halted. I thought
we had been spied, but he gave us no notice. The terrain may have been
dangerous or he may have glimpsed the wolves. When they continued forward, it
was with greater caution.
Van Helsing muttered something under
his breath. I glanced sideways at him and saw the gleam in his eye as he waited
for the men to reach us. It was the same expression I had seen when he sat in
Dr. Seward's comfortable parlor and described the powers of the vampire, as well
as when he faced the three vampire women. Whoever served Dracula was an
enemy-human or not, they were easily destroyed. I suddenly felt less guilty
for my duplicity. There, on that snow-covered incline, I understood what an implacable
enemy Van Helsing would be.
I had no
time to contemplate this, for Jonathan and Quincey were riding hard up the
path, closely followed by Arthur and Jack.
The gypsy band halted and drew their
weapons. Without slackening his pace, Quincey fired, hitting the gypsy in the
back of the cart. Another returned fire. I saw Quincey recoil, but though he
had been hit, he drew his knife and charged toward the band.
Taking advantage of a break in the gypsy ranks, Jonathan jumped
onto the cart and began prying at the clasp on Dracula's crate while Quincey
single-handedly held off the band until the others rode up to help him.
They were
too late. The sun, no more than a pale ball of light beneath the clouds, sank
behind the craggy mountains, the shadow
of its passing rolling over
the land.
From the place where I was hiding, I
could look down on the cart. I saw the lid of the crate flung back, Dracula's
eyes open and glowing with triumph as they met Jonathan's. The vampire's
timing had been nearly perfect. Even so, Jonathan did not hesitate to do what
he had been told would save me. He stabbed his knife downward at Dracula's neck
while Quincey aimed his for Dracula's heart.
The look of malice on the vampire's
face became one of peace. The body vanished into a dusty mist that whirled in
an ever widening circle and was lost to the rising wind. The gypsy leader
motioned silently to his men. With those who had been in the wagon riding
double with those on horseback, they fled down the mountain. Van Helsing
watched them go, his brow furrowed in puzzlement at their sudden retreat.
As he did, the sky above the castle
darkened and the wind became a gale, swelling as if demons themselves ordered
it out of revenge for their fallen comrade. As the storm grew, snow began to
fall so heavily that I could no longer see the men. The sound of their cries
and the whinnying of the horses seemed to come from all around me.
And with the
storm came a compulsion so strong that I am certain it could only have come
from Dracula or others of his kind.
Unable to stand in the force
of the terrible wind, I crawled slowly uphill toward the castle.
The outer gates were open. Snow
drifted in the courtyard and softened the jagged edges of the crumbling walls.
I pushed open the carved wood doors and wandered into the hall. Though I had
read a description of the place in Jonathan's diary, it seemed even more
familiar to me, as if I had seen it firsthand many years ago. I found a torch
where I expected to find it, a flint box on a ledge beside it. The smoky light
it threw was scarcely enough to illuminate a portion of one wall. Had I the
time, I would have looked at everything, would have run my hands over the
carved rail of the stone staircase, studied every detail of the ancient
paintings on the walls. Instead, I quickly made my way to the lower chambers
where the women had slept.
When I
reached the stone passage that led to their hall, I lifted the torch I carried
and surveyed the walls. They were decorated
with tapestries of oriental design. A few were of delightful
landscapes. Others, far more profane, showed naked couples in the varied
positions of lovemaking. Had there been anyone with me, I might have been
embarrassed, but alone I found them fascinating and, in
we had been spied, but he gave us no notice. The terrain may have been
dangerous or he may have glimpsed the wolves. When they continued forward, it
was with greater caution.
Van Helsing muttered something under
his breath. I glanced sideways at him and saw the gleam in his eye as he waited
for the men to reach us. It was the same expression I had seen when he sat in
Dr. Seward's comfortable parlor and described the powers of the vampire, as well
as when he faced the three vampire women. Whoever served Dracula was an
enemy-human or not, they were easily destroyed. I suddenly felt less guilty
for my duplicity. There, on that snow-covered incline, I understood what an implacable
enemy Van Helsing would be.
I had no
time to contemplate this, for Jonathan and Quincey were riding hard up the
path, closely followed by Arthur and Jack.
The gypsy band halted and drew their
weapons. Without slackening his pace, Quincey fired, hitting the gypsy in the
back of the cart. Another returned fire. I saw Quincey recoil, but though he
had been hit, he drew his knife and charged toward the band.
Taking advantage of a break in the gypsy ranks, Jonathan jumped
onto the cart and began prying at the clasp on Dracula's crate while Quincey
single-handedly held off the band until the others rode up to help him.
They were
too late. The sun, no more than a pale ball of light beneath the clouds, sank
behind the craggy mountains, the shadow
of its passing rolling over
the land.
From the place where I was hiding, I
could look down on the cart. I saw the lid of the crate flung back, Dracula's
eyes open and glowing with triumph as they met Jonathan's. The vampire's
timing had been nearly perfect. Even so, Jonathan did not hesitate to do what
he had been told would save me. He stabbed his knife downward at Dracula's neck
while Quincey aimed his for Dracula's heart.
The look of malice on the vampire's
face became one of peace. The body vanished into a dusty mist that whirled in
an ever widening circle and was lost to the rising wind. The gypsy leader
motioned silently to his men. With those who had been in the wagon riding
double with those on horseback, they fled down the mountain. Van Helsing
watched them go, his brow furrowed in puzzlement at their sudden retreat.
As he did, the sky above the castle
darkened and the wind became a gale, swelling as if demons themselves ordered
it out of revenge for their fallen comrade. As the storm grew, snow began to
fall so heavily that I could no longer see the men. The sound of their cries
and the whinnying of the horses seemed to come from all around me.
And with the
storm came a compulsion so strong that I am certain it could only have come
from Dracula or others of his kind.
Unable to stand in the force
of the terrible wind, I crawled slowly uphill toward the castle.
The outer gates were open. Snow
drifted in the courtyard and softened the jagged edges of the crumbling walls.
I pushed open the carved wood doors and wandered into the hall. Though I had
read a description of the place in Jonathan's diary, it seemed even more
familiar to me, as if I had seen it firsthand many years ago. I found a torch
where I expected to find it, a flint box on a ledge beside it. The smoky light
it threw was scarcely enough to illuminate a portion of one wall. Had I the
time, I would have looked at everything, would have run my hands over the
carved rail of the stone staircase, studied every detail of the ancient
paintings on the walls. Instead, I quickly made my way to the lower chambers
where the women had slept.
When I
reached the stone passage that led to their hall, I lifted the torch I carried
and surveyed the walls. They were decorated
with tapestries of oriental design. A few were of delightful
landscapes. Others, far more profane, showed naked couples in the varied
positions of lovemaking. Had there been anyone with me, I might have been
embarrassed, but alone I found them fascinating and, in
Similar Books
