Goosebumps spread across Lucy’s skin as she walked, but her mind did not absorb the feel of the cold amongst the salt-thickened air. She did not encounter anyone on her journey, a fact that might bring her some comfort in the morning when she awoke with dirt-caked feet, understanding sinking in. But she would have no memory of the walk, of the shadows all around her, the town eerily still despite the crashing waves at the harbor just beyond the cottages.
Lucy followed the curves of the road, passing the quaint teashop where she and her mother had visited each day of their trip so far. And when the road led upward into a great stone staircase, she began up the steps. As she climbed higher and higher, leaving behind the cottages and shops in the streets below, she crested the grassy hill to the left, the shore now in full view against the night sky above and beyond.
Her blonde hair swayed in the wind coming off the sea, and as two paths lay before her, she followed the one on the left, the one that would bring her to St. Mary’s Churchyard.
The church soared into the open sky above, casting a great shadow on the grassy hills below. Gravestones cut through the ground at odd angles, the cement worn smooth by decades of wind and salt.
But it was not a grave Lucy wished to visit—it was the seat she’d found solace in at the cliffside, looking down over the harbor in the midday sun.
Walking past the church, past the endless sea of gravestones, Lucy finally reached her favorite bench and sat down. The cold of the iron seat cut through her shift to the skin beneath, but she could not feel the discomfort, nor could she feel the icy chill of her fingertips, nor her lips starting to blue.
Lucy sat there, overlooking the sea, the waves crashing down below, no one for company other than the church silently watching the lone woman.
CHAPTER 20
CastleDracula, Transylvania
The days that followed Mina’s illness passed in a blur of fatigue and strange dreams—though none seemed quite so vivid as those she’d experienced during her fever. When she closed her eyes, she saw men attacking the castle, kicking down the door and shouting with triumph as they spilled into the front hall. She heard the cry of a woman, begging for her life, only to hear the growls and snarls of wolves moments before her screams ceased. She saw a woman with blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, reaching out toward Mina. When she looked at the woman, she realized it was Lucy, but as she reached for her hand, Lucy changed, shifting into a stranger.
And when those dreams became so frightening that they’d awoken her—pain slicing through her skin, teeth grasping onto her, tearing her apart as though she were caught between those wolves—it was the Count who was there by her side, looking down at her with such tenderness as he brushed the stray locks of hair from her face.
By the time Mina’s mind finally cleared from the haze, she found herself desperate to get out of her chamber, to walkthrough the castle and see proof that they had only been dreams, nothing more. Yet as she readied for supper, she realized something was missing—the crucifix she’d worn since her arrival. The memory came back to her of the night she’d been gifted the emerald pendant, of her placing the crucifix on the table. She recalled the Count saying Sofia would bring it to her chambers.
Mina looked around her room, wondering where it would have been placed. When Sofia appeared to bring Mina to the dining room for supper, she asked after it.
“You mean the pendant the Count gave you?” Sofia replied.
“No, the crucifix,” Mina said. “It was wooden. I wore it for the first week of my arrival.”
Sofia’s expression was unreadable. “I’m sorry, mistress, I don’t recall you wearing a necklace before the Count gifted you one.”
Mina frowned. It wasn’t that the item was particularly fashionable, or even sentimental—it had only just been given to her by the woman in the inn. But she supposed that deep down, despite knowing the whispers of the villagers had been nothing more than superstition, the item had brought some comfort. As Mina followed Sofia to the dining room, doubt continued to creep in.
There were two minds within her—one that heard the assurances from the Count and Sofia, that understood there had been no attack, that she had never been in danger; yet there was another mind that thought differently. Or rather, perhapsone was her mind, the other her heart. She had no proof, no evidence of her experience, but thefeelingswere there, glimpses of emotion so vivid in her mind even when the exact words and events were hazy.
It unsettled her deeply—the thought that she’d not only left behind those she’d loved in England, but that she might have left herself behind as well, the woman she had once been. Still, she resolved that if it were true, if she had become a weakened version of herself since arriving, that she would find a way to resist it. Somehow, she would reconcile the old Mina with the new and discover happiness in this foreign place that was to be her home.
She tried to immerse herself in her new life. Each morning, she sat before her desk and wrote letters to Lucy, Jonathan, and, at times, Aunt Emily. She tried not to feel discouraged that nearly three weeks had passed since her arrival at the castle and still she had not received a single response to her letters. They wouldn’t have forgotten about her—most days, Mina was certain of it. But there was a fear deep in the back of her mind that, perhaps, she could truly be that replaceable to those she loved. Their silence lingered each day, her anxiety growing stronger the more time that passed.
In the afternoons, she would try to distract herself by filling her mind with one of the many books in the Count’s library, but the material was often dry, and she found herself with little interest in the topics. In the evenings, she would be with theCount, listening to him speak on his interests—philosophy and history. He was enigmatic, and she found the ache in her chest easing when he was near.
It was easier when the Count was around, when she could distract herself with this growing flame between them. She didn’t feel the true comfort that she’d felt with Lucy, but Mina supposed that was to be expected with a husband, especially one she had not known for very long. He was passionate, intelligent, and when he looked at her, listening as she spoke, she felt as though her thoughts were worthy of sharing more than ever before.
It was one evening when they sat on the couch in the study, each with a glass of plum brandy in their hands and the warmth of the fire in the hearth, that he finally began to let her in. He’d shared bits and pieces of his family, of his life years ago, but he’d never quite explained how things had come to be present day. How had a castle once filled with such life ceased to breathe? A place once full of laughter and celebration, now a shell of its former self.
“I have a question for you,” she said, tucking her legs up to her chest beneath the blanket on her lap. Liquor pulsed through her, loosening her tongue, but doing nothing to ease her racing heart. “You are a nobleman—”
“Yes,” the Count agreed, a smile in his eyes.
“You are powerful, intelligent—”
“I’m inclined toagree.”
“You are handsome—”
“Am I?” he asked. She felt her cheeks flush. He leaned over, brushing his lips against hers and stoking a flame within her. Gently, she pushed him away, a smile on her face.
“I told you, I have a question.”
