Blood to Blood (3 page)

It was past midnight when, with hunger appeased by a half dozen tiny lives, Joanna returned the horse to the castle. Once the gates were safely closed behind it, she descended into the lower chambers, places dank with moisture, whose walls glowed with a soft phosphorescence only a vampire's eyes could detect.

In the centuries they had lived here, lord and peasant alike had been their prey. Though Vlad had generously rewarded the Gypsies for their loyalty, his frequent gifts to them barely touched the treasure hidden in these walls.

If only she could remember where he'd deposited the rings and gems and gold of their victims. He hadn't hidden the places from her. Oddly, just before he left for England, he'd told them where to look.

It only she'd paid attention to that or any of his advice on traveling over land and sea. Instead, she had let her mind wander in the past, when she had been young and the sun released the scent of flowers.

If only…

She wandered the narrow passages, picturing him in her mind, until she could finally recall a place where they had stopped and he had pointed out…

A darker section of wall, filled in with muck from the damp stone floor. She dug her fingers into the seal, not surprised to find it still wet, and crumbling against their pressure.

The cache was a good one, judging by the weight of the leather bag. She held it tightly and moved on, finding three more caches before returning to her chamber.

She'd found a treasure. One of the bags held rubies, emeralds, and stones whose names she did not know. She emptied another onto the floor and watched gold coins roll away from her. Scurrying on hands and knees, she scooped them up as if they were prey and would escape her. The third bag was more interesting, holding exquisite gold settings. Some had been stripped of their jewels, but there were occasional pieces left intact… a signet ring, a necklace with diamonds and black onyx, a dragon-shaped brooch with amethyst eyes.

The last she pinned to her tattered black dress and vowed never to part with it. The dragon was on their family crest. Shouldn't she have some reminder of that?

Tepes
, she thought again, and laughing finally from nervous joy, she invaded her brother's library and rummaged among the papers. Since she'd never learned to read and had no idea which were valuable, she loaded any that appeared recent into the sack with the jewels, adding his seal and some wax for good measure. Night's work accomplished, she retreated to her chambers, barred her door, and fell into the dawn sleep.

When it was dark again, she rummaged among the boxes of earth and pair of wagons that the Gypsies had left behind. They were not discards, but had been intended for her and the others at some future time.

She took what her brother had said was the best of them—a wooden box so roughly made that no one would have much curiosity about its contents, but which hid much. There were tiny compartments, cleverly concealed, where she deposited jewels and coins. There was another, smaller, where she could hide the key to the rusty lock that would keep the case locked day and night. An old harnass attached her horse to a wagon. Without looking back, Joanna started down the treacherous winding road that would take her past Bukovina. Her destination was the port city of Varna. She had absolutely no idea how to get there except to travel east to the sea.

Mina wired Jonathan that she was leaving for London but had no time to wait for his reply. Since the reading of the will was to be Tuesday morning, she had to arrive in London the night before. Though the money Quarles sent would be more than enough for a room at one of the city's better hotels, she decided to take the time to visit old friends instead and wired Arthur that she was coming.

He met the evening train at the London station. He was easy to spot amid the crowds of passengers and friends. He was taller than most, and his fair hair shone even in the dim station lights. She'd expected Van Helsing to be with him, but Arthur came alone. "Is the professor still staying with you?" she asked.

"More often than not, but he's off to Dublin, of all places. Meeting with a colleague, some writer who claims to be an expert in the arcane. We'll be staying in Kensington tonight. Three of Gance's old friends are using my Mayfair flat. They're here for the will, as you are. I've been asked to come as well, so we can go there together."

"Did he really own so much?" Mina asked.

Arthur laughed. "Not that little. And he has a flair for the dramatic… had a flair, I suppose I should say, though it's hard to believe the rake is gone."

The comment seemed to sober him, and he said very little on the ride to Kensington. The butler carried Mina's bag inside and up to the guest room. Dinner was nearly ready, and the two of them dined at a table that could have easily seated ten. They shared a bottle of wine and brief, light conversation. But Mina had a feeling that her host was biding his time, and that as soon as the servants were safely out of listening distance, their conversation would become darker and far more intense.

She wasn't wrong. After they finished their chocolate mousse, he suggested they retreat to the rose garden and catch up on the past. They sat in a gazebo in its center, close enough to each other that he could hold her hand. "You went east with Gance. Please tell me the details," he requested.

She told the story to him, leaving out only the more intimate aspects of her relationship with Gance. An hour passed as she spoke softly and gently of their journey, and what followed. By the time she was through, she felt light-headed and free, as if by finally telling it all to someone, she had broken the hold the events had on her soul.

"Now all that is left is the countess's memoir, written after her death, so to speak. What did you think of it?" she asked.

"I have it, but I haven't read it. I confess that I'm afraid to… because if I see even one of them as human, does that mean that she was still human as well?"

"Karina did not choose her life, any more than Lucy did. They were victims. As were we."

There! She said Lucy's name, the name they had tried so hard not to mention in all the hours they'd been together.

"And we're still victims," Arthur added, his voice pitched a bit too high, as if he were on the edge of tears. "Van Helsing asked if I still dream. I said only of Lucy, but I didn't say the rest. Too often I wake hearing her last terrible scream echoing in my mind. Van Helsing said she looked at peace when we were done. I tried to see it that way, but when I think back on it, she merely looked dead."

Mina knew no words to comfort him. In truth, she could not comprehend how she could have killed someone she loved so brutally and remained sane afterward. So she squeezed his hand and said, "I would give you any help I can. As would the others, I am sure. We are bonded by what we alone witnessed."

He moved closer to her. "It's a comfort just having you here," he said.

They sat together without speaking until the silence grew too awkward. Then Arthur took her inside and rang for a servant to show her to her room.

Mina woke early the next morning and dressed in her best summer gown, in that pale shade of green Jonathan always said made her look her best. She and Arthur arrived early. As he went to greet friends, she waited near the door, glancing nervously at it each time it opened.

Even though Arthur had warned that there would be a crowd, she still had not expected so many people, including two of Jonathan's other clients, her close friend Winnie Beason, and Winnie's husband, Emory.

Winnie seemed a bit out of breath from emotion. "The hospital is a beneficiary," she said to Mina, then looked past her to the door. "And look, there's Jonathan."

He looked at her from across the room, and from his expression Mina guessed that he was not certain how she would receive him. He'd suffered enough; they all had, she thought, and held out her hands.

He smiled as he took them, then kissed her cheek and explained about some problem on the rails. She was about to suggest that they step outside for a moment, when Robert Quarles took his place in front of the crowd.

Jonathan sat to the left of Mina on one of the half dozen long wooden benches, his hand resting atop hers. Arthur sat on her right, also holding her hand. She felt restrained by them and the oppressive social convention that made her glance around the room, wondering if anyone was observing Arthur's impropriety.

Arthur noticed her watching the others and pulled his hand away. "It seems to trouble you too much." He spoke softly, then dropped his voice to nearly a whisper to add, "Damn them all, as Gance would say."

"Damn them all," she repeated in the same private tone and grasped his hand once more. Jonathan heard her and looked at both of them, frowning.

She leaned toward her husband, intending to whisper that she loved him, and always had, when Robert Quarles cleared his throat, took a sip of water, and began to address the now silent room.

An hour passed. Two. Quarles was still listing estates, then factories, then finally…

The house in Exeter she had expected. Some funds to cover taxes as well. But an apartment in Bloomsbury and a hundred thousand pounds?

As he had for some of his other beneficiaries, Gance supplied a reason, noting that she was
my most loyal friend, and the only truly honest creature I have ever known
.

Jonathan's hand stopped pressing hers so tightly as if he'd managed, finally, to relax. Gance's reason for the fortune he'd left her seemed almost pure, as if she were his conscience and not his…

Winnie, who was sitting behind her. leaned forward so quickly she nearly lost her black felt hat. "Did you hear that!" she exclaimed. "Fifty thousand for the hospital. I think we will have to name some part of it after him!"

Quarles glared at her, the iciness of his expression quelling even her enthusiasm, and continued on.

Another hour passed. The bequests grew smaller, covering everyone from Arthur Holmwood, who received the bulk of Gance's wine cellar, to Oscar Wilde, who received "not one but three" casks of amontillado (a literary reference hardly lost on the more euphoric members of the crowd), to a favorite music tutor who inherited the Steinway from the ballroom of Gance's Exeter estate. The reading concluded dramatically with a final, huge sum to
to Asha Kumar of Delhi, who may not have possessed my heart but certainly had everything else
.

"And more than once. I'll wager one of my casks on that!" Wilde called from the back of the room. Laughter followed. As the group broke up, most of the conversation concerned the absent Asha and her relationship with Gance. How like him to be discreet, even in death, Mina thought, wondering how many other mistresses in this room had escaped notice because Gance had directed everyone's attention elsewhere.

As soon as the reading was over, Winnie mumbled a quick congratulations to her and headed for the back of the room to speak with one of Quarles's associates. Arthur pulled Mina aside. "Are you still planning on going to Exeter today, or will you be staying at the Bloomsbury place?" he whispered.

"I'll go to Exeter. I don't know if Jonathan is coming, though. He may have more business here." Mina hesitated, then confessed, "We haven't spoken."

"But you have an agreement, don't you?"

"He never wrote either."

Arthur seemed about to say something, then shrugged and looked over her shoulder at Jonathan instead. "I'll be staying in London indefinitely. But if it should happen that you need any assistance whatever, please wire me. The house is livable, I suppose. But if not, I'm sure the Westenras would be delighted to put you up for a time."

"Thank you for your concern, Arthur, but the house is charming. You'll have to come and see it soon," Mina replied, wondering if the little cottage would soon become the heart of her problem. She noted Winnie and Emory standing at the door, and whispered a final thanks to Arthur before joining them. "If you wait a bit while I say a few words to Mr. Quarles, we could travel together," she suggested.

Quarles had papers for her to sign, and keys to the house and flat. He thanked her on her good fortune, without giving the slightest hint that he had any knowledge of why she had received it.

As she turned to leave, she found Jonathan standing close behind her. He took her arm and led her from the room.

She half expected that he would abandon her outside, but instead he traveled with her and the Beasons to the station and sat with them on the train. He seemed oddly silent, but that was hardly surprising with Winnie's chatty enthusiasm for the hospital's newfound fortune and her grand plans on how to spend it.

Sometime during the journey, Jonathan and Emory began discussing business, leaving eventually for the familiar comfort of the smoking car.

As soon as they were alone, Winnie took a small case from her valise, pulled a flask of sherry and a pair of shotglasses out of it and poured them both a drink. She held up her glass.

"To change," she said. They drained them, and Winnie poured another pair.

"So you two haven't spoken?" she asked as she put the cork in the bottle.

Mina shook her head and looked away. It was the first time since this ordeal had begun that she felt like crying.

"And we've intruded. Should I claim Mr. Beason and take him to a different car?"

"No. When we do finally speak of the future, I want to be able to walk away from him if need be."

"Then tell me everything that happened. Every detail."

Mina adjusted her traveling bag on the end of the long seat, leaned against it and put up her feet. "Everything was exactly as I'd suspected, and so sad," she began.

Mina told her story while the train rolled on, carrying her to an uncertain ending. Occasionally she looked out the window at the twilight mists blurring the edges of the landscape. She was finally free of the vampire's blood. How much longer before she could be free of his memory?

The train pulled into Exeter a little before midnight. Without asking what her plans were, Jonathan retrieved Mina's bags. Since they lived close to the Beasons, they shared a cab. Winnie and Emory got out first, Winnie pausing to grip Mina's hands tightly. "If you need anything at all, come to us. I'll be sleeping with one eye open," she whispered, then kissed Mina on the cheek and said good-bye.

In the few minutes it took them to get home, Jonathan said nothing. Instead he held her hand as he had that afternoon, and kept his eyes straight ahead.

She waited until they pulled up in front of the house, the home she considered his, not hers, then asked, "Do you wish me to come back to you?" She hadn't wanted her voice to sound so cold, but he was taking too much for granted.

"If we can reach an agreement, yes."

"That might have been easier to reach somewhere else."

"My aunt is away, I made sure of that. We can speak as openly as we wish."

He carried her bags inside and up the stairs. She stopped in the foyer, inhaling deeply. The room smelled of lemon wax and Jonathan's cigars, of roasted onions and cinnamon. Familiar scents, welcome ones until Jonathan had brought her here and left her like some decorative piece of porcelain while he went on with his work.

Yes. she thought, moving into the parlor and lighting a gaslight. Agreements had to be reached. She went to the sideboard in the dining room and poured them each a brandy, then took a seat at the table and waited for him.

"Wouldn't the parlor be more comfortable?" he asked when he saw her there.

"This is a better place to discuss our future. I think."

He said nothing, only took the brandy she held out to him and sat across from her, solicitor and client, it seemed.

"Did you get my letter?" she asked, as gently as she was able.

"I did. Then I heard about Gance's will. Since you were coming to London, I thought it better to wait."

"I was in Paris for days before I received the solicitor's letter. Why didn't you come earlier, as I asked?"

He looked away for a moment, jaws working. "I suppose I should say I'm sorry, but I can't. I couldn't drop everything… again. And yet, I am sorry for everything that happened earlier. I should have believed you. Instead, I…" He couldn't go on, but took a drink from the glass instead.