Olivia placed the tape recorder upon the mahogoney table protected with a thick layer of plastic, almost as thick as the handcuffs on the prisoner's feet. Olivia felt safe though. There was a guard standing at the door and more watching from the tinted window. Security would be watching through the camera in the corner of the room. For a hot summer day in Southern Florida and for a prison, it was well air-conditioned. She was told it was one of only 10 in that state so generous.
The prisoner was dressed in a dark green uniform. He had dark hair and green eyes that were narrow and piercing like some great predatory cat. They instantly made Olivia uncomfortable.
"You have been informed of your rights concering this interview?" she asked.
He nodded.
"You did not want a lawyer present?"
He shook his head. She hoped she would get more out of him and hoped this interview wasn't a huge waste of time. She had been working on this case for months now and realized she was getting desperate coming into the prison systems to interview criminals in the hope it might clue her into something she had overlooked before. Perhaps something in the murderer's psyche. She had never liked psychological profiling. To her it had always seemed like things that could be guessed with general knowledge and crime statistics. But the serial killer had killed another girl, leaving her chained in a bath tub to slowly drown just like all the other women. His total body count was at least 5 victims in the last year.
"What is your name?"
"Rick. Rick Sutner."
He recited his case number and prison number and then Olivia began asking the uncomfortable questions right away. She did not believe in wasting time.
"You confessed to raping half a dozen women, didn't you, Sutner?"
"Yes," he said with a slight chuckle.
Olivia was surprised he was so forthcoming, "Why?"
“I make them squeal,” he had said the first time she interviewed him. “But never my name. They don’t see my face either. Only my cock as I slide it inside them. Then they can pretend I am their boyfriend or husband or the most recent quickie they had in the bathroom of that bar last weekend. I don’t care. I just like the look on their faces when they realize I am inside them and have made them mine. It is too late to run or hide and fighting is useless. I have gotten what I wanted. I have been inside them already. Nothing like the feeling of power I get when that realization hits them.”
She was repulsed by his detail but told herself she needed this sort of information. She needed to get inside her murderer's head. All of the women he had murdered showed signs of sexual assualt.
"How do you choose your victims?"
"I hunt for them over a period of time. As I'm driving or walking I'm always scoping for them. Oppurtunity presents itself, and until then, a man selects potential ones by a feeling. It can take days, weeks, months. Others have told me that it takes them years sometimes. When you find your victim, you know it. In a strange way, it's kind of like being in love."
He flashed a smile as he took out a cigerette and asked the guard to light it.
"Where did you get that?" the guard wasn't pleased. "You know the rules by now. No smoking in here only in privelaged areas."
"But I have been such a good boy," Sutner had a wounded look on his face.
"So you use a mask," Olivia ignored his antics. "Why is that? You confessed to your crimes. You didn't seem to care if you got caught."
"The mask spooks the girl and makes me feel like a super villain in those old comic strips, that's why."
Olivia began asking him more questions until he interrupted the interview, "You are the detective working on the Tub Man case, aren't you? Sometimes I'm allowed to watch the news. I seen your face before."
She was startled and did not know what to say. Then he chuckled and fixed his gaze upon her. “When all this is over, I am going to rape you.”
Her skin crawled when he made that sordid promise to her, but she forced herself to show no reaction. She knew her suspect’s and Rick’s mentality. They fed off a woman’s fear and made it their drug, more so than the forced sex. In fact, sex was the furthest thing from their mind, or so she had concluded. The only difference between the man she had arrested and Rick was that the other had made his victims suffer as much as he could in their final and terrible last hours on this earth. Rick let his victims live out the rest of their lives with their fear. They were both sick fucks, just to a different degree.
That was why she said and did nothing. There was no indignant name calling or threats or pathetic pleas. She wasn’t certain, but she supposed any of those options would satisfy him. Instead she stared back, eyes like onyx stones.
"I liked to hunt my victims along trials and empty parks," Sunter said. "Sometimes parking garages. I knew to avoid cameras."
He nodded at the camera in the room.
"You think you can understand and indentify with this killer?"
"I never killed any of my broads, but we are both hunters and at least he belives in using the bodies before he destorys them. Still a terrible waste if you ask me."
Olivia did not think she could stomach much more today, "I think we are through here."
The guards escorted Sutner away. As he left, he winked at Olivia, "Hope you catch him before you see me again."
"You do, do you?"
"It always upsets me to see someone in my former hunting grounds picking off MY deer."
Olivia turned to the guard, "You said he would be cooperative. And he is also one of the best behaved here?"
"For the most part," he answered. "It's not often you get a prisoner that confesses. Sex offenders and rapists are never popular among other prisoners, but he is clever and friendly. I get a bad feeling about him though."
"Me too," Olivia muttered.

Olivia walked out of the police station, breathing a huge sigh of relief and then felt an inner warmth. She was proud of herself for the first time in a long time. Years of hard work had finally paid off. The killer would be brought to justice and the latest girl that he had abducted had been saved in time. The woman had thanked her personally. Even though they had only exchanged words, for some reason, they meant more to her than she could put a value to. It seemed that nothing could dampen her spirits.
“Congratulations on the case,” one of the cops had followed her. “Not only did you catch the bastard but Miss. Taylor was recovered alive and unharmed. That would have been his tenth victim to our knowledge. Maybe if he bothers telling us his story, he’ll fess up to more. Let’s hope not. There is absolutely no way that monster will get anything less than the death penalty or life in prison. No less than he deserves.”
“Truth be told, I may never have caught him without Sutner’s tips. I shall have to thank him before he is locked away for good himself,” Olivia replied.
“You mean Rick Sutner?” the cop hesitated. “You won’t find him there. He is a free man now. I thought you had been told.”
Olivia stopped in her tracks, “What? But how?”
“The DNA never matched up to him. Instead, it matched to one of the men we arrested ages ago for other crimes, robbery and home invasion among them. Then Sutner recanted his confession. We had nothing to go on. We couldn’t hold Rick any longer lawfully.”
“But he told me that he raped those girls,” Olivia was puzzled. “I don’t understand. He explained…certain…details. Did he lie about which women he raped? Have others come forward?”
“No. There is absolutely no case against him.”
Olivia shook her head, “You let a confessed rapist out on the streets? I do not care if there is no physical evidence of his crimes. Maybe he killed his victims and their bodies simply haven’t been found yet. Maybe they are alive but are too afraid to report it. You cops know how many assaults go unreported. What if he… what if he rapes again?”
“Then he’ll leave evidence this time and we’ll lock him up again. I am sorry, but some big fish came and took the case out from under us and he hired a damn good lawyer. They claim that he made his confession under duress, that someone else made him confess. We were promised that he is under 24-hour surveillance-“
“That is not good enough!” Olivia snapped. “He bragged about raping half a dozen girls. Bragged! With a smile on his face.”
The cop shrugged, “Maybe he is a slimy, experienced criminal that outsmarted the system. Maybe he is full of shit. I guess we will never know.”
With that he walked away. Olivia was reeling. She had thought nothing could dampen her heightened spirits. Now the pendulum was swinging violently in the opposite direction. Rick Sutner was out on the streets! That announcement put fear in the pit of her stomach. She remembered the way he had always looked at her with that dangerous light in his eyes.
It was much easier to show no fear when he was safely behind bars, though or even the few times when they had been in the interview room. He was handcuffed and weaponless. There were security cameras and guards watching, ready to pounce on him if he made any moves. And the one time he had kissed her, he was tazzed in a heartbeat. By her. Then the guards collected him.
It was a new game now. He was a free man. He might have his mask and knife back. He might be waiting for her in the shadows, waiting to make good on his promise. But even if he wore his mask, she would know exactly whose face was behind it. She could say his name. She could identify him in a line up. So he risked getting caught this time for certain. Unless he silenced her forever. Unless he used that knife not only to threaten and cow his victims, or to cut off her clothes as he said he had done to the other girls. No, more likely he would simply slit her throat once he was through.
She bolted back inside the station, “I think I need to be placed in a witness protection program!”
“Why? You caught the killer.”
“Not because of the recent case, damn it!” she slammed her keys and her fist upon the counter. “I am talking about Rick Sutner! You let him walk free and now he is going to come after me!”
“He won’t. We all know he was sweet on you, but his every move is being tracked. He was informed if he came within a certain distance of you, he would be arrested immediately. You just solved an extremely terrifying case. It is tough enough hunting a serial killer on a person’s psyche. It’s doubly trying knowing the details of his other crimes. But don’t let it get into your head, Olivia. Go home. Watch a feel good movie. Curl up with a loving boyfriend. Get some sleep.”
“I have no one to go home to.”
“Shame.”
That seemed to be all she would get from those she had hoped would protect her. Promises and looks of pity. She was too flustered to keep arguing, and she knew it would be fruitless to do so. She stormed out, fingering the tazzer in her coat pocket. It was her only real comfort at the moment. None of the cops followed after her this time.
She hesitated. Should she drive the four hours to her parents’ home? No, she did not want to get them involved. She did not feel she had any friends intimate enough to call at this ungodly hour and ask to crash on their couch. Even worse, all these people that cared about her would probably ask for reasons. She would have to tell them everything. She did not care to. She could call her ex as a last resort, but she would have to swallow her bitterness, be told off, or he would beg her to hook back up with him. Best not to go down that road. She had finally gotten over him; she did not want to bring up all that emotional baggage on top of this.
Finally she resolved to stay the night in a hotel. She got in her car and drove into the city. She was forced to park in a parking garage. She almost turned around to drive home. Maybe she just needed the safety and comfort of her own bed. Why would a hotel bed not be cold and strange? But it was past 3 am now. She was tired and still scared shitless.
Besides a few other cars, the garage seemed empty. There were no sounds and not a soul in sight. It was not too dim. It would only take a few paces, an elevator ride, and she would be alone and safe. She began locking her car door.
Suddenly, someone tapped her on the shoulder, “Fancy meeting you here, Olivia.”
“What the fu…”
Rick was grinning back at her sporting his leather coat and chain jeans. She instantly reached for her tazzer, but Rick pressed against her, using his own weight to force her against the vehicle. She bumped her head on the window hard enough to see stars and be temporarily stunned. Rick reached into her pocket, plucking up the tazzer and cell phone and tossing them well away and underneath several cars.
“Not this time, sweetie,” he said, gripping her wrists.
“Get the fuck away from me, Sutner!” she growled, still clutching her keys with a death grip. “The cops will be here any second! You have violated a protection order coming near me! Forget assaulting me!”
“You realize that I am here to congratulate you like a normal guy, right? And you were going to taze me. Again.”
“How did you-“
“Find you? Get out of jail? Prevent the cops from tailing me here? Which question should I answer first? Fuck that, I was congratulating you! You found the killer! And saved the girl, I heard. Congratulations! I see that my tips helped. I am glad.”
“Yes, for once in your rotten life, you may have actually done some good!” she snapped. “But don’t think you have redeemed yourself in my eyes!”
“Did some good now?”
“LET GO OF ME, SUTNER!” she roared.
“Come on, baby,” he said. “Stop fighting.”
His tone made her pause. It was rather… tender. And then it occurred to her that he was not wearing his mask. That was no surprise. She knew him. What surprised her was that he was not carrying his characteristic knife. He was unarmed. He was taking a great risk.
“Get off of me and let me go!”
“Not yet.”
Again, she was confused. Was he really going to just… let her go?
“I will not be your next victim!” she insisted.
“Next?” he chuckled. “I have a secret. Want to hear?”
“You…you never raped anyone, did you?”
He stared into her dark brown eyes and cocked his head evasively, playfully, “What do you think?”
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “You lied throughout each one of our interviews. You lied about everything except for the tips I needed. Why? And if you are not really a rapist, then what are you?”
“A cop,” he sighed.
She looked up at him, lips slightly parted in a look of astonishment, “A cop.”
He found her expression irresistible and traced her lips again and leaned in to place a kiss there. She had half a mind to shove him away, but she was intrigued, and part of her hoped for more.
“I have made a career of going under cover. I’ve been a drug dealer, a gang member, a strangler, as well as a rapist. I infiltrate the criminal world; even have friends and informers among them. I sometimes go into the prison systems. All to help people like you catch the real bad guys.”
“So you happened to be working this area by coincidence?”
He smirked, “Not really.”
“If you were not assigned to work here, what are you doing here?”
“I came here for you, Olivia. I took a liberty and made a false confession instead of taking a vacation like my friends in high places wanted. I had heard of cases like the one you were working on. I did my homework among my friends in low places. I did it so that I could get closer to you.”
“You are crazy! Who puts themselves in prison for…”
“I was a juvenile delinquent in my youth. It’s pretty obvious already, but I’m no church choir boy. I did not get along with my family or my classmates. In order to get attention I would burn my neighbor’s shrubbery, put tacs under their cars, fuck around with girls in their fancy neighborhood pools. Stupid shit like that. But it made me an enemy of the system. After spending my first serious time behind bars as an adult, I told myself I didn’t want to become like the monsters they keep locked in those cages. My cell mate tried to kick my ass but I showed him I might be lean and pretty looking, but I knew beforehand how to make a weapon out of just about anything. I injured him and got put in a cell alone, thank god. But I decided I could help make the real criminals pay. So I made the enemy of my enemy my friend. I gave the guards tips and didn’t care if the others said I squealed. I stopped a lot of fights and prevented a lot of bloodshed. The system began to appreciate me. So you could say I’m used to prison. The one here is much nicer than the ones I’ve been in. Prison life is boring but at least there’s a routine, more than I ever had elsewhere, and there’s plenty of time to relax,” he chuckled.
He looked at her but there was still confusion and a little horror in her face. It was not easy shattering the image he had planted of himself in her consciousness already.
“But the real reason I put myself in this particular prison is because I love you, Olivia. I have a long time now. I lived in your last apartment complex before you moved here. Two years ago. I developed feelings for you. I was below you. I heard some of your fights with your ex among other things. Those walls were super thin. I learned a lot about you that way. More than he ever did, it seems. You never noticed me and I could not approach you. You were still living with him and were working all the time. When you finally left your boyfriend and moved I thought that would be the last I saw or heard of you until this case started making news and I heard your name mentioned. That was when I pulled some strings, signed that confession, and helped you on the case. I think we both benefited well in the end.”
She was shocked. She would have never guessed at all of this. She also felt guilty she had never recognized him.
“But why the elaborate act?” she asked. “If you really are such a normal, nice guy underneath that persona then why not just ask me out on a date? You could have approached me and at least said hello while I was going through that hell with my ex. A fresh face might have started to gradually win me over.”
“I heard the things you said to him, Olivia. You were so set on trying to make it work with him. You would have told me to fuck off.”
She grudgingly thought to herself he was probably right. It did not help that her ex had been training to be a cop himself. If Rick had approached her and told the truth about his profession she might have written him off based on that bias alone.
“Well,” she said, “why not after the break up?”
“Do I look stupid to you? It would have been horrible timing and you did not give me nearly enough time. As soon as you resolved to leave him, you did not go back for a millisecond. You packed up and left that night and I had no clue where.”
“Did you look for me?”
He laughed, “Do you think I’m a stalker?”
“Well when you did find me by ‘accident’ why not approach me and ask me out on a date? I was over my ex by then and you are attractive enough without the act. I might have said yes.”
“If you had thought I was some normal guy, I would not have been of any help to you on the case. You would not have started looking to date casually or seriously when you were so overworked still. You only came to me in the first place to get your criminal profile from another rapist. My tips and advice would not have seemed nearly as credible without the act. I am not a rapist, but I have been around their type. I understand, regrettably, some of their fucked up fantasies. Plus I don’t like to blow my cover if I can help it. As an undercover cop and infiltrator, I am rarely normal and have to keep up my walls and defenses.”
“Truth be told, I was attracted by that dangerous side of you,” Olivia confessed. “I’m very relieved you are not a monster. I would not go so far as to say you are a ‘nice’ guy, but you are nothing like you pretended to be. And I wanted you. Every time you threatened to rape me, I was strangely flattered. I was not afraid of this,” she grabbed him and gave him a playful squeeze, “I was afraid you would put a knife in me instead. And if you had approached me as a nice guy, I might have suspected that down the line you would hurt me like my ex.”
“Sometimes the guys that say and do all the right things in the beginning expose themselves as the real pretenders. Most assholes are really just assholes. But sometimes there are the guys that make clumsy mistakes and pretend to be bad guys. Bad guys that are secretly romantics. Like me.”
“So you were pretending to be a bad guy? And that is supposed to be charming?” Olivia said sarcastically.
“You know now that is not the real me.”
“I know nothing but lies, Rick! Is that even your name?”
“Rick is my first name. My last I am not supposed to reveal. But I’m through with lies with you, Olivia. It’s Letty.”
She was silent for a long while.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah. It’s just a lot to take in.”
He got up and helped her to her feet, collecting her clothes for her. She tossed the ripped blouse into the nearest trash can. Rick put his jacket about her instead.
“I would like to date you in the normal sense and do this again, Olivia. I don’t mind getting to know you better. And you deserve to know who I am.”
“This is so backward,” she said.
He gave her a mischievous look, “I told you I would rape you. Maybe later.”

The Tower Card

The Tower Card
I came from accross the ocean, from the land of Egypt. It only made sense that Samantha would be intrigued by the idea of a tarot reading. The ancient Egyptians had believed in divination. They would draw sticks and discern what the gods had in store for them through random chance. There was meaning even in the random. Especially in the random. I stared from across the room, tucked away upon a shelf. For a long time I had been placed in the trunk of her car. There was no other place for me and I brought back painful memories. The fact that I was alone like her was too sharp a reminder.
"Tarot readings do not predict the future," Salem, her coworker told her. "They help you reflect upon your present problem or event. It predicts how you might deal with it, what you fear, and how others perceive you."
Samantha nodded, nervous but excited. She wanted to believe in the sentimental and the mystical but was torn with logic and reason. Both had let her down.
The first card was drawn. The Tower card. Salem's eyes became wide and a smile crept upon his lips. He was not young but wizened with bulging borwn eyes, giving him a slightly crazed look. The Tower symbolized a great and violent change, a resetting. I had witnessed this recent upheaval. I had been with Samantha for over 7 years and in those years nothing exciting had happened. She had dated the same boy from high school for that long, Andrew. She had moved with him to college. She had made love to him and only him. Her universe was set around him.
Until he came home and told her he was not attracted to her anymore. There was no other solid reason even though she looked and looked for it like an archeologist scrapes the snad for clues, reconsturcing past lives and buildings. She was trying to cling to her own life. Shouldn't that have been easy enough? She left the apartment, grabbed me and all her other possessions, and left for good. She left behind a dog they had adopted together and was broke. She lived with a handful of women and changed her major. She had been forced into this change but there was no turning back now.
More cards were drawn. The 7 of wands, the 8 of wands. All of these cards represented creativy and the end of a cycle. 7 years.
"This is the card that represents what others think of you," Salem announced and drew the Lover.
The Lover. I once had a lover 7 years ago. The little Egyptian boy hand made us with paint, string, and leather. Two camels, which was me and my lover. Samantha had ridden on her share of camels by then. She saw the two of us together and thought of her new boyfriend. Her whole trip had been a dream come true but lonley. Andrew was at home and would not be able to experience riding on a camel with her. But she could bring him one and keep one for herself forever. She placed my lover on the bedside of her own lover.
"When we share a bed, they can share the mantle peice too," she said as she kissed him. When they moved in together, she brought me with her. They slept in the same bed for a year all the time. But Andrew had not brought my lover. The promise was forgotten. She began to sleep alone more often. I was always alone. And after he left, another came to her bed for a night. The boy she had secretly loved for the last year but was too ashamed to admit it. I never saw him again.
"This card is what you fear," Salem explained and drew the Fool. "This could mean you fear appearing foolish or acting foolish. It could mean you fear lustful habits."
Samantha blushed. She must be thinking of the boy she had taken to her bed. She thought of the nights she slept alone because Andrew had stopped wanting to make love. She dreamed of the other, a dream so intense and evocative she was glad for once Andrew was not beside her. Again, the mystical and unexplainable kept nudging at her sense of reality. The dream came true almost exactly that night.
Even Andrew had begun to believe in the archaic and the mystical. In those last months they were together he read books about zodiacs and was supersitious at times, even though he claimed not to believe any of it.
"Maybe you are just bored, Samantha. Maybe you should date an Aries," he told her once. "I hear those men want it all the time because of their horoscopes."
"You think I want to make love because I'm bored?" Samantha blinked in dibelief.
"The final card." Salem drew the Chariot card. "It means you will come to the end of the cycle, your life will change, but you will be victorious."
Almost six months later, Samantha was preparing to graduate. She had a loving boyfriend, a lifelong friend named Charles. The boy she brought to her bed was still a treasured friend. She only saw Andrew if she chanced upon him at a bar, drinking alone and bragging that the bartenders knew him by name now. I will never see my lover again. Perhaps my mate is lying in a dump. Perhaps it was never meant to be. As long as Samantha does not care, as long as she is happy, as long as she is victorious, so am I.

Olivia

WARNING! This is an erotic thriller. Don't read it if you're prudish!!

Olivia walked out of the police station, breathing a huge sigh of relief and then felt an inner warmth. She was proud of herself for the first time in a long time. Years of hard work had finally paid off. The killer would be brought to justice and the latest girl that he had abducted had been saved in time. The woman had thanked her personally. Even though they had only exchanged words, for some reason, they meant more to her than she could put a value to. It seemed that nothing could dampen her spirits.
“Congratulations on the case,” one of the cops had followed her. “Not only did you catch the bastard but Miss. Taylor was recovered alive and unharmed. That would have been his tenth victim to our knowledge. Maybe if he bothers telling us his story, he’ll fess up to more. Let’s hope not. There is absolutely no way that monster will get anything less than the death penalty or life in prison. No less than he deserves.”
“Truth be told, I may never have caught him without Sutner’s tips. I shall have to thank him before he is locked away for good himself,” Olivia replied.
“You mean Rick Sutner?” the cop hesitated. “You won’t find him there. He is a free man now. I thought you had been told.”
Olivia stopped in her tracks, “What? But how?”
“The DNA never matched up to him. Instead, it matched to one of the men we arrested ages ago for other crimes, robbery and home invasion among them. Then Sutner recanted his confession. We had nothing to go on. We couldn’t hold Rick any longer lawfully.”
“But he told me that he raped those girls,” Olivia was puzzled. “I don’t understand. He explained…certain…details. Did he lie about which women he raped? Have others come forward?”
“No. There is absolutely no case against him.”
Olivia shook her head, “You let a confessed rapist out on the streets? I do not care if there is no physical evidence of his crimes. Maybe he killed his victims and their bodies simply haven’t been found yet. Maybe they are alive but are too afraid to report it. You cops know how many assaults go unreported. What if he… what if he rapes again?”
“Then he’ll leave evidence this time and we’ll lock him up again. I am sorry, but some big fish came and took the case out from under us and he hired a damn good lawyer. They claim that he made his confession under duress, that someone else made him confess. We were promised that he is under 24-hour surveillance-“
“That is not good enough!” Olivia snapped. “He bragged about raping half a dozen girls. Bragged! With a smile on his face.”
The cop shrugged, “Maybe he is a slimy, experienced criminal that outsmarted the system. Maybe he is full of shit. I guess we will never know.”
With that he walked away. Olivia was reeling. She had thought nothing could dampen her heightened spirits. Now the pendulum was swinging violently in the opposite direction. Rick Sutner was out on the streets! That announcement put fear in the pit of her stomach. She remembered the way he had always looked at her with that dangerous light in his eyes, eyes of cold blue and narrow like some predatory cat.
“I make them squeal,” he had said the first time she interviewed him. “But never my name. They don’t see my face either. Only my cock as I slide it inside them. Then they can pretend I am their boyfriend or husband or the most recent quickie they had in the bathroom of that bar last weekend. I don’t care. I just like the look on their faces when they realize I am inside them and have made them mine. It is too late to run or hide and fighting is useless. I have gotten what I wanted. I have been inside them already. Nothing like the feeling of power I get when that realization hits them.” Then he chuckled and fixed his gaze upon her. “When all this is over, I am going to rape you.”
Her skin crawled every time he made that sordid promise to her, but she forced herself to show no reaction. She knew her suspect’s and Rick’s mentality now. They fed off a woman’s fear and made it their drug, more so than the forced sex. In fact, sex was the furthest thing from their mind, or so she had concluded. The only difference between the man she had arrested and Rick was that the other had made his victims suffer as much as he could in their final and terrible last hours on this earth. Rick let his victims live out the rest of their lives with their fear. They were both sick fucks, just to a different degree.
That was why she said and did nothing. There was no indignant name calling or threats or pathetic pleas. She wasn’t certain, but she supposed any of those options would satisfy him. Instead she stared back, eyes like onyx stones. It was much easier to show no fear when he was safely behind bars, though or even the few times when they had been in the interview room. He was handcuffed and weaponless. There were security cameras and guards watching, ready to pounce on him if he made any moves. And the one time he had kissed her, he was tazzed in a heartbeat. By her. Then the guards collected him.
It was a new game now. He was a free man. He might have his mask and knife back. He might be waiting for her in the shadows, waiting to make good on his promise. But even if he wore his mask, she would know exactly whose face was behind it. She could say his name. She could identify him in a line up. So he risked getting caught this time for certain. Unless he silenced her forever. Unless he used that knife not only to threaten and cow his victims, or to cut off her clothes as he said he had done to the other girls. No, more likely he would simply slit her throat once he was through.
She bolted back inside the station, “I think I need to be placed in a witness protection program!”
“Why? You caught the killer.”
“Not because of the recent case, damn it!” she slammed her keys and her fist upon the counter. “I am talking about Rick Sutner! You let him walk free and now he is going to come after me!”
“He won’t. We all know he was sweet on you, but his every move is being tracked. He was informed if he came within a certain distance of you, he would be arrested immediately. You just solved an extremely terrifying case. It is tough enough hunting a serial killer on a person’s psyche. It’s doubly trying knowing the details of his other crimes. But don’t let it get into your head, Olivia. Go home. Watch a feel good movie. Curl up with a loving boyfriend. Get some sleep.”
“I have no one to go home to.”
“Shame.”
That seemed to be all she would get from those she had hoped would protect her. Promises and looks of pity. She was too flustered to keep arguing, and she knew it would be fruitless to do so. She stormed out, fingering the tazzer in her coat pocket. It was her only real comfort at the moment. None of the cops followed after her this time.
She hesitated. Should she drive the four hours to her parents’ home? No, she did not want to get them involved. She did not feel she had any friends intimate enough to call at this ungodly hour and ask to crash on their couch. Even worse, all these people that cared about her would probably ask for reasons. She would have to tell them everything. She did not care to. She could call her ex as a last resort, but she would have to swallow her bitterness, be told off, or he would beg her to hook back up with him. Best not to go down that road. She had finally gotten over him; she did not want to bring up all that emotional baggage on top of this.
Finally she resolved to stay the night in a hotel. She got in her car and drove into the city. She was forced to park in a parking garage. She almost turned around to drive home. Maybe she just needed the safety and comfort of her own bed. Why would a hotel bed not be cold and strange? But it was past 3 am now. She was tired and still scared shitless.
Besides a few other cars, the garage seemed empty. There were no sounds and not a soul in sight. It was not too dim. It would only take a few paces, an elevator ride, and she would be alone and safe. She began locking her car door.
Suddenly, someone tapped her on the shoulder, “Fancy meeting you here, Olivia.”
“What the fu…”
Rick was grinning back at her sporting his leather coat and chain jeans. She instantly reached for her tazzer, but Rick pressed against her, using his own weight to force her against the vehicle. She bumped her head on the window hard enough to see stars and be temporarily stunned. Rick reached into her pocket, plucking up the tazzer and cell phone and tossing them well away and underneath several cars.
“Not this time, sweetie,” he said, gripping her wrists.
“Get the fuck away from me, Sutner!” she growled, still clutching her keys with a death grip. “The cops will be here any second! You have violated a protection order coming near me! Forget assaulting me!”
“You realize that I am here to congratulate you like a normal guy, right? And you were going to taze me. Again.”
“How did you-“
“Find you? Get out of jail? Prevent the cops from tailing me here? Which question should I answer first? Fuck that, I was congratulating you! You found the killer! And saved the girl, I heard. Congratulations! I see that my tips helped. I am glad.”
“Yes, for once in your rotten life, you may have actually done some good!” she snapped. “But don’t think you have redeemed yourself in my eyes!”
“Did some good now?”
“LET GO OF ME, SUTNER!” she roared.
“Or else what?”
“FUCK YOU!”
“No, fuck you!” he slammed himself against her, this time so that she could feel the outline of him through both of their pants.
Her eyes flashed and started to struggle, “No! No, I won’t let you!”
“Won’t let me what?”
“I won’t let you touch me!”
“I would be slightly disappointed if you did,” he responded.
“Sadist!”
“I am keeping my promise, Olivia. I may be a rapist, but I am a polite rapist. I keep my word.”
“NO!”
He muffled her cries of resistance with his mouth. He gripped both her hands in one strong arm and began to rake the other all over her. She tried to wrench her arms free. To kick or bite. But he pushed his weight into her and stole kisses on her neck and shoulders. Then he lifted her off the ground, dragged her a few steps, and slammed her down on the hood of her own car. He kept her shoved down as he began to tear off her blouse, ripping it.
“Come on, baby,” he said. “Stop fighting.”
His tone made her pause. It was rather… tender. And then it occurred to her that he was not wearing his mask. That was no surprise. She knew him. What surprised her was that he was not carrying his characteristic knife. He was unarmed. He was taking a great risk.
“Get off of me and let me go!”
“Not yet.”
Again, she was confused. Was he really going to just… let her go?
“You are going to get life for this! You won’t rape another girl. Instead you’ll get fucked by men and shanked in prison, dumb-ass!”
“I don’t think so.”
He worked his hand into her bra, squeezing her breasts, brushing his fingers over her nipples. She gasped.
“Stop that!”
“Am I squeezing too hard?” was there actual concern in his voice?
He unhooked her bra. Her naked breasts spilled out. He grabbed one and began sucking. She tried to push him away, but her efforts were growing weaker. He kissed her again, this time with tongue. She thought about biting down, but she hesitated too long. He moved to her ear, biting her lobe and shoving her legs apart, resting a hand between them.
“No!” she moaned instead of screamed. “Not there!”
His answer was to start rubbing. She closed her eyes. It had been too long since… She snapped her eyes open and pulled his hand away successfully.
“I will not be your next victim!” she insisted.
“Next?” he chuckled. “I have a secret. Want to hear?”
“Fuck off, rapist scumbag!”
He laughed at that and thrust a hand past the inside of her jeans and inside her underwear. Her entire body lurched forward.
“Oh my God,” she rasped. “I’m having a dream. More like a nightmare!”
“I certainly have dreamed of this,” Rick whispered in her ear. “A long time.”
He took a quick second to retrieve something from his coat and then flung it off. When next he rubbed her down there, she was surprised again. It was some kind of soothing oil, warm and wet. Her body seemed to respond to it.
“What are you doing to me?” she stammered. “Is that-is that…”
Lubrication? Rapists don’t use lubrication! Her brain screamed. This time when he kissed her, he dug his fingers into her long brown hair, careful not to grip too tight, as his fingers entered her. Her eyes widened and dilated. He noticed and a small smile crept upon his lips.
“You are beginning to understand now, I think.”
“U-understand what?”
“Having trouble speaking, Olivia?”
She lurched again as he began to move his fingers.
“You…you never raped anyone, did you?”
He stared into her dark brown eyes and cocked his head evasively, playfully, “What do you think?”
She was starting to get red in the face. Her heavy breaths turned from gasps to moans then little cries as he found a sweet spot and worked it. As she climaxed, she wrapped her legs about him.
“You LIAR!” her tone was angry, but she was smiling.
They exchanged a passionate kiss. Then Rick pulled his shirt off as Olivia unbuckled his belt. Her hands were trembling. She was no longer afraid. She was as turned on as she possibly could be. She had always been torn between attraction and revulsion for this man. Attraction because he was handsome and made it obvious he was very attracted to her, but repulsed by his crimes and because he had been so terrifying in his advances on her. It made no sense in her head. Nothing they were doing now made sense. But strangely enough, now that it had begun, she did not want it to stop. She was an active participant now.
It had been so long since a man had touched her like this, let alone made her orgasm. Pleasuring herself had never been good enough. All it did was tease her and half the time she felt no pleasure, only waves of loneliness. She had needed this. She needed him. And after the orgasm he had just given her she was willing to do almost anything and everything he might ask of her.
He traced her lips and she began to kiss and nibble his fingers as he placed her hand inside his pants so she could feel how excited he was. She clutched him eagerly, pleasantly surprised at how warm and hard he was. She began to move her hand up and down. After some time he pulled it out and gently pushed her head toward it. As she placed her lips about him, he closed his eyes and groaned. As she used her mouth, she used one hand to stroke him at the same time and placed the other on his stomach, fingers stroking his bare skin there. She kept going until he laid a hand on her head. She helped him remove the rest of his clothes.
They were both naked now and he began to rub himself against the outside of her, teasing her. The appetizer of the main course. She giggled. She could not argue that so far had been so good. He kept teasing until she wanted to scream. But she struggled even now to maintain some level of control.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I am not a rapist,” he clarified. “Are you ready for it, Olivia? Do you trust me enough? Do you want it?”
“It is a little late to ask me that, don’t you think?” she said a little bitterly. “You didn’t ask before you slammed me against this car, probably denting my hood, and ripping my clothes off!”
“Perhaps,” he had the grace to blush. “I have been rather unorthodox in my approach. I do not often lose my head like this. And I have to admit I enjoyed playing my role for a while. You, too, must have found it exciting.”
“So now you give me a choice?”
“I could force it,” his eyes danced. “I have you in a rather compromising situation at the moment. But I won’t. I don’t need you going and reporting this as an assault, though you might be justified in doing so. Judging by how wet you are now though, and that look in your eye…” he teased her again until she bit her lip in frustration, “I doubt you will.”
She stared back at him, her mind still trying to wrap around what was happening to her body. Then, at last, she nodded.
He penetrated her and she let out a tiny cry. Even though she was expecting it, her reaction was involuntary. As he penetrated deeper and faster, they both became louder and closer. They moved in almost perfect unison. She climaxed again and he followed some time after. Then he gave her a long and lingering kiss and lay beside her. They both panted as they recovered their senses and surroundings. Olivia was in a torment of mind. Her body was satisfied. Now she needed answers, and he did not seem to want to leave her yet.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “You lied throughout each one of our interviews. You lied about everything except for the tips I needed. Why? And if you are not really a rapist, then what are you?”
“A cop,” he sighed.
She looked up at him, lips slightly parted in a look of astonishment, “A cop.”
He found her expression irresistible and traced her lips again and leaned in to place a kiss there. She had half a mind to shove him away, but she was intrigued, and part of her hoped for more love-making.
“I have made a career of going under cover. I’ve been a drug dealer, a gang member, a strangler, as well as a rapist. I infiltrate the criminal world; even have friends and informers among them. I sometimes go into the prison systems. All to help people like you catch the real bad guys.”
“So you happened to be working this area by coincidence?”
He smirked, “Not really.”
“If you were not assigned to work here, what are you doing here?”
“I came here for you, Olivia. I took a liberty and made a false confession instead of taking a vacation like my friends in high places wanted. I had heard of cases like the one you were working on. I did my homework among my friends in low places. I did it so that I could get closer to you.”
“You are crazy! Who puts themselves in prison for…”
“I was a juvenile delinquent in my youth. It’s pretty obvious already, but I’m no church choir boy. I did not get along with my family or my classmates. In order to get attention I would burn my neighbor’s shrubbery, put tacs under their cars, fuck around with girls in their fancy neighborhood pools. Stupid shit like that. But it made me an enemy of the system. After spending my first serious time behind bars as an adult, I told myself I didn’t want to become like the monsters they keep locked in those cages. My cell mate tried to kick my ass but I showed him I might be lean and pretty looking, but I knew beforehand how to make a weapon out of just about anything. I injured him and got put in a cell alone, thank god. But I decided I could help make the real criminals pay. So I made the enemy of my enemy my friend. I gave the guards tips and didn’t care if the others said I squealed. I stopped a lot of fights and prevented a lot of bloodshed. The system began to appreciate me. So you could say I’m used to prison. The one here is much nicer than the ones I’ve been in. Prison life is boring but at least there’s a routine, more than I ever had elsewhere, and there’s plenty of time to relax,” he chuckled.
He looked at her but there was still confusion and a little horror in her face. It was not easy shattering the image he had planted of himself in her consciousness already.
“But the real reason I put myself in this particular prison is because I love you, Olivia. I have a long time now. I lived in your last apartment complex before you moved here. Two years ago. I developed feelings for you. I was below you. I heard some of your fights with your ex among other things. Those walls were super thin. I learned a lot about you that way. More than he ever did, it seems. You never noticed me and I could not approach you. You were still living with him and were working all the time. When you finally left your boyfriend and moved I thought that would be the last I saw or heard of you until this case started making news and I heard your name mentioned. That was when I pulled some strings, signed that confession, and helped you on the case. I think we both benefited well in the end.”
She was shocked. She would have never guessed at all of this. She also felt guilty she had never recognized him.
“But why the elaborate act?” she asked. “If you really are such a normal, nice guy underneath that persona then why not just ask me out on a date? You could have approached me and at least said hello while I was going through that hell with my ex. A fresh face might have started to gradually win me over.”
“I heard the things you said to him, Olivia. You were so set on trying to make it work with him. You would have told me to fuck off.”
She grudgingly thought to herself he was probably right. It did not help that her ex had been training to be a cop himself. If Rick had approached her and told the truth about his profession she might have written him off based on that bias alone.
“Well,” she said, “why not after the break up?”
“Do I look stupid to you? It would have been horrible timing and you did not give me nearly enough time. As soon as you resolved to leave him, you did not go back for a millisecond. You packed up and left that night and I had no clue where.”
“Did you look for me?”
He laughed, “Do you think I’m a stalker?”
“Well when you did find me by ‘accident’ why not approach me and ask me out on a date? I was over my ex by then and you are attractive enough without the act. I might have said yes.”
“If you had thought I was some normal guy, I would not have been of any help to you on the case. You would not have started looking to date casually or seriously when you were so overworked still. You only came to me in the first place to get your criminal profile from another rapist. My tips and advice would not have seemed nearly as credible without the act. I am not a rapist, but I have been around their type. I understand, regrettably, some of their fucked up fantasies. Plus I don’t like to blow my cover if I can help it. As an undercover cop and infiltrator, I am rarely normal and have to keep up my walls and defenses.”
“Truth be told, I was attracted by that dangerous side of you,” Olivia confessed. “I’m very relieved you are not a monster. I would not go so far as to say you are a ‘nice’ guy, but you are nothing like you pretended to be. And I wanted you. Every time you threatened to rape me, I was strangely flattered. I was not afraid of this,” she grabbed him and gave him a playful squeeze, “I was afraid you would put a knife in me instead. And if you had approached me as a nice guy, I might have suspected that down the line you would hurt me like my ex.”
“Sometimes the guys that say and do all the right things in the beginning expose themselves as the real pretenders. Most assholes are really just assholes. But sometimes there are the guys that make clumsy mistakes and pretend to be bad guys. Bad guys that are secretly romantics. Like me.”
“So you were pretending to be a bad guy? And that is supposed to be charming?” Olivia said sarcastically.
“You know now that is not the real me.”
“I know nothing but lies, Rick! Is that even your name?”
“Rick is my first name. My last I am not supposed to reveal. But I’m through with lies with you, Olivia. It’s Letty.”
She was silent for a long while.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah. It’s just a lot to take in.”
He got up and helped her to her feet, collecting her clothes for her. She tossed the ripped blouse into the nearest trash can. Rick put his jacket about her instead.
“I would like to date you in the normal sense and do this again, Olivia. I don’t mind getting to know you better. And you deserve to know who I am.”
“This is so backward,” she said. “We… what in the hell did we just do? You attacked me, we fucked, and you said you loved me.”
“That’s not a lie.”
“You need to replace my phone so you can get my number and call me,” she smiled.
“Gladly.” He gave her a mischievous look, “I told you I would rape you.”

Excerpts from Mina Harker's Diary

Mina Harker’s Diary

The men returned home again at dawn with their spirits at a low ebb. Once again, they have failed to find the monster’s lair. I was as disheartened as they were, for this long trial is exhausting mentally and physically, and they had all worked so hard the day before. They had become convinced that they had it narrowed down to the right location this time. I had confidence in them and prayed for hours while they were gone, imploring the Lord grant them a speedy victory in His name. But so far, the Devil has been victorious covering his tracks and keeping one step ahead of our stout gentlemen. Our greatest fear is that while we hunt for him, he may have taken another hapless victim by now or may even continue his process of creating more of his spawn to trouble us.
I do not wish what happened to Lucy upon any soul. No one deserves such a fate, least of all she. Lucy was a pure and virtuous girl. I would have never thought in a million years that she could be recruited to the ranks of the Undead. I suppose this Count Dracula is like his master in the art of seduction. Or perhaps she merely closed her eyes to what was happening to her, just as we all did. This is the twentieth century, and reason and logic have replaced superstition and old wives tales. Perhaps we have sacrificed old wisdom in exchange for science.
Last night, I dreamed of my beloved Lucy. I cannot keep her out of my thoughts. After all, she was my only close friend, despite all of our differences. We were as different as night and day. I was an orphan girl raised within a nunnery with no name or value, and she was heiress to millions. She never minded my status. She was pink and rosy last time I saw her, quite well compared to all accounts of her illness. I now know that she was much worse off than she let on. She pretended to be well for my sake. I never dreamed that I might never see her again.
I rushed off to see Jonathan in Romania. I had no desire to leave Lucy, but Jonathan was in dire need. The nuns that found him wrote that he had brain fever, and I feared that I might lose him. Besides, Van Helsing and all the others assured me that Lucy would not be alone. She had two great doctors watching over her and strong and capable men with weapons and the latest technology. Yet when I returned to London with my newly made husband alive and well, I received the dark news that Lucy had died suddenly while I was away. It was quite a shock. She and I had become close as sisters over the years, and she was no more than twenty when she died. The news that she was dead was nothing compared to what Van Helsing later told me. Lucy had fallen prey to a vampire, and they had had no choice but to destroy her body. She had risen from her grave and was feeding upon little children. A ghastly notion indeed.
In my nightmare, Lucy stood upon my balcony just outside the great bay windows. She was clothed in her wedding gown, the dress she was never to wear at her expected wedding but now wore as her funeral gown instead. Everything about her visit was terribly wrong. She was headless, and a great gaping cavity had been torn out of her breast. From these hideous wounds, blood poured freely, staining and soaking her beautiful white dress. She raised her arms, and her skin was ghastly, as white as her dress. With one hand, she raked her nails upon the glass. The nails looked as though they were made of glass themselves. Within her other hand at her side, she held her head. She raised it up to peer in at me, trembling in my bed. Though her head had been severed savagely from her body, it appeared to be alive. Her eyes moved and blinked, but they had changed. They glowed burning red, and her lips had also become ruby red, redder than they ever had been in life. She opened her mouth, trying to scream, perhaps my name, for she mouthed the word. But no sound came out, not a whisper. Black blood bubbled forth from her lips like milk.
I awoke shivering with fright, tears in my eyes. Then I noticed the howling, animal like but with a human voice. It was Rendfield in the asylum. He was having some terrible fit. I changed my clothes, determined to find out what was wrong, as I was curious about the man and doubted I would get back to sleep anyway, and I went to see why he was carrying on. I had been hoping to speak to the man ever since I heard his name. I remembered that he had once been the Count’s solicitor before Jonathan. My husband had been chosen to take his place after Rendfield suddenly became a bit cracked during his stay in Transylvania. I also wondered if he would have any information for us. For some reason, no one had bothered to question him directly about the subject though there was likely some connection between Rendfield and the Count.
The entire asylum was in a state of pandemonium. The other patients were disturbed by Rendfield’s ravings. Imagine lunatics being perturbed by another man’s howling. The doctors and attendants did not know how to handle the situation. They were overwhelmed. Dr. Seward had been called in, and Van Helsing had come with him. They were not pleased to see me there.
“Madame Mina, you should be resting!” Van Helsing harped.
“It is not safe for a woman to be in a place like this!” Seward chimed with him.
“I cannot sleep, even without Rendfield’s crying,” I replied. “Besides, as your attendants can do little, I would like to lend a hand.”
The doctors exchanged glances.
Finally Seward said, “Very well. I will take you to his cell, but I fear that your presence may only agitate him. You may speak to him through the bars. You know the proper behavior when dealing with a committed man?”
“Of course.”
Van Helsing placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and said gently, “I am troubled that you have been losing sleep. I shall provide you with a sleeping draught if you like, ja?”
“That is most kind of you, professor,” I answered with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Madame Mina.”
Helsing turned away, no doubt needed elsewhere. Seward led me to Rendfield’s cell. He was quite a spectacle. He was a little gray man with small but thick framed glasses and unkempt whiskers and yellowed teeth. He was rather frail looking, but I had been warned that his frail appearance was deceptive. In truth, he had surprising strength. He wore a striped straight jacket, but his hands were free at the moment. Oddly, he reminded me of a little gray mouse. Somehow that made me forget that he was a madman and had been reported to be violent as well.
“Oh, doctor,” he said gleefully at the sight of me, “I must have been very naughty.”
“Rendfield, do try to act civilized.”
“Oh, of course.“
A patient a few cells away began to moan and Seward went to attend to him for a few moments.
“Hello, Mr. Rendfield. I am quite pleased to meet you. You have quite a voice, good strong lungs too.“
Rendfield studied me with suspicion in his eyes, then he relaxed as he understood the joke. He burst out laughing, and I began chuckling.
“I am truly sorry, Madame, I did not mean to be rude,” Rendfield apologized. “Have I disturbed you?”
“It is rather difficult to sleep,” I admitted. “Oh! While Dr. Seward is away, I have a gift for you.“
“A present for me? What have I done to deserve such a kindness?“ the man was as giddy as a child on Christmas.
I drew out the basket I had kept well hidden and handed what was inside to him through the bars.
“A kitten!” his joy was obvious. “Oh, you are an angel!”
It was a great breach of the rules, but I was glad. I do not know why, but I liked this little man and pitied anyone in an asylum. Seward had spoken to me before about his desire for a kitten. It would keep him company and keep his cell free of rats at least. Luckily, the animal was asleep and Rendfield was able to hide him among his rags. By the time Seward discovered it, he would have no choice but to let Rendfield keep it. What was the harm in letting his patients have pets? Besides, if Rendfield trusted me, he might tell me invaluable information.
“Do be gentle with him and keep him hidden for as long as you can. Dr. Seward will be very angry with me when he finds out.”
“I would not waste such a gift.”
“You were Count Dracula’s solicitor were you not?” I fired a question, hoping for a response.
“His servant indeed.”
Seward returned to my side, listening intently.
“You were committed here soon after. What happened to you during your stay in Transylvania?”
His eyes gleamed, “Ah, my dear, no words can describe it. Might as well ask Heaven when it sees. Besides, I am not a madman. I admit that once I was quite insane, but I am not anymore.”
I could not help but smile, and Seward stirred at my side. “It seems to me that there is a thin line between sanity and insanity. Do you not agree?”
“You see, it is life that I ingest,” Rendfield explained with all seriousness. “Life in all of its forms. However, I have found that my old habit of eating spiders and flies, is like eating molecules with a pair of chopsticks. I am merely a sane man fighting for his soul, as do we all.”
Seward looked absolutely astonished, for his manner of speaking was not raving but logical. His act of sanity was quite believable for a moment.
“Why then are you so upset?” I asked.
“My Master is the one that is upset. I am calling him for the reward that he promised.”
I assumed that he meant Dr. Seward and said, “Howling will not help you if your master is already upset. Perhaps he is testing your patience. Patience is an overlooked virtue, one that all masters value in a servant. If you are patient and grateful, how much greater the reward!”
“Of course! You are absolutely right. Clever woman! What is your name? I must know.”
“Wellingmina Harker. You can call me Mina.”
“Ah, you are the bride that my Master seeks!” Rendfield gasped.
“No,” I said sadly. “That was Lucy.”
“I was never talking about the poor doctor. Madame Mina, you must not stay here. Get away from these men and this place. You are in great danger.”
“What do you mean, sir?” I was confused and alarmed.
“My Master will come soon. He speaks to me of you.”
“What does he tell you?”
“That he is coming. He is coming for you. The Master will be very angry with me now. I have said too much.”
He would not answer any more of my questions after that, only he begged me to leave London. Seward brought my interrogation to an end, claiming that it was rather late and that I needed to sleep. I turned to follow him out, but Rendfield seized my hand. I gasped, but only with surprise. Somehow I knew that this man would not harm me. I sensed no malice in him.
“Leave this place, I beg you. May the Lord bless and keep you and I pray to God to never see your sweet face again.”
I could not say anything. His words made no sense to me. I could not tear my eyes away from his, dark and filled with the greatest pity. Pity for me. A chill ran down my spine, and then Rendfield kissed my hand and released it.
Dr. Seward escorted me home. He told me not to pay any attention to what Rendfield said. He had often attempted to get information out of Rendfield and failed. He admitted that the man acted sane around me, and that it must be attributed to a rare gift I possess, but I must not allow myself to be fooled. The man had just devoured all his spiders the moment before I came to see him. Rendfield could be a sly devil if he chose to be.
After a while we began to speak of Lucy. Over the past few weeks, we had become rather close. Seward felt that he could talk to me about his feelings, unlike the other men. I trusted him and pitied him a little. Of all of Lucy’s suitors, I felt that he had loved her the most. He was a lonely man, this John Seward.
“You loved her deeply, and for that I thank you,” I said. “At least she died surrounded by men that loved her.”
“But not a one of us could save her.”
He began to weep, and though I felt tears in my eyes, they did not fall. It is always heartbreaking to see a man weep, especially men like Seward or Quincy or Art. I could not think of my own sorrow, only of his. The others had come to me with their tears, as though I was the Virgin Mary and took the place of the Mother figure for a moment. It came naturally to me. I put my arms around him as I had done with Art and Quincy and gave him my shoulder. Then I put my lips to his as I would kiss a brother. He looked at me with amaze.
“Mina, you are the kindest soul to ever walk this earth,” he said a little awkwardly. “You are a little bit of heaven amongst us.”
At last, I went to my bed to try to sleep. A glass bottle was upon my dresser with a note attached.

Dear Madame Mina,

I have filled out a prescription for you, so do not fear accepting this sleeping potion. Take only one swallow and I guarantee you a dreamless sleep. Thank you again for the information you have so generously provided in past and present. There are lights in this world that keep away the dark, and you are one of those lights. Sleep well with our blessings and may God keep you safe.
Abraham Van Helsing

I was deeply touched by all the praise that I had received from all of the men. Art had called me an angel of mercy, Quincy had proclaimed me a saint. Seward and Helsing were blowing my trumpet as well. And yet I had not really spoken to my husband in days except in greeting and formalities. His was the only praise I needed, and he was still gone. He often goes away to be alone these days, as though he does not want me. I am too afraid to throw myself at him, though I desperately want to. Sometimes I want to scream and demand that he break his silence and solitude. When I hold him or try to speak comforting words, his eyes seem far away and he hardly responds at all. Am I losing him too?
I took the sleeping draught last night and seemed to sleep a dreamless sleep. For that I am glad. It seems that Jonathon never returned to bed at all last night. I found his pillow and some blankets upon the sofa. He probably did not want to awaken me, but I would have welcomed it. I am feeling so lonely these days, so lonely that I have begun making a habit of visiting Rendfield just for companionship.
I am determined to find out what exactly is going on with him and the Count. Seward does not think him important to their plans. They are so focused upon simply hunting the creature down. They cannot imagine that he could ever have made contact with Dracula. They think that he has utterly abandoned the man to his fate. But I am not so sure. It could be key should the men continue to fail in their search for the monster. The problem is separating the madness from the truth.
When I greeted Rendfield, he was playing with the little kitten. He was encouraging it to hunt. He looked up at me and smiled.
“It is a relief to see you again, Madame.”
“But you said my last visit that I was in danger and that you never wanted to see me again.”
“Did I now?” he suddenly looked afraid. “Well, what I meant was that I never wanted to see you in danger, for in this place, there is danger all around. It is not often that women come to an insane asylum to chat with the natives there.”
“You spoke of your Master, tell me about him.”
“No. No I can’t. He will be very angry if I tell you about him.”
“You do not have to say his name. Besides, you are protected here. What is your Master like?”
“Only one that has seen him knows who and what he is,” Rendfield said, but he continued after a moment’s hesitation. “My Master is powerful. So powerful that the strength of a lion seems that of an infant’s compared to his. He is ancient and wise. He seems to know everything about me, even to the number of hairs upon my head. For a time I thought he was must be some sort of angel. I suppose he must be as strong as one of them. He is old, but I have seen him old and young. He grows younger instead of becomes older like we do. And he is rich. Rich beyond imagining. He is quite generous to me. He gave me money quite freely, and his hospitality was extravagant. And he promised me many things.”
“Like what?”
“He promised that I would be immortal. He would give me the gift when he deemed me ready. He needed me to act as his messenger. And so I ingest the lives of insects and meager animals to prepare myself. But he has been absent for some time now, I am afraid. I wonder if he has forgotten me and I am doomed to live in this wretched place eating flies and spiders until I cannot eat anymore.”
“You heard about Lucy, did you not?” I asked. “Drained of blood. What do you know of it?”
“Something took the life out of her. That is what Seward has told me. I do not understand why he is so upset. He lost her long before that anyhow when she accepted Lord Holmwood’s proposal.”
“You said that I was in danger. You said that your Master is coming for me. What did you mean?”
“He covets you, Madame Mina. He told me that he saw your picture in Harker’s locket and everything suddenly made sense to him. I do not know how or when, but he will come for you. I do not even know if there is a safe place for you.”
“Tell me, Mr. Rendfield, where is your Master?”
“Once, he was ever nearby, but now I do not know where he is.”
I sighed and bid him good day. Perhaps there was a grain of truth to what he said. Perhaps Rendfield knows less about the Count’s movements than we do. Perhaps questioning him was futile after all.

Once again today I visited Rendfield, but I have stopped seeking answers from him. I had hoped to prove to the men that I could be of use to them in this hunt. So far, only Van Helsing has given me any credit for my part in it. It is obvious to me now that Rendfield’s true Master was Dracula, but the Count has long since abandoned him to rot in the asylum. He has not had dealings with him since Transylvania, is my guess. Whenever the man speaks of his Master, it is only out of wishful thinking. Even his fear of his Master’s wrath is beginning to fade. He is just a poor, desperate, old man.
Rendfield has warmed to me though, it seems. The other patients know me now as well. I gave them each a flower and sweets to brighten their cells. I sat and spoke with Rendfield for hours, and he was interested in all my doings. For a moment, I almost believed he could be sane after all, but I remembered Seward’s words. Rendfield was mad and even violent in his turn. Before I left, he kissed my hand again and blessed me. I thanked him with all my heart.
“Do get some rest, Madame Mina,” was the last thing he said. “You look rather pale.”
I looked at myself in the mirror just now, and I am whiter than usual. Perhaps it is because I did not sleep very well. When I returned home last night, I let my hair down and changed into my night robe. It was very late, and the men were all out on the hunt. It was past one o’ clock, and I needed to greet them all at five. I went to the window and saw that it had become very foggy, and the fog was ever so slowly inching toward the house like a spider.
I shivered and crawled into bed, for it was rather cool. I was tired and took a dose of the potion. I do not know how long I slept before I heard Rendfield shouting. I had half a mind to shout back at him for quiet, but there is no use raving at a lunatic. I took another swallow of the sleeping potion. I rose and peered out the window, curious. Rendfield’s voice was becoming tolerable. The fog had come closer. It was actually touching the corner of the house now. The potion was beginning to take effect as I had taken a double dose. I lay down and began to dream.
This time, my drug induced stupor caused the dream to blur into reality. Just before I fell asleep, at least, I think I fell asleep, the window was open and the curtains flapped like great wings in the gentle breeze. That was strange because I was almost certain that I had closed it shut before crawling into bed. I believe I closed my eyes, and I dreamed that the fog that had been so slowly inching towards the house began to pour into the room. It was damp and heavy and cold. It floated over me and around me. It began to collect itself into the center of the room, forming particles of moonbeam and dust. Then it began to shape itself into a pillar, collecting more and more particles, spinning and whirling faster and faster. At its top, there materialized a pair of glowing red eyes.
Needless to say, I was frightened, but I could not wake myself from the nightmare. In fact, I opened my eyes in the dream (how dreams can play tricks on us!) and I found that the pillar had become a man tall and thin, but his features were unclear. A white, shimmering face hovered inches above mine, eyes like flames. He spoke in a tongue foreign to me very gently. It was soothing, like the purring of a great cat. He put a finger to my lips and leaned closer. I was shaking so, perhaps because I was frightened or perhaps it was because it was freezing cold. The window was open. Or was it closed? Oh, I suppose it does not matter. All I know is that the window was closed when I awoke at dawn.
Jonathan shook me awake. He seemed rather excited. The men had found a lead, but I was still bone-tired, more exhausted than I had been before I went to sleep. Perhaps I needed more time for the effects of the potion to wear off. I told Jonathan I had not slept well and felt ill. His moment of joy was gone in a flash and a shadow fell upon his face.
“Ah, well, I am sorry to have disturbed you,” he said courteously, but his tone was rather flat and callous.
As soon as he left the room, I burst into tears. I was more angry with myself than sad. I did not mean to drive Jonathan away. The tears had come unbidden as quite a surprise.
I greeted the others at noon, trying to shake away the dream and pretend that I was energized. They were all celebrating and cheerful. Jonathan avoided eye contact with me. Van Helsing asked after my health, ever observant. I admitted that I had not slept well, though I had taken a double dose.
“That is likely the reason why you appear so pale and tired this morning,” he explained, patting my cheek as though I were a little girl. “Just take the minimum dose tonight and see what that does for you, ja?”
I nodded. Jonathan chatted cheerfully with Quincy. The Texan was as obnoxious and boyishly charming as ever. Art is becoming more like himself again, but Seward never said a word. His thoughts were turned inward. He did not smile once but watched me out of the corner of his eyes.
I fear that Dr. Seward’s great love for Lucy is being misplaced upon me. Was it because I kissed him last night? I kissed him as I would a brother! God strike me down if there was any impurity in my actions! I kissed Quincy and Art in the same way as well. Regardless of my feelings of friendship, I wonder if Seward and the others treasured my kiss as something more than it truly was. They have all been acting more… affectionate towards me. I do recall a letter Lucy sent me, speaking of Seward. She wrote: He would be a good match, someone for you if you were free…
I should not be thinking such thoughts or making such assumptions, well-founded or not. I am Jonathan’s wife now, just like I always wanted. Though I daresay that Dr. Seward is handsome enough and certainly very intelligent and well-financed, he works in an insane asylum.
Now I do not know whether to tear out this page and burn it or to show it in black and white to Jonathan. Well, I have written it. Later I may read it and laugh. Seward loved Lucy and still loves her. They all loved her. She was so beautiful and full of life. It is so lonely and empty here without her. I miss her so.
Jonathan ignored me all day. He took his meal and then gathered the men into the next room to plan out the next raid. I was taken aback by his distance. On our wedding night, he made love to me as though it was to be the last time rather than the first. He told me thousands of times how much he loved me and had missed me. Now he seldom comes to bed with me, never saying much in my presence. I do my best to please him, but most nights I sleep alone, fighting back tears.
There I go! Crying again! What is the matter with me? I have been crying uncontrollably all day! Is it the nightmares? Is it Jonathan? I suppose it must be everything. The men refuse to involve me with the hunt for the monster. I understand that they wish to spare me from horror, but I have so many questions! Being in suspense is a horror in itself. I only wish to know what is going on. I want Jonathan to open up to me. I want to tell him of my nightmares, that I am weary and depressed. I do not show it before the men because they have enough on their plates without worrying about poor, pitiful Mina.
I will be glad when this is all over, if it ever will be over. I want Lucy. I want my husband back. I want to sleep without nightmares again.

There is tragic news. Dr. Seward remained here last night as there was trouble at the asylum. When he returned this morning, he reported that Mr. Rendfield is dead. The attendant found him in a pool of his own blood. Apparently, the man had gone into hysterics and thrown himself against the cell walls until he smashed his own skull. They had buried him quickly, as he had no living relatives. The only thing he had in terms of possessions was the box he had kept his flies and spiders in, several rags, and the kitten that I had given him. Dr. Seward gave him to me.
“It was a kind thing you did, though without my knowledge. It is of no consequence. No harm done.”
“Perhaps you could give him to one of your other patients. They deserve a little companionship as well. No one should be lonely.”
“As you wish.”
Seward seemed quite upset by Rendfield’s death. He had hoped to understand him and learn much more of the human brain and psyche. We had also lost any information he could have given us about the Count. I was very troubled too. I had come to like the little man, and I have not forgotten his words to me.
I had more nightmares again last night. I took one tiny swallow of the sleeping draught, as Van Helsing had instructed me, and though I fell asleep, it seemed little effective at warding off dreams. I dreamed of fog, engulfing me and smothering me. Rendfield awoke me in the middle of the night, screaming louder and more frantically than usual.
“No, Master! I will not let you do it!“
And then he let out one ear-piercing scream and was forever silent, and now I know why.
I woke little rested at dawn and I felt so very weak. I was also annoyed by the fact that the crucifix upon my necklace has gone missing. I found the chain in my blankets, the crucifix was gone. I must have stirred in my sleep and ripped it off. I searched the room from top to bottom. It could not have gone far, wherever it is. I asked Seward to help me search, though the effort only made me even more tired and worn out. Seward must have noticed and voiced his concern.
“Mina, you do not look so well. Are you all right?”
“Yes, John. Just tired, is all.”
But I was not all right. I was lying to myself and to him. I started to feel hot and drowsy. My stomach was very queasy, and my vision blurred and became clouded. I heard Seward shout my name, and my world became black.
I came to with everyone about me. Jonathan was soaking my brow with a wet towel. I had been propped upon the couch, and Van Helsing held my hand, searching for my pulse. I was confused.
“What happened?”
“You got real milk-white, according to John here, and then you dropped like a pin,” Quincy answered, slipping into his slang.
“I fainted?” I said in disbelief. “I have never fainted before. I am so sorry.”
“No reason for apologizing, Mrs. Harker,” Seward said. “But please do not do it again. Scared the life out of me.”
“I hope to never do it again,” I replied. “It is not a pleasant experience.”
“You are still quite pale,” Van Helsing said with concern. “Irregular pulse and breathing as well. How do you feel?”
“Ill to the stomach, fatigued and unusually warm.”
“You are not anemic are you?”
“No.”
“Do you mind if I test your blood?”
“No,” I said, though I dreaded the prick.
Van Helsing took out his equipment, took his sample and tested it, reporting, “Everything is normal.” He still looked troubled.
“The girl needs rest, can you not see?” Arthur snapped. “She has been mothering us all this time and given no thought to herself.”
“We all need rest,” Jonathan said quietly. “We will not hunt the monster tonight.”
“What?” Quincy barked. “But we have him this time!”
“You all can hunt without me then,” there was a look in my husband’s eye that brooked no argument. “I will remain with my wife. She needs me now. It does not take five men to destroy boxes of earth.”
“He speaks the truth,” Van Helsing took his side. “If we have need of him, we can send for him. These two must be alone tonight.”
“Do you need anything in the meantime, Mrs. Harker?” Seward asked.
“Perhaps some water?”
“She should get some grub too,” Quincy said.
“And pillows and a blanket,” Art added.
All day long I was pampered. I just hope that I did not enjoy the attention too much. I am used to pampering others. Jonathan came to bed with me and finally opened up.
“I worried that I might lose you today,” he confessed. “Seward came to me shouting that you were ill. I walked in to find you lying on the floor, pale and clammy… I felt so helpless. I must have seemed rather cold. Forgive me, Mina.”
“There is no sin. Your heart is in the right place. There has been so much horror and tragedy lately that your mind is still trying to sort out. As is mine.”
“I will never again take you for granted. Tell me what you want, Mina. What can I do to assuage your worries?”
“All I ask is to know what is happening,” I answered. “I did not want to know once. That is why I refused to read your journal when you offered. It was obvious that you had undergone trauma, and so I wanted us both to forget about it. You were still recovering, and there would have been a terrible shadow hanging over us on our wedding day. But now, we are beginning to experience some of the things you must have experienced, and I cannot help but wonder… What on earth is happening? You have told me some, but not all.”
Jonathan became silent as the grave and studied me carefully, perhaps wondering if I was strong enough and if he should refuse. He seemed to come to a decision. He fetched his journal and removed the blue ribbon I had tied about it and he opened the cover.
“There should be no secrets between a husband and a wife,” he said, as he had said once before, “no matter what it may be. I was relieved when you told me that you trusted me and did not need to read my journal. But now, I wonder that if I had but spoken of everything that happened, Lucy may have been spared.”
“You must not place blame upon yourself!”
“God shall judge my deeds, I suppose. Whatever you need, Mina, remember that I love you.”
He left me alone to read his journal, and from its pages, I received all the answers that he could provide me with. I read of his strange journey to Castle Dracula, the cryptic warnings, the coachman, the blue flames, and his stay with the Count. He would gradually discover that the Count was a terrible monster. I read also of the three ghastly women that he left Jonathan with. The women that seemed desirable at first revealed themselves as monsters as well. And finally, I read of Jonathan’s daring escape, leaping from the castle into the river below.
Finally, I understood why Jonathan had returned a changed man. Even his hair had become silver. When he returned to me, I put my hand in his and wept for his suffering. My troubles were nothing compared to what he had been through. He locked the door and began kissing me. We fell into each others arms. It felt like our wedding night, a merging of mind, body, and soul. I am so happy and so blessed. I will go back to Jonathan now. I doubt I will have nightmares tonight.

Vlad’s Memoirs

The mortals led by my former captive Mr. Harker and that walking contradiction Dr. Van Helsing are searching for my lair as I write. It makes me laugh whenever I imagine them tearing through cemeteries and dusty old buildings falling to ruin, and all the while I am enjoying their beloved Mina Murray in the safety of their own homes. She is Mina Harker now, but no less desirable. I have drank from her veins twice now, and I plan to baptize her tonight. I now have no doubt that she is my Lydia come again. In truth I knew it the moment I glimpsed her portrait. When Harker named her Mina, I could scarcely believe it. Her blood is sweet and pure with a tinge of liquid fire. Every mortal’s blood tastes unique as do different brands of wine. Hers is the richest I have tasted.
I came to Mina in the form of fog after disposing of Rendfield. I should have killed him sooner since he has long proved useless and treacherous. He was a good source of information for a while, reporting the men’s plans. He worshiped me in hopes of receiving my blood and the promise of immortality, but he warned Mina that she was in danger and was insolent enough to defy me. I came to him through the bars of his cell, and he was waiting for me.
“Rendfield,” I said softly, so as not to be heard by any of the loitering ‘doctors’ that patrolled the place. “You have betrayed me.”
“No, Master!” he denied it of course. “I serve only you.”
“You serve only yourself, snake!”
His kitten fled to the corner of the cell and arched his back. His hair stood on end, and he hissed and spat.
“You have been taking the life out of dear Mrs. Harker!” Rendfield accused. “She came to visit me again today. I did not notice it then, but I know now that she had been drained. By you! That young woman is an angel. She could never be your bride. I thought that Lucy-”
“The Westerna girl is dead! She was a harlot and proved as disappointing as have the other vampiress’ I have made in the past. Her first victims were children! The mothering nature in her was absent. Mina is the one that I wanted!”
“But I think Seward and the others love her as much as they loved Lucy. They will not allow her to die.”
“No doubt. The woman is quite a speciman. Tell me: Are the men all at their game of cat and mouse with me tonight?”
“Yes. I saw them all leave.”
I laughed. The men had all gone and left Mina completely defenseless as usual.
“Excellent. I will visit her again tonight, then.”
“No, Master! I will not let you!”
I had run out of patience for this selfish, sniveling worm. I lifted him up and flung him against the walls. Then I slipped into Mina’s window. She was awake, but she seemed already in a state of miasma. Van Helsing prescribed her some sort of concoction to help her sleep, making her as helpless as a little lamb. I have not had to hypnotize the girl even once, the drugs have done all the work for me. She will have no proper memory of what I do and will record everything in her diary as nightmares, and due to her sweet and selfless nature, she will hide her worsening condition and push her fears out of her mind in order to improve the lot of the men. I could not ask for a better cover. After all, the men are far more concerned with avenging Lucy and keeping complete strangers safe from my thirst rather than the ones that they love at home. They see no reason why Mina would be in any danger.
She looked beautiful in her white gown and her hair loose and long. She is far more lovely in my eyes than Lucy ever was. Dark haired women always enchanted me, and her sad, doe-eyes make her all the more intriguing. Her face is oval and highly symmetrical. She has delicate, sweet lips. Her frame is slender and small. Her voice is soft, often drowned out by others, but it is lovely and pleasant to the ear.
Lucy was quite the opposite. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. She was tall and voluptuous, with full, pouty lips. She had a heart shaped face and a voice that demanded attention. She was the perfect seductress, but I have learned over the years that a desired woman is not always desirable.
What attracts me to Mina that I did not find in Lucy was her selflessness and loyalty. She is a hard working assistant teacher, devoting much of her time to children. She is intelligent and wise with a humble background and demeanor. Lucy was a spoiled little rich girl that never worked a day of her life and devoted her time to charming men and keeping her looks. She was nothing but an ornamental vase. Mina is also so much like Lydia, it would strike even an unbeliever. Mina was raised in a convent among nuns. My Lydia had once been destined to be a nun, but I convinced her not to condemn herself to such a pious hell. Mina looks like Lydia in every sense, and she has the same heart of gold.
I was very silent as I gathered myself to obtain my natural appearance. I flipped through her diary, and then I bent over her to take my second drink as I soothed her. The first night, she had been wearing a crucifix about her throat. I was repulsed by it, and I ripped it off of its chain and flung it as far as I could out of the window. The cursed thing scorched my hand.
I bit into her slender neck most gently as I could and drained her slowly so as not to cause her pain and to draw forth as many of her memories as I could. I had no desire to harm her. Only those that have been victim to a great loss of blood know what a terrible thing it is. Such a sickening, sinking feeling. Her blood flowed warm and rich over my tongue as I drank, and countless images filled my head, not in any particular order. It was a tapestry of her life.
I saw Mina’s childhood. Long, lonely days at the nunnery. Little Lucy coming to visit her. Her schooling and her struggles. She was torn between her desire to enter the nunnery that had raised her or to experience the world and teach others. Her first encounter with Harker. Her wedding day. A rush of images and emotions, some joyful, some melancholy. There was a bitter sweetness in every one of them. By the time I withdrew my fangs, Mina was unconscious and pale. If I took anymore, she would be unable to leave her bed at dawn and the men may begin to suspect me.
My wives are very jealous, of course. They came to me begging for blood first. They have gone for weeks feeding upon cattle, so I do not entirely blame them. But I reminded them that we had to be careful in this new country. We needed to test the waters before going on feeding rampages. The people of England may not be religious fanatics as our people are, but they treat science as superstition. Besides, they are still being punished for letting Harker escape. Then they demanded more attention from me, saying that Mina was a foreign girl and not as beautiful as they. Why turn Lucy as a slave and Mina as a bride? I told them I could do as I pleased.
I have grown tired of my wives. I chose them for no more than face and form long ago from amongst the peasants of my country to slake my lusts and to ease my craving for female companionship. They were pleasurable at first, but over time they have become promiscuous, cruel, and unruly. They are jealous of each other, always vying for my affection, which I have none to give.
They gorge themselves upon more blood than they need. They are the main reason why my people changed their awe and respect for me into hatred and loathing. I required only one mortal a month. I took only what I needed, allowing the victim to recover as much blood as possible so that I need not move on as quickly to another. I fed upon animals more often than naught.
Even I, vampire that I am, understand that the human livestock is not infinite. I almost starved myself, for it takes several animals to equate to one human, and animal blood is of poor quality indeed, barely satisfying the thirst. Occasionally, this self-denial drove me to the brink of madness, and I would have fits of bloodlust and massacre a whole family to recover myself. These incidents were rare.
The same cannot be said of my wives. As soon as they were turned, they wiped out their family lines. They never feed upon animals unless they are being punished, and their usual prey is children. They love to seduce men as well, but that it too easy for them. No man can resist them. They work together, luring the young man or child and then ruthlessly attacking them, torturing them, often two or three a night if left unchecked.
However, I know now that my wives’ favorite prey are fresh young girls. They seduce their own gender with the greatest pleasure. They hunt for beautiful girls as a man hunts deer in the forest. Oftentimes, they keep the girl alive for a long while, feeding off of her until they find a more lovely beauty to use. Lucy might have gotten along well with them.
I regret turning Lucy now. Had she survived, I would have used her to recruit more male vampires and begin a proper coven. She would also have been key to seducing Mina. I know how well she loved her. How could Mina refuse me if I already had those she loved held under my wing? My original plan was to present Harker to her and demand her to join me or watch her fiancé die. That is why I spared the solicitor and gave him to my wives with strict instructions to keep him there within an inch of life. They failed me.
Soon, I will baptize Mina with my blood. I will make her my queen. My wives be damned. Mina will rule the world with me, as Lydia would have. I only wish that she could remain mortal longer. I have found that the Blood can drive my weaker servants mad or alter their character forever. Somehow, I know that Mina is stronger than that. She may hate me and her vampire nature at first, but the struggle is the glory. I will have my Lydia back.

Mina

My hands are still trembling even as I write, but I must recount the tale in case the unimaginable happens. I fear that I… The monster has been working amongst us all along. I am doomed.
Last night, I went back to bed after writing in my diary. I forgot to take Van Helsing’s potion. It had not aided my sleep at all thus far, and I felt safe with Jonathan at my side. I kissed him and easily fell asleep, but I did not sleep for long. I awoke in the dead of night, a sickening feeling of horror in the pit of my stomach. It felt as though I had swallowed an iron weight. The room was freezing and filled with fog. I saw that the window was wide open and wrapped a night robe about myself to close it.
The fog was everywhere and thick. It clung to my skin and hair as I wrapped myself. I closed the window and turned back to the bed to check my husband. He was awake, for his eyes were wide open, but he was unmoving. I shook him in a panic, but there was no response. I headed for the door to find help.
Suddenly, before I could reach the door, the fog rushed over me. It became thicker and thicker and encircled me. It shaped itself into a man, tall and thin with aquiline features. I recognized him from the descriptions in Jonathan’s journal, up to the black hair, red lips, and the scar that my husband had caused at his temple. His eyes were red, his skin ghastly white, and he wore black robes. This was Count Dracula, I had no doubt of it.
He pointed at Jonathan, “Make one sound,” he threatened, “and I shall dash his brains out across the floor before your eyes.”
I could not make a sound even if I had wanted to. I could only stare in wide-eyed terror. I realized that I had seen those eyes and that face before in my strange dreams, however unclear. I had seen them the night that Lucy had her sleepwalking episode. I knew now that I had not imaged or dreamed any of it.
Dracula smiled, his animal-like teeth predominant. He moved toward me, and though I was repulsed and afraid, I could not move. I was paralyzed as Jonathan was. The Count wrapped one hand about my throat, the other about my waist. His nails were long and glassy, and his touch was icy.
“Now I shall take some refreshment for my exertions. You might as well be quiet. It will not be the first time nor even the second that I have tasted the fruit of your veins, my darling.”
With that, he put his lips to my throat. I felt his cruel fangs puncture my skin, and he began draining me. It was painful, no romantic wave of ecstasy as Keats or other writers would describe. Still, I could not pull away or hinder the monster. It must be some sort of spell he casts upon his victims. He held me firmly but gently, his hands groping as I felt more and more ill and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled with anger and revulsion. I was locked in his horrible embrace. The only sound was the beating of my own heart growing fainter and fainter. There was no heartbeat from the Count. The moment seemed to last an eternity. I do not know how long it was before Dracula finally pulled away and I felt his teeth slide out of me, leaving a lingering sensation of pain in my neck.
This is where my narrative will break away from what I told the men. I will show this diary to my husband later, though it will only pain him. I could not describe all that Dracula said and did to the others.
Dracula laughed and said, “I had hoped once to be the first to enjoy the fruit of your womb as well. Alas, you are a married woman now. But perhaps it is for the better. You will be experienced. No need to teach you the fundamentals! Who knows? You may even surprise me.”
I could not stand hearing such talk, and suddenly my anger gained control of me. I found that my limbs were no longer chained, and I sprang at him, striking the monster’s chest with my fists. I was surprised myself.
“You murdered Lucy!” I began to sob. “Why? What did you do to her?”
The Count took hold of my wrists and let me struggle for a few moments. He was far too strong, and I only tired myself out, as he no doubt intended. He had a slight smile upon his lips, but his eyes seemed sad.
“It takes a great strength of will to break my gaze, Lydia. I am not surprised. You are not as docile as you believe yourself to be. I must have allowed you too much blood. I will remedy such resistance, but first I will answer your questions. I condemned Lucy to death because she was nothing to me. I simply needed more servants. I also turned her as a favor to you.”
I wondered why he called me Lydia, but this was rubbish. I struggled again, and the Count turned me about, taking both my wrists in one hand and grasping my hair with the other. He spoke his native tongue in my ear. The language was quite beautiful, but I would not be soothed.
“I know you loved Lucy, and you would never wish her harm. But I know that the darkest part of you hated her. You were jealous because she was blessed with everything you were denied. A family, a fortune, and men at her disposal.”
Vehemently, I shook my head.
“Do you deny that you wished to be more like her? Do you deny that as soon as she was gone, you suddenly became the center of attention? Seward loves you, Van Helsing loves you, they all love you. And so do I.”
He dragged me to the edge of the bed and forced me to kneel at its foot. He stood before me and raised my head up. Then he kissed me. I struggled wildly, but he kept his grip firm, crushing my wrists. My cries were muffled against his lips. I felt his tongue prodding in my mouth.
“No sounds,” he growled, “or your dear Harker dies.”
I gazed at Jonathan, and his eyes were an empty reflection. I was glad he could not see what was happening.
“The people of my country worshipped me,” Dracula said. “They would offer me gifts. They begged for my blood. Women threw themselves at me. Things have changed now. You, too, would play your brains against mine like the others. I, who intrigued and fought for them long ago years before they were born. You will be punished for the part you have played, Lydia. That is inevitable.”
I feared at this that he would kill me. He held my arms at full tension and drank again until my heart was straining and I almost passed out. I was weak as a kitten, convinced that I was dying. When the Count finally stopped, he was breathless. I could see nothing but a blur, and the Count’s voice sounded as though it were coming from under water.
“I have drained you to the point of death. I offer you my blood to save you. It will transform you, and you will be immune to death and disease. You will join me in eternal life and become mine forever!”
I could not speak, but I knew what tasting a vampire’s blood meant. The blood carried the curse of damnation, and though I was dying, the prospect of heaven was far more appealing than a half life as this monster’s possession. I managed a weak shake of my head. I would rather die.
Strangely enough, Dracula seemed pleased. “You are strong. Lucy lapped up my blood before I could ask. I did not ask to become what I am. Your God did this to me. After all these years, I have found that those that deny my blood make the fittest vampires. I will rule this world one day, and you will be my helper and companion, these mortals’ best beloved one. They should have put their energies for better use at home! They learned nothing from Lucy, these wicked men who only staked the very woman that they claimed to love and protect. They will soon begin to fully understand what it is to cross me! And now, Mina, you will become kin of my kin, flesh of my flesh! When my brain says come, you shall obey. You shall be unable to resist. You will cross any ocean, as I have crossed oceans of time to find you!”
He then ripped open his dressing, revealing his pale, hairless chest. With his long, glassy nails he slashed a vein above his right nipple. As soon as the blood poured forth, black as ink, he forced my mouth to it. I pursed my lips so that the blood smeared all over my mouth and chin. Some trickled down and stained my white nightdress, and another thin stream of blood trickled from the fresh punctures in my throat. The sight and smell made me ill, and I knew if I drank his blood, I was doomed.
“Drink, Lydia,” the monster urged, his fingers stroking my hair in a tender, loving manner. “Drink and you will live forever.”
I wanted to scream and I struggled in vain. The Count pressed my face closer against him, threatening to smother me. I struggled for air, but instead of gasping in air, I gulped a mouthful of blood. It was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but it seemed to work like a miracle as a restorative. My body was recovering itself. My heart beat stronger, and I was no longer at death’s door. But my soul cried out in despair.
“Yesssss!” the Count hissed. “Drink, Lydia! I have you hemmed in now!”
He allowed me a breath of air, I suppose as a reward. I managed to turn my head to the side and attempted to retch up the blood, but it was too late. The blood was already at work in my veins. When I opened my mouth to scream, he forced me upon him for another mouthful. How many times would he damn me?
Suddenly, the door opened and Van Helsing, Art, Quincy, and Seward stood in the doorway. Dracula must have heard them, and he gripped me tighter and forced me upon him for the final time. I was now thrice cursed.
“Mina! No! Let her go!” the men cried.
The Count turned and roared at the men. He looked as though Satan himself had possessed him. His eyes burned like hellfire, his face contorted into a mask of fury, his fangs shimmering white. For a moment the men stared in horror and disbelief. Van Helsing was the first to act, holding up a sacred wafer and reciting prayers. Dracula roared again and released me. I fell back upon the bed as though I had been flung from a great height. Jonathan came out of his trance and looked about him in confusion for a moment. Then his expression turned to horror. The Count leered at him and I.
“She is now my bride!” he sneered. ‘I will come back for her.”
“NO!” Jonathan cried.
The monster cackled and glanced at Van Helsing, still reciting. The sacred wafer burst into flame and Helsing dropped it. The doctor then pulled out a crucifix in anger. Dracula wrapped his cloak about him, and when he did so, he transformed into a myriad of mice. They crawled between the men’s legs, escaping out the door or the open window. One leaped upon the bed and crawled over my toes.
I rose to my knees, drawing in a breath of air at last and let out a long, wailing scream mingled with horror and grief. The sound rent the air, piercing and haunting. I have never screamed like that before, and the sound startled even me. It was the sound of my soul’s suffering. The men were paralyzed by it, and they later told me that the sound would ring in their ears until their dying day. Then I covered my face with my poor crushed hands and began to weep and sob. There was blood smeared on my face, stained on my gown, and I could still taste the monster’s blood in my mouth.
“My God!” Jonathan gasped. “Why are you covered in blood, Mina?”
This made me even more upset, of course. I began to weep and shudder so violently that the bed began to shake. They waited patiently for me to recover myself. Van Helsing gently covered me with the coverlet as Seward examined Jonathan for wounds. Quincy was at the window, fuming like a wild stallion.
“Are we going to let the bastard get away?” he said.
“He is gone and the damage done,” Van Helsing said sternly. “The best we can do now is to repair what damage we can.”
“But look what he has done to Mrs. Harker!” Quincy was irate. “He should pay!”
He drew out his pistol, causing me to finally snap out of my condition.
“No you must not leave me! Not one of you! I need you now! You cannot possibly catch him. He will find a new lair and come for me the moment that you leave me alone.”
Quincy hesitated, then put the pistol away, “Very well.”
The men gathered about me. I clung to Jonathan and pressed my head against his chest for comfort. But then I saw a drop of blood upon his night shirt where my lips had touched and sprang back with a fresh sob.
“Unclean! Unclean! I must not touch you anymore! I am tainted forever! If only I had resisted the monster for a few moments longer! Because of my lack of faith, I am a danger to you all!”
But Jonathan would hear none of it. He wrapped his arms about me and pressed me close. He insisted that nothing would ever come between us. How glad was my heart then! Oh how much I love him, though now I am surely damned! That monster has robbed me of my soul! And then I was forced to relive every moment as I told the men the gist of what had taken place. They were afraid to leave me alone until dawn came, then only Jonathan remained. I had never seen him look so angry.
“Mark my word, Mina,” he said with a fire in his eyes. “I will have revenge against this bastard, this child of the Devil. I will repay him for his hospitality, and avenge the suffering he has caused you. And I will never give up on you. You are my beloved wife. I will destroy this creature and save you if I can, or die trying.”

Mina’s Diary

It has been three days since my horrible encounter with Dracula. Every time I closed my eyes, I relived that moment. His lips traveling from my lips to my throat, cruel teeth sinking into my veins as he forced my mouth to his breast to swallow his vile blood. I felt defiled by him, tainted and unclean. It was like dragging a pure white cloth through the mud. And now, I am in danger of becoming a monster as he is, and bound to him until hell swallows us both. My body is already changing as his blood supplants my own, however gradual it might be. I observed no changes until this morning, but now I can feel that I am becoming less and less human.
I awoke quite early because I wished to greet everyone with an early breakfast before we leave England to begin our hunt for Dracula. We know now that he is retreating to his native land, for the men destroyed all of his boxes of earth which are vital for his powers. Without his native soil to slumber in, he cannot regenerate and his powers are much weaker. I had hoped that since he was leaving England, we would be safe and we could forget that any of this ever happened, but Van Helsing shook his head sadly.
“He will return to wreak havoc upon this land once more. In time, he most certainly will. He has much time, though he fears it so. As for you, you will continue to change and are but mortal woman. You will die and your transformation will be complete. And you will rise and join him wherever he may be. Or he will come back for you before that happens. No. The killing will not end and you will not be saved until the creature is put to rest once and for all.”
And so we must chase the monster down and hope that we can find him before I turn.
Well, this morning, I said that I woke early. I planned to sleep upon the train. I find that it is becoming harder and harder to sleep at night. Instead, I grow sleepy during the day. By force of habit, I reached for the lamp, as it was still somewhat dark, and I found that I did not need the extra light at all. I could see as though it was daylight! I rubbed my eyes and wondered if I was dreaming. But I was quite awake, and my other senses were sharpened as well. I could hear the neighbors snoring next door, mice in the attic, music being played down the block. I could smell the very air, and when I touched an item, an image or color would pop into my brain.
At first I was frightened. I had to adjust to these changes. I had to cover my ears, avoid bright lights, and avoid touching anything. Eventually, I was able to tune my ears to hear exactly what I wanted, and the light became tolerable. Then I began to wander the room, touching furniture, books, crockery. Images of my mother came to mind when I touched a teapot, clear as though I were beholding her portrait. She had died when I was very young, after all. I could see much more with these new ‘vampire eyes’. My room, once so familiar and dull, was suddenly new and strange. It was a delight wandering about, taking in new sights, sounds and smells. The world was in Technicolor, more beautiful than I could ever imagine. I had a new appreciation for everything.
It must have been a shock to poor Jonathan when he awoke to find me sprawled upon the bedroom floor, studying the dust upon the carpet that was invisible to his naked eye. I sensed his eyes upon me strongly, though my back was turned to him, and I rose with a speed unknown to me. I had intended to rise slowly, but the movement seemed lightning fast and further alarmed Jonathan and I. We were both silent for a while, stunned.
Finally my husband asked, “Are you alright?”
“Yes, of course,” I lied. “I apologize for waking you. I was about to make breakfast.”
“You did not wake me, the sun did.”
I realized that I had spent the better part of an hour studying the room.
“I will cook,” Jonathan offered. “You look pale, Mina. I would rather you rest.”
“I am afraid I cannot sleep,” I said. “Cook if you will. I would rather clean the house. It is filthy.”
He nodded and we both went to work. I cleaned with unusual enthusiasm because I could see all the little spots that I often missed. It was also an excuse to explore the house and touch each object. When the other men awoke, they awoke to a sparkling clean house and a hearty breakfast. I insisted on serving and cleaning up after them. Everyone was rather surprised at my cheerfulness and more. They noted that I moved rapidly, though I was taking my time.
No one spoke of my oddities. I suppose that we were all still hopeful that I could be saved and acknowledging any change would only make matters worse and more miserable for us all.
By the time we boarded the train, the sun was fully risen. I noticed that my ‘vampire senses’ were less potent in the daylight, but still evident. I also wondered for a terrifying moment if I could even go out into the sunlight. All of the popular stories about vampires said that they could not abide the sun. Would I burst into flames? Was I so changed that I could only move about by night?
I stood in the doorway, stiff and hesitant to step outside. The men did not understand my reluctance at once. Then Van Helsing, that wonderful man, took me by the hand.
“Forget all the bedtime stories you might have heard,” he whispered. “Contrary to some beliefs, vampires can walk about by day. Dracula has been spotted many times in the light, though it is not his natural time, and his powers are weak. Besides, you are not yet a Child of Darkness. You are one of the lights of this world. You would make a very poor vampire!”
“I pray that it is so.”
He led me forward, and the light, though terribly bright, was warm and soft. Van Helsing was quite pleased. I wondered if he would be so pleased when he realized my heightened senses.

Two Nights Later

We reached Vienna this morning and found that we had a dilemma. There was no way of knowing if the Count was now on land or if he had taken another ship. The men were frantically weighing options, interviewing, poring over records, trying to guess the monster’s mind. I took notes and reasoned to them that Dracula could not possibly risk being on land. It was much too slow. But they argued that sailing was perilous as well. What if the ship sank and he was in his coffin in the paralytic sleep? And even if he had taken ship, there were several waterways he may have chosen. One would bring him swiftly to his homeland, the other was slower but much safer. Which would he have taken?
I also began to notice even more changes in myself. I look forward to the night. My senses are sharper than ever, and everyone has noticed that I can see quite well in the dark, that I can hear their private conversations, and that there is something more. I can now answer a question before it is even asked. Jonathan and I have always been very close, so that was not seen as strange. We know each other very well. But I can now sense the others’ moods and wants. It is not mind reading, however. I simply study their expressions and postures, listen to their voice patterns, and use my intuition to guess what is in their thoughts. If I touch them, I might even see the object they desire in my mind’s eye. If they are feeling a certain emotion, I would see a certain color. Red stood for anger, yellow for sickness, gray for melancholy, and many others.
All of these senses are remarkably useful, though unnatural. I must remember that it is part of the curse, and I must not become too spellbound by the vampire powers. Such a thing would be quite dangerous. After all, if I enjoy what I am becoming, I am certainly doomed. I try to resist even using these powers, but that is night impossible and even more difficult to hide.
Van Helsing examined me, and I told him everything about what was happening to me. If anyone is an expert, he is, and I trust him with all my soul.
“Are these the sorts of things Lucy experienced before she died?” I asked.
“Some of the symptoms are the same,” the professor explained. “Her senses were sharpened, though they never became nearly as pronounced as yours. She never could read minds either.”
“It is not mind reading,” I insisted.
“Well, perhaps not. Let us test your powers, shall we?”
I nodded. Van Helsing pulled out a dog whistle from his pocket and blew. I heard the high pitched frequency distinctly. Then Van Helsing tested my eyes, having me read a chart first in the light, then in the dark. I saw every letter clearly, and Van Helsing observed that my eyes took on an eerie glow in the dark. When he turned the light back on, his hands were trembling.
“So you have the ears of a dog and the eyes of a cat. Most interesting. Now, I would like you to touch me and tell me what you see or feel. I will attempt to block you. I want to see how developed this ‘Mind Gift’ is.”
I took his hand and gazed into his eyes. His thoughts were chaotic. He was trying to throw me off. He would put a picture in his head of his childhood home, what he ate for breakfast, pictures from his many books. One image flashed for but a moment, but it disturbed me greatly. In that instant I realized that Van Helsing desired me. I gasped and released his hand.
“What did you see? Mina?” Van Helsing seemed afraid to hear my answer.
“Several things.”
I listed most of what I had seen, leaving out only the last part. Van Helsing jotted his notes down and seemed quite relieved. Obviously I had seen something he had not meant for me to see.
“Very well. Now let me see your teeth please.”
I parted my lips and allowed him to study my canines. This was the most important part of the examination. Fangs were a sure sign of a vampire, and the most dangerous of their tools. Fortunately, my teeth were normal still.
“Dracula gave Lucy merely one drop of blood,” Van Helsing said. “How much did he give you?”
“Three mouthfuls,” I shuddered at the memory. “I nearly choked upon it all and it nauseated me.”
“He gave you a lot of his blood. No wonder your powers are growing so steadily and are so much greater than those Lucy ever had. He must have great plans for you, Mina.”
“I do not understand why he chose me,” I said bitterly. “Tell me, professor: How long do I have to live?”
He mused upon my question for a long moment, then began, “Lucy survived two weeks with the monster constantly battling us for her life. Every time it seemed that she would get better, he would drain her almost to the point of death. It was an awful game we played. You have a chance still. Worst case scenario, I would say you have at least twice as long as Lucy. You are strong, Mina. The time you have left depends upon you really. You must resist any nature foreign to you, and once we destroy Dracula you will be restored. If only we could find him…”
It took me some time to sleep after hearing Van Helsing’s prognosis. A month left to live. What had I done to deserve this? I worried over it in my mind until I slipped into sleep. And then the dreams began.
I heard someone calling my name. Then I saw a beautiful land stretching out before me. It seemed that I was floating upon the clouds, returning to a home that I knew once long ago. There were vast forests, lush vineyards, all surrounded by majestic mountains. And there were flowers that grew there of such frailty and beauty as to be found nowhere else in the world. The people were happy, for they lived in a peaceful, just country. Criminals were nowhere to be found. Merchants sold their wares at fair prices, and beggars and the diseased were unheard of. Most importantly, the people were free.
“Princess…” I found myself standing in a great castle chamber in a gown of flowing white. “Prince Vlad is on his way.”
Vlad? The name sounded so familiar. It filled my heart with thrill as well as with dread. I turned towards the manservant, disoriented and confused. He seemed so real. I began to wonder if I were truly dreaming at all.
“God has granted us victory against the Turks. The prince has brought us peace, milady.”
“God is merciful,” I said, the words came of their own accord. “Does the prince come by land or by sea?”
“By sea…”
And then the world tumbled away and I found myself looking out of someone else’s eyes. I knew I was not myself. And I felt angry and bitter, and there was a deep hunger in my very bones and veins. A hunger for blood. I was inside a large wooden box filled with moist earth. It was dark, and I heard the sea.
Suddenly I awoke and realized that I must be hypnotized. Perhaps the dream had been sent by God to reveal where Dracula was. By sea… But which course was he taking? If only I could see more… I rushed to Van Helsing’s compartment and begged him to hypnotize me. He did not understand why I was so eager to turn to this new and unconventional means of technique, but he did so.
To everyone’s surprise, I was reported to have spoken of creaking wood, waves, and the sounds of oars. The information was enough. They had no doubt that with the monster’s blood, we had formed a psychic connection. I could look out through his eyes at the pivotal moment of dusk and dawn, right before the creature was to awake and fall into his strange paralytic sleep. We may beat the monster yet with this invaluable tool. Those were our thoughts.

The next day

I am beginning to suspect the very nature of my dreams. I traveled again to that fair land as I did the night before. This time, I held a child in my arms. A beautiful boy of nine years with dark hair and eyes. He clung to me and kissed me, and I could not help but smile. I adored him and loved him with my whole heart. This was my son, I realized, though I was merely dreaming and my logic was screaming against it. But I knew that this was my son.
Then a man entered the room. I recognized him at once, and I was filled with horror and revulsion. He was tall and dark, and he had an aquiline nose and a cruel mouth curled into a grin. It was Dracula. My son squirmed and I let him down. He ran to the monster’s outstretched arms, and Dracula lifted him up as if he were made of air and spun him about.
“Vlad you are growing big!” the monster exclaimed. My son laughed. Then Dracula traded the boy to a nurse, saying, “Later I will show you a few souvenirs from the battle.”
My son grinned, looking more like Dracula than I could stand, but I could say nothing. Then Dracula turned to me.
“Lydia,” he whispered.
Again that name. I wondered who this Lydia was. This woman who looked so much like me and had a son that felt like mine own, though I had never had a son. I bowed to him stiffly.
“Welcome home, milord.”
“Welcome home, milord? Is this the greeting you would give me?” he said mockingly. “Silly woman, am I not your husband?”
Husband? I suddenly wanted to sink into the floor or to wake up from this nightmare. This could not be so.
“You are,” the words tumbled forth. “For better or worse. I said the vows before God in the Holy Church.”
“Leave us,” Dracula commanded the servants.
“Yes, prince.”
As they emptied the room, I could only stare at him, remembering the taste of his evil blood. When we were alone, he laughed.
“Our son will be a fine prince. He is not afraid of the enemy alive or dead.”
“He is only a child,” I said softly.
“For now,” he gave me a hard look. “Soon enough he will bear my throne as well as my name. Vlad of the Order of the Dragon. Dracula.”
He took my hand and stroked each finger and kissed them. I bowed my head, my skin crawling. He tilted my head back. I feared that I would once again feel the kiss of his fangs in my neck, but instead he merely kissed my throat with his lips. Then he put his lips to mine.
“Come to bed with me, wife,” he said huskily in my ear. “Vow or no vow you belong to me.”
I awoke in terror, rubbing my lips, wondering who this Lydia was and what she meant to me.
The monster speaks directly to me in my dreams now. I have no doubt that he is fabricating these dreams. I wish that they were all lies, but I know somehow that it is not so. Lydia is real, and I feel that I know her. I can sometimes go into his dreams as well, though the first time I did so I decided never to do it again. His dreams are of death, blood and gold.
I have told no one of what he shows me, though Van Helsing continues to hypnotize me each night. We can track him movements. But I know now that he has the power to track our movements through me. I have purposely excluded myself from the men’s councils and isolated myself as much as possible to keep myself ignorant. That way he cannot spy upon our plans and purpose.
Dracula tries to summon me. I feel pulled as he shows me rosy images of Lydia and his castle when it was in its glory, of little Vlad my child. I can still fight him off, but I grow weaker as he grows stronger as he comes ever closer to his native soil.
Van Helsing and I were upon the train to Budapest. Jonathan and the others are taking the boat to the Borgo Pass. We felt it was wiser to separate and make a pincer attack upon the monster. It was upon that train that Dracula and I had the worst battle of wills yet.
“Come to me, Lydia,” his voice no longer seemed inside my head, it was as though he were right by my ear.
“My name is Mina!”
“That is your name now, but you are also Lydia, my bride. Know the truth.”
And then he showed me Lydia’s story. She was the only child of a Romanian nobleman, educated in the Orthodox church. She grew into womanhood, radiant and sweet. She aspired to become a bride of Christ until the day that she met Dracula. They were introduced by the Hungarian monarch.
Vlad was a young exiled prince then, recently released from Turkish captivity. He became enamored of Lydia to say the least, even though he hated her father, convinced that the nobles of Romania had betrayed his family to the Turks. His father was buried alive, his eldest brother had had his eyes ripped out and was murdered. His young brother Radu was still the sultan’s slave. He was not an incredibly tall man, but powerfully built with strong, his enemies said cruel, features. His hair was dark and long, and he was clean shaven in his youth to spite the Turks who thought it paramount to grow a beard. His eyes were green and entrancing. When he gazed upon someone, they felt his intense gaze immediately.
Vlad proved to be a passionate suitor. He pursued her relentlessly. She refused his advances for a while, her heart set upon God and only God.
“Do not go to the nunnery,” the exiled prince said in a strangely seductive and insistent voice. “Your place is with me.”
“Such things you say!”
“Forgive me, but God Himself has ordained it.”
“Or the Devil. Surely it was he that loosened your tongue.”
“To win your heart, I will accept help from any source,” he grinned. “will you walk with me?”
She was overwhelmed by his advances and Dracula was infamous for his charm. She learned of his tortured childhood and grew to pity him. He had lost his family, and surely he deserved some small love and happiness. Perhaps God wanted her to be Vlad Dracula’s salvation. Also, her father was quit ambitious and easily intimidated by Dracula. He offered a large bride price for Lydia’s hand, cajoled when needed and made threats when necessary. Lydia’s father had suspected the prince’s capabilities to rule and suspected his nature after so many years in Turkish prison. Now he wanted his grandson to be a prince and his daughter to be rich.
Under pressure, Lydia agreed to wed Vlad Dracula, unaware of what was to come.
Vlad soon reclaimed his throne, and his people welcomed him. He was the true heir, and the pervious usurpers had been greedy and cruel and dropped like flies upon one another’s swords. Vlad promised to set things aright, and Lydia was adored too. She gave generously to the Church and to the poor, and she was beautiful and kind. The first years of their marriage was peaceful and happy. Dracula was a family man at heart and was always loving to Lydia. There was a time when she had loved him equally. They had a son together, named for his father. Dracula would shower his family with love and gifts and sheltered them from the world outside his castle walls.
But eventually Lydia began to feel like a prisoner. She also began to hear terrible rumors whispered among her servants. They spoke of Dracula with both fear and awe. They said that the wine cellar was filled with the blood of his enemies, that he impaled men, women, and children, that he cut off the breasts of adulterous women and forced mothers to eat their own children. She dismissed them as lies at first. The wine cellar was clearly not filled with blood. But the rumors persisted. Vlad dismissed them as stories and nothing more. At the same time, he forbid her to venture much farther than the palace gardens. He insisted her place was with her husband and son, that there was absolutely no need for her to wander the countryside or involve herself with the townspeople. That was his burden. She did her duty by pleasing him.
She began to feel stifled and a little like a slave. What had happened to the man that would worship the ground she walked and allow her anything she asked? She wanted to know the truth about him, and so she ventured into the countryside without Dracula’s knowledge. There, she saw unspeakable things. There was a forest of staked bodies, men, women, and even infants. The noble class had been nearly eradicated and replaced. Her prince had staked the old and infirm and forced the survivors to labor at building projects, including the castle they lived in. He impaled anyone who broke the law, even on grounds of minor infractions, and he had cleaned the city of beggars by offering them a feast and shutting them up inside the inn and lighting it aflame.
Dracula found her among the impaled, weeping and in hysterics. Her father was one of the victims.
“You monster!” she shrieked. “You Devil! How could you? How could you!”
“He abandoned his people when the Turks attacked the estate!” Dracula defended himself. “He was a traitor and a coward!”
“He was my father! He was my father and you murdered him!”
“He died quicker than most for just that reason. He was impaled directly through the heart see? Others were impaled through the anus so that the stake worked its way through the body.”
“You are disgusting and sick! What of this woman? Is that her own baby forced through her breast? What crime did they ever commit?”
“The woman was a prostitute and her babe illegitimate,” he spoke of them with detachment. “She would have become a prostitute herself likely, or a beggar. She would have been a burden upon society, possibly spread diseases. You must understand, Lydia. Everything I do, I do for the good for our country. I uphold justice and punish those that break the law.”
“What of mercy, Vlad?”
“There is no room for mercy when nation building,” the prince explained. “No crime goes unpunished. I have purged my country of sin. The cursed nobles, most of them greedy German invaders, are gone. Their wealth has been given back to the natives. Thieves are either dead or too terrified to steal. The merchants no longer cheat us. As for the beggars, at least I filled their bellies with meat and mead before I ended their suffering. That was a mercy, was it not?”
“They were innocents.”
“And a pestilence. They served no purpose.”
“They were poor! They were born into poverty, they could not change their lot in life!”
“No. Instead they beget more poverty. Romania is undergoing a rebirth. There can be no life without death.”
Lydia knew that he truly believed in his twisted logic, but any tenderness she had ever felt for him vanished and was replaced with fear. She could not stop trembling and wept for the slain. Dracula stooped to kiss her and she recoiled.
“Do not touch me!” she hissed, she who had never spoken in anger and always with a soft, silken voice. “You are a monster!”
“Lydia!”
She ignored him and turned away. She wanted to flee and leave him forever, but he would not allow that.
“Guards, help me!” he shouted. “The princess is not well.”
She was shut up in the castle walls, ceaselessly guarded. She attempted to take her son and escape, but someone betrayed them. And strangely enough, Dracula’s desire for her was not quenched by her actions, though he had impaled women for less. He had done much worse than that.
“You are so beautiful and so pure,” he said. “I need your light, Lydia. You are the closest thing to heaven that I will ever be. I cannot ever let you go.”
For several years she lived in this way. She feared Dracula would kill her eventually when he grew tired of her, torture or mutilate her, but he never hurt her. In all her life he never raised a hand against her. He pretended that she loved him still, ignored her pleas for freedom or for mercy for those he condemned. His touch made her skin crawl, but she endured it for the sake of her son. She hoped to turn him from his father’s evil ways. But every day fresh corpses were impaled and added to the forest of stakes, and her son began to display more and more of his father’s attributes.
Two Turkish envoys came to the castle to demand tribute of Romania. Dracula asked them to remove their turbans, but they refused saying that it was their custom to always wear them. Dracula shrugged and turned to his son.
“Vlad, what do you make of this custom?”
The boy whispered something into his father’s ear. Dracula laughed and patted the boy’s hair.
“My heir is displeased by your disrespect. He has suggested that I nail those ridiculous hats to your heads.”
The Turks could not escape this fate, and the child’s orders. One had a long thick nail hammered through his turban and his skull. The other was spared to send a message.
“Tell the sultan that there will be no tribute from Romania. It is a free nation and keep your customs in your land where they belong!”
Lydia was horrified. She had also caught her son impaling rats. She had tried to coax humanity from her dark prince and preserve her son from corruption, but she had failed. War came to the castle. Dracula tried to gather his family to flee, but Lydia would not go with him. She gazed out of her window to the sight of twenty thousand men, women, and children impaled.
Half-mad with grief and horror, she flung herself into the river.
I wept as the story ended, but Dracula pressed even more.
"I swore to walk this earth until I found Lydia again. And I have found her in you, Mina."
"Lydia is dead and gone. I am Wellingmina Harker! I love Johnathan and I love God!"
"I will love you more than that mortal coil or your precious Jesus."
"You have three brides already to slake your lusts. They are more to your liking, beautiful and murderous! I am nothing but a common woman! Let me be!"
"My brides?" Dracula laughed. "More like my whores. They slake my lusts only, and I require so much more. Besides, I have not touched them in half a century."