Blood to Blood (32 page)

As he traveled west on the afternoon train, Arthur developed a great respect for Colleen. She had managed to get her mistress across all of Europe, while a simple trip to Exeter had caused him so much grief.

First, the hack he had hired had a door too narrow to accommodate Joanna's box of earth. After much pushing and swearing, the driver had gone in search of a cart. On that, the horse was lame, and one wheel of the cart seemed in danger of falling off, a particular problem since by now Arthur was concerned about catching the train and had to ask the driver to hurry.

When they arrived at the station, two extra men were needed to lift the huge chest onto a boxcar. As they did, one man lost his grip for a moment before they managed to slide it in. Seeing this, Arthur had the sudden disquieting image of it falling, breaking, and the two women inside screaming as the sunlight touched them and their bodies burned.

Should such an event occur, he would disappear and mourn and occasionally spare some small bit of pity for Derrick Smythe, whose cards he was still prudently using.

Of course, no such tragedy occurred, but there were other, more likely ones. Arthur took the precaution of sitting in the passenger car next to the one carrying his precious cargo, and he would leave the train to keep watch over it at every stop in the long ride.

Were the women aware of the journey? he wondered.

Could they be as nervous as he was about the outcome of it?

The sun was low in the sky when they pulled into Exeter. He had just enough time to rent a cart and horses. "And you won't be needing a driver, you say?" the carrier asked him.

"I'm in need of privacy," Arthur replied. "I'll have the team back tomorrow morning."

The man grinned. "I've had a need for privacy myself on occasion. Three pounds for deposit and I'll put a pair of feed bags in the back with your luggage." He looked at the box curiously as he said the last.

"An antique for a friend. One I need to deliver myself," Arthur supplied, nearly grinning at the truthfulness of that statement

"Well, I hope you've some stout help on that end," the man commented.

While Arthur had been arranging for the cart, he sent a messenger boy to the Harkers' house in town, to Rhys's clinic and since the boy said he knew the doctor, to the doctor's house. The boy came back in record time to report that none of the parties was home. "It's Mina's cottage, then," Arthur commented aloud, wondering if they were awake in back and could hear him.

He drove on through the dwindling light, stopping finally in a secluded spot near the turn to Mina's cottage. Joanna joined him on the driver's seat some time later, sitting silently as she picked bits of dirt out of her hair. He glanced behind him. Colleen was still resting; the young, he thought, usually sleep in.

"How far?" Joanna asked after a while.

"We're close." He explained about the notes he had sent, and his own feeling that Rhys would be at Mina's cottage. "Now that they know about the doctor, they'll likely welcome your arrival."

"Unless they're in league with him."

"They're not."

She looked at him as if she could read his thoughts. "They're not, I assure you of it," he replied more vehemently.

"We will know soon," she said, falling into silence again.

He wanted to take her hand, to touch her thick hair—all the things he had wanted to do before. Again, he wondered. Did he feel any differently toward her now when he was supposed to be her slave through blood? Though the pain of her stare made him think she had more power over him than before, he sensed nothing else. Perhaps he had been her slave already.

"We're almost there," he said when they reached a familiar bend in the road.

"Good," Colleen said from behind him.

Startled, he nearly cried out. She had emerged from her shelter so soundlessly.

Joanna asked him to pull the team over and pointed to Mina's cottage farther down the road. "The husband is there," she said. "The wife too. The doctor as well, I think, for I feel much pain."

"You know this?" he asked incredulously. Van Helsing had never mentioned this power.

"The woman has some power of her own. And the husband's blood is in me. Even after so long, I can feel his emotions and his pain, just as I will always feel yours. And I can cause him pain as well, though I will never be as vicious as Illona was." She rested her hand on his. "Now we shall see about those you call friends, Arthur."

"Should I come?" he asked.

Joanna looked at him, lips curling upward without mirth—a predatory smile. "A half hour, then pull up to the gate," she told him. "We would not want to lose our day home to some curious thief."

He studied the air between his cart and the cottage. A mist curled through the entrance garden, dividing at the front door to circle the house. Colleen was learning about her new life remarkably fast.

By Sunday afternoon Jonathan had fallen into a deep and Van Helsing hoped, healing sleep. Mina had awakened only twice. He'd given her some water, then held her hand as she drifted off again. She did not act as if she had a concussion, and though he had told Rhys she had done this before, he had lied. He wondered if, knowing Rhys's attachment for her, a part of this was an act. If so, she did a remarkable job.

With both of his patients seemingly in the hands of God, he focused his attention on Rhys. The doctor's body had needed little work, since the bullet that had nicked his arm had done no real damage and the one to the shoulder had passed through. He cleaned both wounds and bandaged them. Like Mina, he was concerned about the amount of blood on the man's clothing and Essie's absence, but said nothing. Instead, he found a clean shirt for Rhys to put on.

During all of this, there had been two occasions when Jonathan's gun was within his reach, but he thought of Mina's advice. She was right, as always. If the vampire woman was really coming, he would have more than one enemy here and would need both wits and strength to survive.

Besides, while Van Helsing had worked on the patients, he had consulted with Rhys often. Doing his work had alleviated Van Helsing's anxiety. And now that he wasn't covered in blood. Van Helsing could almost view him as he once had, as colleague and friend.

The sun rose, burned off the river fog to reveal a beautiful day. Once he was through with the others. Van Helsing thought of Essie and suggested they go outside so he could smoke his pipe. Though he said this most casually, he watched Rhys's reaction and saw nothing unusual but the caution he would expect given the man's fright.

"It is barely noon, Felix, and a bit of sun will do us both good. My old, stiff bones in particular," Van Helsing said and started for the door. Rhys did not call him back, but followed some moments later to take a seat in one of the chairs. The gun was still tucked into his belt, he had the knife somewhere, but he had made no threats for hours.

By then Van Helsing also was sitting in a chair on the far edge of the terrace, facing the river. He commented often on the height of the water and the speed of the current while he scanned the lawn and bushes looking for some sign of the woman.

There was nothing but the buzzing of bees among the blooms, the soft rustle of early-fallen leaves in the soft, shifting breeze. He watched the smoke from his pipe twist and dissipate in the cool air. A puff blew against his face; he coughed. As he did, he deliberately dropped his wooden pipe on the stones. It bounced, stopping on the second wide step leading from the terrace to the garden. He stepped below it to retrieve it, scanning the yard once more as he turned, noting something pale moving in the bushes near the river.

As he peered in that direction, he heard Rhys mumble something. Turning, he saw how ashen the doctor's face had become. "It's just a cat. No need to fear that, Felix," he said, bending over and calling to the animal now moving on the edge of the garden.

The animal, a well-tended marmalade tabby, came forward slowly; then, sensing that Van Helsing meant no harm, more quickly. It curled around the doctor's feet, lifted its head so he could scratch under the chin. As he did, he noticed the blood on its muzzle, on its feet, even a patch on its shoulder.

"Come and look at this, Felix. We may have another patient here," he called as he felt the chin and shoulder, finding no wounds. "Been hunting, have you, you so-spoiled little thing. What did you catch that put up such a—"

Rhys kicked the animal hard, sending it back toward the bushes. It rolled as it landed, then found its feet and fled.

"What did you do that for?" Van Helsing asked, knowing the answer as soon as he saw Rhys's face. The question, unplanned, came from him before he could screen the words for their possible reaction. "Felix, what have you done?"

Rhys shook his head, fell back into the chair. His hand was on the gun but he did not move to pull it out.

Now that things had gone this far, he might as well push the man farther, Van Helsing thought. Saying a quick prayer, he moved away from the terrace, toward the bushes where he had first glimpsed the animal.

He saw a foot first, a bare leg, the rest. Rhys had done this? To read of the deeds had been one thing, but to see his terrible work on someone he knew made him queasy. He shuddered. His knees all but gave way as he knelt beside her.

Dead. She had to be dead, there was so much blood. And yet as he touched the dry side of her neck searching for a pulse, he saw her hand twitch. "Felix!" he called. "Felix, come quickly. We have another patient here.

"So terrible," Van Helsing mumbled as he turned to her. "So terrible I cannot imagine you surviving the night. We shall help you do the same today."

He tried to lift her but could not, looked toward the house and saw Rhys still standing on the terrace. "Come, Felix, we are doctors,
ja
? This woman needs help so help we must give. Though she is barely more than a child to me, I cannot lift her alone," he called.

Rhys came then, but only to stand above the woman, looking down at her as if he didn't know her. Only the tremors of his body betrayed what he had done.

Van Helsing directed him to the less wounded side of the girl and together they lifted her and carried her to the house, laying her on a stack of soft cushions close the settee where Mina slept. Through it all, Rhys seemed so anxious that Van Helsing found himself praying that the girl would show no outward sign of life, lest the doctor drop her and reach for a weapon.

But she remained lifeless except for that fluttering pulse. Shock, Van Helsing thought. Though the bane of physicians, it must have saved her, shutting down her body's needs and conserving what little strength she had.

As he undressed her. Van Helsing saw that the wounds were deeper than he had imagined. It seemed to him that only God could have directed the way she had fallen, so that her hand was held between her chin and neck, somehow pressing the cut neck closed. He cleaned around the cuts carefully, trying not to loosen the tenuous clots that had formed on her arm and neck until he had stitched the smallest cut shut.

As before, he tried to keep Rhys involved in the work without success. As Van Helsing cleaned and closed the cut on Essie's palm, he could hear Rhys pacing the room, muttering words so soft they sounded like whispered prayers, stopping occasionally to look out the window. "It is daylight, Felix," Van Helsing finally said.

Rhys went to the sideboard, poured himself a brandy. "No matter, I am doomed anyway. I always have been," he said after a while.

"No, not when there is a God above capable of mercy."

Rhys looked at him. almost smiling. "You would draw me into this discussion after seeing what I've done?"

So much for avoidance of the obvious. Van Helsing thought, looking down at Essie and wondering what she had done to provoke the attack. He wanted to ask, but the words would not come. Other, better ones did. "I am no doctor of the soul, Felix, but I have some years and a bit of understanding if you wish to speak of these matters further."

"I cannot speak ill of the one who gave me life," Rhys blurted. "I never have before. Even my aunt never knew the truth and so revered her."

Knowing some of his history. Van Helsing guessed at his meaning. "She may have thought it was the only way you would both survive."

"It would have been better had my mother sent me to beg in the streets," Rhys said, his wooden tone at odds with his trembling hands.

Van Helsing nodded. As he expected, Rhys began to weep, and it took some time before he could continue. "After we moved from the rooms my father kept for us, we had only one between us. I would sleep with her in her bed unless someone was coming. Then she would make me sleep in the little bed she had prepared in the cupboard. I would lay with the door cracked to let in air, trying not to make a sound, trying not to listen.