Vampire Polycula Chapter 2

More Vampire Polycula! (I did decide to split them into chapters otherwise Chapter 1 would be 7000 words long)

Jonathan’s eyes blazed with fury and he would’ve lunged at him if Arthur had not stopped him at the last second, grabbing his wrist. The previously blank expression had broken slightly, replaced with barely contained fear. His anger only made Dracula smile, revealing his sharp fangs. He stepped forward but Van Helsing moved to block his approach. Dracula glanced over at him, and the next second Van Helsing went flying into the wall nearly ten meters away.

Jonathan didn’t waste a second, tearing himself out of Arthur’s grasp and throwing himself at the monster. He moved faster than he would’ve thought possible, certainly faster than was possible for a human, grabbed him by the lapel, and raised his kukri over his heart, fully intending to pierce his chest with it. Yet his hand stopped long before he could make contact. It soon became a struggle to even hold the blade up, and he stayed still for several long seconds before his arm lowered harmlessly again against his will and he took a step back. He wanted to stab him again, but his body wouldn’t respond, like it couldn’t even conceive of the action, and instead he sheathed his blade.

It was then he realized that Dracula hadn’t even tried to dodge the attack, just smirked at Jonathan the entire time, maintaining eye contact, and was now just staring at him with a smile. “Very good, very good indeed!” he laughed. “You lasted even longer than I expected, and I did expect you to show some fight.”

Jack had run over to check on the professor, who for his part seemed alright for someone who had hit the wall with a rather sickening crack. “What did you do to me?” Jonathan asked, his mouth dry.

“In due time, in due time. We have several matters to discuss over dinner. Oh, and Mina? Put that away, you’ve seen how much good it will do you.” Dracula didn’t even look over at her as he spoke, but Jonathan glanced over to see his wife with her gun drawn and pointed at the vampire. Her hands were shaking, not with fear, but with a determination to fire when her muscles wouldn’t respond to the command. After a few more seconds, she lowered and holstered her gun. Dracula gestured to the open door with the staircase leading upward.

Jonathan had half a mind to spit in his face, but a quick glance at the others, and especially Van Helsing who was wincing as he climbed unsteadily to his feet, dissuaded the idea. They’d either go willingly, or the Count would make them, one way or another. Besides, he wanted answers, and the Count seemed amenable to giving them. So he followed, with the others close behind. Van Helsing brought up the rear, limping from the sudden attack, while unconvincingly assuring Jack that he was alright. Mina and Jonathan kept close to each other, hands interlaced, while Quincey stayed close to Arthur’s side. But even then, none of them were more than a meter from each other at any time.

Despising that he knew the way, Jonathan recognized as the Count lead them into the dining hall, where a lavish feast was laid out before them. Roast fowl, mămăligă, and paprika hendl already served up on plates, with wine goblets at each place and pitchers full of red in the middle of the table. One plate in particular had an extra helping of paprika hendl, and Jonathan was unclear whether this was the Count’s idea of hospitality or psychological torture.

Dracula took a seat at the head of the table, smiling and gesturing for them to sit. Seeing little other choice, they took their seats, staring at him with a mix of fear and hatred. “Go on, eat. I wouldn’t tamper with your food, and as Jonathan can tell you, I made it especially for you.”

“Can we even eat it?” Mina asked, gesturing to the food. Indeed, even though he felt hungry, the thought of eating did nothing to dissuade that ravenous hunger.

“You can,” Dracula confirmed. “You do not need to, and it will do nothing for you, but you can eat.” As if to prove his point, he took a bite of his own polenta, chewing and swallowing.

“Then what’s the point of this?” Arthur asked, gesturing to the spread of food. Dracula merely smiled, sending shivers down Jonathan’s spine. Playing human, playing house, taunting them with their lack of humanity, any of those or all of those.

Jack stared downward at the plate in front of him. “Why?” he asked, sounding a little broken. It was clear he wasn’t talking about the food.

Dracula leaned forward, expression suddenly shifting. “You nearly killed me.” His voice had turned from pretend host to that of a deadly, vicious monster. “You escaped me, you defied me, you fought me, you dismantled decades of carefully laid planning, and you nearly won. You should not have been able to escape my castle alive, you should not have been able to turn my influence on you against me, you should not have been able to keep that girl alive as long as you did, you should not have know what I am.”

His expression suddenly broke into a smile. “I have not had worthy opponents in centuries. Much less mortal ones.”

They all stared at him, in various states of shock and confusion, making him throw back his head and laugh. “Did you think I just made anyone into a creature of the night? I am rather selective, and I’d rather not keep uninteresting or unworthy company for eternity.”

“What about Lucy?” Arthur asked, voice hollow. “She didn’t do anything to you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So she did turn?” He shrugged absentmindedly. “Truth be told, I took her because she was a lovely meal, one of many.” Arthur’s eyes blazed with hatred and he flew to his feet, slamming the table with both hands, expression no longer blank and instead filled with hatred. “Then you kept her from me.”

Arthur stopped with whatever he was about to say, or do. “You kept her alive, treated her, trying to keep me at bay. It became more than just my evening meal: there was struggle a fight, a competition. I gave her some of my blood to keep the game going, to keep her strong enough to live for just a little bit longer, but I did not intentionally turn her.” Dracula tilted his head to one side. “I suppose you dealt with her for good. Seems a hasty decision now, doesn’t it?”

“She- she didn’t— she wasn’t Lucy anymore,” Arthur retorted.

“And are you her Arthur anymore?”

Arthur sank back into his seat, his expression turning pained, while Quincey took his steak knife and stabbed it into the table. The monster looked slightly miffed at the damage to his table. “Art is the same Art whose proposal she accepted! If she was here now, she’d say the same thing and you don’t get to talk about her as if you knew anything about her!”

Dracula took a sip out of his goblet, not saying a word in response until he had finished. “You’re from the new world, are you not? I’ve always meant to travel over there once colonies started to be established, but never found the time or will to travel that distance.”

“If the States are your Plan B, I can tell you that’s going to end in you tasting buckshot,” Quincey snarled.

“Oh, absolutely not.” He almost sounded offended by the idea. “Do you think me so much of a fool that I would try to establish any kind of rule, or permanent residence, in that sprawling, pithy excuse for a nation? Perhaps in a few decades, or a century, but as of now the logistics are such that I detest the idea.

“No, no, there may yet be a day when we return to your native England, but as of now, I’ve simply resigned myself to simply pouring more resources into encouraging travel through Transylvania.” He sighed and rested his head on one hand. “Certainly no plentiful hunting grounds, but it’ll do for us.”

“Us?! What makes you think that we will—” Jonathan started to snap.

“Drink blood?” Dracula asked, with a very condescending tone. Jonathan felt his fangs sink into his lower lip as he bit it out of nervous habit, which did nothing to fend off the realization that this devil had a point.

“There’s nothing stopping us from simply refusing,” Mina countered, her voice level and calm.

Dracula bore his gaze into her, and yet Mina never wavered for a second, or shrank from him. “Have you ever starved, dear Mina?”

“I have.”

The answer apparently took the vampire by surprise, and it showed just for a second, before he recovered as if nothing had happened. “Then remember that feeling, deepen the hunger, but you don’t die, and know you will never die from that starvation.”

That caused a flicker in her eyes, but she still leaned forward. “And what if I’d prefer that to killing?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “Full of surprises, you prove me right in making you mine.” Before anyone could respond, despite all having very strong opinions on that statement, he leaned back in his chair and added, “If you do not wish to kill, I won’t make you hunt for your own food. I’m perfectly capable of providing for you.”

The way he said that sent a chill down Jonathan’s spine. Just like when he was promising to be a good host, that he was just some wealthy nobleman, that he wasn’t already holding him prisoner. Mina grabbed his hand, likely noticing the look in his eyes. “We don’t want anything from you,” she snarled.

“All you have, and all you are, is from me!” he snapped. “You will see it before long! Even if it takes years, or decades, to burn that lingering notion of your humanity from your minds.”

“All we are is dead because of you!” Jonathan retorted.

“Your mortality would have inflicted that upon you soon enough! I have given you life anew! Life forever at my side!”

“And what makes you think we want that?!”

He leveled a glare at Jonathan, red eyes boring into his, deep into his soul, or whatever was left of it. “What makes you think you have a choice?” The anger faded from his eyes and he settled back down. “Petulant children… although, I suppose I would be disappointed if you were perfectly obedient.”

Jonathan wanted to scream at him some more, but felt faint and sat back down, reaching for the wine to reinvigorate himself. He drank deeply, and found it had a pleasant taste: rich, slightly sweet, and with a slight tangy aftertaste, but with no noticeable flavor of alcohol. Dracula watched him, then sighed. “Look at you all, exerting yourselves so quickly after turning. You should relax, feast, rest.”

“You can see how it is a small bit hard to relax in front of you.” Van Helsing was rubbing his shoulder where he hit the wall, his voice venom. Even Jack looked a little shocked by his tone.

Dracula eyed his shoulder. “That was hardly damaging, and a little pain now is good for you. It’ll dissuade you from making worse mistakes later.”

Speaking of that incident… “What did you do to me?” Jonathan asked. “I couldn’t—”

“Attack me? Try to stake me through the heart? Remove my head, perhaps?” Dracula asked, half-laughing. “Jonathan, perhaps I should reiterate: all you have, and all you are, is from me.”

“Do you plan to explain what that means in this context?” Van Helsing asked.

“It means you are my progeny, mine, and progeny cannot kill their sires.”

Jonathan opened his mouth, then closed it again as Dracula grabbed his steak knife and held it, hilt first, out toward him. “My dear Jonathan, would you like to attempt to drive this through my heart? Then remove my head?”

It was an odd feeling, but he felt more fear at the thought of taking the knife than he had going after Dracula in the first place, and he doubted it had anything to do with being turned, not exactly. After all, he still very much wanted to kill the vampire. But the feeling of his hand stopping, of refusing to go through with the act, how complacently he retreated, even putting away his weapon, the thought of it happening again made him nearly faint.

Mina’s gaze met his out of the corner of his eye, then, with a resolved expression, she took the knife and stood up, walking calmly over to the Count. He smiled in amusement as she placed the blade upon his chest, pointed directly at his chest. Her arms began to tremble as she held the knife, eyes narrowing and nose scrunching in that way she did when she was deep in thought, trying to figure out a problem who eluded any obvious solution, then at last the knife lowered and was set back upon the table. Her eyes looked slightly glazed for a second as she retook her seat, then blazed again with unchecked fury. The look in her eyes made something snap in him and he snatched up the knife again and tried to pierce the monster’s heart, but he barely even left his chair.

Throughout, Dracula just smiled. “You can try all you like, but you cannot kill me. Now, how about we have a more civilized meal and discuss more relevant matters than who can kill who?”

Something about that statement sounded like a threat, but Jonathan was far too overwhelmed and shell-shocked to care. He watched Jack reach across the table and take a long sip out of his cup, with an equally nervous expression. “What else is there?”

“Room assignments, a tour, general rules—”

“Room assignments?” Arthur interjected, and Jonathan’s unbeating heart dropped into his stomach as he realized the implications.

“With no due respect, what makes you think we’ll be staying here?” Quincey demanded.

“What makes you think you can leave?”

“Jonathan did it.”

Dracula paused for a very, very long time. “Our dear friend Jonathan was human when he fled my castle for the first time, and I was not present to stop him.”

“You would think the abilities of a vampire would make it easier this time, no?” Van Helsing added on, then he darkly added, “Or are you accounting for the weaknesses as well?”

“I am accounting for both, and have you forgotten that you are under my control? You will not leave this castle without my permission, or you will regret the attempt, do I make myself clear?” He settled back down. “If you insist on fighting with me on this for the rest of the night, I can simply lock you in the basement until you are willing to see reason.”

Jonathan was about to tell him to go ahead and do so, but Mina placed a hand on his thigh and looked pointedly at Jack and Arthur. Both looked tired, shell-shocked, and as if they would fall over at a slight breeze. Even if they wanted to be defiant, they would not be the ones paying for it most. Quincey and Van Helsing seemed to realize the same thing, as they shut up and resigned themselves to merely glaring daggers at the vampire.

The smug look on his face did not help the growing urge to fruitlessly try to stake him again. “Very well, perhaps now would be a good time to go over rules. You all may feast while I talk, it may help you hold your tongues.”

Quincey took a long, slow sip out of his cup, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Despite doing exactly as Dracula had suggested, it was very clear his intention had nothing to do with being compliant. However, the defiant compliance seemed to do nothing more than please the monster, as he clearly fought back a chuckle. “First, you will not attempt to leave the grounds of the castle without my permission. You have free reign of the castle, the grounds, and any rooms which do not belong to anyone else, but no further. Second, you will not feast upon anyone I do not allow you to, and you will especially not take any who belong to me.”

“Absolutely not,” Arthur whispered, shaking his head. “I won’t drink from an innocent person.”

Dracula raised an eyebrow. “Still concerned with that, even now?” He seemed more surprised than anything else. “No matter, you’ll feast once I give you your first fresh meal.” Continuing on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “Third, you will not attempt to seriously harm myself or any of your fellow progeny. And finally, you will not attempt to undermine my plans.”

“And what are those plans?” Van Helsing demanded.

“For now…” Dracula leveled at them a small, sinister smile with unblinking eyes. “Enjoying my new trophies.”

Trophies. Spoils of war, new toys, prized possessions, objects. That’s how he viewed them. Like a hunter returning from afar with muzzled tiger cubs to keep as exotic pets. What’s worse, was he right? Jonathan certainly felt like a caged animal, even more so with the fangs. His tongue kept catching them, reminding him constantly of his lack of humanity.

Then Dracula let out a dramatic sigh. “But nothing drastic or grand quite yet, I’m afraid.”

Quincey glared at him, murderous hatred in his eyes, then his expression eased into something more neutral. He downed the rest of his glass, then asked, “You said we’re not allowed to seriously harm you?”

“That is correct.”

“And we can’t kill you?”

Dracula smiled. “You can try, but no, you cannot.”

Quincey nodded, deep in thought, then took out his gun and shot Dracula in the chest.

Blood sprayed from the wound and the gunshot echoed throughout the room. Dracula doubled over and hacked up a mouthful of blood, then lifted his head in a slow, continuous motion, hate burning in his eyes. Quincey pocketed the gun again hastily, expression still neutral but hands shaking, as he met the Count’s gaze. “Reckoned that wasn’t going to kill you.”

A second passed, then Quincey was no longer seated in his chair and Dracula was no longer clutching at his chest. Dracula held him aloft, feet nearly half a meter above the ground, hand around his neck. It was only for a second, though, before he threw him to the ground, with enough force that Jonathan heard a crunch as Quincey hit the floor along with a cry of pain followed by labored breathing. Dracula narrowed his eyes and stepped on Quincey’s neck, stopping his gasps for air as he forcefully closed his trachea. “Break that useless habit, you have no need for it anymore.”

“Leave him alone!” Something seemed to snap in Arthur and he leapt to his feet, but Dracula just kicked Quincey over to him.

“Keep him under control,” Dracula said coldly. “Unless you don’t mind failing yet another person you once loved.”

Jack knelt down next to Quincey, checking his injuries. He tried to check for his pulse, then stopped, hand falling to his side. Quincey tried to say something, likely trying to be comforting, but couldn’t get enough air.

Dracula just stepped past them, laying a hand on the table. “Since you clearly have more on your minds than eating, and dawn is fast-approaching, you can retire to your bedchambers. You have your choice of rooms. Perhaps one of the chambers in the east tower, one of the four-bedroom suites with a common area, or if I might suggest, Jonathan, you and your Mina may prefer to take up residence in your old room?”

The words were stated clearly, but somehow their meaning stayed lost to Jonathan, how he could be talking about living arrangements while Quincey lay crumpled on the ground in Arthur’s lap. Mina answered for him. “The suite.” Van Helsing gave her an incredulous look and Dracula raised an eyebrow.

“Such a decisive answer—”

“For all of us.”

That gave him pause, but Van Helsing’s eyes lit up. “There are only four bedchambers—”

“Jonathan and I only need one,” she countered. “And none of us are staying alone here.”

He scoffed. “If you insist, so be it. Let me know when you want to change rooming arrangements. Now, I think it is time you all retire. Perhaps your tempers will be more under control after you’ve had time to rest.”

Summary: After the mysterious disappearance of her partner, Jonathan Harker, Detective Agatha Van Helsing finds herself delving into a case that is otherworldly.

Rating: T

Pairing: Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you for all of the love and support, guys! You make these frequent updates happen! Okay, here's chapter two! -Jen

                                           Chapter Two

It's a common belief that one must wait twenty four hours before reporting a person missing. But such isn't the case under certain circumstances. However, given that only a few hours had passed and Mina Harker, as sweet as she was, had a tendency of being overwhelmingly worried about her husband's welfare, Agatha's concern wasn't off the charts. Still, the man was her partner and it was rather strange that he hadn't returned home.

The lights of police cars danced in front of the Harker household, spotlighting Mina as she stood out front, huddled in an oversize jacket. The detective stood by her, a notepad out with the intent of treating this like any other case. She had dealt with many missing persons cases, but this one was personal. But she swore to herself, for the time being, to treat it as if it were any other report. She needed to remain calm. Mindful. For Mina's sake.

"I tried calling, and texting," the woman sniffed, rubbing her nose on the edge of her sleeve. I even drove around a bit. He took a cab into work today-his car is having work done, and then I was to pick him up from the coach station. When he didn't show up, I went home. I thought that maybe...maybe…"

"How about we sit down to a cup of tea?" Agatha suggested, quite uncertain how to ease her partner's wife. "We'll figure this out. I'm just John is fine. He's a detective after all, he's trained to defend himself." Her eyes flickered over to the other officers. "Start a search extending a kilometer from the station. Missing person is Jonathan Harker. Last seen at West Yorkshire police station wearing standard uniform. Blue eyes, blond hair, keep a lookout for a black smartphone. And," she tried not to grimace. "Someone call the hospital. Make sure no one matching Jonathan's description has been admitted."

The detective wanted nothing more than to jump right into the action. But Mina needed her, and she owed that much to Jonathan. Following the woman inside, she took a seat at the kitchen table, watching the woman's shaking hands as she prepared enough brew for two people.

"Thank you," she said, accepting a cup from Mrs. Harker. "Mina, I can assure you we'll get to the bottom of this." At least, she would as soon as she found a means of getting out of there. "We will find John," Agatha took a sip, choosing her next words carefully. "Is there anyone I can call? A neighbor? A friend? Someone who can stay with you right now?"

"Maybe the Tinsleys across the way," her voice wavered. "I'd hate to bother them."

"I'm quite sure they'd understand," Agatha assured her. "Look, Mina, I know John better than anyone else. I really don't wish to leave you like this, but if anyone can find him…"

"I know," Mina said quietly, a weak smile crossing her features. "It's you." She took a rather large gulp of tea. "Thank you, Agatha, for taking this seriously. I know I must sound so silly, but I know Johnny…"

"As do I," the detective agreed. "Which is why I must go. Call your neighbors and if you have any issues or if Jonathan shows back up. You have my number. I'll keep the ringer up so I can hear you if you buzz."

As Detective Van Helsing stood up, she was caught slightly off guard as the woman wrapped her arms tightly around her. Mina buried her face in Agatha's shoulder, inhaling sharply as she pulled back.

"I have no doubt you'll bring my Johnny home," she nodded. "If anyone can find him, it's Detective Van Helsing."

                                                    XXX

Detective Jonathan Harker awoke with a start. He blinked, his vision blurred as he fought back a throbbing headache. As he tried to sit up, he found his body unable to. Weak. Drained. What had happened to him? Did he faint? Was he attacked? Robbed? The side of his neck burned as if two hot coals had been pressed into the sensitive flesh.

"Harvey, you stupid prick! I cannot believe you did this!"

Jonathan squinted, making out three figures from where he laid on the floor. Two men and a woman, none of which he recognized. The detective tried to call out, but his mouth was dry. Fear beginning to rise in his chest, he could only watch from afar.

"I can," Lucy snorted, sneering at Harvey. "You screwed up big time, Ruthven. When Dracula comes back, he'll stake you on the spot for sure."

"Not only did you go against his word, but you brought the damn blood bag with you?!" Quincey growled, sizing Harvey up. "Do you even know who this asshole is?!"

"Detective Jonathan Harker of the West Yorkshire Police Department," the woman smirked, circling around Harvey. "The most esteemed officer on the force? Drac's favorite meddlesome human?" She grinned, clearly enjoying the man's growing realization of his error. "Agatha Van Helsing."

"I panicked!" Lord Ruthven hissed. "You would've done the same!"

"I wouldn't have made the mistake from the start!" Quincey shot back. "I should save Dracula the trouble and-"

"Save me from what kind of trouble?"

The three vampires turned to see their leader standing in the doorway. Jonathan bit his bottom lip, trying to keep calm. No one had seemed to notice he was awake yet. After witnessing what he had, he decided it was probably best to stay that way. He closed his eyes, trying to maintain his breathing.

"Harvey brought home a little surprise," Lucy chirped. "Didn't you, Harvey?"

The detective could feel the vampire's eyes on him as a low growl rumbled deep from within the count's chest. Dracula strode forward, a hand grasping around Harvey's neck. The man squeaked in surprise as he was thrust into the air. Frank, who had been elsewhere, finally came to inspect the commotion and froze in place.

"You fool," the count hissed. "You blithering idiot! Could I have not been more clear?"

"I…" Lord Ruthven struggled, stumbling over his words. "I'm sorry-"

"Dawn's in a few hours, we could just tie him to a cross and leave him outside," Quincey suggested.

"But that would require one of us obtaining and touching the cross…" Frank said quietly, trying to enter into the conversation.

"Oh shut up, Frankie," Lucy sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're taking the fun out of this!"

With all five vampires preoccupied, Jonthan began to wrack his mind on ways to escape. These people-or whatever they were, didn't have the intention of letting him go. As he tried to slowly push himself up, a sharp rock pressed into his left palm causing the man to let out a small yelp. Immediately, the room fell silent.

"Someone's awake," the female vampire smiled, cocking her head curiously. "And to think I actually thought he was dead."

Dracula dropped Harvey to the floor, the corners of his lips curving into a smirk. Lord Ruthven, taking his chance scurried away to another part of the mansion. Trying his best, the detective tried to scoot back, but the creature was already looming over him.

"Detective Jonathan Harker," he mused. "It's both a delight and a regret to see you in my home. You know, I've been growing very weary of your investigations involving my little family." When the man's eyes widened the vampire scoffed. "Don't act so surprised. By now, you've surely started to piece things together."

"The Whitby Ripper bit or the vampires?" Quincey questioned. Dracula threw a dark glare in the man's direction and he fell silent.

"Apparently one of my own couldn't control himself for a second time and you just happened to be the winner of the lottery," he reached down and touched the bite mark on the detective's neck. Jonathan winced, letting out a small cry. "Now I've been put in quite a difficult situation. What to do with you. What to do with you…" He hummed to himself, beginning to pace. "I could just kill you. That is an easy option," he paused. "But where's the fun in that?"

Jonathan tried to shy away, but the mere act of moving was painful. The elder vampire easily caught on and placed his foot right on the detective's ankle. With a swift stomp, the sickening snap of bone sounded, the detective letting out a scream. Lucy giggled, clinging to Quincey's arm as her lover looked on curiously.

"I do apologize," the vampire said, feigning pity. "But I can't have you leaving. You just got here. You're my first live guest in awhile...or rather, one that has remained alive this long." He looked the writhing man up and down, noticing a square shaped object in his pocket. "Well, hello there."

The detective could do nothing as the man reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Several missed calls and messages. Muted. Perhaps that's why they were never answered. Dracula's grinned widened maliciously as he grabbed Jonathan's thumb and unlocked the device.

"Who to call, who to call," he considered, scrolling through the contacts. "Mina? Your lovely wife who must be terribly worried? Your boss? A mechanic? Oh...no, I know," his finger stopped moving. "Let's play a little game, Johnny," he said, meeting the pained man's eyes. "I do love a good hunt…"

                                                       XXX

Agatha had been searching the streets for over an hour with absolutely no luck. No one from her team had reported anything out of the ordinary. No crimes. Nothing out of place. She let out a huff of frustration.

"Dammit, Jonathan," she muttered. "Where the hell are you?"

Just then, her cell phone began to buzz. Immediately, the detective grabbed it and stared in shock at the name. Jonathan Harker. A wave of relief and annoyance rushed over her as she was quick to answer it.

"John," she exclaimed. "Where have you been? Everyone has-"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid Detective Harker is unable to come to the phone right now."

Agatha blood ran cold, a lump forming in her throat. The cool, teasing voice did not belong to her partner. It hadn't been Jonathan who had called nor answered.

"Who is this?" She replied, trying not to let her anger show. "What have you done with my partner?"

"Oh Detective Van Helsing-may I call you, Agatha? I can't quite say. However, let's just say that lovely cold case of yours is about to get very hot. Think of this as a game of chess. You and me. I like games, do you, Agatha? So let's play. Your partner's life depends on it."

Let the game begin.

Dr. Seward's Diary.

1 October, 4 a.m. -- Just as we were about to leave the house, an urgent message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I would see him at once, as he had something of the utmost importance to say to me. I told the messenger to say that I would attend to his wishes in the morning; I was busy just at the moment. The attendant added:---

"He seems very importunate, sir. I have never seen him so eager. I don't know but what, if you don't see him soon, he will have one of his violent fits." I knew the man would not have said this without some cause, so I said: "All right; I'll go now"; and I asked the others to wait a few minutes for me, as I had to go and see my "patient."

"Take me with you, friend John," said the Professor. "His case in your diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and again on our case. I should much like to see him, and especial when his mind is disturbed."

"May I come also?" asked Lord Godalming.

"Me too?" said Quincey Morris. "May I come?" said Harker. I nodded, and we all went down the passage together.

We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but far more rational in his speech and manner than I had ever seen him. There was an unusual understanding of himself, which was unlike anything I had ever met with in a lunatic; and he took it for granted that his reasons would prevail with others entirely sane. We all four went into the room, but none of the others at first said anything. His request was that I would at once release him from the asylum and send him home. This he backed up with arguments regarding his complete recovery, and adduced his own existing sanity. "I appeal to your friends," he said, "they will, perhaps, not mind sitting in judgment on my case. By the way, you have not introduced me." I was so much astonished, that the oddness of introducing a madman in an asylum did not strike me at the moment; and, besides, there was a certain dignity in the man's manner, so much of the habit of equality, that I at once made the introduction: "Lord Godalming; Professor Van Helsing; Mr. Quincey Morris, of Texas; Mr. Renfield." He shook hands with each of them, saying in turn:---

"Lord Godalming, I had the honour of seconding your father at the Windham; I grieve to know, by your holding the title, that he is no more. He was a man loved and honoured by all who knew him; and in his youth was, I have heard, the inventor of a burnt rum punch, much patronised on Derby night. Mr. Morris, you should be proud of your great state. Its reception into the Union was a precedent which may have far-reaching effects hereafter, when the Pole and the Tropics may hold alliance to the Stars and Stripes. The power of Treaty may yet prove a vast engine of enlargement, when the Monroe doctrine takes its true place as a political fable. What shall any man say of his pleasure at meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping all forms of conventional prefix. When an individual has revolutionised therapeutics by his discovery of the continuous evolution of brain-matter, conventional forms are unfitting, since they would seem to limit him to one of a class. You, gentlemen, who by nationality, by heredity, or by the possession of natural gifts, are fitted to hold your respective places in the moving world, I take to witness that I am as sane as at least the majority of men who are in full possession of their liberties. And I am sure that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist as well as scientist, will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to be considered as under exceptional circumstances." He made this last appeal with a courtly air of conviction which was not without its own charm.

I think we were all staggered. For my own part, I was under the conviction, despite my knowledge of the man's character and history, that his reason had been restored; and I felt under a strong impulse to tell him that I was satisfied as to his sanity, and would see about the necessary formalities for his release in the morning. I thought it better to wait, however, before making so grave a statement, for of old I knew the sudden changes to which this particular patient was liable. So I contented myself with making a general statement that he appeared to be improving very rapidly; that I would have a longer chat with him in the morning, and would then see what I could do in the direction of meeting his wishes. This did not at all satisfy him, for he said quickly:---

"But I fear, Dr. Seward, that you hardly apprehend my wish. I desire to go at once -- here -- now -- this very hour -- this very moment, if I may. Time presses, and in our implied agreement with the old scytheman it is of the essence of the contract. I am sure it is only necessary to put before so admirable a practitioner as Dr. Seward so simple, yet so momentous a wish, to ensure its fulfilment." He looked at me keenly, and seeing the negative in my face, turned to the others, and scrutinised them closely. Not meeting any sufficient response, he went on:---

"Is it possible that I have erred in my supposition?"

"You have," I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt, brutally. There was a considerable pause, and then he said slowly:---

"Then I suppose I must only shift my ground of request. Let me ask for this concession -- boon, privilege, what you will. I am content to implore in such a case, not on personal grounds, but for the sake of others. I am not at liberty to give you the whole of my reasons; but you may, I assure you, take it from me that they are good ones, sound and unselfish, and spring from the highest sense of duty. Could you look, sir, into my heart, you would approve to the full the sentiments which animate me. Nay, more, you would count me amongst the best and truest of your friends." Again he looked at us all keenly. I had a growing conviction that this sudden change of his entire intellectual method was but yet another form or phase of his madness, and so determined to let him go on a little longer, knowing from experience that he would, like all lunatics, give himself away in the end. Van Helsing was gazing at him with a look of utmost intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting with the fixed concentration of his look. He said to Renfield in a tone which did not surprise me at the time, but only when I thought of it afterwards -- for it was as of one addressing an equal:---

"Can you not tell frankly your real reason for wishing to be free to-night? I will undertake that if you will satisfy even me -- a stranger, without prejudice, and with the habit of keeping an open mind -- Dr. Seward will give you, at his own risk and on his own responsibility, the privilege you seek." He shook his head sadly, and with a look of poignant regret on his face. The Professor went on:---

"Come, sir, bethink yourself. You claim the privilege of reason in the highest degree, since you seek to impress us with your complete reasonableness. You do this, whose sanity we have reason to doubt, since you are not yet released from medical treatment for this very defect. If you will not help us in our effort to choose the wisest course, how can we perform the duty which you yourself put upon us? Be wise, and help us; and if we can we shall aid you to achieve your wish." He still shook his head as he said:---

"Dr. Van Helsing, I have nothing to say. Your argument is complete, and if I were free to speak I should not hesitate a moment; but I am not my own master in the matter. I can only ask you to trust me. If I am refused, the responsibility does not rest with me." I thought it was now time to end the scene, which was becoming too comically grave, so I went towards the door, simply saying:---

"Come, my friends, we have work to do. Good-night."

As, however, I got near the door, a new change came over the patient. He moved towards me so quickly that for the moment I feared that he was about to make another homicidal attack. My fears, however, were groundless, for he held up his two hands imploringly, and made his petition in a moving manner. As he saw that the very excess of his emotion was militating against him, by restoring us more to our old relations, he became still more demonstrative. I glanced at Van Helsing, and saw my conviction reflected in his eyes; so I became a little more fixed in my manner, if not more stern, and motioned to him that his efforts were unavailing. I had previously seen something of the same constantly growing excitement in him when he had to make some request of which at the time he had thought much, such, for instance, as when he wanted a cat; and I was prepared to see the collapse into the same sullen acquiescence on this occasion. My expectation was not realised, for, when he found that his appeal would not be successful, he got into quite a frantic condition. He threw himself on his knees, and held up his hands, wringing them in plaintive supplication, and poured forth a torrent of entreaty, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, and his whole face and form expressive of the deepest emotion:---

"Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you, to let me out of this house at once. Send me away how you will and where you will; send keepers with me with whips and chains; let them take me in a strait-waistcoat, manacled and leg-ironed, even to a gaol; but let me go out of this. You don't know what you do by keeping me here. I am speaking from the depths of my heart -- of my very soul. You don't know whom you wrong, or how; and I may not tell. Woe is me! I may not tell. By all you hold sacred -- by all you hold dear -- by your love that is lost -- by your hope that lives -- for the sake of the Almighty, take me out of this and save my soul from guilt! Can't you hear me, man? Can't you understand? Will you never learn? Don't you know that I am sane and earnest now; that I am no lunatic in a mad fit, but a sane man fighting for his soul? Oh, hear me! hear me! Let me go! let me go! let me go!"

I thought that the longer this went on the wilder he would get, and so would bring on a fit; so I took him by the hand and raised him up.

"Come," I said sternly, "no more of this; we have had quite enough already. Get to your bed and try to behave more discreetly."

He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several moments. Then, without a word, he rose and moving over, sat down on the side of the bed. The collapse had come, as on former occasion, just as I had expected.

When I was leaving the room, last of our party, he said to me in a quiet, well-bred voice:---

"You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the justice to bear in mind, later on, that I did what I could to convince you to-night."

Unbelieveable (Original Story)

So even though I haven’t gone on Ao3 in a really long time, I have been working on school and other personal projects...

And that includes a genderbend AU.

Yup! I've been currently writing a story that centers around a genderbend classic adventuring party AU based on this post. Because it does not belong to a fandom, I can't post it to Ao3, but it is available on my Wattpad! Without the "behind-the-scenes" background inspiration on characters, this can be seen as an original story on it's own! Yes, I am aware it's spelt wrong, but my friend Megan, who I'm collabing with on this fic (she's going to make art and animatics with VOICE ACTING from our friends! It's so exciting!) is the one who named it, and so the series is named that way forever I guess. I've decided to post it here to Tumblr as well. I hope you'll give it at least a little skim!

Series Summary

Briana is tired of the life of a princess, and wants to go on adventures sailing the vast sea. One night, she gets the offer along with her two trusted knights and a group of her friends from a mysterious drunk who claims to be a pirate... Join a "band" of adventurers as they set off into a journey filled with comedic moments, treasures, and ships... of both kinds!

Genderbend/Classic Adventuring Party/Pirate AU featuring friends. Roles of all the characters in the story will be explained as they appear, and loosely based off a zodiac textpost. All roles explained in the first chapter. Characters involved in the story: *Names are listed as "genderbend first name, last name, (irl person first name)". Evan Maldo (Emma) Mason Shen (Megan) Kaleb Ung (Kayla) Ashley Khon (Asher) Erica Ai (Eric) Briana Min (Brandon) Aden Daniel Bale Chan (Belle) Nicholas Ye (Nichole) Hannah Chu (Hansen) Sabrina/Sabi Cusainovic (Sebastian/Sebi) Carlos Obrusnik (Carmela) Anthony Carillo (Anna) Kaden Vasquez (Kassandra) Brenda Lee (Brendon) Created 09/04/17 in collaboration with dis_lazy_otaku.

Chapter 1: The Royal Ball (Briana's POV)

"And I present to you, Princess Briana of Uminami!" Hundreds of individuals in attendance bow or curtsy in respect as I enter the ball room. Straighten your spine, smile, greet other attendants, act like the princess that is expected at a diplomatic ball, blah blah blah.

No thanks. I'd rather be with the pirates.

Externally, I am that perfect princess. Briana of the royal Min family and crown princess of Uminami. But internally, fuck all of that. I want to be Briana. Just Briana. No royal duties, no "suitors" to be married to (almost all of them are dickbags anyway), no titles. No connection to the royal family, because frankly they pressure me on my future as a "princess" and it's not like I'm already pushed to the brink with all my studies as it is. I make my way over to a corner in the ballroom where no one really goes to. Others have said it has this weird dark aura that radiates depression. I find it the best spot in the vast area where I am trapped tonight, because everyone avoids it. I want to be free from all this, free to do whatever I want. Fuck hierarchy. Fuck the law. Fuck this b- "Hello there miss." I look up to see a prince with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, that one hairstyle I've deemed "The Fuckboy Haircut™", and a suit decorated with medals and pins. He probably bought them to make himself look good. In summary, I could already tell this guy was a total douche. Fuck the external perfect imagery. "I was wondering why what a wonderful lady such as y-" "Yourself is hanging out in a shady corner all by herself, yadayadayada. Go away, I've heard all this before," I say, quickly shutting down the dickbag prince and giving a death glare. "Aw, c'mon sweetie," he said back, "don't say that to Prince Quincey, future ruler of Uminami." My cold stare intensifies. "How about you go marry some other princess who actually falls for your shit so called 'flirting techniques', because it's not going to work on me buddy. So final warning, back off." Can't this guy seriously take a hint? I think. To be safe, I look over to my most trusted knights, who are standing guard not too far away from me. They catch my glance, nod, and silently march over to me, ready to back me up. Prince Quincey, however, does not notice, and I can clearly see the annoyance in his eyes. "You know, a princess should not have such a filthy mouth," he says while slowly invading my personal space. "But no matter. It'll be even filthier when you su-" His advancements are stopped with a quick kick in the shin from my foot. I was aiming for his genitalia, but it'll do. "Princes like you are such hypocrites. I told you, final warning. Next thing I will kick is your ass out of this castle and Uminami if you do not cease your behavior this instant." "Why you-!" Prince Quincey snarled. The look on his face was hilarious. "I'll show you who is dominant in this society." He stepped dangerously close when two swords blocked the distance between me and him. "Huh?" Quincey said, stepping back when he saw Kaleb and Evan, my guards who I mentioned earlier, as well as some of my closest friends, cross their weapons in front of me. "With all due respect, your majesty, the crown princess of Uminami does not appreciate your unauthorized advances," Kaleb said, his voice dangerously low. I could see his jaw clench. Evan slowly stepped towards Prince Dickbag, sword poised to strike. "Rest assured, Princess Briana could probably take down your prideful gait in a flash, as I am eyewitness to that. If were not for her being a representative of her kingdom, you would already be out cold." His face laced with displeasure and anger... his trademark "Angry Dad Glare™", as we called it, had resurfaced once again. He held up his sword to the prince's neck. "She has said it twice, she does not have to say it again. Step. Away. From. The princess." Quincey faltered, fearful eyes darting from Evan's sword to his face. Then he sneered. "Now, I remember you. You're Evan Maldo, that commoner that always snapped at me and my comrades. You disappeared from my kingdom a while after. Glad to get rid of scum like you." "Hierarchy does not determine purity of the heart and soul. Maybe you could learn a thing or two if you actually paid attention to your royal studies." Evan's face remained unamused and stony, his voice steady. "I will warn you one last time to step off, or I will show you how this commoner became a royal knight." He pressed his blade closer to the douchebag's jugular. "May I also mention I know the places where a body bleeds out the fastest?" Prince Fuckboy whimpered, then stepped back, tripping and falling on his ass. "My father will hear about this, and there will be no trade deals with our kingdoms!" "For what," Kaleb growled, stepping forward. "Making unwanted advances on a princess, getting shut down by her and her guards, and then taking the defeat sorely? Not a good image for a future ruler." By this point, nearby attendants have their attention over to our fight. They watch as Quincey storms back into the crowd, oohing at the event of him being ridiculed by me and my knights. I then silently walk away from the corner and outside the building, Kaleb and Evan by my side. As soon as we are out of sight, Kaleb hugs me from the side, worry laced in his features. Evan turns and grips my shoulders tightly. "I swear to God, Briana, did that ass of a prince try to hurt you in any way possible because if he did I swear I'll-" "Okay Dad, calm down," I reply laughing, using Evan's nickname amongst my friends. Evan is a person who is extremely loyal and fiercely cares for comrades and close friends, so much that we ended up comparing him to an ideal father figure, and it's been that way ever since. I can see why he became a knight, and if he does become a real father in the future, he'd absolutely raise a great child. "You witnessed what happened, and you stepped in when he crossed the line. I'm fine, don't worry." "Okay, good." He lets go of my shoulders. Kaleb still hugs me. Despite his armor, his hug is enjoyable, the cool metal soothing compared to the brief excitement. "Princess Briana? Sir Maldo? Sir Ung?" A voice calls from behind us. We turn to see my father's messenger. Oh no. "Princess, why are you outside of the castle? Your Majesty has called for you three in his study. It seems you have caused a stir in the ballroom?" My eyes widen, and so do Kaleb's and Evan's. We turn to each other, knowing what a summon from my father to his study ensued. Oh crap. TO BE CONTINUED...

Characters introduced: Briana Min, Princess of Uminami. Tired of royal life, wants to be free from the castle walls. She constantly dreams about running away from the castle, living life at sea where her kingdom was built around. Her favorite places in the castle are corners where she can curl up and sit there. Briana is able to play a clarinet, and is also learning how to play a tenor saxophone. Is constantly accompanied by her royal guards and friends, Evan and Kaleb, of which the latter she has started to experience strange feelings?... (Virgo) (Person based off of: Brandon, Clarinet-senpai) Kaleb Ung, royal knight and guard of Princess Briana. Dedicated to his country, and even more so to the Princess he's sworn to protect, he became a knight through the ground up. Kaleb met Evan through knighthood training. Both were assigned to the princess, and is close friends with them as well as several people throughout Uminami. He also has a knack for drawing, and is able to play trombone. Has seemed to have feelings more complex than just friends to the princess?... (Taurus) (Person based off of: Kayla, Trombone-Kohai) Evan Maldo, royal knight and guard of Princess Briana. Hailing from a family of medics in a farther kingdom, he trained to become a knight from a younger age, but still picked up some first aid, as well as a little bit of healing magic?... As a commoner training for knighthood, he was constantly ridiculed for his bloodline by the higher classes, especially the royalty; however he was moved to Uminami where he met Kaleb, as well as more people whom he became close friends with. Accepted as the fatherly within his friends, he is affectionately called "Dad". Evan is fiercely protective and loyal to friends, as well as incredibly empathetic. (Taurus) (Person based off of: Emma, or me lol)

Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!

Dr. Seward's Diary.

29 September, morning... Last night, at a little before ten o'clock, Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room; he told us all that he wanted us to do, but especially addressing himself to Arthur, as if all our wills were centred in his. He began by saying that he hoped we would all come with him too, "for," he said, "there is a grave duty to be done there. You were doubtless surprised at my letter?" This query was directly addressed to Lord Godalming.

"I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much trouble around my house of late that I could do without any more. I have been curious, too, as to what you mean. Quincey and I talked it over; but the more we talked, the more puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself that I'm about up a tree as to any meaning about anything."

"Me too," said Quincey Morris laconically.

"Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning, both of you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he can even get so far as to begin."

It was evident that he recognised my return to my old doubting frame of mind without my saying a word. Then, turning to the other two, he said with intense gravity:---

"I want your permission to do what I think good this night. It is, I know, much to ask; and when you know what it is I propose to do you will know, and only then, how much. Therefore may I ask that you promise me in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry with me for a time -- I must not disguise from myself the possibility that such may be -- you shall not blame yourselves for anything."

"That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the Professor. I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest; and that's good enough for me."

"I thank you, sir," said Van Helsing proudly. "I have done myself the honour of counting you one trusting friend, and such endorsement is dear to me." He held out a hand, which Quincey took.

Then Arthur spoke out:---

"Dr. Van Helsing, I don't quite like to 'buy a pig in a poke,' as they say in Scotland, and if it be anything in which my honour as a gentleman or my faith as a Christian is concerned, I cannot make such a promise. If you can assure me that what you intend does not violate either of these two, then I give my consent at once; though for the life of me, I cannot understand what you are driving at."

"I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask of you is that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine, you will first consider it well and be satisfied that it does not violate your reservations."

"Agreed!" said Arthur; "that is only fair. And now that the pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?"

"I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the churchyard at Kingstead."

Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way:---

"Where poor Lucy is buried?" The Professor bowed. Arthur went on: "And when there?"

"To enter the tomb!" Arthur stood up.

"Professor, are you in earnest; or it is some monstrous joke? Pardon me, I see that you are in earnest." He sat down again, but I could see that he sat firmly and proudly, as one who is on his dignity. There was silence until he asked again:---

"And when in the tomb?"

"To open the coffin."

"This is too much!" he said, angrily rising again. "I am willing to be patient in all things that are reasonable; but in this -- this desecration of the grave -- of one who -- -- " He fairly choked with indignation. The Professor looked pityingly at him.

"If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend," he said, "God knows I would. But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths; or later, and for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!"

Arthur looked up with set white face and said:---

"Take care, sir, take care!"

"Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van Helsing. "And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose. Shall I go on?"

"That's fair enough," broke in Morris.

After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort:---

"Miss Lucy is dead; is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong to her. But if she be not dead -- -- "

Arthur jumped to his feet.

"Good God!" he cried. "What do you mean? Has there been any mistake; has she been buried alive?" He groaned in anguish that not even hope could soften.

"I did not say she was alive, my child; I did not think it. I go no further than to say that she might be Un-Dead."

"Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare, or what is it?"

"There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the verge of one. But I have not done. May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy?"

"Heavens and earth, no!" cried Arthur in a storm of passion. "Not for the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead body. Dr. Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done to you that you should torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl do that you should want to cast such dishonour on her grave? Are you mad that speak such things, or am I mad to listen to them? Don't dare to think more of such a desecration; I shall not give my consent to anything you do. I have a duty to do in protecting her grave from outrage; and, by God, I shall do it!"

Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated, and said, gravely and sternly:---

"My Lord Godalming, I, too, have a duty to do, a duty to others, a duty to you, a duty to the dead; and, by God, I shall do it! All I ask you now is that you come with me, that you look and listen; and if when later I make the same request you do not be more eager for its fulfilment even than I am, then -- then I shall do my duty, whatever it may seem to me. And then, to follow of your Lordship's wishes I shall hold myself at your disposal to render an account to you, when and where you will." His voice broke a little, and he went on with a voice full of pity:---

"But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long life of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which sometimes did wring my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now. Believe me that if the time comes for you to change your mind towards me, one look from you will wipe away all this so sad hour, for I would do what a man can to save you from sorrow. Just think. For why should I give myself so much of labour and so much of sorrow? I have come here from my own land to do what I can of good; at the first to please my friend John, and then to help a sweet young lady, whom, too, I came to love. For her -- I am ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness -- I gave what you gave; the blood of my veins; I gave it, I, who was not, like you, her lover, but only her physician and her friend. I gave to her my nights and days -- before death, after death; and if my death can do her good even now, when she is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely." He said this with a very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected by it. He took the old man's hand and said in a broken voice:---

"Oh, it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand; but at least I shall go with you and wait."

It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got into the churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark with occasional gleams of moonlight between the rents of the heavy clouds that scudded across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come close to the tomb I looked well at Arthur, for I feared that the proximity to a place laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him; but he bore himself well. I took it that the very mystery of the proceeding was in some way a counteractant to his grief. The Professor unlocked the door, and seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various reasons, solved the difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us followed, and he closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to the coffin. Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly; Van Helsing said to me:---

"You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that coffin?"

"It was." The Professor turned to the rest saying:---

"You hear; and yet there is no one who does not believe with me." He took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin. Arthur looked on, very pale but silent; when the lid was removed he stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden coffin, or, at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as quickly fell away again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness; he was still silent. Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and we all looked in and recoiled.

The coffin was empty!

For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by Quincey Morris:---

"Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I want. I wouldn't ask such a thing ordinarily -- I wouldn't so dishonour you as to imply a doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond any honour or dishonour. Is this your doing?"

"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed nor touched her. What happened was this: Two nights ago my friend Seward and I came here -- with good purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, which was then sealed up, and we found it, as now, empty. We then waited, and saw something white come through the trees. The next day we came here in day-time, and she lay there. Did she not, friend John?"

"Yes."

"That night we were just in time. One more so small child was missing, and we find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves. Yesterday I came here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead can move. I waited here all the night till the sun rose, but I saw nothing. It was most probable that it was because I had laid over the clamps of those doors garlic, which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and other things which they shun. Last night there was no exodus, so to-night before the sundown I took away my garlic and other things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But bear with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait you with me outside, unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to be. So" -- here he shut the dark slide of his lantern -- "now to the outside." He opened the door, and we filed out, he coming last and locking the door behind him.

Oh! but it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the terror of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by, and the passing gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds crossing and passing -- like the gladness and sorrow of a man's life; how sweet it was to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay; how humanising to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and to hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great city. Each in his own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was silent, and was, I could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner meaning of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again to throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing's conclusions. Quincey Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has to stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug of tobacco and began to chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a definite way. First he took from his bag a mass of what looked like thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was carefully rolled up in a white napkin; next he took out a double-handful of some whitish stuff, like dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it into the mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling it into thin strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the door and its setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this, and being close, asked him what it was that he was doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near also, as they too were curious. He answered:---

"I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not enter."

"And is that stuff you have put there going to do it?" asked Quincey. "Great Scott! Is this a game?"

"It is."

"What is that which you are using?" This time the question was by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he answered:---

"The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence." It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt individually that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred of things, it was impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took the places assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any one approaching. I pitied the others, especially Arthur. I had myself been apprenticed by my former visits to this watching horror; and yet I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white; never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funereal gloom; never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously; never did bough creak so mysteriously; and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night.

There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and then from the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed; and far down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance -- a dim white figure, which held something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon the masses of driving clouds and showed in startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew-tree, kept us back; and then as we looked the white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognised the features of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we all advanced too; the four of us ranged in a line before the door of the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide; by the concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe.

We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light that even Van Helsing's iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to me, and if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen.

When Lucy -- I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her shape -- saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives when taken unawares; then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's eyes in form and colour; but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be killed, I could have done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur; when she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands.

She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, said:---

"Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!"

There was something diabolically sweet in her tones -- something of the tingling of glass when struck -- which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell; moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms. She was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between them his little golden crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the tomb.

When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped, as if arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her face was shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now no quiver from Van Helsing's iron nerves. Never did I see such baffled malice on a face; and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again by mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes seemed to throw out sparks of hell-fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the folds of the flesh were the coils of Medusa's snakes, and the lovely, blood-stained mouth grew to an open square, as in the passion masks of the Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant death -- if looks could kill -- we saw it at that moment.

And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her means of entry. Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur:---

"Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?"

Arthur threw himself on his knees, and hid his face in his hands, as he answered:---

"Do as you will, friend; do as you will. There can be no horror like this ever any more;" and he groaned in spirit. Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms. We could hear the click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it down; coming close to the tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the sacred emblem which he had placed there. We all looked on in horrified amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal body as real at that moment as our own, pass in through the interstice where scarce a knife-blade could have gone. We all felt a glad sense of relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring the strings of putty to the edges of the door.

When this was done, he lifted the child and said:

"Come now, my friends; we can do no more till to-morrow. There is a funeral at noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The friends of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton lock the gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do; but not like this of to-night. As for this little one, he is not much harm, and by to-morrow night he shall be well. We shall leave him where the police will find him, as on the other night; and then to home." Coming close to Arthur, he said:---

"My friend Arthur, you have had a sore trial; but after, when you look back, you will see how it was necessary. You are now in the bitter waters, my child. By this time to-morrow you will, please God, have passed them, and have drunk of the sweet waters; so do not mourn overmuch. Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me."

Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each other on the way. We had left the child in safety, and were tired; so we all slept with more or less reality of sleep.