Memoirs of an Immortal Life (21 page)

I screamed in anguish, rushed to grasp his fallen cane, and withdrew the sword inside
in defense of Vladimir. Whether it was instinct to save a man I had grown to love deeply or the will of preservation coursing through my body with his memories cannot be said. It was without thought I drove it through my father’s heart. No emotions were felt as he lay alongside my Vladimir bleeding into the street as the sword tumbled from my hand.

“Find peace, Father,” I whispered. “You have fulfilled your duty by taking his life. Perhaps in death you will be reunited and can learn to love each other as the brothers you are but were never allowed to be.”

His last breath escaped him and still no remorse came. Velascon emerged from the underground and carried his master back to the darkness leaving my father dead in the street. His body will lie alongside my mother though I have no taste to travel to our home once more. Velascon has assured me all will be done just as I requested. Perhaps, one day, courage will again be mine and goodbyes can be said without malice for his lack of understanding and his unwillingness to see that all within the world is not dark and it is as Vladimir has said – within the darkness is light for one cannot exist without the other.

Arrangements have been made for our travel to Romania and then onward to his home in the Carpathians where he will be laid to rest and hopefully find the peace in death he was not granted in life.

Claudia Van Helsing’s Journal

5 March 1898

Baserab Castle

He is beleaguered and not well. All offers of my blood are refused with vehement regard. Vladimir has not the will to continue this long life he was granted which leave me slightly bewildered and afraid.

I wonder if his will has left him because he has succumbed to his nature or if he bears the guilt for what I alone chose to do. My father would not have rested until Vladimir was dead. This I know to be true. Reparation has been paid to the
families below whose children my father kidnapped during his madness. No compensation can be enough for a life lost, but it is my hope my sincere apologies for what transpired allows them to know it was not Vladimir who killed their children, but instead was my father – a man who became a monster not unlike the one he spent centuries attempting to destroy.

Vladimir has bade me to leave him several times. I cannot
, in good conscience, abide by his request. He is overwrought and should not be alone. Here I shall stay until his mood lightens. Perhaps he can be persuaded to travel to Germany as we once planned. A whirlwind tour of Europe could occupy his thoughts and keep him from dwelling on what transpired.

Vladimir Dracul’s Journal

22 February 1898

Baserab Castle

She pleaded with me this morn to take her blood, insisting that I could not taint her.

“I am, after all, a Baserab and partly born of you. No harm can come to me, Vladimir, and I cannot watch you succumb to the darkness. Do not suffer me this,” she said.

It was and shall only be a one-time occurrence. She must understand that so long as she is within close proximity to me, she will always be in danger. Perhaps not from me but those who wish to claim me. There have
been many throughout the years - her father included.

I have decided to take Claudia to Germany as promised. There I w
ill secure her a home, one that she can call her own.

In my attempt to save her, I condemned her; not to the darkness filled life which I chose, but a life where she will be force
d to endure the deaths of all she loves. It is an inevitable truth and one for which I am saddened but do not regret. Her father is not dead, as she believes, but the truth I cannot tell her. Only the chalice can end his life. It is a battle never won. Perhaps, Belcor will see that in this bounty we have shared, this life we were given, that in a curse there can be peace and even love and from this we must take our solace. It is with certainty we shall meet once more, perhaps under circumstances more pleasant and light, not under the darkness that has haunted us for so long and so deeply. All one can do is hope my beloved brother will find gladness in his heart over his daughter’s new life, one which was given out of love and not the hatred we came to embrace in our lives as men both mortal and immortal.

Claudia Van Helsing’s Journal

22 April 1898

Berlin, Germany

His generosity confounds me at times. Only a week after arriving, Vladimir purchased a grand chalet and presented it to me as a gift.

“No expense is to be spared,” he said as we entered. “Arrangements are made for a seamstress to come with fabric where you shall select whatever is to your liking. She will craft the curtains and treatments for the windows to match the fabric you chose for the furniture.”

It was grand, far too grand for me to accept, yet my refusal would only sadden him so it was with a smile and reluctance I agreed.

Over the next several weeks, men delivered furniture the likes of which I did not believe would be mine in this lifetime. The grand places my father traveled for his work were never our own, they were always lent. It has been so long since home has been seen, the meager surroundings of our abode are nearly a distant dream. Perhaps it is best this way. Perhaps a new life, one free of hatred and his
consuming desires, is what is needed for both of us to heal.

The house now i
s furnished. Wood and coal delivered for the iron stove and the fireplace are secured in large bins and are to be delivered monthly, paid well in advance so we might have the privacy we need until we grow accustomed to the new surroundings of our lives. We have attended the opera twice now and held two lavish galas as my introduction to German Society. It was not until this morning I understood why he had gone to such great lengths to ensure I wanted for nothing. The signs were present in the solemn and quiet nature Vladimir resumed. Perhaps, it was my way of attempting to reassure myself it was only a longing in his heart for his home that caused such melancholy but in truth, it was only my veiled attempt at not wanting to face the inevitable.

My Dearest Claudia,

It is with deep regret I must bid you farewell. You must live your own life, without the guilt or devotion you carry toward me. I once told you I am a creature of darkness. That will never change but you should know in the time I have known you, I have embraced more love and light in your eyes than any man could dream. It was a love pure and uncorrupted as only a woman could give whose world was not tinged by prejudice and darkness.

I have placed a sizable sum o
f money for you in a trust that you may withdraw at any time. You must remember, you are now an immortal and will not age. Deception must be embraced in order to survive. There are those who would seek to harm you and take your longevity if they believe it possible. You will find relocating to a new city, with a new name, and creating a new life will be of great benefit to you. Make certain the life you fabricate is one convincing and untraceable by those whose minds are curious and skeptical for this would draw others to you who are not so kind and loving.

Do not be sad for me. Do not allow your heart to cry. My heart has cried for centuries. We must both find our own paths to healing. At
first, you may hate me or feel enraged this I understand. But know this I did not for me but for you. You now are my charge, and it is my duty to protect you. It may not seem reasonable that I should say this and announce my departure. Deep in your heart, you understand the creature I am and why it is so imperative I leave you to live your life alone. That is not to say I would not come if you called to me or that I shall not be watching from afar. Do not mistake my leaving as an act of despair or an inability to love you. It can be said perhaps I love you too much and this is why I must take my leave.

You once told me there was light in the darkness. You have been the light of lights. Neither my heart nor my words are able to express the hope you have given back to me. Know that I shall always love you deeply.

Your Loving Uncle,

Vlad
mir

And with those solemn words, he left me. For some reason not known to me, I understand he must renew himself and find his place in this world. Were he to stay with me, he would feel compelled to protect me, and he would be discovered easily. I shall stay here, I believe, for a while. The deeds to Carlisle Abbey plus the many other houses are now in my name as well along with empty building in New York City. One day, I hope to travel there. One day, I hope to see him again.

and so a writer was born

End is a Beginning

When I submitted this composition of journals to my publisher, I asked that two final pages be included in the afterward that were not included in the original manuscript. I explained to him they were of the utmost importance. He, telling me, this work was my crowning achievement, the best work I had ever written, eagerly agreed without a second thought.

Life, as I knew it was a lie, a lie over which I had grown weary. Time and time again, reinvention happened with the same result, distance and a solitary existence was embraced and truly loving someone was not reasonable. The love Vladimir held in his heart right until the last moment we were together over the loss of his beloved wife was not a feeling I was willing to embrace. Instead, my life became reclusive until the day I began writing. Somehow, writing freed my soul, allowed me to find a voice once lost, and gave me the courage to move to Carlisle Abbey and resume living at the old residence. It proved to be the perfect backdrop, a place that stirred old memories that could be faced without fear and gave me the courage to read the countless journals in my possession – those of my father, my uncle’s, and mine.

And
when those pages were read and cascaded to the floor, it became evident to me what the world needed to know. They needed to know the truth behind the man the world believed was a monster, a man who just that – a man. A man who suffered a loss unfathomable, a man who loved his wife so deeply her death condemned him, and a man who turned from God in his anguish only to discover the light of the world resided in the eyes of a niece he had not had the pleasure of knowing. So it was no surprise to me when the words began to flow, the empathy remained still deeply imbedded in my heart for Vladimir, and that this book would be my healing, and in a strange way it would be his healing as well.

My publisher had released two sample chapters on the web as a publicity stunt, supposedly a ‘non-authorized’ release to entice readers. “They love Dracula,” he had said. So I agreed. I had a
book-signing coming up. It would help to draw more people and entice those who had not read my work prior to this book.

The signing came and was a great success. Both women and men clamored to seek my autograph, pause for pictures, and questioned me at length as to how such a story could come to be written. After four long hours, the signing came to a
welcome close. It was a pre-emptive push for the release of Memoirs of an Immortal Life with a large pre-sale event. I collected the last of my things, carefully packing away my laptop to go to my car.

It had been
well over a hundred years since I had seen him last. I had thought of him often during those years, wondering how he was, if he was lonely, if he was sad, if he had ever found love. My heart cried for my Uncle in a way that few could understand. He was so misunderstood. I felt that in the end, my father could have learned to understand him but by then it was too late. Vladimir is a complex man, not one easily understood, but one who bears every tragedy in life deep within his heart where the memories haunt him still.

I had sat there smiling at my
lingering fans, listening intently to their questions when I heard a familiar voice call my name deep in the recesses of my mind. It was a voice I had not heard in many years. I half expected to look up and see Vladimir standing before me. I thought it was only wishful thinking until turning to pick up my purse once the event had ended.

Upon the table
, it sat alone, the amethyst brooch, lying on an embroidered handkerchief. Tears came to my eyes as I picked up the carefully folded piece of parchment beneath it. I quickly wiped the tears from my face before reading the beautifully written script.

“My Dearest Niece and Beloved Claudia,

How well you have done for yourself, though I admit I have watched you from afar; a silent guardian throughout the centuries if ever you were in need. How beautiful your words and the truth behind our lives now told. In my many years, never could I have dreamt a creature so vile and despised as I would grow to be loved. You have shown the world the truth long forgotten about our family and for
this, I am eternally grateful. Perhaps, one day you shall come to visit me in my new home.

Your loving and devoted Uncle,

D.

“Vladimir,” I whispered but he was gone.

On the back of the envelope was an address I recalled fondly from days long past when I was known by another name and he as my uncle.

The book tour will come first, a whirlwind event followed by a possible movie contract. It might be two to three years in the making before I will see him again, but I know now my silent guardia
n watches. He lives. Vladimir has done what my father did not believe was possible. He has healed his heart.

And should I ever be in need,
if I call to him, Vladimir will be there for me just as he was all those years ago when his blood saved me from death, and I saved him from my father and himself.