The
following morning, Gance and Mina dressed in silence, both uneasy about how the
day would end. More than once, Mina
noticed Gance looking at her
intently, as if there were something important that needed to be said, but that
was all.
They had a late breakfast in the
second-floor drawing room, where huge windows with tiny panes of beveled glass
overlooked the gardens. Mina stared at the morning mist, sipping her coffee
and saying nothing. Her silence frightened Gance. He had seen the emotion that
lay beneath the cool surface of the woman. How much was she hiding now?
"Why
would the killer throw the body in the river?" Gance asked. "Could he
have wanted to expose it to sunlight?"
"Running
water is a more likely reason," Mina said. "Or perhaps, when the body
did not crumble to dust, the killer realized he had
made a terrible mistake and
wanted to hide the evidence."
"How big a man was Ujvari?" "You saw." "The
water distorts. And he had been dead some time." "Ujvari was a
little taller than me and rather thin." "The lock on the door was
broken. He had warning of the intruders. Could one man have subdued him alone,
do you think?" "He was young, outwardly healthy." She recalled
his hand shake. "He didn't seem particularly strong. I ... I really don't
know." "How big was James Sebescue?" He pronounced the name as
Graves had. Ze-beck.
"I
didn't see his body, but Winnie described him as a large man. Under the
circumstances, you'd expect her to say that.
"I'd
expect Winnie to observe his actual weight, place his accent and note any
unusual moles and scars before she killed him,"
Gance responded.
"She guessed his name."
Mina gave him a fleeting smile and looked away, her eyes scanning the garden
once more. "The lock on Mr. Ujvari's door was broken, but there was no
sign of a struggle in the kitchen," she commented when the silence became
too awkward. "You brought papers from the house. What did you find?"
she asked.
"Very
little." He retrieved the papers from his coat. There were a few bills, a
copy of the letter Ujvari had given her, and Winnie's
address at the beginning of a
letter that had never been mailed. "It's to you, I believe," Gance
said and started to hand it to her.
Mina frowned.
"Read it aloud," she said.
Mrs. Beason,
he began.
I
feel that I must warn
you. An old Romanian man came to see me yesterday. He asked about you
and the book. I was also contacted this afternoon by someone who
offered what to me is a fortune just for the sake of reading the translation.
I almost weakened, then took pains to be certain that the story he told me had
some semblance of the truth. As I suspected, he had been lying.
I think someone was
watching me, following me as I left work. I have managed to lose the man, and
so I think it is a
man and not one of the
fantastic creatures Countess Karina describes with such terrible detail.
Under the circumstances,
I have taken to securing the book when I am not working on the translation. As
you see, the
journal is so persuasive
that I almost believe.
Gance handed
her the letter. "Whatever precautions he took weren't enough," he
said. He poured himself a glass of wine, then
filled a glass for her as
well.
"Gance,
you needn't sit with me," Mina said. "I would feel so much better if
you would get word to the police."
"Very well." He rested a
hand on her shoulder. She didn't respond. "Try to get some rest. I'll be
back in plenty of time to get you to the station." He spoke defensively,
as if she were already a stranger to him, but if he could think of a way to
keep her here, any way at all, he would do it.
He left the
house as she had requested and walked only as far as the nearest pub. At this
hour, it was filled with old men, the
middle-class clerks of two decades ago, nom discarded for their
younger competitors. He watched then drink, seeking forgetfulness, watched
them talking, the bitterness so evident in their eyes. He ordered a black and
tan As soon as the mug had been brought to him, he pulled out the papers and
began to read Mina's correspondence to Ujvari, and to read more carefully the translation
Ujvari had mailed her earlier.
It seemed to Gance that the men who tortured Ujvari must have
assumed that they knew where to find Mina. What could they have wanted from
Ujvari? A confession of her nature? A confession of his own? If they believed
so strongly in the creatures Mina said she had faced, perhaps finding the
papers and making them public might have served their purpose. He read on.
An old man. A dead priest. Hardly
proof, and yet Karina Aliczni's words were as compelling and believable as
Mina's story had been, as emotionally charged as poor Arthur's ravings.
Delusion? Most likely, yet Gance placed great weight on other's beliefs.
How could he really know?
He picked up
a copy of
The
Times
that another patron had left behind and scanned the headlines. As
he'd expected, he did not
have to risk contacting the
police after all.
After Gance left, Mina sat for some time in front of the window
staring out at the garden. It was probably guilt that made her so certain that
someone watched her every move. At least she had come as soon as she knew of
the danger and would not have to blame Ujvari's death on her indecision.
Her single bag was packed. All she
had to do was sit and wait. The moments between now and tonight, when she would
face Jonathan, stretched eternally before her. To pass the time, she went
upstairs and picked a novel from Gance's library. There, in the stillness so
profound she could hear the downstairs clock ticking, she sat by the window and
began to read.
The day brightened. The mists were
burned slowly off by the insistent sun, revealing the intricate hedge maze, the
stone patio. The lilacs were just budding in the March thaw, the few early
bulbs already blooming in the front of the formal beds. If she and Gance had
been lovers in the summer, would they have played night games here, naked satyr
pursuing naked nymph through webs of greenery? Would Gance have taken her
savagely on the scented clover lawn? She tried to imagine Jonathan in Gance's
place and found the thought impossible. She forced her eyes back to the pages
of her book. As she did, she heard the hound barking in the stable and looked
outside. Motion on the lawn below her drew her attention back to the garden.
She stood and walked close to the window.
Beneath her
was an old man, his coat ragged, leaning wearily on a cane. He was bathed in
sunlight, while she was hidden by the
shadows of the library. He could not see her, yet he did look up.
His face seemed terribly drawn and pale, as if he were ill. It seemed doubtful
that he worked here; more likely he had come to beg. Mina had thought of
ringing for a servant to see to him, had even looked behind her for the bell,
when she heard the front door open, Gance's step on the stairs.
He carried a
copy of the London Times and pointed to an article on the front page. "A
fire destroyed Ujvari's house last night.
The neighbors found the body
soon after," he said as soon as he joined her. "No one will trace the
information to us."
"Did
you set the fire?"
"There was nothing of value there, and I might have
overlooked something tying you to the crime." "I see." Mina
walked closer to the window. "A man was in the garden a while ago. He
didn't appear to be a servant." "Are you sure?" "Not
unless you dress your servants in rags." "There's a wall. It would
take some effort to climb over it unless, of course, some fool left the gate
open."
"I
heard your driver mention seeing a beggar. Perhaps the man followed us here. It
could even be Sebescue's father, the old man
who ran the bookstore."
Gance walked to the window and looked down at the gardens below.
"He's not there now. I'll go and look to him." "I'll come with
you," Mina said and followed him quickly down the stairs.
Gance halted
at the French doors that led from the dining room into the garden.
"Wait!" he said and opened a drawer in the
sideboard. The gun he sought was not in its place so he took a
knife instead. He was about to ring for a servant when Mina gave a cry and
pointed to the French doors leading to the patio.
The old man stood just outside,
staring through the glass at them with eyes glazed by the beginnings of
cataracts. Though a cape covered his body, Mina could see that his stance was
stooped and he leaned heavily on the cane. "Hardly a threat," Gance
said.
"Let's make certain he's
just a vagrant before I have him thrown out." He handed Mina the knife and
opened the doors.
The man's
expression did not change as they approached him. He stood, one hand on the
walking stick, the other hidden beneath
his cloak. "You are Lord
Gance?" he asked in thickly accented English.
Gance nodded.
"You
are Ion Sebescue?" Mina asked.
"Yes," the man replied, his attention still on Gance.
"Your carriage was far from its usual route last night." "A
business matter," Gance said.
"A translation," the man responded. "And you found
the body my son so pathetically concealed." "He didn't have to kill
Mr. Ujvari," Mina said. "He'd done nothing wrong." "He
attacked my son. James had the right to defend himself. What James did after
was a precaution, nothing more." "Your son did more than defend
himself," Mina retorted. "I saw the body. I know what he did." "Ujvari
was your accomplice." "In what crime?" Gance demanded.
"To the crimes the woman would commit if I do not stop
her." Ion Sebescue's voice was bitter, desperate. Gance moved toward him.
As he did, the old man raised the gun he had been hiding beneath the cloak.
"Sit on the ground," he said, keeping the weapon pointed at Gance.
They did as
he asked. "What do you want with us?" Gance asked.
"My son
and I have been on a hunt, Lord Gance. We have hunted the woman as we hunt all
her kind." He slid his hand down the
cane, lifted it and pointed
the sharpened tip at Mina's chest.
"My kind?" Mina wanted to
laugh, but she was not so certain any longer. "Look at me." She
pulled back her lips. "There are no fangs in my mouth." She raised
her skirt and pointed to a scrape on her shin. "I received this yesterday.
If I were a vampire it would have healed, would it not?"
"The
journal you gave to Mr. Ujvari to translate could only have come from the
devil's lair. No one can go there and leave of their
own free will unless-"
"Dracula is dead," Mina told him. "Abraham Van
Helsing told us what to do. We pounded a stake through his heart. We cut off his
head. His body is dust. I saw it crumble." Mina noted the glimmer of hope
in the old man's eyes, saw him look almost joyfully from her to Gance. In that
instant, he noticed the tip of the mark Mina had made on Gance's neck. He fixed
his attention on Mina, noting the cut on her chest, the bruise around it. His
expression hardened to rage, his grip on his weapon tightened.
"You lie! They only let you go because though you still live
and walk by day, in death you will become one of them.
Nosferatu
. You will
rise here, spreading their curse through mankind. Their way is your way, even
if you do not know it yet. May God have mercy on both your souls."
Mina had done everything right,
Gance thought. She had kept the old man talking, had kept his attention on her
as Gance waited for the safest moment to attack. It would never come.
"No!" Gance bellowed and lunged. He was a moment too slow. The gun fired,
hitting him in the chest.
Sebescue dropped the revolver and
charged Mina, the stake held high in both hands. She rolled sideways, lashing
out with the hand that held the knife. She had intended to do nothing more
than deflect his blow, but the blade slipped off the stake and into the old
man's stomach just below his ribs. He fell against her, the weight of his body
pushing the knife deeper. His hands clutched her, weakening, trying to destroy
with the last bit of life left in his body.
Servants, responding to the shot,
were running from the house and grounds as Sebescue died. The cook carried a
cleaver; the groom had unleashed the hound. With no foe to hunt any longer,
the dog ran to his master and licked his hand. While the butler saw to Gance,
the cook rolled the body off Mina and tried to calm her, but she could scarcely
hear the soothing words. There was blood an the ground, blood on her hands and
arms and white lace blouse, blood flowing far too swiftly from Gance's chest.
So many had
died defending her! Too many! "Gance!" she screamed and pulled out of
the cook's grasp, crawling toward her
lover. As the servants parted
so she could go to his side, Mina bolted through the house and out the front
doors.
Jonathan! If
she could only reach him. Confess. Explain. He would know what to do. He would
know.
The servants
caught her waving her bloody hands, trying to hail a cab, sobbing because no
one would stop. They took her inside
and tried to
calm her so they could clean the blood off her. She ranted, sobbed and would
not allow it. Finally, with no other choice, they held her while the doctor
who was treating Gance poured a dose of laudanum down her throat. Afterward,
they locked her in the guest room until the drug took effect.