The Dracula Tape Fred Saberhagen (great reads TXT) 📖

head. “You are not evil, love.” I had seen something of mesmerism before, had seen folk paralyzed or blinded, and blisters raised on unharmed skin, by nothing but the power of the mind. “Have you a crucifix about your neck, or anywhere upon your person?”

      She recoiled slightly. “Oh, no. After this branding I would not dare to try to touch one.”

      I looked about me, found a dry branch on the ground, picked it up, and snapped it into two pieces, one a little longer than the other. These I held up in the form of the crux immissa, the fingers of my right hand clenched about the joining. “Touch it,” I urged her.

      Mina put forth her hand, then hesitated. “I … I dare not try,” she breathed. “The pain was terrible.”

      “Touch it! If I can hold a cross, what have you to fear?”

      “I — I have not your strength.” She dropped her eyes and turned away.

      “Vile men,” I muttered, and let the cross fall into its components on the sward. “Perhaps for the present, though, it is better that your brand remain. Van Helsing might take its sudden disappearance, whilst I still live, as a bad sign.” I had in mind his reaction to the disappearance of Lucy’s throat marks shortly before that poor girl breathed her last; Mina had said the record showed the professor to have been very much shocked by that, and convinced from that moment that Lucy would inevitably walk as a vampire.

      I put my hands on Mina’s quivering shoulders and turned her round to face me. “But all is far from lost,” I went on. “Tell me, am I right in thinking that life with your husband, though having its drawbacks for an intelligent woman like yourself, is not without its compensations also? In short, that for Jonathan’s good as well as your own — I can see how he must need you — you are not prepared to give him up entirely?”

      She looked up; it was as if my understanding had lifted at least a part of the crushing burden of worry from her breast. “You are right, Vlad! Oh, how good and wise and kind of you! I love you, as you know. And yet I find I have not ceased to love Jonathan. The poor dear needs me now … you would hardly recognize him, he is so changed today.”

      “How so?”

      “He is gray and haggard, and looks at me strangely sometimes, though he speaks as lovingly as before. And I have seen him sitting alone, mumbling to himself, and whetting an enormous knife that I think Lord Godalming or Quincey Morris must have given him. I feel it would be too terrible to leave him now; but still, however am I to stay when he is whetting that knife for your heart and praying for a chance to plunge it in?”

      “Dear lady, I have conceived a strategy that, if all goes well, will resolve this painful dilemma for you. If the future can be fitted to my design, you will be able to stay safely with a contented husband, yet you and I need never be more than a few hours apart, and we can continue to see each other frequently.”

      Mina seized my hand and covered it with kisses. “Dear Vlad! How can I thank you? What is this plan and what may I do to further it?”

      I began to explain to her my scheme. It turned on my being able to convince the men that I had fled from England, with no intention of returning. Within a month or two after I was supposedly gone — actually I would be lying very low in London, in one of my still-secret lairs — Van Helsing would presumably have gone back to the Continent, perhaps hoping to pick up my trail there, and the rest of the vigilantes would have relaxed their vigilance. Mina and I would then be able to resume the enjoyment of each other’s company on an occasional basis, which was all that would really be good for her, husband or not.

      To set the scheme in motion required one more confrontation between me and my hunters. I pledged to Mina to do all in my power to assure that this encounter was nonviolent, and she in turn agreed to do what she could to arrange it for me. Therefore as soon as I took leave of her, at about one o’clock in the afternoon, she sent a telegram to Van Helsing at my Piccadilly house, where we knew he was likely to be at that hour. I wanted the gang to wait for me there, whilst I visited Bermondsey and Mile End, checking some hidden caches of home-earth to make sure they were still usable.

      The message, composed at my direction, advised the professor to “look out for D. He has just now, 12:45, come from Carfax hurriedly and hastened toward the south. He seems to be going the round and may want to see you.” It was signed of course by Mina.

      Leaving her to see the telegram dispatched, I sent out toward the south just as it said. In going the round of my other houses known to the enemy, in Bermondsey and Mile End, I found to my satisfaction that the Eucharist had been placed in all of the boxes that I had left, so to speak, on display for visitors. The hunters would feel certain that these places were denied to me as refuges, and if necessary I could use them with impunity.

      It was a little after two when I reached number 347, Piccadilly, and although the old house appeared from the outside to be untenanted I felt confident that my uninvited guests were still within. On reaching the front door I noted a few fine scratches around the lock, where their hired locksmith had been at work to open the house for them and provide a key. Who would question His Lordship Arthur in such a matter?