"Dreaming?" he asked.

"As I did on the train. She is coming, doctor. Tell Jonathan to take care and wait."

Rhys, who had been standing on the other side of Van Helsing, could hear only the faintest hint of her whisper. "What did she say? Something about dreams and coming was it?" he asked.

"Yes, she says she is dreaming, which is what she did when we traveled through Europe and she fell ill. It was a good sign then, Felix. I believe it will be now as well."

"You really think so?"

"I think we've done all we could anywhere," Van Helsing commented. "Now, may I see to my other patient?"

As Jonathan watched the doctors treat Mina, he tried to breathe shallowly and move as little as possible. He had no idea of the extent of his own injury, only that the almost painless cut had given way to an incessant dull throbbing, keeping time to his heartbeat.

He had been considering his dwindling strength and how loosely Van Helsing had tied him and was weighing another attack on the now unarmed doctor when he heard Van Helsing repeat Mina's words.

He understood them perfectly. She was dreaming of Joanna. The vampire had shown no interest in any of them, but given Arthur's story, she would have every reason to come after Rhys. He prayed that it would be soon, because unlike Van Helsing, whose thoughts were completely of Mina, Jonathan had time to observe and consider Rhys's state. Though there was a lot of blood on the man's shirt, he showed no sign of weakness. Either he was incredibly strong, as madmen sometimes were, or else it was not all his.

He wondered what the effect would be on Rhys if he were to ask what had become of Essie. He decided to wait. Van Helsing would turn his attention to the Indian doctor's wounds and learn the truth soon enough.

Van Helsing brought a bottle of brandy and a teacup, a towel and some water. He set it all on the table, peeled back Jonathan's shirt and began cleaning the wound.

"You're lucky Felix didn't want to kill you," Van Helsing commented when he saw the depth and angle. "As it is, he may have nicked a kidney, but I doubt even that." Though he had the items in his medical bag, he asked Jonathan, "Do you happen to know where Madame Mina keeps her sewing box?"

"In one of the drawers in the kitchen. Close to the wood-stove, I think."

Again Rhys went to get it, giving doctor and patient a moment alone. "He killed Essie," Jonathan whispered.

"
Ja
, and to remind him of it will likely bring the same fate to one or all of us. You heard Madame Mina. We wait, and while we wait, we work to heal you and keep his mind on his higher purposes."

He poured a cupful of brandy, held it up. Jonathan shook his head, so Van Helsing drank it down, wiped the inside of the cup, and filled it with grain spirits from his medical bag. Moving quickly, he pressed the rim of the teacup over the wound, letting the alcohol flow into it.

This was the way Jonathan had expected the actual cut to feel—searing and horrible. He pressed his lips together to keep from crying out.

Rhys threaded a needle, and at Van Helsing's request dipped it all in the alcohol before handing it to Van Helsing. Jonathan cried out again as Van Helsing began stitching. He must have been weaker than he thought, because the new pain made him dizzy. He slumped sideways. Rhys caught him and held him steady, his hands deceptively soft.