I was in the manor chapel, three days later, when my son knocked twice and entered to announce the arrival of a guest. I looked up briskly from the roll of parchment spread out on the table before me and tucked my pen into my vest pocket. "Yes, thank you Gabriel. Show him in here, please."

I removed my spectacles and cleaned the glass absently with a handkerchief as I reviewed the markings I'd carefully charted onto the parchment. The pentagram-centric sigil seemed more appropriate to the dungeons beneath the house than this peaceful sanctum, but by the same token I'd felt more at ease constructing it here. The impertinently bold script of my Latin returned to clear focus as I replaced my eyeglasses; but now my gaze was drawn to the chapel entry as Gabriel returned with our visitor.

"Jonathan," I smiled, crossing the annex to extend my hand to the slim, white-haired gentleman in the doorway. "I apologize greatly for asking your presence on such notice; but I thank you for coming."

"Doctor Van Helsing," he replied cordially, clasping my hand. It had been some years since last I had seen Jonathan Harker, but time had been kind. His grip was firm, and he seemed more relaxed, more the young man I knew him to be, rather than the haunted, harrowed soul with whom I had last parted ways.

"I trust my son has made a proper introduction?" A quick exchange of smiles assured me that he had; and I gave the boy a gestured dismissal to keep a watch for later arrivals.

Harker threw his glance about the room. "Well. You have cleaned things up around the old place, haven't you?"

"Yes," I agreed, quickly anticipating his next query and speaking before he could utter it. "Please, come," I bid him follow me to the table. "I should like you to understand my plan. How is your family?"

"Well, thank you. Quincey shall be eight this November; oh, and Mina bid me send her greetings…." He trailed off as we came to the table and his eyes fell upon my scribings. "Dear God…."

"It is an unholy seeming thing, is it not?" I tilted my head in wry acknowledgement. "But it is the culmination of many years of study. I only hope it will serve our purpose. This—" I pointed a finger at one segment of the seal, but he interrupted me.

"That's my bit, isn't it?" He leaned over the table for closer review, then nodded. "Yes… I can see it." He drew back, falling quiet for a thoughtful moment as his hands unconsciously wrung together; then he recovered his composure. "Is… he… here?"

I patted his shoulder with grave assurance. "He is securely bound. Let's not concern ourselves with such things until we must."

"I would like to see him," he murmured, most unexpectedly, his eyes fixed on the crucifix upon the terminal wall of the room, but his gaze somewhere far distant.

I placed a hand gently upon his forearm to forestall further wringing. "Later," I murmured, then in a more hearty tone suggested, "You must be weary from your trip. May I suggest a bit of dinner while we wait for the others?"

His eyes flew to my face, with an expression of relief, I thought, for the welcome distraction. "Ah… yes. Yes," he agreed, drawing a deep breath to settle himself. "That would be excellent."

We repaired to the parlour and I asked the maid to bring us whatever might handily be acquired from the kitchen. We made out quite well with cold chicken, fruit and wine, and had just settled down to a cup of tea when the front bell rang. Harker froze in mid-sip, apprehension momentarily returning; but I rose from my chair most eagerly to greet the new arrivals as my son escorted them in.

"The Honorable Lord Godalming, and Doctor Seward to see you, Father."

"Yes, please come in!" I welcomed my old acquaintances most heartily, shaking hands with each in turn. "Arthur… Jack. Thank you, all," I extended a hand to Jonathan to include him in my speech, "for coming on such short notice. I fear time may be of the essence."

"Van Helsing has but to call," Godalming observed agreeably, with a little put-on bow.

"Jonathan, it's been a while, hasn't it. How have you been?"

As the three exchanged pleasantries, I drew Gabriel aside and pressed into his hand a small key from my vest pocket. "The flat box in the third drawer of the dressing table in my bedroom. Please bring it down."

The boy nodded and rushed to complete his errand. I returned to my guests. "My friends." I was gratified by the speed with which they transferred their focus attentively to me. "I wish that this were a more pleasant circumstance to meet; but I trust you read the intent between the lines of my letters and know why I have gathered us all here tonight. Our… mutual acquaintance, the Count—"

"Dracula," Harker interposed, his voice hollow.

"How is the old brute?" Seward inquired.

"Little changed," I replied, with a slight frown; "but he has given me recent cause for concern." I quickly relayed the details of my encounter with the prisoner three nights previous, and outlined, in brief, my plan for this night's activities. "Jonathan," I noted in conclusion, "has seen some inkling of what I intend. Thank you, Gabriel," I remarked to the boy as he returned with the package. "You've all met my son: he'll be assisting us tonight in the absence of Mr. Morris."

"Old Quincey couldn't ask a better substitute," Godalming approved. "How old are you now, boy?"

"Fifteen, sir."

"Good Lord, time flies, doesn't it?"

"It does, sir."

"For some," I heard myself muse softly; shook my head and glanced at the window. "The sun is just setting. If we retrieve our… friend, before he's fully awakened, this will be all the easier." A sense of solemn purpose seemed to settle over the group. "Arthur, Jack: I'll ask that you handle the chains. He has already been shackled." I crossed the room and unlocked the gun cabinet, withdrawing a particular revolver and handing it to Jonathan, who was beginning to look rather pale. "Silver bullets," I informed him as he checked to see that it was loaded. "I'd prefer that he be intact for this, but just in case…." Harker nodded with grim determination.

We stood, the four compatriots and the boy, in silent readiness; then I observed: "Once more I ask you to follow me into the waiting jaws of the beast. Of all men in this world, he will fear us. Be strong, my friends. And God be with us."

There was a murmur of agreement. I led the way to the cellar.

The study felt particularly close this evening, as I turned the heavy key in the door and led my small band inside, lantern held high. It was as if the shadows themselves were holding their breath in anticipation. The prisoner lay slumped in much the same position as I'd left him three days ago, unmoving; but somehow I could feel that he was awake.

"You've brought friends," he observed, before I could speak a greeting to the back of his head.

"Did you expect otherwise, after that display the other night?" I stopped before the cell and gestured to Arthur and Jack to retrieve the chains from the cabinets. They had assisted me on rare occasions previous, and knew what to do. Gabriel stood to my left, clutching his parcel to his chest. There was trepidation in his eyes, but the boy was no stranger to monsters, and his face was unafraid. I felt a brief surge of pride. To my right, Jonathan grimly trained his pistol at the vampire, his lips set in a thin line.

Dracula tilted his head slightly. "No…" he murmured, unbelieving; then a delighted laugh rippled from his throat. It was a deep, strong sound – no one, upon hearing it, would have guessed that his face had been recently shot off – but the effect on we mere mortals was like nails on slate. I suppressed a shudder.

"Harker!" he cried, having evidently recognized the scent. "My old, dear friend, you haven't finally come to visit me, have you?"

"You maintain a strange definition of 'friend,' Count," Jonathan gritted evenly.

"I must count what friends I can, for so few come to see me in the Professor's benevolent care." The prisoner spoke to the wall at the back of the cell, for he was unable to twist to face us. "Tell me: how is Miss Mina? Is she still as delightful as I remember, or has motherhood diminished her nubile charms?"

"Enough!" I heard Jonathan cock the hammer of his gun and quickly placed a restraining hand on his arm. He managed a slight nod of acknowledgement, but his eyes brimmed with fury. Dracula chuckled mirthfully.

Seward approached with his instrument, and I set the lantern down to assist him. The "chain" to which I had referred was in fact rather more than that: a long steel pole with a short length of thick, silver-plated chain at one end. The end of the chain held a heavy clasp, which was in turn attached to a loop in a manacle block similar to the one already securing the prisoner. I turned this sideways to ease it through the bars, and left it for the moment. I would need to be inside to properly secure it. I took a moment while at the bars to examine the vampire's hands: the pentagramic marks I had made on the palms had faded slightly, but were still clearly visible, as on my brief inspections the two previous nights. Excellent.

Godalming had fastened his pole-chain to a sturdy silver collar, which I now took from him and, cautiously, reached between the bars to place around the vampire's neck. "Jonathan, please shoot him if he moves," I requested blandly, trying to keep my mind on dull, pleasant things to ease the flow of adrenaline in my veins. The last thing we needed was for the Count to get excited by the sound of hammering heartbeats.

My concerns proved groundless in this particular case, though: the prisoner remained almost unnaturally still as I drew the thick collar round his neck and screwed the binding secure in the back. I inquired and received confirmation from Arthur that he had a firm grip.

I now put key to the heavy lock on the cell door, and opened it with a solid metallic click. Glancing once more at my assistants to be sure that I was covered by gun and chain, I swung the door open and slipped inside. Still Dracula made no move. "Stand up, please."

His crimson eyes swiveled up at me from his shadowed countenance, and I saw the faint hint of a smile in the flash of white fangs. "Where are we going?"

"You'll find out. Stand up, please." I took hold of the pole at the base of his collar on this side of the bars and gave it a nudge to prod him into movement. With unnatural grace for a man with his arms twisted and bound behind him, he rose silently to his feet. He towered over me, a grim cadaverous shade. I was exquisitely aware of my danger now; but Godalming's firm presence on the other side of the pole was reassuring.

I took the manacle that dangled from Seward's pole and set it in place immediately behind the one that was fastened to the bars. Working quickly, for I was by no means certain how long my prisoner's placid attitude would persist, I secured the bindings to his forearms, and then loosened those on the original. "Step forward," I instructed with a calm I did not feel. I summoned Gabriel with a gesture to come inside and take hold of the second pole.

I heard the ghost of a chuckle as Dracula complied; for this was all evidently part of a game to him. Between the four of us, under Harker's vigilant gun, we slowly maneuvered the prisoner away from the front of the cell and shifted places so that Godalming and Seward finally held him at pole's length, free from the bars. Throughout this delicate operation I could see him flexing his arms, testing the strength of the bindings, but he seemed to decide that he was held fast for the time being, and stood calmly awaiting my next instructions. I supposed he was simply eager for the so-rare chance to be out of the cell, whether it was in shackles or not.

Then I saw his eyes, locked on Harker as he faced him for the first time in nearly ten years. Jonathan's hands shook around their grip on the revolver; all of the blood seemed to have drained from his face but for a single spot of brilliant red as the fierce set of his jaw caused him to bite down on his own lower lip.

"Stop!" I commanded furiously, recognizing the trick. I threw myself between the two, heedless of the gun that was now pointed squarely at me. The important thing was that I break eye contact; and as I interposed myself I saw Jonathan gasp sharply with a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and step back, wiping a hand over his eyes. I felt another whisper of laughter float down from behind me.

"That… bastard," Jonathan snarled. "The things he shows me—no, I won't shoot him, Doctor," he assured me as he met my concerned gaze. "Not unless I have to. I know his game now." A mask seemed to settle over his expression as he turned his attention back to the Count; but he did not look at his face.

Quite a parade we were set to make, now. "Let's go," I ordered quietly.