Dracula's Daughter

No reply. Gwen made small talk for a bit longer and then stood, promising to return. Helen did manage a "Goodbye," and kissed Helen's cheek, but that was all. Wiping her eyes, Gwen marched down the hill to where an astute, pipe-smoking man waited for her. She shook her head at him. "Nothing," she said.

"That doesn't necessarily mean you've failed," Dr. Seward said, taking her by the arm and walking her back toward the main house, a big, looming Gothic thing that served as both home and hospital for the doctor. "If she keeps looking for an outlet in art it may mean she took your comments to heart," he continued.

"Do you really think it's good for her to draw those awful things?"

"The pictures aren't awful," Seward said. "The feelings they represent are, but since they exist, it's better out than in. Do you mean to say you never think about such things yourself?"

He rounded on her, peering over his spectacles in a way that made her squirm.

"You never talk about what you saw in the castle that night."

She looked away. "I'm not one for drawing pictures."

"I'm not sure that's true. That look you gave me just now illustrated quite a few things very vividly." Seward paused to refill his pipe, but before he could say more they were interrupted by the arrival of a man Gwen had never seen before.

He was short and steel-haired, with a prominent nose and small, round spectacles. He dressed somberly, almost like a mortician, and when he spoke his English was curiously accented. Despite all this, Gwen immediately felt at ease with him.

"Hello my dear," he said. "We've never met, but our mutual friend Dr. Seward has told me so much about you and your poor sister that I presumptuously feel something like kinship with you, and I hope that I can earn the same in return."

Dr. Seward nodded at the little man. "Gwen, meet my old friend. Dr. Abraham Van Helsing. I asked him here to help with your sister's case. I have...particular reasons for wanting his expertise."

Gwen curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Van Helsing. Any friend of Dr. Seward's I'm happy to meet. He's been so good to Helen, ever since her accident..."

"Yes, I've read all about that," Van Helsing said. "But I also have reason to suspect that there are things about that 'accident' that you've perhaps kept to yourself. But this isn't garden conversation; why don't we all go in for tea?"

Gwen looked back at where Helen still sat alone. Soon someone would come and collect her for fear of a storm, and Gwen knew that it was hardest for her when she had to be inside, and that she didn't feel safe anymore unless she was in some open place. Left on her own, she'd sit out here in the storm all night, even if it killed her...

As they went inside, Gwen examined Van Helsing more closely. "If you don't my asking, what kind of doctor are you?"

"A specialist."

"A specialist in what?"

Van Helsing smiled. "The unbelievable."

***

The sign on the cage read: "Gray Wolf." And beneath that: "Dangerous."

The animal lay with its snout on its paws, still but not sleeping, as dusk turned to night. A couple walking hand in hand through the zoo gardens peered at it.

"How cute," said the young woman. The wolf snarled.

John pulled his coat tighter and watched the couple walk away from the wolf's pen. In truth, he didn't mind the cold. Something else altogether made him shiver.

He peered through the bars at the caged animal. It laid its ears back and bared its teeth again...but then its demeanor changed. It sat up and its expression became passive, even eager. John's flesh crawled.

And then the Countess was there, standing right beside him. She wore a fur coat with a hood, and her dark eyes stared out from it shadows, fixing John to the ground.

"Where are you going?" she said. Her voice was very soft. John licked his dry lips.

"Nowhere. I was out for a walk."

"I woke up and you weren't here. I was worried..."

"I got lost finding my way back," John said, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. "I'm not used to this city yet."

She didn't blink. He squirmed. When she reached out he held his breath, but the touch turned out to be a loving one.

"I do make it so hard for you, always going one place to another," she said. "But you don't mind, do you darling?"

"Of...course not."

And in truth, he didn't. Her touch, her voice, the smell of her perfume, the way the luscious sables draped across her exquisite body (like a statue that walked) crammed his fears into a tiny corner of his mind, replaced with—

What? Love? Perhaps. But not love of any sort he'd ever known. Not human love. Still, its power was no less compelling. He wanted to fall on his knees and grovel, but he reminded himself they were still in public.

She turned away, searching the horizon, though there was nothing to see through the fog and the lights of the city. "We're going out," she said. "I feel I need company. You'll help me, of course."

John felt queasy, but he mumbled the words automatically: "Yes. Whatever you want."

She noticed the wolf. It whined and wagged its tail. She put her hand between into the cage and petted its muzzle. It licked her fingers.

"How cute," she said, her voice filled with both hunger and affection. "How cute..."

***

It was dark out, and Van Helsing was telling Gwen about his studies in Amsterdam, all of them sitting together in Dr. Seward's parlor, and then he got her talking about Transylvania so naturally that she scarcely realized she was doing it.

She had told no one the truth—the whole truth—about that night. Only mumbled half-truths to the authorities and doctors.

"We were traveling through the country," she said. "David—he was my fiancé—was writing a book about the old noble families, and Helen was his illustrator. John and I were just along for the sights."

"Borgo Pass doesn't see many tourists," said Van Helsing.

"Have you been there?"

"Only once. Please go on?"

"That place, Castle Dracula...at first I thought the peasants were just superstitious, but when we arrived I felt there really was something evil about it. It seemed silly, but I still couldn't help it.

"We separated, David and Helen to work, John and I to explore. David...never came back. He fell down some stairs. Neck broken." She closed her eyes and an image flashed into her mind of David lying in a heap, so she opened them again. "At least...that's what we told everyone."

Van Helsing leaned forward. "And what really happened?"

"I wasn't there. I only know what Helen said after, and she was hysterical. But she said...she said..."

Gwen had to swallow a few times before she could continue.

"She said something came out of the shadows and attacked him. Something all in white, like a ghost, so fast she could barely see it. It knocked him down, and then it pushed her away, and then...I don't really know what happened then. But David was dead when I found him."

"And where were you during all this?"

"Looking for John. He was trapped in a room that had no way out. At least, that's what I thought. The door opened eventually, but I don't know why."

"And then what?" Van Helsing was finishing his tea now. The logs on the fire popped.

"That's all I remember. I woke up hours later and heard Helen screaming off somewhere in the castle. I think..." She paused. "I think I can barely remember someone standing in the door when it opened. But I can't remember a thing about whoever it was."

Van Helsing cleaned his spectacles. He looked older without them. He was not a large man, and he was aged, but she felt safer with him around. Ever since Transylvania, the nights held special terrors for her whenever she thought she heard the flutter of a wing, or the cry of an unseen beast.

"One man dead, another missing, and your sister's sanity quite destroyed," he said. "So when you returned to your own country you brought her here?"

"Dr. Seward was a friend of our father's, back when he was alive. And honestly...we had nowhere else to go."

"And what about you, Miss Hartley? Is your mind still troubled after that night?"

Gwen raised her teacup to her lips and realized it was empty. It clattered against the saucer when she set it down.

"I haven't slept more than a few hours at a time ever since. Terrible dreams. I'm back in the castle calling for John, but he won't answer. Instead I hear a woman's voice."

"What woman?"

"I don't know. But I imagine I heard her that night. And then I wake."

"Hmm. Miss Hartley, I hope you won't find this untoward, but I find it very interesting that you dream of your sister's fiancé and not your own. And that you appeared much more pained talking about John's disappearance than David's death..."

Gwen felt herself go red. Then she was suddenly angry, but before she could lose her retort Van Helsing made a consolatory gesture.

"You might not think it to look at me, but I am familiar with matters of the heart, and with how a young woman may find herself less free to choose where her marital fortunes lie than a man."

Gwen looked away. "Helen met John first...we had so little money after father died, and David seemed to care for me. When he asked, I was afraid of what would happen if I said no. But why am I telling you these things?"

Van Helsing gave her a handkerchief, but she refused to cry. He returned it to his pocket.

"Maybe you're telling me because part of you realizes how important it is. I said such an indelicate thing because I had to know whether you would be willing to do what is necessary to save John Martin."

Gwen sat up straight. "Do you know where he is?"

"Indirectly. Your story confirms things I have long feared. Are you familiar with the city's recent outbreak of conspicuous catastrophic anemia?"

Gwen shook her head, bewildered.

"It's the rarest of all blood diseases, characterized by an extreme exhaustion of the physical humors. A man can die from it in days, or even a single night. Cases have sprung up all across the continent, but only ever a few at a time, and only for a short time, and always in the largest cities. Now it's here."

"But what's that to do with John?"

"The last time we saw such an outbreak in London, it was shortly after the last count left Castle Dracula."

Gwen fretted, biting her lip. "Are you saying that John is here, and he brought something awful from that castle? That doesn't make any sense with the way he disappeared."

Van Helsing stood, looking troubled. "I will explain myself better when I can. If you're gracious enough to entertain me again, that is. I do have one last question: Did you believe the stories the peasants told about that ancient castle?"

Something fluttered at the window again and Gwen turned, but she couldn't tell if she'd really heard it or if it was her imagination. She waited for her heart to slow again before answering.

"I meant it when I said there's something evil about that place. But I don't believe the legends about werewolves and vampires, if that's what you mean."

Van Helsing nodded. Before he left he patted her on the shoulder in a grandfatherly way. For the first time she hoped that maybe this really was someone who could help Helen. Maybe he could even help her too, although she didn't understand some of his questions, or what he'd said about John.

Before leaving, Van Helsing paused at the door. "Miss Hartley? If we're going to help your sister and John Martin, there is one thing I'd like you to know:

"There ARE such things as vampires..."

***

John looked away, but he couldn't unsee it: The Countess lay on the couch, nude and luxuriating, looking at him with those dark eyes. A half-dressed man lay next to her, pale and unmoving, his eyes gone glassy and empty. The Countess wiped her mouth.

"Ah John, so brave and faithful. I love you so. Do you love me?"

He mumbled.

"A woman needs love. Even a woman like me," she said. "I know how you feel when I bring other men home, but I must always have men about me. I love none of them the way I love you."

When she stood the body rolled off the couch. The sick thump on the carpet was loud enough that you could hear it all the way through the flat, but there was no one here but they two.

He didn't resist when her arms circled him. When she kissed him, some flicker of a memory came back, recalling some other woman in another place, one he'd held close very like this and thought to kiss...

But it was gone just as suddenly, and all he knew then was the hard, strong, lithe body coiling around him. Her mouth devoured his, pushing him down. Her legs gripped him. He stepped over the unmoving figure on the floor and let himself sink onto the couch, where the Countess undressed him, pulling apart the clothes she'd covered him in and running her hands over his body. She was cold, and she made him feel cold.

Her body flexed and twisted over his. Her breasts were utterly white, crowned by dark nipples. Her belly was flat and smooth, her neck long and slender, her arms lithe and graceful. She looked fragile, but he knew how powerful she was. She held him down, lowering herself onto his cock and drawing a thin, sharp gasp from him.

She tightened on him almost immediately. Her fingers traced the line of his neck until she found the pulse, and when she rode him her rhythm matched the beating of his heart.

"I love this city of yours," the Countess said. "I think I will stay her always. I would like to watch it change with the generations, watch its children dance and play and then grow old. To see sad smiles of memory come into their faces as they steal away and die. Won't it be wonderful?"

He gasped his agreement as she went up and down him, the force of each rise and fall seeming to push him further and further down until he felt he might be buried or break altogether.

He spotted a few red drops dappling her milky white skin, spilled remains that she had missed. He had the awful urge to lick them away, his rough tongue scouring her marble body clean...but she scraped them with the tip of one sharp nail and then her red tongue darted out, licking it all up herself.

Then she threw herself onto him, her lips tracing the lines of his bare chest. When her mouth reached his neck he froze in fear, but she only kissed him gently, her hips still wriggling on top of him. A few candles lit the bedroom, and in the darkened mirror they glowed like white phantoms, hazy and unreal.

Thunder rumbled outside...wait, that wasn't thunder. It was too close...

The wolf snarled and John jumped, falling over the back of the couch. The animal stalked forward, lips drawn back, but as soon as a lily-white hand touched it on the ear it heeled, trotting back and lying beside the couch.

The Countess clucked her tongue. "Poor John. Did my new pet scare you?"

He stood, feeling sheepish. "I'm fine." The wolf eyed the body on the floor, and with a start John realized he had forgotten the dead man was there.

"Take care of that, will you?" the Countess said, stretching out on the rug on the floor and petting the wolf's head. Swallowing, John put on his pants and threw the corpse over one shoulder.

Steps would have to be taken to ensure he stayed dead, and then to ensure that he would never be found. The body was heavy, and John was weak from so many nights of exertion, but the Countess' voice filled him with a new kind of strength. One born of the fear of what would happen if he failed.

***

"It says here there's an escaped wolf running around London and nobody can seem to catch it. Isn't that odd?"

Gwen put the newspaper down and Helen glanced at it. The salad in front of her was half eaten, the most Gwen had seen her take in months. All around them: white tablecloths, tinkling glasses, the strings of an orchestra. Gwen worried that the music at this club might be too loud for her, but Helen seemed to like to watch the couples dancing.

Gwen had been skeptical when Professor Van Helsing told her to begin taking Helen out into the city, but she'd regained color and started speaking again. Dr. Seward insisted on advancing them any money they needed, both for the sake of Helen's treatment and for their father's memory.

Now Helen looked at the dance floor and said only, "Odd things happen." Then, suddenly, "Do you want to dance?"

Gwen almost laughed. Helen looked nearly embarrassed, and then said quickly: "I don't mean with me. Or with anyone. I'm just saying, wouldn't it be nice to dance? If someone was here? It's been a long time since either of us did."

"I guess it has."

"David was never much of a dancer with you, was he?"

Gwen's heart caught in her throat. It was the first time Helen had mentioned either of the boys since the castle. She covered her shock by wiping her mouth with a napkin. "He wasn't."

"But John was always willing to dance with you, wasn't he?"

"I..."

Helen shook her head and waved it off. "I'm not saying anything. Just remembering."

Her voice trailed off, and she seemed to be staring at something. In fact, everyone was staring. Even the band's music faltered for a moment.

Into the room came a woman, dark and exotic, covered in furs. Every eye went to her and stayed on her. She held her coat to the man at the door and he nearly tripped as he took it. She sat at a reserved table, far enough away from everyone to have privacy but close enough that they could still all see her.

The man who came in with her was curiously listless, almost dragging his feet as he walked, but nobody paid him any mind.

Helen caught her breath first. "That woman..."

"She sure knows how to make an entrance," Gwen said. She was blushing for some reason. The whole spectacle was seemed like a dream, a private dream she wouldn't tell anyone about. She hoped the stir would die down once the moment passed, but Helen leaned over to the young couple at the next table and asked:

"Who is she?"

"Countess Szelinski," said the young man, instantly. "She's the talk of the town these days."

"She's wonderful," said the woman with him. "Can you imagine being so wonderful?"

"Likes to make a scene, but keeps to herself," the man said. "Spends money like water. And lots of company, if you'll pardon me for bringing it up." He quirked an eyebrow.

Indeed, in addition to the faceless man she'd entered with the Countess had attracted two new tablemates, both men about the same age. Gwen noticed (though she suspected no one else did) that all three looked pale and in poor health. Gwen saw a waiter come to their table, but the Countess ordered nothing and the men with her didn't touch their own drinks.

"I don't think I like the way they're looking at her..." Gwen said.

"But can you blame them?" said the young woman.

The truth was, Gwen didn't like the way Helen was looking at the Countess either, even as the Countess was coming down with one of her listless boytoys on her arm. Soon the two were spinning, arm-in-arm, parting the crowd. The man moved in an automatic way but the Countess was graceful enough for the both of them.

A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Gwen's stomach. All this agitation, whatever its cause, couldn't be good for Helen. As she went to her sister, she happened to glance at the couple on the floor, and then—

Her breath left her. The room spun and the floor heaved. Gwen grabbed the back of the nearest chair so that she couldn't faint. Couples seated nearby noticed and came to help her. Helen noticed too, snapping out of her reverie. Brow knit with concern she came to Gwen's side.

"I'm fine," Gwen said, short of breath. Then, thinking quickly, she said, "Actually, I'm not fine. I've felt faint all night, but I didn't want to spoil your evening. Maybe we should go now?"