24 June, before morning.—Count locked himself in his room early tonight. No; locked me out, rather. Could he be locked in anywhere? Anyway, I ran up the winding stair as soon as I dared to and looked out to watch. I can't stop him, but I can't just do nothing. I'll lose my mind. Maybe I am losing it; I'm writing like an idiot.
Journal continues in a steadier, very deliberate hand
The Szgowlny must be around somewhere in the castle, doing something. Now and then I hear sounds like mattocks and spades far away. It's probably better not knowing what they're doing, but it's got to have Dracula all over it.
I was at the window less than half an hour before I saw Dracula climb out, and when he did I had to rub my eyes. It had to be Dracula – the climb was the same – but he was a fox now, wearing my clothes; the ones I wore that blasted day I came! He was carrying something, too, and after watching him I realized it was the bag he had thrown to the women that other night. My stomach twisted as the pieces all came together. This devil or whatever he is was going to pass as me wherever he was going. People would think I posted the letters – and that I did whatever else he might be up to tonight. My stomach twisted again, and I had to fight just to keep the little I'd eaten. When that was done I beat my fists on the floor. Damn Dracula; that monster; that devil! I worked my whole life, fox that I was, to earn a good name, and now he was out blackening it free as a bird while I was here with less freedom than a criminal to be hanged!
Finally I worked up the nerve to watch for the Count to come back. Even if I was helpless, I had to know. As I stared out, I noticed faint specks floating in the moonlight; like specks of dust, but whirling like leaves in a teapot. It was relaxing, watching them, and I made myself comfortable to watch.
Somewhere in the valley below started a piteous howling. "Timberwolves," I muttered. "What is it with wolves and the… howling?"
Suddenly I stiffened, remembering the wolves the night I came. Wolves had to mean something bad. Dracula? But the light; the specks; so soothing…
The truth hit me like a bucket of cold water. A spell! With everything else going on, it had to be something like that! I was being hypnotized!
As I blinked and shook my head to clear it, the howls got louder and the specks danced faster; clumping and scattering like they were trying to take shape. Even the moonbeams seemed to shiver somehow… and then I saw them. I screamed and ran like Satan was after me. Worse; it was the three ghostly women! The specks had become the three ghostly women! I didn't look back; didn't stop until I was back in my room – my cell – with the door shut and bolted behind me. I panted wildly, slamming and barring the window and waiting for them to float in through some crack. They didn't, and after a time I started to laugh like an idiot. They couldn't go where there was no moonlight, could they? No moonlight and a bright lamp burning? Even ghosts must have rules. Even mortals had to have some protection… right?
I was going mad. I knew I was, but who cared? What good was life in this place anyway?
It must have been hours later when I heard a stir in the Count's room; a sharp wail, quickly suppressed. The silence that followed was worse than anything; worse than the wail that had to be a child; worse than the wolves; worse than the women. With icy paws and my heart pounding, I tried the door. Locked from the outside! I sat down and cried. There was nothing I could do; nothing; nothing!
From out in the courtyard came another cry; the cry of a woman in agony. I staggered to the window and threw it open, staring between the bars. There she was; hair a mess, hands to her heart like she'd run herself half to death. She was leaning on a corner of the castle, and when she saw me she lunged forward, her voice twisted with rage.
"Monster!" she screamed, her voice ragged but desperate. "Give me my child! Give me back my chi-hi-hi-llld!"
If Satan had a heart, even his would have broken to hear her plea break off into sobbing. She cried it out over and over again, tearing her hair and beating the stones. She staggered forward, and even though I lost sight of her I could hear the hollow pounding of her fists on the door.
High overhead, I heard a sharp whisper, metallic as a knife coming out of its sheath. Dracula! His call was answered from far and wide by howls and shrieks worse than even the wolves. In a matter of minutes a horde of black shapes – maybe wolves, maybe not – poured into the courtyard where the woman was like water from a broken dam.
The woman didn't cry out, and the noise from the things was short. In just a few minutes they streamed away.
Deep down I found I couldn't even pity her. I knew where her kid was. Better she didn't.
And what about me? What hope do I have – what life do I have – trapped in a place like this?
25 June, morning.—It's amazing what you can do when you've got no choice but try or die. I think daylight helped, and when the sun hit the top of the gateway outside my window I knew I had to try something; anything. Last night Dracula sent out the first of those letters; the first in his plan to blot me off the Earth. Now I have to write just to think; come up with something.
All the bad things around here come at night; Dracula, those women, the wolves or whatever last night; all of it. I haven't seen Dracula in daylight once. If he's awake all night, maybe he sleeps during the day. That could be my chance. However, anything I could use to get out of here would have to be in his room, locked up tight. There's no way!
(Later)
I almost threw myself out the window just now, but I saw a way; one way. As I stared out wishing I could climb down to freedom like the Count, I saw his window. He gets out. I could get in. Even trying to write it I want to just go back and jump; better to die falling than wait for those women. But if I'm going to die anyway, at least let me die like a fox.
If I don't make it, goodbye everyone. Goodbye Clawkins, my friend and second father. Goodbye, Judy. Goodbye all.
