Jonathan Harker's Journal.
20 May, evening.—Arthur's funeral was very moving. All of us were there; his friends and family. Indeed, since that day we came together to rid the world of a bloodthirsty demon, we have become one family. And Arthur's passing is a blow to us all! Young Miss Holmwood fainted with grief at the loss of her father... John Seward and I took her home and revived her with some brandy. Poor, dear girl! She is very attached to her father... Young Lucy is now asleep, and Quincey and Arthur are keeping watch. I shall sleep on the settee in the parlour, in the event that my assistance is needed. If what Seward says is true, then we must take all precaution!
Strange... I feel some presence in the air... There! I can feel it! Good God! I can sense the Count's presence! But how? How can this be? We have vanquished him long ago! Could it be possible that the Count has come back from the dead? God help us, if it be so!
If the Count is alive, along with Morris, then there are two threats on the rise! We must keep the young ones safe—especially Arthur's daughters and mine...
___
21 May, midnight.—I had fallen asleep on the settee, though how long I have been asleep, I could not ascertain. All I know is that horrors swam in my head all through the night! God! My imprisonment at the castle... The demonic vampire women... Quincey Morris... I swear I dreamt of Morris sucking the very life out of my daughter! And the Count bending over and feeding on Elizabeth's blood! Faugh! But I fear most for Lucy and Mary...
Presently, I shook myself from my sleep. Through heavy eyelids, I saw Mary Holmwood walking the corridor, in her nightgown. She was in a trance-like state. At first, I thought she would go out, as Lucy did when she was hypnotized by the Count!
Good God! She went into her sister's room! What on earth she did there was beyond me, but I had a vague idea as to what she might've been doing there...
I rose from the settee—or rather, tried to rise—to stop her! But for some unexplainable reason, I was paralyzed! I could not move!
A cold chill ran down my spine! Vampires cannot enter a house unless invited! God, have mercy! Yes, that's it! She must've opened the window! Miss Mary Holmwood came out of her sister's room, walked down the corridor, and disappeared out of sight, perhaps to go back to her own room...
I stood, rushed into Miss Lucy's room, and what I saw with my eyes chilled me to heart! There, bending over poor Lucy's body was Quincey Morris! The storm had abated but a thick white mist was pouring into the room through the windows. I whipped out my pistol and threatened to fire.
As I was about to shoot, I froze, yet again! He laughed an evil laugh! It was a laugh that could have come only from hell! My heart was telling me to shoot the monster that was before me, but my mind was saying I could not shoot an old friend—a brother-in-arms! Whether it was my heart or my mind that told me so, I do not know... Nor do I care, at this very moment...
I re-placed the pistol into my pocket and drew my crucifix! He snarled and recoiled! Then, He came out the way He—It—came in!
I shook the sleeping young men, violently, gripping their shoulders! I had it in my mind to chastise them for forsaking their charge!
"Wake up! Wake up!" said I to my son, as I shook him from his sleep, "This is what comes of forsaking your charge!"
He awoke with a start, and his crucifix fell and tinkled to floor. He stood there—dumb—for but a few seconds, letting the horror sink in.
Then, he rushed over to Lucy's side, shook her, and knelt by her bedside. He wept.
Droplets of blood were on Ms. Holmwood's nightshirt, on her pillow, and on the coverlet.
"Oh, Lucy! Lucy! I had prayed to God you would not suffer the same fate as Ms. Westenra," Quincey sobbed, aloud, "Oh, God! God! God!"
Has he read the journals, then? If so, God be praised! He may be of a great help to us if he has already read the journals—and believed what it says! My boy Quincey is sensible and shall follow every word of the journals to the last iota. He will know what to do.
Presently, Arthur Holmwood (the Third) awoke. Horrified at the situation, he knelt by his sister's bedside and wept. Then, he stood, looking around. He whipped out his pistol and shouted, "Who did this? Who did this?"
"A vampire," said I, but I was cut off.
"Vampire?" said he, "You've lost your mind, sir!"
"Have you not read the journals?" my son Quincey said, heatedly, in my defence, "Have you not taken into consideration all your father's instructions? It is all written in the journals! Read it for yourself to find out!"
"Forgive me," said Arthur, "I have been under strain these past days. I beg your forgiveness, Uncle Jonathan, Quincey."
The young man was sincere. If he was not, why would he have drawn his pistol to fire? Obviously, he believes the stories in the journals—which Quincey must've shared with him.
He sat back down in his chair and toyed with his crucifix. He fell silent.
Suddenly, we heard a gasp. It was certainly from the doorway. We turned, and there stood Dr. Seward, Charles, John, Mary, Wilhelmina, and Elizabeth.
"Good God!" Charles Seward exclaimed, "What has happened here?"
"Was it the Count?" Dr. Seward asked, his voice laced with dread.
"It was Morris," said I.
"We must give her a blood transfusion!" said Quincey.
I looked to Dr. Seward, and then to Charles, then to Arthur, and finally to my boy Quincey.
"Can it be done?" I asked, looking to Seward.
"Luckily," said he, "I have my equipment at hand. Who among you brave gentlemen would be willing to give her his blood, in place of the amount she has lost?"
All of us volunteered to give the poor girl our blood.
___
Journal, Arthur Holmwood III.
21 May, One o'clock.—We were all in a frenzy, debating on whom should give his blood for Lucy. I spoke first, as I believe, I have a claim to be first.
"It is I who should give her my blood," said I, rather hotly, "After all, I am her twin brother. We have shared the same cradle from our infancy."
"I understand you have a claim, Art, but I'm afraid I must counter you. I shall give her my blood, for I am her fiancé. And as fiancé, I am to be her husband. I may not be her husband now, but I soon will be," said Quincey, standing up.
What demon possessed me to say I was happy to be his brother-in-law, I know not. All I know is that I have no desire, now, to be his brother-in-law. I do not wish Lucy to marry him!
Then, Charles Seward spoke up, "I shall give her my blood. She is like a sister to me, as I have no sister of my own."
"No," said Charles's brother John, "I shall give her my blood—"
But Uncle John cut him off, saying, "But my son, you are only fifteen. Your body will not be able to handle the transfusion. I will give her my blood. Arthur has been a brother to me in life, and the dear, little girl is as a daughter to me."
"I shall give her my blood," Uncle Jonathan said, "I have the same reason as that of Dr. Seward. I have always loved Lucy as though she were a daughter of mine. But, come! Let us not argue! She is losing blood, and we are running out of time!"
In the corner, the girls were crying, lamenting over Lucy's fate. Then, our sister Mary raised her head, spoke, and said, "I shall give her my blood."
We all looked at her, but she continued, saying, "I am responsible for this. If I had not opened the windows, this—Thing—would not have entered. Allow me to give her my blood as penance."
"If we are speaking of penance, then Arthur and I have the highest claim. We forsook our charge," said Quincey. He walked over to where I sat, laid a hand on my shoulder and added, "Come, now! You are her twin brother. You have more right to that claim than I, her husband."
I was moved by his speech, and I said, "Thank you, my friend. I shall do my best to save her."
We embraced, and he said, "We all shall save her."
"Come, now!" said Uncle John, "She is losing blood, and we are losing time."
And so it was that I gave my blood to Lucy.
I took off my coat, and rolled up my shirtsleeve. Uncle John prepared the equipment for the transfusion, and I said to Quincey, "You may kiss her."
He looked unsure, and so I nodded my approval. He approached her bedside, bent down, and kissed her softly on the lips. I turned, unable to watch.
After Uncle John had finished preparing the equipment, Charles helped him prepared me for the procedure. He took some gauze and applied alcohol to my arms, then injected the needle.
I write this while the transfusion takes place! God, I feel weaker, each minute! How long must this transfusion go on? But I had vowed to save Lucy's life! And I shall do whatever it takes to do so!
I feel so weak from the transfusion that...I cannot...write...any longer...