A Story of Van Helsing
Mina glanced down at the worn leather-bindings of her fiancée's journal at his words. The cloud of darkness that now hung over her face shrouded her features, making her beauty imperceptible. Abraham Van Helsing's heart went out to the young girl. "We will learn it all too late I fear," she answered, her voice nearly a whisper. "And knowledge is useless to the dead." With a graceful movement, she placed the journal beside her on Lucy's bed, determined not to look within. Jonathon had lost his memory in Transylvania, and he had been adamant that it stayed there.
The professor raised his head at her last line, just as Lucy stirred fitfully in her sleep. Even in the land of dreams she looked sickly: her face was as pale as death.
"Oh, not so, Miss Mina," he answered, choosing his words carefully. "It is, in fact, on account of the dead that I have come." The girl raised her head curiously, just in time to catch the dim glow of … something in the man's eyes before he turned away.
Van Helsing turned to the wall, lest he give away the emotion on his face. His mind slowly spun back the threads of time, and Mina's face and Lucy's room melted away to a scene when he was younger, sprightlier, and more naïve to the evils of the world.
He was twenty-three years of age, fresh from medical school, believing that science and wisdom were all he needed to survive in the world. It was the night of his wedding. In the traditions of his country, his new bride had to remain untainted on the day of their union. She was to be dressed only in white, and only during the ceremony was she to be seen by the public and her husband. Afterward, she had to withdraw to her room—the room where they would later consummate their marriage.
He smiled at the thought of Helene, sitting next to her nightstand, tapping her fingernails against the wood of the walls. She would roll her eyes and then pace up and down the room, trying to find something to do. She hated tradition, but she would keep to it because she knew that it was important to him. Though the new bride was to touch nothing but her bridal bed until the next morning, she would secretly sneak a book out from under her covers –no doubt, the latest edition of Gray's Anatomy, stolen from his own shelves.
That was what had first drawn Van Helsing to Helene. When he had gone to England to train at the University of Cambridge to be a doctor, he had never expected to find a woman of his country, defying all expectation, and learning medicine in secret from an old professor. She was different than other women, never soft-spoken or demure. Instead, she openly challenged Van Helsing when he laughed at the thought of her theories on vivisection.
Unfortunately, she had been right, and since then, she fascinated him. Bookish and oafish in social ways, he had been rather clumsy in proving to her his affections. But, once he had, she was relentless, almost pursuing him instead of the other way around. He had been rather quick in his proposal for marriage, half because he had fallen so quickly for the woman, and half because he was afraid if he did not do anything soon, she would ask him.
As the last of the guests began to step out, he quietly told the butler to see to it that the party was ended on a good note, and quietly slipped upstairs, eager to see his wife again. She was probably bored stiff, sitting up there by herself, and would certainly give him a snide remark about women's rights when she saw him. He did not care, though, as his heart was singing.
As he reached the second floor of his house, he listened for the sound of his wife's footsteps, but heard nothing. That was strange. Helene was not one to keep still for long periods of time. Perhaps she had fallen asleep? He smiled again. That could soon be remedied.
He quickened his pace to reach the door of their bedroom and turned the knob to go inside. An icy blast of wind hit him hard in the face, and he stumbled back, falling on his hands and hip. Who had opened the window on a night like this? As he staggered, a cold voice sounded from the other end of the room.
"Good evening, Dr. Van Helsing." It spoke in English.
Van Helsing blinked, gasping at the cold in the room. The fire was put out, and he crawled forward a few steps, unwilling to stand and be seen by whoever had broken into his home. His fingers touched something warm and wet. The coppery smell told him it was blood.
Slowly, he stood, and his eyes adjusted to the darkness. A tall, dark figure was standing in the middle of his chamber, and on his bed was Helene, her white dress stained in a dark liquid that spotted the sheets as well as the floor. It took him a few moments to realize that she was dead, and he almost stumbled again. "Who… who are you?" he asked, but his voice caught in his throat, and he was unable to utter anything louder than a whisper.
But the figure heard him, and moved with inhuman speed to his wife's side. The window shed enough light so that Van Helsing could make out what seemed to be a tall, thin man, clad in a thick, black cloak with a high collar. "I am Count Dracula," he spoke with a hint of an Eastern European accent. "My compliments on your choice of wife. She was most… " he paused, as if smiling to himself, "… delicious."
It occurred to Van Helsing then that this was no human he was talking to, but a monster, an abomination of the earth. And it had killed Helene. A naked fury possessed him, and he gave the shriek of a madman before he sprang at the creature. But he was never given the chance.
"Halt," the count said, his tone perfectly even, and suddenly, Van Helsing found that he could not move a muscle, as if someone had just injected him with a drug and paralyzed his entire body. He had taken a step forward, and his body was angled downward, ready to leap.
"Be patient, doctor. There is time enough for you to die." Count Dracula leaned over the body of Helene, his movements swift and agile. With the gracefulness of a dancer, he poked a long fingernail into her right eye. Next, with a sickening "pop", he plucked it from her head and began to examine it carefully. He smiled. The light coming from the window showed his long, pointed canines, too long to be human. Then, with as much refinement as a prince, he bit into the eyeball and chewed.
Van Helsing strained to lay his hands on this intruder, but still, he could do nothing. "Mm…" the count mused. "It is a pity I had to kill her. She is very beautiful and would have made a wonderful bride." He stepped around the bed, taunting the doctor. "But she knew too much. Delved too deep. And you," he pointed a long, thin finger at him, "will have to pay the price."
It was then that something happened that the Count did not intend. Neither, for that matter, did Van Helsing. The creature leaned in, still taunting, even before he got ready for the kill. But, because of the way the doctor was angled, nearly bent double at the waist, the crucifix that he wore around his neck fell into view from the top of his shirt.
The creature screamed, as if being burned alive, a piercing sound that chilled Van Helsing to the bones. But, it was in that instant that he realized he could move again, and, with what he had left of his wits, he lunged for the fire poker and brought it down with all his might on the figure of the count.
The metal hit the wooden floor with a thud.
The count had vanished.
Van Helsing woke from his reverie and shuddered. It was from that day that he swore to learn all he could about vampires and one day exact revenge on Count Dracula. Lucy's mysterious illness had been suspicious: various symptoms attributed itself to the work of a vampire. And if he was lucky, Count Dracula would be behind this.
"I fear some clue lies here within." Mina's voice brought his mind back to the time at hand. He turned to find her still clutching the journal of her husband. "Jonathan's trust has willed these words remain unread. But, I must know what has brought him to this horrid precipice." She took a deep breath. "Will you help me, Professor?"
Van Helsing looked into the woman's eyes. Her fear and worry went unhidden, and two large tears had formed in their corners. Her eyes were blue, like Helene's.
Slowly, he crossed the room and sat down next to her. He nodded once, and, taking courage in his proximity, Mina opened the book.