“Lucy!” a voice called through the night.
Lucy paid it no mind. She heard nothing at all as she stood before Mina’s house, which now sat dark and empty.
Mrs. Westenra hurried toward her daughter as quickly as she could in slippers. Her eyes were frantic, searching the street for intruders—anyone who might snatch Lucy away at any moment.
“Lucy!” she whispered sharply, grasping her arm and pulling her away from the door. “You’re asleep, you foolish girl. Look at you—haven’t even got your coat on. Just moments away from catching a chill, I’m sure. Then comes pneumonia.”
“I’m going to luncheon with Mina,” Lucy said, her thoughts still hazy as she tried to make sense of what was happening. “You can join us . . .” Her voice trailed off as the night pressed in around her. The street was quiet, save for a dog barking in thedistance. She blinked in confusion—the sun had been overhead only moments ago, the day warm and bright. “What’s going on?”
“You were sleepwalking again,” Mrs. Westenra said, pulling Lucy along the pavement and up the steps to their front door. “It’s near two in the morning.” As they stepped inside and shut the door behind them, her mother’s pinched expression softened. “Is it Mina? Is that what you’ve been worrying over? It’s been ages since you last did this.”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “I suppose it’s possible.”
The thought of Mina tightened her chest with grief. Had they reached the castle yet? Were they safe? Was Mina pleased with this count? Lucy tried not to dwell on the worst, but the image of her friend so far away, with no one to confide in, brought tears to her eyes. Jonathan was with her—but it was not the same. Men did not see the things women did.
“Oh, my dear,” her mother murmured, drawing her close. “You’ve been thinking too much and sleeping too little, that’s all. Come now, let’s get you back to bed.”
CHAPTER 11
Castle Dracula, Transylvania
Mina woke the next morning, momentarily forgetting where she was. She stared up at the intricate design on the ceiling, then let her gaze drift across the luxurious bedding around her. It was a stark contrast to what she had grown accustomed to over the last few days of travel.
Then her thoughts returned to her final waking moments from the night before—the whispering outside her door. Surely she had not imagined it. And yet, who in this castle would do such a thing? The memory left her unsettled.
A knock sounded at her door, and before Mina could answer, it opened.
“Good morning, mistress,” Sofia said. “I’m just starting your bath.” The woman crossed the room with a bucket in hand, the slosh of water breaking the morning quiet.
Mina sat up and glanced toward the windows to her left—the sun had fully risen. Had she slept longer than she’d intended? It made sense, she supposed, after the days of travel.
Moments later, Sofia passed back through the chamber and disappeared into the darkened corridor beyond, leaving Minawith a lingering sense of intrusion. In London, it was not customary to enter someone’s chambers in such a way—but perhaps the custom was different here. The Count’s words from the night before returned to her:Transylvania is not England.
She pushed aside the heavy covers, the cold air sinking through her cotton shift, and moved around the bed toward the bathing chamber. The adjoining room bore little resemblance to the water closets of London—there was only bare stone, a simple basin for washing, and a tub set at the center. It took a moment before she realized what was so strange about her quarters.
As Sofia reappeared with another bucket of water, Mina asked, “Are there no mirrors in my rooms?”
Sofia did not answer at once, pouring the water into the tub as though the question required no response.
“Mirrors?” she said at last, straightening with a small frown.
“Yes,” Mina said. “So that I might fix my hair—or at least know I’m presentable.”
Sofia stared at her, seemingly confused as to why such a thing would be needed. “Vanity is a sin, mistress. To dwell upon one’s image invites pride and envy. A countess has no need of either.”
Mina stilled, the word echoing in her mind.Countess.
She had not truly considered what it meant to take on such a title, yet now its weight settled heavily upon her shoulders.
“I see,” was all Mina could manage.
Sofia lingered a moment longer, then said, “I must gather another bucket of water.” She turned and began to cross the room.
“Sofia,” Mina said, before the woman could slip through the door. The question rose up, sudden and insistent—one she had nearly forgotten amid the strangeness of the morning. “Were you outside my door last night?”
The woman’s eyes widened, alarm flickering across her face. “No, mistress.”
“I’m not cross with you,” Mina said quickly. “I only heard someone outside my door and wondered if it was you.”
