I didn't move. Instead I knelt in the center of the circle, horrified most by the temptation their offer held for me. Seductive.

Powerful. Eternal. So beyond the judgment of G.o.d Himself. What of my love for Jonathan, my responsibilities to the family I had left in England, the life I had led?

"Sisters," I whispered, I begged. "Sisters, please give me time. Leave us in peace."

The fools turned their attention to Van Helsing instead. I saw them bare their bodies before him, showing him the perfection of life-in-death. They kissed one another, touched one another, their hands moving seductively, their lips parted with a pa.s.sion I often felt deep inside but never dared express. They had one another, used one another in an incest perfected through the centuries. Their laughter grew husky, sensual, inviting as they moved to the edge of Van Helsing's circle and stretched out their bare arms to him.

In spite of his age and his intellect and his determination, Van Helsing was affected by their pa.s.sion. His mouth hung slack, his hands rose, seemingly of their own accord, to reach toward them, then, fists clenched, Van Helsing the hunter, the slayer, the righteous one began to force them back to his side. As he did, they grabbed his arm, pulling it out of the circle. With their eyes turned seductively toward his, they held his hand against their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, they brushed their tapered fingers over his lips. The boldest of them licked Van Helsing's wrist and bit deep. For an instant he was helpless, frozen by the touch of her lips and the enthralling pa.s.sion that touch gave. I sensed his anger at his own weakness, his abhorrence of their seduction. They did not understand the righteousness of the man they faced, or they would not have tempted him so.

"Go!" I cried to them again. "Leave us now!"

The fear in my voice made them pause and look at me. Understanding that I spoke a warning, they smiled and drifted away from us. Some time later, the horses that had been whinnying in fear ceased their sounds. The women reappeared momentarily, their faces flushed with the blood they had consumed. The fair one blew me a kiss, her smile young and filled with delight as they faded into a mist that dissolved at the touch of the pale dawn light.

FOUR

November 6. I recalled nothing more until I woke to find the sun had risen. The day is dark. There are wolf prints in the new fallen snow around the campsite, yet Van Helsing is gone. Only one thing would make him leave me unarmed and at the mercy of the unseen pack-he has gone to destroy the women. I expect that soon I will know the outcome of his quest, one way or the other.

The women were fools to try to tempt him. Their terrible beauty may have aroused him, but it only makes his path more clear. As to the women's power, it is daylight-his time, not theirs.

I found it easy to leave my holy circle, but there was nowhere to go. I have built up the tire as best I can. Now I sit beside it, watching the gray shapes of wolves moving in the shadows of the trees. I am so tired, yet sleep could well be fatal. So I wait, hoping that should the wolves decide to attack me, they will kill me quickly and finally. The pack has grown in size ... I must pause in my writing and watch them ... Van Helsing, where have you gone?

An hour or more pa.s.sed while the wolves grew bolder, circling closer to me. Often I had to pull a flaming branch out of the tire and stab at them to scare them off.

Finally, they tired of the sport and found an easier meal in our dead horses. As I watched the pack at their feast, once more the blood l.u.s.t was upon me. I waited until the pack had eaten their till then lifted a flaming branch and walked toward them. My display of courage confused them, and they retreated, allowing me to kneel beside the warm carca.s.s, to press my fingers against the b.l.o.o.d.y meat then lick them clean.

The scent. The taste. Finer than the richest wine, the most exquisite meal. I yielded to my hunger, dipping my hands into the mangled carca.s.s, feasting as I had not done in days on Van Helsing's charred meat. It had been so long since I had felt so satisfied.

When I was done, I looked down at my b.l.o.o.d.y hands, the bits of flesh sticking to the fur of my wrap. I had become an animal. No, worse!

Van Helsing must never know what I had done! I ran to the fire, melted some snow and washed all traces of the meal from my face, clothes and hands then took out this journal and wrote these words.

Though it can hardly be past noon, the sky has darkened and a heavy wet snow falls once more. I am sitting in the covered back of the wagon writing this account. An exhilaration has taken hold of me. Whatever the outcome, soon everything will be over. My entire future depends on the next few hours, yet all I feel is curiosity, as if I have already died and am about to view the manner of my ending.

The snow falls harder, dancing in the wind. Whorls of it move closer to the carriage. I see the faces of my sisters in it. I am alone.

No one can stop me now as I go out to dance with them ...

The women were only there in spirit. Even when their garments moved in the wind, brushing against my outstretched hands, I could not feel them touching me. Spectral hands reached for mine, spectral arms circled me. "Van Helsing has gone to destroy you. You must not stay with me," I cautioned them, feeling no remorse for my warning. "If you are able, go back to your bodies, leave your sleeping room and hide."

The fair one smiled with lips together to hide the strangeness of her teeth. "What can he do? He will never find us," she said, laughter rippling through her voice.

"Jonathan Harker is my husband. He found your resting place. He told Van Helsing where to look."

The dark-haired one who was Dracula's wife grew even whiter, if that were possible. She opened her mouth, as if to agree with my warning, but no sound came from her. Instead, I saw the vision begin to fade. As it did, a sudden gush of blood burst through the white skin of her chest, staining her diaphanous gown. Her terrible shriek of agony vanished in the winter wind.

Her blood was my blood, her pain my pain. I doubled over, clutching my chest as if to shield them all from Van Helsing's stakes.

The screams continued, borne on the wind as the three vanished from my sight, one b.l.o.o.d.y apparition after another, the fair-haired one the last to go. Though I saw her wince, saw the blood spread across her chest, she remained silent. As she vanished, I saw an expression on her face that seemed inexplicably one of triumph, as if what had happened were meant to happen.

It seemed that I was to be killed as well. A great weight pressed against my chest. I tried to take a breath and found it impossible.

My heart pounded, and I folded slowly to my knees as darkness closed in around me.

Sisters, I thought. Sisters, may your souls wait for me.

When I regained consciousness, snow was falling heavily though the sky seemed lighter, giving some promise that the storm would soon end. Van Helsing had returned and stood near the fire putting on a clean coat. A second, b.l.o.o.d.y one lay on the ground beside him. I looked at him, horrified by the knowledge of what he had done.

"It is all right. I am not hurt," he said, then went back to his washing, hoping perhaps that I would return to sleep. I stood and walked to the fire.

"When the sky clears, it will be colder. The castle could give us shelter," I suggested. "The men are sure to come there."

He shook his head. "You especially must not rest within the walls," he said.

"Because of the bodies?" I asked him, the sharpness of my voice betraying my anger.

He looked at me curiously, paused for emphasis, then said, "The women are dust, Madame Mina. Their souls are at peace. No, you must not go because it is his lair. The very walls will call to you. No ... you must not."

I didn't have the strength to argue. Instead, I helped him collect our bundles. Then, burdened by the weight of our baggage and the exhaustion the day always gives me, slipping often on the snow-covered rocks, I followed Van Helsing down the path to the distant road.

We had traveled less than a quarter mile when we saw fresh wolf prints in the snow. A bit later, I saw a pair of the beasts on the path below us. "Professor," I whispered and pointed.

Two more appeared, the pack blocking our descent. Van Helsing scanned the rocky ground around us and motioned me into a little hollow. There, an overhang made it impossible for the wolves to attack from above, and the narrow entrance a.s.sured that they would have to pa.s.s into the s.p.a.ce single file. "We shoot them if they come," he said, lifting a revolver. I pulled Quincey's pistol from my pack and crouched beside him.

The wolves seemed content to stop our journey. Hours pa.s.sed and they did not attack. Though the snow continued, occasional clear patches of sky to the west showed the height of the sun. We waited anxiously as the afternoon stretched on forever.

"Is the vampire close, Madame Mina?" Van Helsing asked.

I nodded and pushed myself to my feet. As I did, I noticed that the valley below us was visible from the stand of rocks. On the road that wound through it, I could make out a number of riders and a can of some sort heading toward us. Even more distant were two riders-no doubt some of our party in pursuit. "They're coming," I called to Van Helsing.

Van Helsing looked from the road to the setting sun, measuring the time the men had before Dracula woke. I did not need to look. Dracula was already awake in his box, waiting for the moment when he could rise in his own land-powerful, ready for the kill.

I felt Dracula's rage rise in me as well, and fought it down with horror. Whatever I had become, I was still Mina, wife to Jonathan. I recalled how much I loved my husband. The thought was all that sustained me as I helped Van Helsing collect our furs.

"We go down to them," he told me, "There is a path ... see it?"I considered the road we had been traveling-icy and treacherous even before this heavy snowfall. To me, the straight descent appeared impossible. "Wait," I said and scanned the landscape below, pointing to a second pair of riders coming from the west.

"This is the only road to the castle. If we remain here, they will have to pa.s.s right by us," I said.

Van Helsing smiled. "Ah, dear Mina, you are right. We stay and trap them. We shall make certain that the cart does not pa.s.s."

I nodded my agreement, and the two of us waited as the cart and riders began the ascent on our path. There were nearly a dozen of them, all colorfully dressed, with turban-shaped fur hats covering their heads and ears. Some carried rifles, others only knives. It seemed to me that our little band was terribly outnumbered, but I knew Jonathan and the others coming up behind them were desperate.

Through the windblown snow, I could see the sun nearly touching the peaks in the clear western sky. The men would not reach the cart in time. "Remember your promise," I whispered to the creature being carried toward me.

"Madame Mina?" Van Helsing said. "Did you speak?"

"A prayer."

"Good," he replied and crouched lower behind the concealing stones.

As the gypsy leader approached the place where we were hidden, he raised his hand and the group 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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sage 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 embarra.s.sed, but alone I found them fascinating and, in spite of my weariness, arousing. I suppose that was their purpose, for any visitor who would wander so far would be ready for the sensual trap the women would have waiting in their chamber.

The room where the women lay was as vast as the upper hall, yet signs of Van Helsing's carnage were everywhere. Blood coated the stones beneath the caskets and formed dark collars around the heads that rested together on the ground. Their expressions made it clear that the women had not died in peace. Rats, surprised at their feast, scurried away as I walked toward the caskets.

As I expected, the bodies had not crumbled into dust. In horror, I stared at the wooden stakes pounded between their exposed b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the blood covering their smooth flesh.

Throughout this terrible journey, I had noted Van Helsing's obsession. Often he had hinted at some ancient hatred he had for the vampire. I had no doubt that Van Helsing believed he served a righteous purpose, yet I knew otherwise. The seductive power of these women had unnerved him. A man such as him had no choice but to destroy.

I thought of Van Helsing ripping open their gowns, stopping to marvel at the perfection of their flesh. Had he touched them before he began the killing? Had their beauty made him pause at all? I doubted it.

I ran my fingers over the tips of their delicate hands, then, bolder, over the cold b.r.e.a.s.t.s that might have suckled children centuries ago. "I'm sorry," I whispered to each of them. "Sorry that it came to this." I knew from the color of the body which had been the fair one. She wore a silver filigree ring with a ruby stone. I slipped it off her finger and onto mine. Then I kissed her blood-soaked flesh. Though the blood still tasted sweet, it held no warmth, no memories. I said a prayer for all of them and for myself as well, for I had never felt such despair.

I looked around me, hoping to see some sign that what Van Helsing had done had been justified. All I saw was a pile of animal bones, stripped clean by the vermin. Recalling Jonathan's journal, I looked closely at the pile but detected no remnants of human victims.

There were no settlements in the area, I quickly reminded myself, nor even any farms. The natives had vanished-fled or devoured.

I wondered why the women had not followed them, traveling as Dracula had to London, instead of living on animals and occasional unwary travelers.

The only other thing of interest in the room was a wooden box on a table near the door. I lifted the lid and found a book with black leather cover and parchment pages. It appeared to be a journal, written in a delicate script in a language I did not know. The last entry was not dated, yet the writing seemed fresh. Had one of them kept an account as I did? What might she have recorded in all the years of her life? I placed it in the inner pocket of my coat, vowing to find someone to translate the account the woman had set down.

But there was one thing more I had to do. I lifted the torch and set the tapestries that adorned the room to burning. Without a backward glance, I made my way through the pa.s.sage and started up the too-familiar stairs.

My soul was mine, as Dracula had promised. My choice was mine, and he had promised that as well. I could have died in that room, by my own hand, and awakened to his world. Instead I had chosen Jonathan and the world I knew.

I brushed my forehead and felt the smooth skin. The scar left by the host had vanished.

I would be wife to Jonathan, someday mother to his children. And yet I wonder. Is Dracula alive? I think of him beaten in one more battle, utterly alone in his dark castle. He has had centuries to grow used to loss. He will find others to replace the women Van Helsing killed, and in time he will forget about me. But if he is indeed alive, what consequence is his blood in me?

A crash in the chamber behind me must have opened some pa.s.sage directly to the outside, for suddenly the stairway I climbed tilled with smoke. Holding my breath, I climbed faster. My cloak tangled around my legs and I fell. Instinctively, I took a breath and coughed. My eyes watered, and on hands and knees I climbed the stairs. The air grew hotter. The inferno rose to claim me.

"Jonathan," I whispered, and as I looked at the now glowing smoke, I thought I saw my sisters waiting for me. I smiled at them, lay my head on my arm and closed my eyes. Death was coming. I could feel it a long way off, but moving closer. I didn't care to struggle any more.

November 9. We are on the train, this time heading west. Our little group is smaller. Only Dr. Seward, Jonathan and I are traveling to England. Van Helsing chose to stay in the area and continue his research on Dracula and vampirism. I understand his need to do this all too well, for he knows that nothing is really settled. As for Arthur ...

Order, Mina! Even in this private journal events should be recorded in order, particularly now that the others have finished their accounts of this terrible adventure and this will be the only recording of its aftermath.

i woke in the courtyard of Dracula's castle with my head resting on Jonathan's knees. He had been using snow to wipe the soot from my face. I think the coldness of it shocked me into consciousness. My lungs were still filled with smoke, and I coughed and gagged until I caught my breath. When I did, I looked around me. The winds had diminished and a light snow fell, the huge flakes softening the jagged stones of the walls, the pitted ground of the courtyard. Whisps of smoke still rose from the open castle doors.

The fire must have died before it reached the upper floors, no doubt because the pa.s.sage had been made of stone.

"Are the others with you?" I asked when I was able.

I saw sorrow in Jonathan's expression, heard the pain in his reply. "The others are with Quincey. The gypsies shot him and he is dying, I think. He lost a great deal of blood. I could do nothing for him so I came to find you."

"Do the others know I've come up here?"

"We couldn't see anything in that storm. Don't you remember?"

"I do." But I wanted to be certain, absolutely certain. "Van Helsing told me not to come here. He said the walls themselves would tempt me. But . . ." I paused, loathing the idea of telling him how I had been drawn here." . . . But the storm came so fast, I lost my way. The only thing I could see in the gale was the castle wall above me. I knew there would be shelter here. And then ... Oh, Jonathan, I had to see the place where they had lain and be certain they were truly gone. You'll understand when Van Helsing and I tell you everything that happened to us."

"Did you find that place?" he asked in a low voice.

I wanted to tell him about the bodies and Van Helsing's lie, but everyone had been so concerned about me that I feared to do so.

"I found the coffins. Then I burned their chamber, but the fire grew so fast."

He held me tightly. I had never felt so thankful for his arms before. "When I brought you outside and saw that the scar had vanished from your forehead, I was so afraid. I though it was a sign that you were dying," he whispered. "Now it's over. We can go home."

"The others, we must go to them," I said.

"Not yet. Rest awhile."

"Take me to Quincey, please. I want to say good-bye.

, " Jonathan helped me to stand, and I leaned heavily against him, fighting the terrible dizziness as we descended to the place where Van Helsing and the others tried with no real hope to save Quincey's life.