Karen Essex - Dracula in Love

We entered a ballroom where a small orchestra was playing a waltz for masked dancers who filled the center of the floor with a swirl of color and motion. The masks they wore were varied and ranged from simple to severe-masks with jesters’ bells, hawks’ beaks, delicate gold wings, shiny jewels. Some had crests of feathers, and some gentlemen wore full face masks of silver or gold. An enchanting glow filled the room, but I could not find the source of light. A fire blazed in the hearth, but the great chandeliers above were unlit. Gradually, it dawned on me that the light came from the creatures in attendance, the dancers themselves, who were luminous like the Count-not enough to disturb the eye but enough to dazzle.

“Where are we? Who is hosting this gathering?” I asked. My eyes scanned the room for Jonathan, but I saw no one who resembled him. Could he be behind one of the eerie metallic masks?

“There is no host,” he said. “Let’s see, how shall I explain this to you? This is a collective hallucination of mass desire. We and everyone else here have had a part in its design. Many of my kind are here among us. They have come to mingle with one another, and some have brought the mortals with whom they are currently fascinated.”

He took my arm, leading me past the twirling dancers and through a labyrinthine series of rooms, littered with couples intertwined in the darkness. I saw flashes of naked skin, arms twisted around bodies like serpents, booted legs spread in the air like wings, and one bare-chested lady swinging on a velvet-roped seat hanging from the tall ceiling. In one room, a woman with hair piled high atop her head played a piano, her crinoline covering the bench, while a man in a powdered wig turned the page of music for her. With the masks and the music and the champagne, which quickly went to my head, I could not tell who was mortal and who was not.

The Count read my thoughts. “Everyone has come seeking answers to questions and the fulfillment of desires. You want to see Jonathan. He has his own reasons for being here. All is arranged.”

He opened double doors to a room and invited me to enter first. In this room, the candles were lit. It took me a moment for my eyes to adjust to the flickering light, but the scene before me came all too quickly into sharp focus. Three lavish gowns were strewn across a chaise-two white ones, and one of scarlet that slashed across the other two making a cross. Jonathan was lying supine on a huge bed covered in plush red velvet. Straddling him, riding him like some sort of animal, was a blond woman in a red corset that I knew must be Ursulina. Her voluptuous, scarlet lips were curled and her mouth wide-open while she took her pleasure. Two dark-haired women lay on either side of Jonathan, kissing and caressing him and each other. His eyes were shut tight, his mouth open, and his face shining with rapture as each of the women sucked the fingers of his hands. Ursulina’s head was thrown backward, exposing her long ivory white neck.

I thought I would run away in horror, but I forced myself to watch. I saw the Count watching me through his mask with great interest. The foursome on the bed did not seem to notice me, and I wondered if this vision was real. As I watched the blond succubus writhe on top of the father of my child, rage suddenly rose inside me, taking me over and igniting some primitive sense of rivalry. I was possessed by fury and I wanted to punish her for all that she was doing and all that she had done.

I focused my intent on that pristine white neck of hers until I felt I could puncture the skin. Making a crescent in the air with my finger, I slowly and carefully made a big slash at the base of her throat. Her head popped up straight, and our eyes met, hers wide with surprise, and then seething with anger. With no time passing, I flew through the air, and my lips were on her with such force that I threw her off Jonathan, pinning her arms to the bed while I sucked in her strange-tasting blood. It was tart, like a bitter fruit that one cannot stop eating despite the astringent taste and the way it makes the mouth pucker. I heard myself grunt with pleasure while the others tried to pry me from her. The Count yelled at them in a language I did not understand, and they backed off. I was electrified with the thrill of vanquishing her in this way, eager to drain her until she was inert.

But soon I felt her gather her strength. Stronger than me, she flipped us over, dislodging me from her neck, which was bleeding a rivulet of shimmering rubies down her chest. I could feel her try to close the wound with her mind, but with each mental stitch she made, I reopened it. The tug-of-war went on, with me reopening the wound each time she closed it, my excitement growing as I watched it bleed its unnaturally red stream. Our fingers were linked, and she pushed my hands toward the bed, while I pushed against her. In my mind’s eye, I saw her flying backward away from me, hitting the heavy wrought-iron headboard, and falling into her sisters’ arms. With that image strong inside me, I pushed with all my might and powered her off me. The Count grabbed me, and, before I could attack her again, he had me by the waist and was taking me away. Ursulina, still pressed against the headboard, was hissing at me like a serpent woman. Jonathan and the other two female creatures cowered together, looking like some profane triptych. His face was full of terror.

Tell him , the Count’s voice demanded. Tell him, or I will tell him .

“You are going to be a father, Jonathan,” I said. “It’s a boy.” I freed myself from the Count’s grasp, and together we walked out of the room.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a full-length gilded mirror as we walked through the ballroom. I looked taller, stronger, my already correct posture now exhibiting a strength that gave me a statuesque potency. I felt as if people were moving aside to make way for me, admiring me and fearing me as I glided through the crowd. As we left the mansion, a force gathering inside me erased every thought and consequence of what I had done.

This is who you are, Mina. It is undeniable now .

The Count knew that I was elated and could not be confined in a carriage, so he sent the coach away and walked with me down London’s smoky gaslit streets. Soon enough, though, the rapture began to wear off, and I started to think again, wondering if I might have hurt my baby by what I had done. The Count put one arm around my shoulder and rested his other hand on my abdomen. “I do not think that you have harmed it or altered it,” he said. “Despite your formidable display this evening, the child still carries the frequency and vibration of the father. It is unchanged.”

“Jonathan is too weak to be a father,” I said.

Indeed. He is too weak to be the father of your child .

“Too weak because you left him to be the victim of those creatures,” I said.

“You are not so different from those creatures,” he said. He had removed his mask, and I saw the little ironic smile that crept over his face.

We walked through Shepherd Market, where a few dim lights shone weakly through the windows above the closed shops. It was a cold evening, but I did not feel the temperature. The Count kept his arm around me as we walked up Half Moon Street and on to Piccadilly, where we crossed the street and walked into the park.

“Those women-what are they? Did they begin as mortals?” I asked. His comment that I was not unlike them disturbed me. If I developed my powers, would I start preying upon the innocent?

“No, they did not. But in your original lifetime, neither did you. You would know them as the daughters of Lilith. They are enchantresses who live separate from men until they wish to seduce them. Some call them lamia. They are unruly and wanton beings, and they are able to take many different forms-swans, seals, snakes, and sometimes women with serpents’ tales.”