Mina grimaced—if the mattresses over the past few nights were any indication, tonight would not be a comfortable sleep.
The front door kicked open, and she flinched, finding the husband had returned with their things. He slammed the door shut with his foot and gave a nod to Mina and Jonathan before heading up the stairs, the wooden steps groaning beneath his weight.
“Just think, by this time tomorrow we’ll be at Castle Dracula,” Jonathan said, warming his hands by the fire.
“Yes,” she said weakly, nerves fluttering in her stomach. “One more night.” She tried not to think much about it—if she did, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy dinner, and she was famished after their day of travel.
Their hostess reemerged from the kitchen not long after, carrying a tray with full plates and bowls, and placed them on the table for Jonathan and Mina. There was some sort of stewwith chunks of potatoes, cabbage, and onions, served with a wedge of cheese and a hunk of dark bread for each of them.
“Wonderful. You’re quite efficient,” Jonathan said to the woman, his voice louder than necessary, as though that might break the slight language barrier between them. The woman simply smiled and nodded.
“Thank you,” Mina said, her stomach grumbling at the spread.
By the time the woman disappeared into the kitchen once again, Jonathan had already dug right in without hesitation. Mina followed suit, forgetting all incidents of her prior unease and letting herself enjoy the hearty meal.
After supper, they were shown to their respective rooms on the second floor. Mina’s room was quite compact—the ceiling was slanted, the side nearest the head of the bed making it difficult to stand without hunching over, and the narrow bed was pushed against the wall with a scratchy-looking, thick wool blanket laid atop it. As the older woman wished her goodnight and closed the flimsy wooden door between them, Mina felt almost suffocated in the tightness of the space, a faint earthy scent lingering thickly in the air.
Above the bed was a small, shuttered window, and she walked over to it, kneeling on the bed and lifting the wooden crossbar out of place. The shutters flew open with a cold gust of wind, revealing the front yard of the inn below. Mina leaned forward, resting her elbows on the windowsill, and looked outinto the empty street, breathing in the cool air. The moon hung overhead, casting a glow onto the grass and dirt roads below, and though Mina saw no one, a strange feeling tingled across the back of her neck, as though she were being watched.
A creak from within the inn startled her, and she looked over her shoulder into the dark room. The door was shut, and she was alone, the only movement the flickering of the candle flame as it danced at the edges of a breeze. Another creak sounded, and Mina recognized the hushed whispers of the older woman and her husband out in the cramped hallway. Then, the groans of the staircase filled her ears as the couple returned to the first floor.
Mina turned back to the village just as a gust of icy wind brushed past her, sending a chill down her spine. She reached for the shutters, but before she could close them, a wolf’s howl cut through the night. She leaned forward, expecting to see the appearance of the creature on the road below, but she found nothing in the shadows. Another wolf’s song joined in tandem with the first, and Mina could almost imagine they were calling to her, waiting in anticipation of her arrival.
As she shut the window and latched it closed, easing her head down onto the limp pillow in the dark room, it was the sound of that howling that finally lulled her to sleep.
CHAPTER 4
The Asylum
The dark cell was cold and damp. That incessantdrip . . . drip . . . drip . . .cutting through the silence of the room. Renfield paid the leak no mind. His attention was fixed on the fly that had landed on the cement floor mere inches away from him.
His heart thrummed, and his hands trembled with anticipation as he watched on, hidden mostly in shadow aside from the strip of moonlight pouring in from the single barred window high above.
“Steady,” he whispered to himself.
He must not scare the creature in his haste.
Renfield dragged himself slowly across the cold floor, inching closer and closer to his prey.
In one swift movement, he cupped his hand over the insect, careful to trap it without crushing it.
A thrill ran through him, pulling a triumphant laugh from his throat.
“Quiet!” a voice barked from a nearby cell.
Renfield looked over his shoulder, peering into the shadows, worried that the man might somehow find a way into his cell through the stone wall that stood between their rooms. The villain wanted his collection, wanted to steal the life force for himself, but Renfield would never allow it.
He waited, listening for the sounds of approach, hearing only the buzzing of the fly beneath his hand. Moments passed, and Renfield’s racing mind eased. He was all alone, his collection safe from the others—for now.
The creature buzzed beneath his palm, its wings vibrating against his skin as it tried to escape.
“Shhh,” Renfield whispered into the darkness. “The others are listening. Always listening.”
Carefully, he used his free hand to drag over the small wooden box where the rest of his collection lay. If circumstances had been different, Renfield might have felt pity for the poor creature. But it was a worthy sacrifice—a necessary sacrifice—if he wished to please the master.
Quickly, before the others could slip free, he grasped the fly and shoved it into his box, snapping the lid shut.
“Ha ha!” he cried out in victory.
