Mina by Elaine Bergstrom Read Free Book Online

emotions I feel are too new, too alien
and far too strong to have come from
    within me. I am being called
to my death, or worse.
    "How
dare you!" I whispered to the darkness around me. You swore to give me my
freedom. Keep your pledge and I keep
    mine."
    I turned back to Van Helsing, sleeping so soundly by the fire. I
moved close to him and sat, thinking of little save that I remain there, until
morning. For the first time in days, I was able to pull out my little journal
and write this account. Unlike the journey on the train, the writing gives me
no comfort, for I have suddenly noticed how easy it is to read my own words in
the flickering fire.
    My senses
are becoming like his. No wonder I think of this land as beautiful.
     
    November 5, dawn. I am alone,
utterly alone in this snow-covered wilderness, and I am thankful for my
solitude. The last day and night have been the most fascinating, and the most
terrible, of my life, and I need time to think-to sort reality from delusion,
to plan.
    Yesterday
began with frustration. Once we left the main road at the pass, Van Helsing and
I traveled down roads that seemed no
    better kept than footpaths, backtracking often when we were
certain we had gone the wrong way. We might have asked directions, but no one
seems to live in this land of jagged peaks and towering mountain pines. I find
myself realizing that it is not only Dracula that we must fear. The land
itself, desolate and gripped by the savage winter, holds its own dangers.
Without our team of horses and our well-laden wagon, we would be utterly lost.
    By
midmorning, the terrible lethargy gripped me again so that I was forced to
sleep and let poor Van Helsing do all of the work.
    Concerned about my condition-, he spoke to me often, calling to me
loudly when I dozed off and did not reply. I was furious at being disturbed,
and yet, after the temptation of the night before, I understood what troubled
him. Dracula's hold on me is growing stronger. Soon all I will need to do is
agree to the change and I will be as he is. The very fact that this nocturnal
pattern seems so natural horrifies me most of all.
    When I woke, it was late afternoon.
Van Helsing was dozing with the reins held loosely in his hands. The horses had
somehow found their own way to our destination, for the rotting walls of
Dracula's castle, exactly as Jonathan had described it, loomed on the hill
above us.
    I reached
for Van Helsing, intending to wake him, but my hand never touched him. Instead
I fell asleep until dark. Then I
    apparently woke with great difficulty for Van Helsing was shaking
me roughly and calling my name with some alarm until I opened my eyes.

As happened last night, I became
agitated and excited immediately after sunset. Van Helsing took my pulse and
felt my teeth. He did not have to say a word. My tongue had already confirmed
what he feared. They were longer, sharper, ready for use. I trembled while Van
Helsing wrapped me in the fur rugs we carried then marked a wide circle around
me in the snow. As I watched, curious for my body's reaction, he crumbled two
of the sacred hosts he had brought into the circle until I was surrounded with
a blessed barrier. I sat, horrified by the understanding of what he was doing.
Bloodless, cold as death itself, I watched him work.
    "Come
over to the fire," he called to me when he had finished.
    I understood
the test he was making. His eyes gleamed in the light; his hands tightened
around the stick he was using to tend the
    fire. I wanted to go to him,
to prove once and for all that I was not damned. I stood and took a step toward
him.
    As I did, the wind shifted, carrying
his scent to me-stale sweat, garlic from last night's meal and, over all, the
smell of blood. The attraction of the last overpowered the others. A hunger
coursed through my body as the blood coursed through his. I could fight the desire
to feed on him, indeed my dislike of him somehow made the act of feeding more
despicable, but the feeling