Charlotte plopped back onto the ground, sending up a cloud of yellow-brown dust. "It's not magic," she declared.
Opposite her, Jonathan scratched behind his ear. "Is it not magic, or is it just...really subtle magic?"
Charlotte gave him a long look. "It's not magic," she said again. "Look, I know magic. I know how it looks, how it feels, how it tastes. I don't know what Grace told you, but that's not magic and I don't appreciate getting dragged into a witch-hunt!"
Jonathan held up his hands. "Okay, okay, it's not magic. Grace just told me weird stuff was happening when the cook went off on her own and if I could pretty-please investigate, so I grabbed you. Figured you'd like a chance to get out of the library."
Charlotte gave him another look. Jonathan opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally slumped back against the rickety fence. "Okay, fine, that was a stupid assumption."
Charlotte turned around so they were sitting next to each other, backs against the fence. "The library has fans, you know. Great big ones."
"Sorry."
"Grace doesn't know the first thing about real magic. She thinks it's all seances and conjuring spirits."
"Yeah, I know."
They lapsed into silence. Jonathan risked another look through the dry slats of the fence. In the backyard of the mansion, a plump, middle-aged woman sang soft songs over a small hole that might've had something in it, or might not. Her voice cracked and wavered in the dry, still heat. Jonathan looked away, embarrassed. He'd fought Dracula. What was he doing, spying on some poor woman pouring belief into a ritual that gave her comfort? What would he have done if it was magic, run up and kill her like she was one of Dracula's monsters?
Charlotte didn't say anything, but from the way her chin rested on his knees, Jonathan was pretty sure the same thoughts were running through her head too. He sighed. Was living after fighting Dracula always such a letdown?
"I do...I do kind of wonder...if maybe my tubes aren't blown out or something." Charlotte's voice was very small.
"Huh?"
"Well, it's just that...everything in Dracula's castle was so big, so powerful...maybe it's like I took a surge of magic and it blew out my ability to sense subtle things. Like you were saying."
"Yeah, well...if you can't sense it, it's probably not a problem. We keep fighting Dracula because he's so big, right? If someone's just doing little witchcraft in the back of a ranch...you don't need the people who fought Dracula for that. It's like using a flamethrower against a gnat."
"Or an atomic bomb."
They were quiet again. The sound of Grace's cook's - he didn't even know her name - singing hovered on the edge of hearing, like a fly that hovered just out of reach. Nothing else disturbed the hot stillness, not even a breeze. Jonathan felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck.
"You know, with the war and all...planes and bombs and factories..." Jonathan started, "...could Dracula even do all that much damage, even if he got loose? I mean, maybe...humanity has become so powerful, they don't need us."
Charlotte didn't answer him for a long time. Then, quietly, "I wonder that too. I mean, he was powerful, overwhelming even, but when we came back..."
"Plain old humans could level entire cities." Jonathan finished.
"I suppose the question is how much damage Dracula could do, if we let him. We don't know. We - the Belmonts - never let him get that far."
"Could he level a city with one spell?"
Charlotte shook her head. "We don't know. A regular human...no. There's no way to build up the power necessary, even if you have a hyper-resonance manifold. But Dracula's strong, and he's had centuries to research magic. He might know stuff even we don't know."
"But he still lost to us."
"Yeah."
"And humans can definitely do worse than us."
"...yeah."
And that was all that could be said. Serious men in suits got together and talked and then suddenly humanity was more dangerous than the ancient vampire his father had died slaying. That Jonathan had died slaying. Just because he was still walking and talking didn't mean he wasn't dead, and Jonathan knew it. And neither him nor his father were as important to humanity's future as men in suits arguing in distant capitals.
What was the point in studying and fighting magic when the real danger was science all along?
Charlotte pushed her finger through the dirt. "We've got the AEC, at least. And I know scientists are pushing for a global version, so all atomic weapons and energy will be regulated by international law. I read an article."
"I read an article about what would happen if those bombs we dropped on Japan were dropped on New York or Chicago. They said that some people got hit and kept going, then fell over dead a week later, and it could happen to anyone if the bombs fell. Dead men walking." Just like him.
Charlotte kept quietly drawing in the dirt. Jonathan idly fingered the knife he'd brought along out of habit. The Vampire Killer was safely locked up in the chest at home, sleeping until it was needed once again. What would happen, Jonathan thought, if he hit one of those men in suits with it? The whip had some sort of consciousness buried in there. Would it understand? Could he explain that those men in suits had more power than Dracula?
He realised that the singing had stopped. He twisted his head around and saw the cook pour a bit of water into the hole and head back indoors. Her little ritual had apparently finished and absolutely nothing had changed. Jonathan felt annoyed at himself for coming out here in the first place, along with the swell of irritation that went with his useless morbid thoughts. "Screw this," he said, standing up and stretching. "Come on, if we go around the front I bet Grace'll give us some lemonade. We'll sit indoors and listen to the radio. Sam Spade'll be on soon."
"You mean Grace's cook will give us some lemonade," Charlotte said, standing up right after him. "I don't know what you see in that show, but at least it's better than sitting out here in the blazing sun talking about bombs."
"That's the spirit. Let's go!" Jonathan threw an arm around Charlotte's shoulders and dragged her around the side of the mansion over her giggling protests.
By the time they had gotten to the front, there was a cool breeze blowing and dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. "That's odd," Charlotte said, holding her hair in place. "The forecast didn't say anything about rain today."
"Eh, they always get it wrong," Jonathan said. He rang the doorbell a few times. "Hey, Grace! We solved your mystery!"