Disclaimer: I own nothing belonging to LXG or Dracula, by Bram Stoker.
Chapter 1
Holding hands, the mother and her child walked down the busy central street. The mother was slightly stooped over, for she was tall, dressed in modest shades of black and grey, her blue eyes steady and alert. The child, no older than five or six years old, was brown-haired and chubby-cheeked, one adorable dimple deepening on his face whenever he laughed or giggled.
A carriage rattled past them even as the child reached his hand out curiously. The mother said firmly, "No, Quincy, no touching. Carriages are dangerous when they go so fast."
"With horses, right? They're big. I wish I could have a horse."
The mother smiled. "Maybe when you're older and more responsible you can get a pony."
The child grinned mischeviously. "Yes, mother. Carriages are…are…" he struggled to find a word. "Carriages are…in-ter-est-in." he pronounced carefully. "Did I say that right?"
His mother looked down and nodded, feeling a surge of protectiveness and pride.
They reached their little house on a quiet avenue with little pockets of old pine trees scattered all around. The sun was already sinking, glowing a dull red and sending streaks of soft purple and brilliant splashes of crimson across the clear sky.
The mother pointed. "Look, the sunset. It's really too bad the houses block most of it."
Quincy looked, opened his mouth, and sneezed. To the mother's chagrin he sniffed and wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve.
"Quince! Use your handkerchief-"
"Mother!" the child exclaimed, but rummaged around his coat pocket, declared he couldn't find it, and bounded into the house. The mother shook her head and followed, a half-hidden smile playing about her lips. As she went in she felt a sudden attack of queasiness, hearing a buzzing in her ears, as if a whole swarm of flies had flown in after her. The taste of bile rose in her throat, and she choked, dizzy, and sat down hard on the floor.
Mina did not want to wake up. For the past few days she had been sick, and now the sun's bright rays made her head ache. She sighed. Three days now she'd been faint and light-headed, slightly flushed as if she had a fever, and her face grew paler each day. She shunned the meals that she cooked for her son, secretly detesting their enticing aroma, only watching Quincy eat. She smiled affectionately at that. Her little boy had a huge appetite, and she didn't know where he put his meals.
She wondered what was wrong with her, determining that her illness wasn't a cold or anything of that sort…rather, it reminded of a terrible time, a memory she'd tried to bury deep in her mind, of the days when she'd thought she'd—
"Mother? Are you all right?"
Quincy stood in front of her, his anxious face worried. "You're sick, aren't you?"
"Yes…"
"Do you need the doctor, like the one who came when I was sick?"
She appreciated his worry, but said, "No, I'm fine. Just a bad headache, Quincy. Run outside, I think little Jimmy Cooper is calling for you."
He lingered to take one last look at her, and then ran out shouting to his friend from across the street. Mina stared after him. Her heightened awareness of every detail around her scared her. It was too unnatural, even more so then last time: she could hear Jimmy telling Quincy about the 'huge spider on my bed!', the call of a lonely bird, and even the stealthy steps of a fly across the table.
In a sudden fit of rage she slammed her fists down on the polished wood, missing the poor terrified fly by a scant inch. Her breaths came in gasps as her head started to whirl, and a suffocating weight built on her chest.
It can't be happening again. It's been four…no, five long years. It can't be happening now. It was all over.
Her spine cracked and jolts of pain shot through the roof of her mouth. A half-strangled shriek tore out of her like a cornered animal at bay.
It was all supposed to be over…but I am, still, unclean…
Unclean…
The word echoed around her mind once again. She cried, she tried to scream, she fell, breathless, on the floor…
She dreamed.
Tall, silver gates glimmered in the golden sunlight. They were open, inviting her to go in, and she walked forward, unsure. Beyond she could see glimpses of laughing children, of white doves flying in the sky. She could hear music: a heavenly chorus soaring up, higher and higher, until the music was too beautiful to bear. And, oh! he was there!
"Jonathan!" she cried out, joyful, and he walked towards her, holding out his arms, his large brown eyes warm and kind. Quincy Morris was at his side, smiling, and she ran to meet them, but the gates closed with a clang, and the long grey bars shortened into lethal silver tips. She backed away in horror, even as Jonathan turned his back on her and Quincy's smile vanished.
She was falling, falling…
She was awake.
For a moment Mina wondered why she was on the ground.
Unclean…
Oh.
She sat on, gathering herself, and finally stood, leaning on the table, surprised at how strong she felt. The headaches were gone, the pain had vanished, and she began to hope she might be somehow cleansed, after all. Instinctively, she felt her forehead.
There was no scar.
Mina heard the shouting and squabbling of Jimmy and Quincy announcing their arrival. She tried to brush her dress off, flattening the wrinkles, and tidied her hair. Her hands trembled.
Quincy.
With an unexplainable fear she sat down again, reached for a piece of paper and began to write. As her terrified thoughts were transformed into writing, the hard, undeniable truth of what really was happening to her finally came.
DR VAN HELSING STOP FROM M HARKER STOP COME QUICK STOP IM TURNING UNCLEAN STOP QUINCY UNSAFE STOP
She heard Quincy troop in the door, smelled his young, warm blood…