Chapter Text
It has been several months since I have felt at ease to record my thoughts here. Torrential rain fell all day today, and when the sun set, I did not notice. My wife was dead this morning, but now she is dead no longer. I sense her presence in the cellar of this little house on the moors, and I wait for her to come to me, and write.
It seems impossible that almost a year has passed already since this waking nightmare began for me, and for all of us. I write here now the final testament of the living man my friends knew me as, so that should they ever find this little book, they know that my conscience is clear, and that nothing could have dissuaded me from this course.
Of course I have had doubts. When I look back at what Mina and I believed just half a year ago, it is as though we were born anew. Before the wretched Count was slain, Mina requested that any one of us should kill her should she join the ranks of the Un-Dead. But I had made a second oath, a sacred one, and we now both know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Professor’s knowledge of vampirism was incomplete. The scar on Mina’s forehead was supposed to disappear upon the destruction of Dracula, yet it endures, perhaps faded with time, but nonetheless present.
In my private discussions with Lord Godalming in the sorrowful days after the second death of Lucy at his hand, he asked me endlessly about my theories and beliefs about the nature of the soul. He was, in truth, asking me to absolve him for the deed, which he is still wracked with guilt over, though he will not admit it. Lucy recognized him before he brought the mallet down, and called to him. That vampire did not only have Lucy’s visage, but also her memories, her desire to be with her betrothed, her very name. What else, he asked incessantly, was there to the woman he had loved? Her purity? Her innocence? If her soul was now at peace, where was it? Certainly not in her body, nor in any form he could recognize. I soothed him as best I could, but even before Mina’s vampiric baptism, I knew I could never pierce her heart should I be put in Arthur’s position.
Before dear Quincy’s body was cold, our three remaining companions knew exactly what Mina’s fate was to be, and I suspect they knew my intentions also. My convictions had been plainly typed out for all to see, there were no secrets then or now. That is why we fled back to England alone. I will never return to my business in Exeter. Mina is wistful that she will never again be able to teach, or bear children. But we understand one other now, more than I had ever thought possible before. Every night we sit and talk about what she is thinking about, how she is feeling, and if she is certain we are making the decision best for us. And every night Mina has given me the same answer: she does not desire death, she desires to be at my side. And though I see her teeth grow sharper and her sweetness give way to cunning, I still desire nothing else but to be with her.
Count Dracula believed that by forcing his corruption into Mina’s veins, he could somehow lay claim to her, and could tear apart what she and I had built together. What folly! He is now less than dust, and though the curse lingers, it is no longer his to command. She was Mina before, and Mina she remains. She has no Master but herself. What euphoria to discover that there is no greater evil, no Satan or Antichrist that all vampires must do the bidding of, any more than living humans must act against their own wishes!
We know that the road ahead is nonetheless fraught. The Un-Dead must feed, and they must kill. We will have no choice in the matter. We will need to take great care not to create any more vampires, lest our presence be made known, or rivals arise that might compete with us for sustenance. The soil of our homeland is all around us, and we will move freely, never lingering in one place for long. Disease and war will continue to claim the lives of hundreds of thousands of our countrymen, the paltry numbers we will take will vanish in the flood. This is sinful, to be sure, and perhaps we are destined to become truly evil. God has forsaken us and our marriage, despite our every intention to live life the way He commanded, and if it is God’s will that Mina and I should never have a life together, then he is not God.
Arthur and I see eye to eye, I think. But should the good doctors ever find us, I am sure they will do their best to destroy us. They are good men, men of their own principles, and I wish them nothing but happiness and long life. But if either of them tries to harm my wife or attempts to come between us, we will not be merciful.
This morning I threw into the fireplace the last of the holy relics I still kept around out of nervous habit - the crucifixes, the scripture, the Host. It satisfies me to know that Mina will not be bothered by their presence, and that she no longer has anything to fear from that which they are meant to ward against. That she is now, herself, a thing that men fear.
My beloved is standing behind me now. I had not heard her approach, and was startled by the feel of her hand. Her touch is cold, her skin devoid of color, yet it is without a doubt Mina’s hand, the soft hand that has held my face so many times as I leaned down to kiss her, the firm hand I squeezed when she was frightened, the skillful hand that always wrote with such elegance. It would be lunacy to claim otherwise.
It is time.
I am not afraid.