She hesitated. What if he had put something in it—a poison, or some mixture meant to render her helpless? But as she took in the scene around her, the blanket he had so clearly brought for her, she decided that whatever he wanted, it was unlikely he wished her dead.
She let him lift the flask to her numb lips and felt the burn of alcohol slide down her throat. She grimaced, her stomach twisting in protest. Then he unwrapped a small slice of brown bread and held it out.
She shook her head.
He sighed. “We have a great deal of travel ahead. I can’t have you fainting off the horse.”
Her brows knit together. “Horse?”
“Eat,” he said, pressing the bread toward her.
She reached out, her fingers so numb she had to stare at the bread to be certain she was grasping it. Then she lifted it to her mouth and tore off rough chunks, the dryness in her throat turning it nearly to dust. Still, she chewed and swallowed, forcing it down.
When she looked up, she found him digging through his bag, taking inventory as though to be sure everything remained where he’d left it.
“Who are you?” she asked between bites.
He didn’t respond—didn’t even acknowledge her.
“How did you know I was here?”
He looked at her then, meeting her gaze. “We can speak of this once we’re safe,” he said.
She swallowed, fear creeping back in as her senses returned. “Are we not safe now?”
He met her eyes, his voice firm. “No. So hurry up with that.” He gestured toward the half-eaten bread in her hand before standing and walking toward the exit.
“Will you at least tell me your name?” she asked. “You know mine.”
He paused, his gaze fixed on her, unreadable. “Abraham Van Helsing.”
As she finished her bread, he disappeared around the corner of a ruined wall. When he re-emerged a moment later, she saw the top of a large grey horse.
“Where on earth was he?”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Van Helsing said, patting the horse on the mane. “Cinder was perfectly fine.” He lowered his voice then, as if his next words were only for the horse to hear. “Weren’t you, boy?”
Mina tried to stand, leaning against the wall for support. Her feet and legs tingled uncomfortably, and she bit down against the sensation.Weak.
She looked up, finding both Van Helsing and Cinder seemingly waiting for her. She pulled the blanket more firmly around her and walked shakily out of the front entrance.
She swallowed, approaching, and allowing him to lift her onto the beast. Her heart raced as the creature moved. She hadn’t been on a horse in what felt like ages. Then he climbed on behind her, and she could feel the warmth of him at her back.
With a click of his tongue, he led the horse through the trees, the creature’s feet easing into the deep snow.
“Where are we going?” sheasked.
“A cabin.”
She frowned, trying to recall if she’d ever seen anything in these mountains but trees, wolves, and the castle towering above it all.
“Where?” she asked.
The man sighed from behind her, and she saw the cloud of breath escaping his mouth. “So many questions.”
They fell into silence, navigating through the frigid forest. The sky overhead was gloomy, but Mina had the sense that it was getting later in the day. She considered what it would mean to be out here in these woods after nightfall. She thought of the wolves she’d seen that night when she tried to go to the watchtower, and a shiver ran through her.
She knew now that it must have been one of the wives who’d left that note. Or perhaps, it was more than one. Her mind returned to Clarimonde and Ligeia, the venom in their eyes when they’d looked at her. But then she thought of the blonde woman, the one whose name she did not know. What had she thought about all of this? Had she been in agreement with the Count’s actions? It hadn’t seemed like it that night he attacked Clarimonde in the library. But then, if she was as fearsome a creature as Clarimonde and Ligeia, why did she stay?
