Chapter Fifteen

As Jack Seward crossed the threshold of the cemetery he was hit by a pang of sadness that made his chest ache. The sensation persisted as he took the path that would lead him to the place where Lucy - the woman he had loved, and still did love, beyond all compare - had been discovered, drained of blood and barely clinging on to life. He'd had to get the precise location from a reluctant Zev, assuring the other man that he was not about to do 'something stupid' but perhaps agreeing to a rendezvous at the very spot where Lucy had almost perished was simply a different kind of stupid. The afternoon sun gave him certain reassurances but there were other risks to consider. He'd spoken to Frank Renfield just twice; during their first conversation the lawyer had denied everything but the second phone call had consisted of an offer to meet and discuss all the things that had been previously denied. Frank seemed to be suffering from some kind of mental disorder that Jack was concerned may manifest with violence. And he could not forget that the lawyer was still in the employ of Dracula: this could be a trap.

Taking a deep breath, Jack forged onwards, apprehension slowly replacing the ache of sadness in his chest. When Dr Zoe Helsing, the mentor who had become his friend, had revealed the nature of the research she was conducting up in Whitby, and how her family history was entangled with the Harker Foundation, he had been sceptical. The tale of a vicious vampire, a brave nun and an exploding ship had sounded fantastical; the more likely explanation for what had occurred was a sociopathic killer who had used superstition to murder and then evade capture. He had not voiced those doubts, something he had been grateful for when he had watched footage of Count Dracula being resurrected from the depths of the sea and time itself. Subsequent events had left him in no doubt that vampires were not only very real but extremely dangerous.

In the distance, Jack could see a figure beside the bench that Zev had pinpointed but as he neared he realised that it wasn't Frank Renfield who was waiting for him. His pace quickened, unease fading with every step as he approached the woman he'd, at her own behest, abandoned in Count Dracula's apartment all those weeks ago. A little voice in his head whispered that it couldn't be her but it was drowned out by the relief that was flooding through his body at the sight of her. "Zoe," he greeted, his voice a mixture of hope and confusion.

"I'm not her, Dr Seward," the woman replied though not unkindly. "And I think that, deep down, you must know that I cannot be Zoe Helsing."

Jack slowed his approach, her denial - and the unfamiliar accent - increasing his confusion. The last time he had seen Zoe it had been with the understanding that she was going to sacrifice what remained of her life to stop Count Dracula; she had been determined to right the wrong that she had committed in unleashing Dracula upon the world and to do so alone. Almost a week later, he had returned to Dracula's apartment but had not encountered the scene that he had anticipated. From outside the apartment door he had heard the familiar voice of Dracula talking to the man he now knew as Frank Renfield and his heart had sank. The only thing worse than Zoe giving her own life in order to stop Dracula was her death being for naught. He had fled the building in fear and sadness, the faint whiff of decomposition lingering in his nostrils.

Finally close enough to scrutinise the woman who claimed not to be Zoe, he came to a complete stop as his eyes catalogued all the familiar features with ever increasing confusion. Not quite brave enough to face Dracula on his own, Jack had initially sought out the help of the Harker Foundation to stop the vampire's murderous reign. Bloxham had been sympathetic but had also claimed that the Foundation's hands were legally tied. Thinking that he could perhaps use the same legal system against Count Dracula, he had reported Zoe missing, citing the Count's address as her last known location but the investigation had concluded as unexpectedly as his last visit to the vampire's lair. Zoe was alive and well.

"I don't understand," Jack finally admitted and the familiar blue eyes of his mentor softened further in response.

"I know you don't," the woman soothed with an accent that was clearly not of English origin. "The family resemblance was enough to persuade the authorities that Dr Helsing was still alive but I failed to consider all the consequences of that action. I am very sorry if my deception gave you hope that Zoe was still alive. I'm afraid that she died not long after she had convinced you to leave Count Dracula's apartment."

An immediate denial rose up his throat but moved no further, forming an uncomfortable lump that would not disperse no matter how hard he swallowed, because he knew that she was right. Deep down, he had known that Zoe was dead even when the police had told him otherwise. He had collected Zoe from the hospital, against medical advice, and then watched her struggle for every breath and each step, sheer willpower fuelling her journey to Dracula's apartment; she had not just been dying - she had been slumped against death's door. She wouldn't have been much of a threat to the vampire. "Dracula killed her," he said softly, confirming what he had suspected ever since he'd returned to the vampire's apartment.

"No," Zoe's doppelgänger denied quickly. "Dracula is responsible for many, many atrocities but he did not kill her. It was the cancer that claimed poor Zoe's life. She was very weak and what remained of her strength was used to ensure your safety. You were her star pupil, Dr Seward; she did not want you to waste all that potential."

The reference to his mentor/student relationship with Zoe surprised Jack but not as much as the claim that Dracula was not responsible for her death. There had been such an intensity in Dracula's gaze, one that the vampire had not broken even as he'd given Jack permission to leave the apartment; if he had not known that the cancer that was killing Zoe also offered her protection against the vampire's bite, he would have concluded that it had been hunger he had seen in the Count's gaze that morning. That vampire deterrent within Zoe's blood was the same reason he had dismissed the possibility that she had been turned into a vampire, and was simply too ashamed or afraid to see him, when the police had informed him that she was still alive.

However, a small part of him had still held on to the vague hope that Zoe had somehow survived, a feeling that had bloomed briefly upon meeting her double. But now he was certain that she wasn't Zoe; the accent, the hair, even the clothes were not quite right. Her appearance, and the things that she had told him, left Jack with more questions than he'd arrived at the cemetery with, the most pertinent being, "Who are you?"

"I am Agatha Van Helsing; Zoe's aunt."

"The nun who died a hundred years ago? That's not possible," Jack murmured, his unease beginning to rise once more.

"One hundred and twenty-three years to be precise but I am no longer a nun," Agatha corrected. "And it is perfectly possible to survive that long when one is a vampire," she added on before finishing with a wide smile that bared all of her teeth.

The jagged fangs that had previously been smooth teeth made him take a step back, wherein his gaze shifted down to her hands. Unvarnished nails - the final confirmation that she was certainly not Zoe - were sharpened to a point, much like Dracula's had been when the vampire had wrapped his hand around Jack's throat in lieu of a greeting. However, there was one glaring, almost blindingly obvious, flaw to Agatha's claim and it was enough to halt his retreat. "The sun is out."

Nodding, Agatha smiled at him again, her teeth straight once more. There was a hint of amusement in her voice when she replied, quite philosophically, "Most of the vampire legends are misunderstood. It took me those one hundred and twenty-three years to figure it all out but better late than never, I suppose. And I was sleeping on the sea bed for most of that time. One must make allowances for such things."

There was something very likeable about Agatha Van Helsing that made Jack believe her completely, even though her explanation contradicted everything that was known about vampires. The Harker Foundation had built their holding cell around the concept that the sun would destroy a vampire and he had left Zoe alone with Dracula because he had believed she could use the sun to her advantage but here he was, talking to a vampire who remained unharmed by direct sunlight. A vampire who could have attacked him the moment he'd stepped within her reach but who had answered his questions instead. Startled by where that thought inevitably took him, Jack's gaze quickly scanned his surroundings.

The cemetery appeared to be quiet for the most part; a group of mourners were stood around a headstone, a couple of dog-walkers were passing by on a parallel pathway and a lone figure lounged on one of the benches far off in the distance. Cautiously, his gaze returned to Agatha but it was not her he feared. She had spoken about Zoe's death as if she had been present but there had been nobody else in the apartment other than Dracula; she had also pretended to be Zoe to stop the investigation into Dracula; and it was Dracula's lawyer who had arranged this meeting. There was a connection between all three actions that he could not ignore, especially when he'd seen for himself just how strongly Lucy had been drawn to the monster who had ended her life. "Where is Count Dracula?"

"He is close by," Agatha conceded, a hint of an apology in her tone. Upon seeing Jack's reaction to the information she added on hastily, "But do not worry: you are in no danger."

"In no danger," he repeated, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice. From what he understood, Agatha knew more than anyone how dangerous Count Dracula was and Jack had come unarmed, thinking that the sun would offer protection against the vampire and he'd only have to deal with Frank Renfield. Not that he was competent enough to drive a stake through Dracula's heart; his previous success in that department had relied upon Lucy's co-operation and he did not think the Count would give up so easily, though Jack would certainly try to kill the bastard if the means and opportunity arose. But that would not happen today.

Casting a second glance around the cemetery, the only movement being that of the mourners who seemed to be now parting ways, he focussed his attention back on Agatha, silently chiding his own actions. He'd let her resemblance to Zoe blind him to the fact that she was just as dangerous as Count Dracula and if they were, as he now feared, working together then he was in serious trouble. Sending the police Dracula's way and then pestering the vampire's lawyer for information had put him back on the Count's radar. "Dracula is going to kill me," he whispered, the reality of the situation settling deep in his bones.

"No," Agatha replied quickly and firmly. "Count Dracula and I have come to an agreement: there will be no more bloodshed."

A small scoff escaped Jack's mouth despite the perilous circumstances. Zoe had admired her ancestor for stopping Count Dracula reaching England's shores, even as she had attempted to undo all of that good work, so he knew that Agatha was a very capable person but he could not fathom what sort of deal she could make with the devil or why Dracula would ever agree. The Count was the kind of person who just took whatever he wanted. And yet he was struck, once again, by Agatha's sincerity. "You believed him?"

"Dracula and I go way back. I know when he is lying to me."

"That's what-" Jack began slowly, a memory of Zoe saying something very similar - in both sentiment and accent - suddenly swirling around his thoughts; what that recollection might mean was abandoned, along with the rest of the sentence, when Agatha's head whipped abruptly to one side. Following her line of sight his gaze landed on what appeared to be the beginnings of some sort of scuffle. Four men, dressed in dark suits, were circling in on two others, the taller of whom made Jack's heart beat increase rapidly.

It was too great a distance to ascertain the man's features in detail but there was something about the way he held himself that reminded him of Count Dracula. A quick glance at Agatha, and the deep frown that was now tugging at her mouth, seemed to confirm the identity.

Jack had been right earlier: this was a trap but it had not been set for him.