Bloodline (16 page)

Journal of
Lieutenant John Shaw

27TH
N
OVEMBER 1916

During my voyage with Mary to this damnable place, I did not write of petty discomforts, for my love was always at my side, and it was through her that I unburdened my heart.

But even dear Mary’s presence cannot dispel the living hell I now experience. My ordeal in the trenches has been replaced with a horror I could not have imagined—a torture of the mind that threatens to break me for all time.

Mother, long dead to me these many years, is no longer so. But she is not the sweet woman I grieved for. She has become an evil, parasitic vampire, feeding off the blood and the life of others.

I cannot even begin to imagine how or why she is here. My mind reels at the very idea.

Now Harker holds us captive here in this world of evil.

And there is nothing I can do about it.

Mary left me in the entrance hall to see to Lily. I followed Harker into a large drawing room. He bid me sit in one of the overstuffed brocade couches near the fireplace. I refused.

“As soon as Lily has recovered, we shall leave,” I said. “You can continue whatever it is that you do here in peace. We shall not trouble you further.”

I kept my voice even as my mind raced, working out how we might best make our escape—and take Mother with us too. Despite Dr. Seward’s notes, I clung to the hope that somehow she could be saved once she was away from this evil place.

“What makes you think I would let Lily go after all the trouble I’ve taken to bring her here?” Quincey asked sardonically.

“You have no legitimate claim on her,” I argued.

Anger flickered across his features. “She is my fiancée!” he raged. “And besides, who would have the courage to take her from me?”

I glared at him as he mocked me, attempting to find my voice, struggling to find words that would move him. But none came.

Staring into Harker’s smug face, I felt completely and utterly outmatched.

He poured me a glass of port. “Here. This should help with the shock,” he said, placing the heavy crystal glass in my hands.

I took a warming sip of its contents.

After he had poured a glass for himself, Quincey went over and stood by the fire. He stared into it for a few long moments. “Once you have heard what I have to say, John,” he said, “you may not be so keen to leave this place yourself.”

I waited to hear the cruel blow he was clearly preparing to deliver.

“There is a secret I have longed to share with you since we first met,” Quincey went on. He stopped and drank from his glass. “We are brothers, you and I.”

“Brothers in arms we might have been, Harker—but it does not, after everything else that has happened, make us friends.” I glared at him, despising him. “I have no wish to be a friend to a creature such as you.”

I saw his face tighten. If I thought it possible, I would have said I had hurt him.

“No, John,” Quincey corrected, his own tone icy now. “I was referring to our shared parentage. We are blood brothers. We share the same father.”

My mind reeled at such an absurd suggestion. A laugh exploded from my mouth. “My father was David Shaw, an English diplomat,” I said. “Yours was an evil demon!”

Quincey shook his head. “No, John. Your father is Count Tepes….”

My mind reeled. “This is madness!” I shouted. Pulsing with outrage, I stood up, fingering the vial of holy water in my pocket. I wished to throw it on this beast of a man. To watch his skin sizzle the way Van Helsing’s notes promised.

Yet even as I railed, the memory of my mother lying in that coffin set a dark fear squirming in my belly. Could Quincey speak the truth? Is it possible that something other than mere coincidence has drawn us all together?

Quincey sighed and went to refill his glass. “I arranged for you to join my battalion in order to awaken your appetites. But you fought hard against the bloodlust I attempted to stir in you.”

“The war disgusted me!” I objected.

Harker raised an eyebrow.

“Did you really feel no thrill at the scent of blood?” he asked. “No desire to sink your teeth into warm, tender flesh?”

“Of course not!” I was stunned that he could speak of his perversion so shamelessly.

He took another drink. “I promise you, John. Your body cried out for the blood and carnage that surrounded you, but your sheltered mind tried to suppress the desires that are part of your heritage.”

Unwillingly, I remembered my restlessness to be out on
the battlefield with Quincey. Had part of me revelled in the bloody reality of war? Had the gruesome dreams that haunted me described unfulfilled fantasies stirring in my heart? I could no longer be sure. Quincey Harker, it seemed, knew more about me than I did.

Beads of sweat began to break out on my forehead. I heard footsteps in the hall … and turned to see Mother enter.

“John …” she gasped, her eyes filling with tears. “I am overcome with joy at seeing you.”

A tidal wave of emotions threatened to sweep me away. Seeing life once more in Mother’s dear, familiar face touched a desperate, childish part of me that I thought had died with her.

But her terrible corruption sickened me. The fear in my belly crawled up and grabbed my throat. Unable to breathe, I sank down into the couch.

“Mother,” I croaked as I held back tears. “He is lying, isn’t he? My father was David Shaw!”

Mother cast her eyes down in shame. “Quincey tells the truth,” she whispered. “Tepes, son of Dracula, is your father. You both share his bloodline.”

I trembled violently as this news seeped into my consciousness.

The other woman in the room came toward me with the fluid grace of a snake. Her amber-coloured dress stretched across her body, gleaming in the firelight.

Quincey looked at me intently. “This is Mina, my mother. You will come to know her better.”

I blinked. I could not reconcile the Mina of Dr. Seward’s notes with the seductive, predatory creature in front of me. The Mina I had read of was a bright, demure woman, loved and admired by all who knew her. This
thing
before me was a monster.

“Do not be afraid, John,” she murmured, stroking my cheek with slender fingers. “A great gift awaits you. Once you have embraced your life here, you will never know fear or death or the petty concerns of mortals.”

I glanced at my own mother. How could this woman, whom I had loved as an infant, consort with these soulless creatures? I remembered how full of sweetness she had been. Did she revel in being one of the undead, as Mina clearly did?

Mother must have seen my confusion, for she crossed the room and knelt beside me, her eyes filled with pity and regret. “John, I am sorry. I gave in at a moment of weakness. But do not despair. What Mina says is true. If you wish, this life can bring wonderful gifts.”

“You do not look as if you are thriving on it!” I pointed out bitterly.

Mother looked away in shame.

“Rosemary has not the heart for it.” Mina laughed cruelly. “She is weak. She always was. I warned Tepes, but she was already part of his plan.”

“Plan?” I asked.

“Just before you were born, the House of Dracul fell on difficult times,” Mina explained. “The enemy stalked our lands, killing our kind as they slept.”

She sat on the couch, sliding her sensuous body close to mine.

“Count Tepes’s ancient soul grew weak. Our empire, once powerful, was deposed—and we were made to hide in this castle like mice.”

She continued in a whisper, her mouth inches from my ear. “Like any family, we needed fresh blood to survive, but in this difficult time, we could not chance a rebellious influence. So, sensing Rosemary’s docile nature, Tepes sired you. A year later, Lily was born, sired by David Shaw. Tepes became determined that Lily, your half sister, should become Quincey’s bride. Thus Quincey and you—doubly united by Lily—would come to power together. And together, you would be strong enough to restore the name of Dracula to glory.”

“But I am not one of you!” I argued, pushing her away. “And I will never be.”

“So you say,” she murmured. Her triumphant smile repelled me.

Then Mother spoke. “I made Tepes send you and Lily back to England. It was my only demand—that for as long as possible, you would not be exposed to this side of your nature.”

Mina turned her scornful gaze on my mother. “He only agreed because it suited him to have John properly educated and for Lily to be raised innocent of her fate.” She moved to her son’s side. “How much more delicious for Quincey to seduce a creature pure of heart and thought. To turn her into a lustful beast of the night!”

Quincey gazed vacantly into the fire. “Mother,” he said without emotion, “you take an unnatural interest in my affairs. You must limit yourself to your own.”

At that moment, there was the sound of footsteps in the hall. Mary and Lily entered the room.

I hardly remember their presence, so drawn was I into darkness and shock. I could not stir when I saw Lily faint and watched blankly while Quincey carried her away.

I was aware only of my own thoughts and the vague shapes of Mother and Mina in the room.

Journal of
Lieutenant John Shaw

27TH
N
OVEMBER
(CONTINUED)

Not long afterward, I let myself be led to a large shadowy bedroom, where I fell immediately upon the mattress.

How quickly everything has changed, I thought. My old life has been taken from me—ripped away by these fiends—and replaced by something horrible….

Insurmountable.

For how can I defeat the very thing that courses through my veins?

I stared at the intricate patterns of the rich quilt beneath me. I had no idea how much time passed. A distant voice finally stirred me to move. I could not hear the words it spoke, but I could hear its desperate pleading tone.

I let myself out of the room and followed the sound along the chill hallway.

As I drew closer, I was able to distinguish the desperate Romanian words that were spoken in a rough male voice.

“Please,” the voice wept, cracking as it went on. “Do not deprive me of salvation. I do not want to be cast down into the fiery pits nor share your living hell!”

I reached the door from behind which the sounds came. I opened it, not bothering to conceal my presence. Pretense seemed pointless now. Why hide from these demons when I carried their blood?

Yet for all my bravado, I was not ready for what I witnessed inside.

Before a roaring fireplace, Mina loomed above a wretched man who was crouched upon the faded rug. While he shuddered in terror, Mina circled him, revelling in her cruel power. Her eyes no longer glittered like pole stars but burned red like the devil.

Two other vampires gleefully tormented their captive prey, leering at each other each time he recoiled from their touch.

Their malice enraged me and I felt the same power rise in me that had let me command the wolves. “Leave him alone!” I ordered.

The others drew back, but Mina was no mere wolf. She looked at me and smiled with amusement, eyes scorching my soul like burning coals. “Why don’t you join us?” she crooned.

I shook my head in disgust.

She shrugged, then snapped her fingers at her two cohorts. They dragged the man to his feet.

Mina’s face contorted until she wore the mask of a demon. She drew back her lips to reveal long, curved fangs. Then she lunged like a snake and sank her teeth into the man’s neck.

He screamed wildly—and would have collapsed if his captors had not held him fast. Mina swallowed hard and fast, gorging herself on the man’s blood.

While she fed, the others watched with hungry eyes but clearly did not dare disturb her.

With a satisfied sigh, Mina straightened and took a step away. Her cohorts let the man fall twitching to the floor. They bickered, hissing and jostling over the remains of Mina’s meal.

“Dear John,” she murmured, her lips still smeared with blood. “Do not shun your destiny. Embrace it.” She trailed her finger across my cheek. Despite my revulsion, I felt a longing rise within me that I had never experienced before.

“Think of how effortlessly you could drive off this nation’s enemies,” she continued. “With what ease you could enslave a fearful, grateful people! You shall gather wealth and power beyond your dreams; you will be feared and obeyed by all who are subject to your desires.”

She pressed her soft body to me. I shuddered as she grazed my mouth with hers, its slick wetness staining my lips.

I pulled away, sickened, and drew my sleeve across my
face. “Do not place your stain of death upon me!” I screamed.

She smiled in response. “You will come to love it … in time.”

I hurried back to my room, blocking the noises I heard as I passed along the corridor. I could picture now what those sounds betrayed, and the images made my mind swim.

I hoped I might exorcise some of my horror by writing down all I have witnessed, but the feeling is as strong in me as ever. My grief at discovering my heritage cripples my heart—and places it beyond all natural feeling.

As I write, the sun begins to rise over the mountaintops and I am haunted by questions:

Who am I?

What am I?

Can Mina be right? Will I become like her in time?

Journal of
Mary Seward

28TH
N
OVEMBER 1916

While keeping vigil at Lily’s bedside, I heard the howling of the wolves growing nearer and nearer. Unnerved, I went
over and drew back the drapes from the windows that overlooked the entrance.

Weak dawn light crept into the room. I opened the window and peered out, breathing in the chill morning air, damp and fragrant with pine. The sheer drop to the cobbled courtyard several flights below made my heart shudder.

Moving below me, I saw a dozen or so wolves. They prowled back and forth over the cobbles, the thick grey fur of their broad backs glistening with dew. They moved, turning and weaving around one another like smoke swirling in a hearth.

I saw the sun glint on a window of the main building a couple of floors below. Then a shape was pushed out over the sill of the open casement.

With growing horror I realised it was a man—his face pale and lifeless.

I heard an unseen voice call out from the window, and the wolves gathered below.

A moment later, the body fell, twisting in the air and smashing on the cobbles. The wolves fell upon it and I could hear their greedy snarls as they fought over the flesh.

I raised a hand to my mouth, choking back a scream, and closed the drapes so that I could see no more.

Holding Lily’s frail hand in my own, I have recorded this latest abomination with my others. But now I must leave
her—for I must find John—and a way for us to escape this wicked place!

L
ATER

Before leaving Lily alone, I fastened the crucifix John had bought her around her neck. I hung garlic around the door and windows and finally, as Van Helsing had shown in Father’s notes, crumbled holy wafers into the cracks around the door frame. Though the vampires would be locked in their unnatural slumber now, I wanted to take no chances.

The passageways lay silent, still gripped by shadow, even in the day. I rattled the handles of door after door but found them either locked or empty.

Eventually, in a room off one of the corridors beyond the Great Hall, I found my love. My relief was so great I could have wept!

John was huddled upon an ornate bed. The room was chilly, the fire having died in the grate. Weak sunshine filtered in through the undraped window.

“Mary!” he gasped, stirring at my entrance.

I ran over to him, joyful at our reunion. “John! My love! Are you all right? What happened after I left you?”

A terrible look of anguish clouded his eyes. I reached out to touch him, but he drew away with such speed and force that it shocked me.

“John?” I asked. “What is it?”

“I need to speak with Lily,” he muttered.

“I can take you there,” I offered. He nodded and let me lead him back the way I had come.

“Is she one of them?” he asked bluntly.

“A vampire? No. She wears a crucifix now and it does not harm her. But John, tomorrow is Saint Andrew’s Eve.”

“We must all get away before then,” he replied. “My mother too. We will find some way to cure her once she is home.”

I shook my head, my heart breaking with pity for him. “John,” I said gently. “There is no way to cure her but one….”

He turned on me, his face growing red with anger. “You want me to kill my own mother?” he shrieked.

I felt stung by the anger in his words. “She is no longer your mother,” I cried. “She is a vampire, a monster!”

My words sent a shudder through him—as though I had hammered a stake into his own heart. I immediately regretted speaking so strongly.

“John, my love … I am sorry we cannot save your mother. But we can fight to save ourselves and Lily!”

“If only it were so simple….” John’s eyes began to fill with tears. Once more I reached out to him, but he would not let me touch him.

“What happened to you last night?” I asked, suddenly unsure. “Do you still have the crucifix?” I prayed that he had not been bitten by one of those creatures and was heartily
relieved when he drew Van Helsing’s silver cross from his pocket.

“I cannot tell you what happened.” He sighed, suddenly seeming tired and defeated. “I just want to see Lily.”

I nodded, deciding it was hopeless to question him further. I led him to Lily’s room.

“She’s in here,” I said, opening the door. “She’s still in shock after meeting your mother last night. Please take care not to say anything to alarm her further.”

“Do you think I would harm my own sister?” John snapped. He pushed past me and went inside, leaving me stung once more by his tone. I hesitated on the threshold before entering.

John had vexed me in his defense of his mother—but I could understand why he felt as he did.

I decided that I would have to take matters into my own hands. I could not rely on John to kill Rosemary. But as long as Rosemary remained alive, John would be held here—or worse, he might carry out his threat to take her back to England.

Yes, I had to act. Saint Andrew’s Eve was only one day away. With the sun high in the sky, it was the perfect opportunity to carry out my plan.

I left John watching over Lily and turned toward the coffin room, Van Helsing’s bag in hand.

Trepidation gripped me once more. Images from Father’s
notes flashed through my mind: the screaming and writhing of the vampire, blood frothing from its mouth…. But other words from the notes came to me too:

In killing Rosemary, I consoled myself, I would be releasing her soul. I would be freeing her from her living death.

Taking courage from this thought, I stepped up my pace. I made it across the entrance hall and down the dark stairway to the coffin rooms. With a racing heart, I turned the handle of the door to Rosemary’s tomb.

It was locked.

How naive of me! Of course such precautions would now be taken.

John and I had tried, and failed, to kill these vampires yesterday; they would be fools to let us try again.

Perhaps the only way was to leave here—and brave the forest.

I wandered the castle, hunting for a suitable window or door through which we might gain freedom. I discovered no door save the front entrance—where snarling wolves gathered to greet me.

Of the windows, there were only two kinds—small gaps for battlements, too small for a body to fit through, or wide casements that fronted the cliff’s very edge. One slip and we would all be dashed by the rocks below.

I hurried back to Lily’s room. John lay on the bed beside his sister. They slept together like babes in the wood. I decided to let them rest.

Now I must get some sleep myself before sunset, when we shall again be at our most vulnerable.

Pray God I find a way to escape from this place—before it is too late.

Journal of
Lieutenant John Shaw

28TH
N
OVEMBER 1916

I have just awoken beside dear Lily. Mary sleeps on a chair before the fire. How happy I would once have been just to be among them, watching the two I hold most dear, happy in peaceful slumber.

Now that I know of my dark heritage, I can hardly bear to look at them. Fate seems to have woven a noose around
our necks. My hope that we might escape this remote hellhole feels little more than an impossible dream.

Mary stirs and shifts in her seat. Her angelic face catches the sunlight. In that moment, her beauty was so intense, it seemed enough to break my heart.

As I gaze at Lily she seems so innocent, so in need of someone’s care.

I must shake myself from my despair and reverie. I cannot give up hope!

We must escape. For Lily and Mary’s sakes—I must try.

Tonight, I shall challenge Quincey.

I will defeat him—and we will be gone from this place by sunrise.

Journal of
Mary Seward

28TH
N
OVEMBER 1916

I was awoken after sunset by a knock on the door. I saw that John had gone. Why did he not rouse me? Lily slept on. I think she must now find solace in unconsciousness.

I opened the door to find Rosemary standing outside.

She saw the garlic strung around the inside of the door
frame and stepped away from it, a hiss of discomfort escaping her pale lips. I felt relief at seeing its effectiveness—but it was not enough to drive her away.

“Please let me see my daughter,” she begged, her eyes pleading.

“No,” I refused. “How do I know you do not want to make her into a monster like yourself?”

I found it easy to be bold with this creature; she frightened me less than the others, for I sensed a weakness in her that the rest do not disclose.

A look of horror froze Rosemary’s face. “I may not be the virtuous woman my children remember, but I could not corrupt one of my own!”

Her emotion seemed genuine. I decided to trust that Rosemary meant Lily no harm.

I unhooked the garlic from the door and stepped out of the way so she might enter. Still, I felt in my pocket for the bottle of holy water, reassured by its presence.

Rosemary stood over her daughter. Hesitantly she reached toward Lily’s face. I could see by her trembling hand and by the disgust that curled her lip that the presence of Lily’s crucifix disturbed her, but she forced herself to touch Lily’s brow. “She has a fever,” she said anxiously.

I nodded and fetched the cloth beside Lily’s basin. I wet it and held it out for Rosemary.

“Thank you,” she murmured, taking it from me. She began to gently dab Lily’s burning face with it.

“How unbearable it is, this burden of guilt,” she said heavily. “How could I have brought this sweet child into the world to face such a fate?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, filled with a sense of foreboding.