Dr. Van Helsing behaved as though the mental bond Mina had forged with Count Dracula was a blessing in disguise. He praised the connection for its ability to guide their actions and pushed to hypnotize Mina ever more often as their journey progressed. Jonathan saw the bond his wife had forged with the dreaded count in a less… favorable light.

How could he view it as anything other than the complete and utter betrayal it was? His newly wed bride had secretly met and exchanged blood with Dracula as he fought to remove that cursed creature's evil from the world. She had welcomed that very evil into her life, her… (Jonathan loathed to think it, but couldn't deny the possibility) bed… and she had lied about it.

Mina had betrayed the memory of her dearest friend. She had betrayed the trust of the men who had loved Lucy. She had betrayed the cause they had all sworn to give their lives to. Worst of all, she had betrayed him.

Jonathan had made that fateful journey to Transylvania for them, him and Mina, so he could provide the woman he loved with the future she deserved. So they could afford a little house where they could raise a family.

He choked on a wry laugh.

A family.

The dream that once drove Jonathan – of coming home from a day at work to find Mina with a child on her hip and another growing in her belly – had faded like the print of old fabric, its color drained by time and neglect. Even if she didn't cringe away from him every time he drew near, even if she could hide the look of pity mixed with disgust that crossed her face each time her gaze fell on him, Jonathan would not be able to… perform in the way a husband ought to.

His time in the beast's castle, with those foul vampire women – reluctant but mesmerized, unable to control his own actions – had broken him in ways Jonathan suspected could not be repaired. Mina deserved better.

Bah, he thought angrily. I deserve better than a wife who would consort with the devil himself, then lie to my face about it! But Jonathan only half believed that. Did he deserve better? He had betrayed her first, after all. Those long nights with the vampire women were not chaste…

It was against my will!

As, if Holmwood and the others were to be believed, Mina's time with Dracula might very well be. Once they rid the world of that plague, Jonathan would be able to discern who his wife really was. Who he really was.

After that…?

"Jonathan."

He fought back a squeal of fright as a hand came to rest on his arm.

"Apologies, my friend," Jack said. He gave Jonathan a sympathetic look. The other men gave him those looks frequently. They filled him with shame. Those looks said what their words would not, that Jonathan was the weak member of their party.

"No, no," Jonathan said hurriedly. "It's fine."

It wasn't fine. Nothing was fine.

It may never be fine again.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Jack continued, "but you were so far away."

Jonathan offered his friend a kind smile. "I have much on my mind."

The doctor nodded. It was no secret that Jack found his own way to cope with the dark thoughts that hounded him.

"Arthur's connections at the port have confirmed arrival of the count's ship," Jack told him. "The crew is disembarking as we speak. We should be able to board shortly."

Glancing up at the darkening sky, Jonathan nodded his agreement. They had to hurry if they were going to be successful; the sun wasn't far from setting. If they let Dracula gain the advantage of nightfall, all would be lost.

"There is no time to waste," he said aloud. "Let's go." He followed Jack through the busy streets of Galatz to the docks and, God willing, Count Dracula's death.

The captain of the Czarina Catherine pointed them in the direction of the ship's cargo but refused to join them in the hold. No man entered, he warned them, who came out alive. He beat a hasty retreat then as they prepared to enter the bowels of the ship, presumably to join his remaining crew for a much-deserved drink at a local inn.

Jonathan, Arthur, Jack, and Quincey exchanged glances. There was the very real possibility that they were walking into a trap. That, like the unfortunate sailors, they would not emerge alive from count's temporary haven. It was a risk they had all known they would be taking.

"I'll go first," Jonathan said, stepping forward.

Quincey stopped him. "Let me," he said, drawing his big bowie knife. Jonathan, coward that he was, let the other man take his place. They descended.

There was but one box in the hold of the ship. They had been meticulous in their hunt for the count's boxes in London; there sat the only one that had eluded them. Jonathan's heart pounded so hard it made his hands shake as he hefted the steel bar he carried.

"Time is not on our side, gentlemen," he said, feigning a bravery he did not feel.

Arthur nodded, lifting his own crowbar. They set to work priseing the lid open. When the final nail creaked free of the old wood, they stood ready for the attack Dracula was certain to launch the moment he was freed.

Jack held out a hand for Jonathan's crowbar and, in its place, placed a wooden stake and a mallet. The thought of taking on the count himself made Jonathan weak at the knees. He was on the verge of handing the weapons back when Arthur spoke up. He, of all the men there, knew a little of what Jonathan was going through.

"You must be the one," Arthur insisted. A muscle in his jaw jerked. "It is your duty, and it is your right."

Swallowing hard, Jonathan nodded. He didn't trust his voice not to tremble as badly as his hands.

Jonathan raised the stake, ready to strike. The others shifted the lid out of the way.

"Do it now!" Quincey shouted.

But… there was nothing to do. Jonathan's hands fell limply to his sides. The stake and mallet clattered to the floor.

The box was empty.

Craning, the others leaned in to see the contents of the box – or, rather, lack thereof. Jonathan didn't need to see their stricken expressions to confirm what his heart already knew.

"Mina!"

She had not been the decoy. They had.

Jonathan raced up the wooden stairs to the deck above, the other men on his heels.

"We must get word to Van Helsing!" Jack said.

"There isn't time," Arthur argued. "We need fast horses…"

Jonathan reached the top of the stairs…

…and collided with a broad, sturdy body.

The ship's captain gave him a grave look. Several others joined him, blocking out the last of the sun's dying rays. "I warned you," the rugged man said, levelling a pistol at Jonathan's chest, "none who enter the hold leave alive."