Dracula's Daughter

"Of course," Helen said, and Gwen allowed her sister to take her by the arm and lead her to the door. She didn't really need the help, but anything to keep Helen from seeing that man dancing with the Countess.

Of course it couldn't really be John. It didn't even look that much like him, she decided. John had been a beau, and this man was positively ghastly. And yet...

Helen waited for a cab and Gwen went back in, feigning having forgotten something. She approached the doorkeeper and, distracted, she blurted out, "Would you like five pounds?"

The man blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"What I mean is...that woman, Countess Szelinski? She came in with a man. Who is he?'

The doorkeeper sniffed. "Baron Daronstein. That's what he calls himself, anyway. If you ask me he's just some gigolo out for whatever he can get. Pardon my language Miss, but it's true."

"Does she keep a lot of men?"

"All sorts. You saw those fellows tonight. She goes through them fast—pardon my language again. But the so-called baron is always with her."

Gwen took a five-pound note from her purse. "I need to speak with that man."

The doorkeeper looked astonished. "I'm not on terms to make an introduction."

"But you might know the Countess' address. She must have a driver you can get it from?"

"Her driver is deaf and dumb. But...I suppose I could get it from the office. She spends a lot of money here, and her bills are paid by check. It's very risky for a man in my position, of course..."

Gwen took out another note. She passed them both and even gave his hand a squeeze for good measure.

Then she went back out into the foggy night, where Helen waited with the cab. She talked more on the way home than she had for months, but Gwen hardly heard her. She could hear nothing over the beating of her own heart.

***

Van Helsing was rarely in London, and his flat here was a spare place. He did his best to make Gwen comfortable, but she paced the room, casting suspicious glances at the world outside the windows.

"He was completely changed, but I'm sure it was him. Oh God, it was awful. Imagine the thing that could do that to John..."

Van Helsing put down the book he'd been looking at, balancing it on a stack of others. "We do not have to imagine. We know."

"Do you mean that all of those things the people in the village told us were true?"

"All of those and more. As much as it upsets you, it's a lucky stroke for all of us that you were there tonight. I have been searching for the vector of this outbreak, and it seems you found her."

Gwen turned and all but ran to him and took his hand. "Then we have to help John. Right now, without waiting another moment. I don't know if I believe any of this, Professor, but I know I'll do anything to get John back."

"To go now would doom us all. At night this Countess has most terrible power. It's during the day, when she lies asleep in her coffin, when we must strike. We don't know where her coffin may be, but there is one person who does: John."

"The doorman gave me an address: 32 Brussel Place."

"If she is really the spawn of Dracula then she will be more cunning than to hide in the obvious place. But we may find John there, and as long as he lives his soul is his own, even if his will has been completely consumed, and in his soul I think he loves you. That gives us a power she will never have.

"But if she realizes we know about her, we will lose every advantage. She will flee and perhaps kill John, and make him her slave forever: a vampire, like herself."

Gwen set the line of her mouth. "I won't let that happen."

Van Helsing took her hand. "You're a brave woman. That's good. You'll have to be for what's ahead."

He went to the window, and Gwen followed after him. "What do we do first?" she said.

"We wait for day. And then the difficult part begins."

***

John waked and slept and waked and dreamed and waked again, but whether sleeping or waking he moved and spoke and acted all the same.

A collage of images fluttered before his eyes and disappeared: The Countess kissing another man, then two other men, then kissing John, then back to the other two. He saw both men kneel at her feet, one kissing the sculpted roundness of her calves while she toyed with the second, cupping his face and pulling him up for a kiss and then dropping him without one.

Naked bodies twined around each other in the candlelight, and sometimes one of them was John's. Neither sleeping nor waking, he acted without thought or memory.

The Countess sprawled on red sheets, one man behind her sleek white body, flexing his hips, the creamy roundness of her bottom splayed in front of him while she buried her face in the lap of the other, moving her head up and down while his eyes rolled and he exhaled gasps and sighs.

Both strangers looked vaguely familiar to John, and he thought perhaps he had seen them some other time. But of course he had, he realized; he must have been there when they met the Countess. Probably he had even introduced them. Half-remembered fragments of similar introductions crossed his mind and were instantly forgotten. The Countess growled under her breath, like an animal.

Now John was with them, lying on his back, the Countess straddling him, her head turned and mouth open to receive one of the other men while the second positioned himself behind her, all three of them on her and in her at the same time.

She was a bright white flame in the dark, but when her lips parted he saw a deep, black void inside her that would never be filled. Naked flesh lolled against naked flesh as the smell of sweat saturated the room.

John realized how exhausted he was. The other two men looked spent as well, but none of them stopped. It wasn't until the Countess seemed to tire that anything slowed. But rather than quit she turned and kissed one of the men on his neck—no, more than a kiss, John knew.

The man gasped but could not cry out. He twisted in a half-hearted attempt to escape, but soon his flailing became mere reflex, and in a minute he was empty, used up, discarded. The Countess let him drop to the floor.

John and the other stranger looked at him with glazed eyes that didn't really see. The Countess seemed refreshed—she positively glowed. Her body was full and ripe as she fell onto John again, dragging the other man in the fray with them.

Back and forth she went, kissing one then the other, touching one and then the other, drawing one into her embrace and writhing underneath him until he could take no more and then trading him away.

Her kiss tasted bitter, but her body was sweet. John kissed her naked breasts, and her sharp nails crisscrossed him. He knew that if she asked him to he would keep doing this until he died.

Only when dawn approached did he notice that it was the third man who was dead now, his unseeing eyes staring forever as John and the Countess continued making love through the remainder of the night, the Countess' body more luscious than ever, his own expended.

They lay together in the last hour and she stroked him tenderly, whispering. "Soon you'll kiss the sun goodbye and join me. We'll sleep side by side through the day and share glorious, unending nights together, and never grow old and never die, and love one another forever."

John imagined an imploring look on the dead man's face; a warning perhaps. But of course, it was only his imagination. A dead man knew nothing, and could tell him nothing, and mattered nothing. Only the Countess mattered. He pressed his cheek to hers.

"Whatever you want," he said. "Always."

***

"Helen shouldn't be here," Gwen said. "She's not strong enough."

All three of them—the sisters and Van Helsing—sat in the back of a cab, jostled this way and that as it rolled over an uneven London Street. Helen sat up a little straighter. "If we're helping John then I have to be here," she said. "Or do you think you have more of a right?"

There was an edge in her voice again. In a way Gwen was glad to hear it. It sounded something like the old Helen. But it pained her too.

Van Helsing came between them. "You both must go. It may well take both of you, and to send either of you in alone is more dangerous."

"You're not coming?" Gwen said.

"John doesn't know me. He would see me as an enemy." Van Helsing pointed out the window to the dark, lonely flat at 32 Brussel Place. "Here, in the daylight hours, when the Countess is asleep and further from his thoughts, you may be able to inveigh on him."

"What if he just throws us out and tells the Countess everything?" said Helen. Van Helsing winced and nodded.

"The risk is something we will have to assume. Have faith that the love you both have for John is more powerful than her hold on him."

Van Helsing held something out to her and Helen bowed her head to accept it: a crucifix, fixed to a chain. Gwen took an identical one, though she fingered it doubtfully before tucking it into her blouse.

It was a grim day outside, and the sisters approached the flat without speaking. The unease Gwen sensed coming from Helen was awful. Since she began her recovery they'd become easy friends again, like when they were girls, but after that night in the restaurant Helen seemed moody and hostile.

Maybe she resented Gwen for not telling her about John right away. Or maybe it was something else...

There was no answer when Gwen knocked, nor when she knocked again. Helen rapped at the door the third time, and then a little window, barred and dark, slid aside just above the knocker. "What do you want?"

"We're here to see—Baron Daronstein," Gwen said, tongue tripping over the unfamiliar name.

"He's not in."

"We'll wait for him," Helen said. "We're friends of his."

"The baron has no friends."

"It's very important," Gwen said. The little window slid shut and at first Gwen thought they were out of luck, but then they heard the click of locks being undone and, with a creek, the door eased open.

The entryway was pitch black. Helen went in first, Gwen close behind. Without thinking, she grabbed Helen's hand, and Helen squeezed hers back a little. As soon as they were inside, the door slammed shut behind them.

It took a second for their eyes to adjust to the gloom. As soon as they did Gwen had to stifle a gasp. In the daylight John looked less unreal than he had the other night, but also more haggard. His eyes were bleary and tinged with red. He looked at them with something between indifference and contempt.

"I am Baron Daronstein," he said. "I don't know either of you."

Gwen fumbled for words. "We're...friends of friends of yours. I—"

"John," Helen said, walking toward him. The sound of the name made Gwen jump. "We've come to take you home."

John stirred. "I said I don't know you."

"You've been asleep," Helen said, taking small, slow steps toward him. "You're very ill. We were on the trip to Transylvania. You remember the little inn near Borgo Pass?"

John's eyes moved in his sunken sockets, looking at Helen, then Gwen, then the door. "Borgo Pass," he said, the words sounding thick. "The little inn...the castle..."

Helen jumped in. "That's all in the past now. Gwen and I are going to take you home."

John edged away. "I don't know you," he said. Helen reached for his hand and he edged away further. "You both need to leave."

"John—" said Gwen.

"Wait," said Helen.

"Go," said John. "Now!"

And then they all heard something else: The clicking sound of something with long nails loping its way across the floor. Gwen's heart skipped a beat when the big, shaggy head, with its long muzzle and cruel yellow eyes, peered around the corner.

The wolf padded in, head low to the ground, hackles raised. Its eyes rooted Gwen to the spot. Helen didn't seem to be able to move either. John looked from them to the wolf and back to them again, and then he screamed:

"Go!"

But it was too late. With a snarl the wolf charged and then leapt, and then time seemed to slow down. Gwen saw the animal flying forward and she saw Helen falling back and she saw the two collide, the wolf's jaws snapping. And then there was blood.

Gwen caught Helen's falling form more on reflex than thought, and as soon as she had her arms full she realized her mistake, because there was no way she could run without dropping Helen, and the wolf was already on them.

Jaws slavering, it leapt again. Gwen had just enough time to look away...

There was a thrashing and a banging and the sound of a man crying out, and when Gwen looked up she saw, amazingly, that John had caught the wolf, and was wrestling with it. For a second the two vied, each trying to overpower the other, and then John threw the beast and it hit the wall, then tumbled to the floor with a yelp.

The only sound in the entire flat was John's strained panting. Slowly, deliberately, he pointed to the door again.

"Go," was all he said.

***

"She'll recover. Physically, anyway. Mentally....well, we're back to square one." Dr. Seward sighed.

They were in Dr. Seward's study, after a night and a day and part of a night with Helen at the hospital. She was there still, lying in bed, holding the crucifix as tightly as she could. She'd refused to part from it, and now that night was on Gwen was glad. She pondered the dark.

Professor Van Helsing had his head in his hands. "I should have listened to you, Gwen. I can't believe I sent Helen into that kind of danger."

Gwen shook her head. "He was listening to Helen. It would have worked. I'd have been no better off on my own. I suppose John will tell the Countess what happened. Do you think she'll...?"

"Undoubtedly," Van Helsing answered. "But not yet. She still needs a mortal agent to act in daylight, and prepare her escape."

"Escape to where?" said Dr. Seward. "How do you know she's going?"

"A bit of foresight and a bit of luck," said Van Helsing. "I received a call earlier from a friend in the police. I had asked him to keep an eye out for anything strange. He told me a very unusual story about two men arrested for grave robbing last night."

"Grave robbing?" Helen said, horrified.

"But this is the important part: They insisted they had not stolen any bodies. They said that the coffin they took from the tomb was empty of everything except dirt, and that they'd been paid by a gentleman to move it and ready it for shipping. The cemetery was not far from Brussel Place."

"So she is running," Gwen said, and now she felt a flash of something new: anger.

"According to the arrested men, they delivered the box to a particular ship: The Belgrade, which sets sail for New Orleans tomorrow night. Another lucky break: If any ship leaving sooner had accommodated our friend John's demands, I'm sure we would already have missed them."

"But how do we stop them?" Gwen said. She was toying with the crucifix Van Helsing had given her. She was still not entirely comfortable wearing it. Van Helsing fixed her with a meaningful look.

"Miss Hartley, I see a long voyage in our future."

***

Fog again. Gwen thought she might never see another clear night in London. Then she realized she might never see another night in London at all.

The Belgrade was a rusty tramp boat, but her captain guarded it jealously. He gave Gwen and Professor Van Helsing evil looks as they boarded. "I don't like my ship cluttered up with a bunch of bally passengers."

Van Helsing gave him a bemused look. "We ask nothing but a corner to sleep and a little food. That's well worth 400 pounds."

"Don't see why you couldn't have gone in the morning. Plenty of other ships in the morning."

"We have reasons," Gwen said. "Lucky ones, as your bank book is concerned."

Their cabin was really just a pantry that had been partially emptied to accommodate them. Between her haste and the necessity of conserving room, Gwen had packed almost nothing, and only when she felt the lurch of the ship pushing away from the dock did the gravity of what was happening sink in.

They were really going to America, thousands of miles in this dingy cargo ship. Or would they even make it that far? "How did you know the captain would agree to take us?" she asked as he unfolded her things.

"If he agreed to take on John he'd agree to take more."

"But he swore there were no other passengers."

"Because John doubtless paid him to say so, just as he must have paid him also to keep quiet about the extra cargo he onboard."

Gwen felt a chill. "The Countess is here..."

"I don't think she'll show herself tonight. She won't want to spook the crew until it's too late to turn back. Tomorrow we'll begin our search, and then the race will be on: If we find where she is hidden we can destroy her. But if she realizes we're here I fear we will never see New Orleans.

"I wish I could have left you out of this danger, Miss Hartley, but you are essential to this. I will have little leverage reasoning with John. You are the one person in the world he may still listen to."

"I wouldn't have let you leave me behind anyway. And I think it's high time you start calling me Gwen, professor."

He favored her with a small smile.

"What do we do when we find the Countess?" Gwen said.

"There are special means of dispatching such creatures. In this case, we will drive a wooden stake through her heart as she sleeps."

Gwen put a hand to her mouth. "How dreadful."

"Gruesome, yes," said Van Helsing, adjusting his spectacles. "But you must think of it as an act of mercy. Imagine how many centuries Countess Szelinski's soul has been in torment. Once we're done, she'll be at peace—and John will be free of her power."

The walls creaked and the whole ship listed unexpectedly, and Gwen had to put a hand out to keep from stumbling. The rise and fall of the boat was already difficult to keep up with.

"It seems we've hit bad weather," said Van Helsing.

"I have to admit, I've never liked boats. The ocean makes me anxious."

Someone tapped on the door and Gwen, being closest, answered. It was a man from the crew. "Just checking in. Captain says not to worry about the storm."

"That's very kind of you. We'll keep to—"

She took her eyes off him for a second and it almost cost her life. A flicker of movement was her only warning and, instinctively, she held the crucifix in front of her. The crewman shrank back and made a horrible noise, and when Gwen looked fully into his face for the first time and saw the pale, deathlike features and bloodless lips drawn back in a snarl she nearly fainted.

Alarmed, Van Helsing came forward with his own crucifix in hand, and the man retreated into the corridor. Gwen saw he was not alone: A half dozen men crowded the door with eyes gleaming. They reached for her but dared not approach while she held the cross.

Van Helsing waved his and they scattered to regroup a few feet away. Then he slammed the door. Gwen's fingers ached from gripping the little cross so hard, but she dared not put it down.

"Vampires!" she said. "All of them!"

"The entire crew, I would guess. Except perhaps for the captain, and shortly him as well."

"But how?"

"I've made a terrible mistake. The Countess wanted us to follow her. This boat was a trap, and I led us right into it."

The ship careened from side to side, and even here they could hear the roaring of the wind and waves. There was another sound at the door, like a heavy shape pressing against it. Gwen stood a little closer to Van Helsing. "Doors won't hold them," he said. "But we have protections they cannot so easily circumvent."

"What do we do?"

"You'll find a lifeboat. The open sea in a storm is a terrible thing, but better to take your chances there than face certain doom here."