Mina glanced at Jonathan. His face was taut as the trees pressed closer and closer along the narrow path. She sank lower in her seat, shrinking away from the spindly branches that reached toward her from the darkness.
The howling continued, and the horse began to bristle, his pace faltering as he shook his head beneath the reins.
“Shhh,” the driver said, patting the horse’s neck. He uttered something in Romanian, and the horse carried forth.
They struck a particularly large rock, and the carriage lurched violently, sending them briefly airborne before they slammed back down with a thud. Jonathan sank lower into his seat, gripping the side of the carriage.
“Where are the prayerful when you need them?” he muttered.
“Not much longer,” the driver called back.
“Wonderful,” Jonathan shouted over the wind, though tension still pulled tight across his features.
The calèche broke free of the dense forest, the trees to the right falling away to the open night air as they left the howling wolves behind.
Mercifully, the pace began to slow. The cold sharpened, and fine white powder floated down from the sky. Mina tried to ease her racing heart—the worst of it seemed to be behind them.
And then, as they took a sharp turn, Mina realized why they’d slowed.
They’d arrived at Castle Dracula.
CHAPTER 7
The iron gate creaked upward into the stone archway, allowing the carriage to ease into the shadowed passageway beyond. The air inside was damp and tasted of rust, and Mina held her breath until the vast, empty courtyard came into view. Mist clung to the grounds while the castle towered above them, its shadowed walls revealing no sign of life within.
There was no chatter of servants, nor was there anyone waiting to receive them—the only sound breaking the stillness was the echo of their own horse’s hoofbeats.
“Perhaps there’s a Transylvanian holiday we don’t know about,” Jonathan said quietly, his breath fogging the air before his face.
The carriage slowed as it neared the castle’s entrance: a thick iron door marked by a solitary lit lantern. Snow fell in heavy flakes, dusting their hair and clinging to their clothing. Jonathan stepped out first, then offered his hand to Mina. She took it, stepping out onto the uneven flagstone and crossing her arms against the frigid air.
As the driver gathered their luggage, Mina turned slowly, taking in the grounds she would now call home. Her gaze wandered up the stone fortress before her, the many windows seeming to look down in silent contemplation, not a flicker of candleflame within. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought the entire castle was abandoned.
“This way, madame.” Vasile had their luggage in hand and was guiding them toward the door.
A sharp howl cut through the quiet, so sudden and forceful that Mina glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting the animal to be right there behind them. But the front gate had been lowered, and all she found were the empty grounds dusted with snow.
She startled at the sudden clang of the door knocker as Vasile struck it three times.
Silence answered from within—nothing but the wind whining in the pause between the wolf’s howls. Mina glanced at Jonathan, a sudden worry taking hold that no one was inside at all—that they had come all this way only to be stranded outside with no shelter for the night.
Then a creak sounded from the other side of the door. A lock squealed as it slid back, and the door slowly opened to reveal a petite woman standing in the shadowed entryway, a torch held off to one side.
“Mr. Harker and Miss Murray have arrived,” Vasile said, his voice holding no warmth for the woman. She looked beyondthe driver, to where Jonathan and Mina stood, then gestured for all to step inside.
The woman’s face was plain, her dark hair pulled back neatly, but her eyes shone a vivid green even in the dim light. As they filed into the empty foyer—the bare stone walls rising high toward a vaulted ceiling—Mina noticed the woman seemed hesitant to meet her gaze.
“Miss Murray. Mr. Harker.”
She gave a slight curtsy, the gesture sending a ripple of discomfort through Mina and prompting her to study the woman more closely, trying to place her age. Her face seemed neither young nor aged, as though she might be only a few years out of finishing school—or already well into her thirties.
“Welcome,” she said. “We have been eagerly anticipating your arrival. I am Sofia.”
“Lovely to meet you, Sofia,” Mina said, offering a smile. “Please, call me Mina. This is Jonathan.”
“As you wish, mistress.” Sofia gave a nod, but her expression did not soften. “A meal and a fire have been prepared in the dining room. If you please come this way, the Count will be here shortly.”
They were led along a stone corridor with no windows, though torches burned at intervals along the walls. At the far end, a staircase curved upward, and Mina lifted her skirts as she followed Sofia. Her heart began to pound as she imagined her husband somewhere within the castle, awaiting them. Whatwould he be like? What would he look like? The uncertainty made her feel almost lightheaded.
