----------BOOK JACKET-------------

Harry Potter meets Dracula. 

Well, not really, but you get the idea.

Jonathan Harker, Jr. joins forces with Doctor Van Helsing in battling a fiery apparition haunting the old Count's castle. At age thirteen he has no idea what he is getting himself into; and, in trying to shake off his parents' legacy, he finds himself, instead, picking up where they left off. In the meantime, the world has changed, and soon after they arrive in Transylvania, World War I bursts upon them.

Jonathan and the good doctor find themselves besieged by the old world alongside the new. But they are not alone in their struggle.

Quincey Devereaux hails from Texas and brings all his cowboy gusto with him into the fray. He, being the nephew of Quincey Morris who was killed in the deadly battle with the Count fifteen years ago, has his own reasons for being with them on this journey.

And among the Szekelys, the guardians of the Count's domain, they meet Sabina, a young girl with a wolf for a companion; Bacsi, an elder who holds all the ancient history at his command; and young Karoly, who befriends Jonathan and acts as his guide through this strange land.

Jonathan discovers from Sister Agatha, Abbess to the Bistritz Convent, and long time confidant to the doctor, that he and Sabina share a common heritage traced back to the Count. What he does not know is her belief that their special traits may provide the key to extinguish this new danger.

But first ,Jonathan must extricate himself from the Hungarian Army; after allowing his forced conscription to protect Sabina and the mortally wounded doctor.

And horror awaits Sister Agatha when she finds out the full price to exterminate the monster. 

PROLOGUE

"Seven years ago we all went through the flames; and the happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured. It is an added joy to Mina and to me that our boy's birthday is the same day as that on which Quincey Morris died. His mother holds, I know, the secret belief that some of our brave friend's spirit has passed into him. His bundle of names links our little band of men together; but we call him Quincey.

"In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania, and went over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of vivid and terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe that the things which we have seen with our own eyes and heard with our own ears were living truths. Every trace of all that had been was blotted out. The castle stood as before, reared high above a waste of desolation. 

"When we got home we got to talking of the old time - which we could all look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward are both happily married. I took the papers from the safe where they have been ever since our return so long ago. We were struck with the fact that, in all the mass of material of which the record is composed, there is hardly one authentic document! nothing but a mass of typewriting, except the later note-books of Mina and Seward and myself, and Van Helsing's memorandum. We could hardly ask anyone, even did we wish to, to accept these as proofs of so wild a story. Van Helsing summed it all up as he said, with our boy on his knee:--

"We want no proofs; we ask none to believe us! This boy will some day know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is. Already he knows her sweetness and loving care; later on he will understand how some men so loved her; that they did dare much for her sake." 

JONATHAN HARKER

Dracula-

by Bram Stoker 

CHAPTER ONE - On the Road

"You think to baffle me, you - with your pale faces all in a row, like sheep in a butcher's.  You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You think you have left me without a place to rest; but I have more. My revenge has just begun. I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side." 

 Dracula,

by Bram Stoker

25 July 1914. Bistritz

Jonathan felt a twinge of guilt. He knew they needed to be careful, but with the midday warmth of the sun on his back, and with a grand view of the Carpathian countryside in front of him, he found it hard to repress his good spirits. Even the mountains, with their thickly forested peaks rising above the well-tended fields and the small villages, sent a thrill of excitement and expectation through him. 

He gave his horse its lead as he surveyed his companions riding in front of him. Quincey was reining in his horse as it tried to get ahead of the other horses. 

Further on, Dr. Van Helsing and Sabina rode side by side. He watched as Sabina now checked her horse, which was just as determined to keep the lead position as Quincey’s horse was to claim it. A loud chuckle escaped him.

Quincey turned around in his saddle, a questioning look on his face; Jonathan shook his head and waved him on. He nodded in reply and swung back, resuming his scan of the road and of the surrounding countryside; with Jonathan wryly thinking that he was taking their situation a little more seriously than was called for. 

He liked Quincey; having met him in London only a month ago. His mother, Mrs. Devereaux, while visiting relatives in France, had sent a letter to Lord Godalming requesting to make the acquaintance of her deceased brother’s friends, which included not only Lord Godalming, but the professor, Dr. Seward and Jonathan's own parents.

He still wondered at the timing of their visit. They appeared in London at about the same time that Sister Agatha, Abbess of the Bistritz nunnery, had sent a letter requesting the professor and he come to Transylvania “concerning a troubling incident at the castle”.

When Quincey was told of their upcoming expedition, he immediately asked that he be taken along. 

Jonathan understood why Quincey‘s mother, and indeed, everyone else, excepting the professor, protested so strongly against his going. After all, his mother had lost her brother in Transylvania, might not she lose her son also?

He admired Quincey’s determination in the midst of so many adults urging him to reconsider. At age eighteen, he was very much his own man, and would not be dissuaded. More than four years younger, Jonathan could not imagine himself, even at eighteen, being able to withstand that well-meaning barrage of objections to Quincey’s taking this trip.

He shifted uneasily in the saddle as he recalled his own parents’ reluctance, and then their resignation, as Sister Agatha had asked specifically that he accompany Dr. Van Helsing. There was a strong bond between Sister Agatha and his parents, and so he was not too surprised when they finally gave their permission.

But he also had his own reasons for taking this trip. For one thing, after years of corresponding with Sister Agatha, he would finally get to meet her. He had so many questions.

Watching Quincey, he wondered what might he be expecting to find on this journey. But, then again, the same could be said of him. Here he was; traveling alongside Quincey; just as his own father had traveled alongside his late friend, Quincey Morris, so long ago.   

But Jonathan suspected that was not the real problem. He knew Quincey was not at all comfortable with their present circumstances.

Things started to unravel the moment they stepped off the train in Bistritz. The professor expected Sister Agatha to meet them, but instead, Sabina, whom he knew from previous trips to Transylvania, greeted them. 

“Come quickly,” she had said in heavily accented English, “the world has changed.”

When she noticed Quincey following them, she stopped suddenly. “Who is this?”, an edge of panic in her voice.

“Quincey Devereaux, Quincey Morris’ nephew, he is with us,” the professor sputtered; a little taken aback by Sabina’s sharpness.

A look of comprehension, and then surprise crossed her face, “Oh,…”. She then pointed to his large cowboy hat, “Take that off quickly, we cannot draw attention to ourselves.” 

Quincey had asked, “What could be so important that Sister Agatha could not be here? After all, she was the one that requested we come.”

Sabina,impatiently tucking a stray black curl back into her bright red kerchief, had snapped back, “Sister Agatha did not request you.”

He still recalled, with some amusement, the look on Quincey’s red face. 

The professor clapped Quincey on the shoulder and drew him away from Sabina, “It appears that we must be a bit more circumspect on this trip than usual. Sister Agatha has not alerted the local authorities to our coming, which she is not required to do, but has always done as a courtesy in the past. The elders had asked her to wait until they can hold counsel with us before deciding whether to notify them.”

Sabina, leading them down the platform with some haste, turned back to add, “Martial law has been declared today, we must get you out of Bistritz quickly.”

Silence prevailed as they tried to keep up with her. Suddenly she stopped at the opening between two coaches.

“Here, follow me.” She proceeded up the steps, removed the chain blocking off the opposite steps, and jumped down to the ground.

“Hurry!”

As they clambered down, luggage and all, they were greeted by two young girls who acted as if they knew them. A young man strode over and took one of the professor’s satchels. 

They crossed several tracks and made for a carriage parked on the road running parallel to the tracks, occupied by two young boys waving at them.

The professor dropped his other satchel and promptly collapsed onto the running board of the carriage, startling the horses and causing the carriage to rock.

“My dear girl, are we done with this racing around?”

She knelt on one knee to face him,”It was for your safety, we have had to change our plans. Give me your baggage claim tickets, Peter will take care of that while we meet up with Karoly at the stables.”

Sabina issued instructions to a young boy who then ran off; she then hustled everyone into the carriage. 

Their entry into Bistritz had dampened Jonathan’s spirits somewhat. However, once they were on their way, Sabina seemed to relax, and even offered an encouraging smile to them all.

This was definitely not the scenic part of  Bistritz. Loud clanging noises issued from open foundries; along with the unmistakable smell of molten metal; and interspersed between them were large warehouses bustling with trucks and wagons loading and unloading produce and wares.  

Soon, they left behind the noise and activity, and up ahead, corral fences, painted white, signaled their arrival at the stables.

Sabina busily ordered everyone about; but in Hungarian, so the three guests stood apart and just watched.

The checked baggage arrived; accompanied by four horsemen, whom, to Jonathan, looked like they had just stepped out of a cowboy movie; except for the tri-cornered hats and the white flowing skirts they wore over their britches and boots. An extra horse was requisitioned for Quincey, and the checked baggage had to be re-packed onto two horses. 

One boisterous horseman was constantly making remarks that caused the others to laugh, and earned him scowls from Sabina. But, all worked fast, and finally they were ready to leave.

Sabina’s companions accompanied them to the outskirts of Bistritz. Once on the main road to Borgo Pass, two of the men headed off ahead of them, while the other two pulled off of the road and soon disappeared into the southern foothills behind them, leaving he and Quincey to tend to the pack horses. 

He had wondered then where they were going; and under whose orders. But the countryside distracted him and he had soon forgotten about them. 

A piercing whistle brought Jonathan back to the present. Before he could locate where the whistle came from, Sabina was hurriedly leading them into a tall thicket of trees that lined the southern verge, making her way as quickly as possible through the overgrown underbrush and trees. 

He kept his eyes on the uneven ground, allowing his horse to pick its own way, but staying alert in case it slipped. The rest of his concentration focused on the roaring noise coming from the road behind them. 

As the noise increased, he realized it was a small motorcade traveling up the road. He did not look back; he wanted to get as much distance between him and whatever was coming down that road. 

Sabina pulled her reins sharply to the left, leading their group to cover behind a tall hedgerow. She stopped only when she was sure all the horses were safely hidden from the road. She and the professor quickly dismounted, handing their reins to Jonathan. They traced their steps to a small opening in the hedgerow and looked towards the road. The noise steadily increased, magnified by the echoes bouncing off the surrounding mountains. 

Dismounting to better calm the horses, he glimpsed flashes of reflected light flickering through the trees marking the progress of the motorcade as it sped past them. Quincey was steadying his horse while checking the bundles on the pack horse making sure their hasty flight had not loosened their cargo. 

Jonathan secured his horses and went over to help him. The noise from the road was fading quickly when he picked up another sound. 

He froze. This noise was behind them, coming from the woods. Concerned that this might be a new danger, he put out a cautionary hand to Quincey as he slowly turned around to face the sound. He spied a faint movement through the thick trees located fifty yards away. He pointed in that direction. 

Quincey reached for one of the bundles and, with a quickness that surprised Jonathan, extracted a rifle and handed it to him. As he caught it, Quincey rummaged around and pulled out a box of ammunition. All the while Jonathan kept one eye on the woods. 

The movement resolved itself into two horsemen, picking their way carefully among the trees. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief; these were Sabina's people.

Sabina came over and put her hand on Quincey’s shoulder and lifted her finger to her mouth, indicating that silence was still in order. She then waved to the two horsemen. The two men picked their way slowly, and quietly, down the slope, staying within the shadows of the trees bordering the small cultivated fields.

He experienced mixed emotions regarding his new friend’s actions. Had he been prepared to shoot these strangers, if he deemed it necessary? 

A rush of adrenalin accompanied his thoughts. His ears burned. He became acutely aware of his surroundings. His eyes swept the fields and the dark line of the forest before him. He saw the meandering river that cut them off from the safety of the forest.

Jonathan pushed his thoughts farther, gathering in the surrounding countryside, noting the birds as they tentatively resumed their songs while the noisy motorcade receded into the distance.

Quincey laid a hand on his shoulder.  Startled, Jonathan looked at him as he nodded in the direction of Dr. Van Helsing and Sabina, “More changes.” He followed his glance.

"We cannot go to the village, it's too dangerous. We do not know if that motorcade will leave behind troops in any of the villages along the Pass. The First Army has many Vlachs (1) in their ranks; they are still flush with the success of Rumania’s wars against Bulgaria and they would like nothing better than to cause trouble for our people."

Sabina looked at Quincey. "We do not want to provoke their curiosity by riding into the village. We will have to cross the river and travel through the forest. There is a hunting cabin about fifteen kilos from here where we can stay for the night. Tonight, Stefan and Karoly will go to our village and find out what is happening."

With a note of frustration, Dr. Van Helsing asked, "What if we are unable to enter your village?" 

Sabina turned to Stefan and Karoly. Jonathan could not follow their conversation as they lapsed into Hungarian, but his ears pricked up at the mention of dracul. He saw the doctor stiffen in response to the word.

Sabina turned back  to the doctor,"If we cannot enter the village, we will go directly to the outpost that has been set up to watch the castle of Count Dracula.”

Jonathan grabbed onto the saddle to steady himself. Knowing the stories was one thing, confronted with the reality of their existence was quite another.

Scenes of home flooded his thoughts; the woods in Exeter, the warm evenings spent on the grounds of the Westenra Foundation, and the crackling fireplace at Lord Godalming's mansion where he had first heard the stories of Count Dracula.

Back in England, warmed by a fire and surrounded by friends and family, those stories seemed like such a grand adventure. Jonathan did not feel adventurous now. Not when he was behind a hedgerow hiding from local authorities. 

His excitement vanished; in its place was a sense of loss, and a feeling of annoyance towards Dr. Van Helsing. A flash of anger momentarily overwhelmed him. What had the doctor dragged him into? 

He looked around at his newly met friends and realized he knew nothing about them; except for Dr. Van Helsing. Another thought intruded; if the stories were true, then Dr. Van Helsing’s part in them was true!

Unconsciously he felt for the handle of his father’s knife, safe in its sheath in the small of his back. He remembered how excited he was to get it; now he felt a small chill creep up his back  as he recalled that this was the same knife that had hastened the Count's demise.

He shook his head. Thoughts of home needed to be tucked away for a safer time. Better to follow Dr. Van Helsing’s lead if he wanted to sit by a fire one day and tell stories about his own adventures.

Sabina untied a yellow cloth strip from her belt and slipped through the hedgerow. She quickly tied it to a nearby branch and, with a wave of a hand, directed everyone to remount.

Not another word was spoken as they packed up and left. Sabina led the way, with Stefan and Karoly dropping behind the rest of the party, taking charge of the pack horses. 

They stayed within the shadows of the trees bordering the small path between the cultivated fields. When they neared the woods, Sabina darted under the trees without pausing, Quincey following. Jonathan resisted the urge to glance back as he entered the woods. 

They followed along a small deer trail running parallel with the Bistritz River. He had no time to take in the scenery; he was kept busy dodging low branches and keeping up with Quincey. 

He was beginning to think they were going to follow this trail indefinitely when Quincey suddenly stopped. Jonathan had to rein in his horse quickly to avoid slamming into him. He moved to the side to prevent Stefan and Karoly from running into him.

 He caught sight of Sabina carefully making her way across the river. The water came up to her horse's flanks, but there did not to appear to be any dangerous current.

He felt exposed when it was his turn to leave the woods and enter the river. He did not need any urging to dart back into the woods on the other side and to follow the riders that were now disappearing into a dense thicket of trees. He urged his horse on, keeping his eyes on Quincey’s horse and the faint, twisting trail rising above him. 

Finally the ground became more level and the trail opened up into a small, sunless clearing. Sabina waited until everyone was in the clearing and then started off again, this time, at a more leisurely pace.

The forest floor was covered with dry pine needles muffling the sounds of their passing. The tall straight trunks, shooting up to the sky, were devoid of any green. If he stretched his neck and looked up, he could see patches of green in the canopy overhead. He took a deep breath. The resinous smell, not unfamiliar to him, was very pleasant. This forest was old. He felt it.

His mind wandered, picking up stray sounds and smells. He was mildly aware of the doctor, shifting in his saddle for comfort, and of Quincey, who, like he, was paying attention to the sights and sounds around him. 

This forest felt like home to him. He smiled to himself knowing full well that these woods were nothing like his beloved Exeter woods. But it did not seem to matter. He was being drawn under the spell of this strange place and felt kindly towards the surroundings around him.

He closed his eyes and let the rhythmic motion of their progress lull his immediate attention into a more expansive exploration of the woods around him. It was a trick of his that he engaged in at home; well, what used to be home,they had moved to London over a year ago to be closer to most of his father’s clients, Lord Godalming being the major one.

He let his mind drift and his senses expand to catch the sounds of the myriad activities commonplace in any woods. He relaxed, spreading his thoughts further afield.        

It was amazing how loud the littlest skirmishes of the ground creatures in Exeter sounded when he focused his attention on them. In his woods he played a private game of trying to guess which creature was the cause of the latest noise. However, he was disappointed this time. The forest was strangely quiet. Becoming bored, he tried reaching out farther, expanding his range.

He was rewarded immediately by sensing a new, mysterious presence, a very strong presence. What kind of animal? He could not even guess; something feline, or cat-like maybe. He felt a vague familiarity to the fox that he tracked back in the woods at Exeter.

Excited, he tried to track its direction, almost tasting its nearness. Unexpectedly, he had the distinct feeling it was now aware of him! A strange sensation of intense concentrated focus was now being directed towards him, searching him out. A tendril touched his mind.  

Sabina!

 He felt her become aware of him! Confused, he opened his eyes and looked in her direction. She turned in her saddle and smiled at him. Dazed, he nodded to her.

Had he really touched her thoughts; and had she really touched his? His mind went blank; he felt thrown into a strange world. Admittedly, a bit frightened, he fought to regain a hold onto his immediate surroundings, finding reassurance as he concentrated on the slow plodding of the horses, and the presence of Doctor Van Helsing and Quincey in front of him. 

Eventually the forest floor inclined downward leading them to a clearing between two hills. Sabina called for a halt. There was a small stream and plenty of meadow grass for the horses.

"We can give the horses a rest here. Afterward we will follow a trail behind that hill in front of us. We will be hidden from the road and will be able to make better time." 

Jonathan busied himself with the horses, trying to avoid any private conversation with Sabina. He needed time to think. Of course he was not sure how any amount of time was going to help, but he certainly was unprepared to acknowledge that he read her mind. Well, maybe not read her mind, but close enough to make him uncomfortable. He shook his head, just thinking about it scared him, never mind the fact that she might be able to read his!

Karoly, leading the pack horses, now unburdened, joined him as he took the riding horses to the stream. He showed Jonathan how to fetter the horses. He followed Karoly’s instructions, not letting on that he had worked at a stable in Exeter, but noting that Karoly’s technique was different enough to hold his attention.

Satisfied with their handiwork, Karoly motioned him to sit with him by the stream bed so they could watch the horses. He was more than happy to stay in Karoly’s company.

"Doctor Van Helsing; he is a famous man in your country?”

Karoly’s accent was very pronounced and he was not sure he had heard him right. “Pardon me?”

Karoly repeated his question. Jonathan leaned back against the tree truck wondering how to answer him. It was obvious Karoly thought very highly of the doctor and he had a suspicion that the good doctor commanded quite a following here among the Szekelys. 

After all, Dr. Van Helsing had traveled to Transylvania several times over the past few years. He had been working with an old friend of his from Budapest, before his friend’s untimely, and mysterious, death. He knew their work had something to do with the papers they uncovered in Count Dracula’s Castle, but that was all he knew, except, the doctor was also the administrator of Lord Godalming’s funds that supported Sister Agatha’s work of restoring illuminated manuscripts at the Abbey in Bistritz.

He could see how the professor’s continued presence, along with the generous funds from Lord Godalming, may have given him favored status among the Szekelys.

Karoly relieved him from having to answer right away, as he continued, “His wisdom has helped us keep our children healthy, and, he has, many times, helped us with the authorities.”

He nodded in agreement. “He is known for his wisdom and respected by all who meet him. But he does not seek fame, because that would intrude on his research, which may not be understood by many people.”

“Oh, yes I understand.”

Jonathan sighed. He wanted to do justice to Doctor Van Helsing’s reputation while trying to explain why the good doctor was not well known in England.

Deciding it might be safer to talk about something else, he asked, “Karoly, how did you learn the King’s English?”

Karoly brightened, “Sister Agatha teaches us, and now Sabina also. I am learning to write too.”

So he listened, and helped Karoly practice his English until Sabina called them to bring the horses back to the clearing.

They made good progress in the late afternoon. The southerly face of the hills was warm, but he was amazed how fast darkness descended upon them once the sun set behind the mountains.

In the long, gray twilight, Sabina continued to lead the way, the horses appearing to be familiar with the terrain. At last they headed up one of the many hills, Sabina promising that the cabin was only a short distance ahead of them.

They cleared a rise and as the trees opened up onto a small clearing, he saw a few lights to the north twinkling in the valley below them, marking where a small village resided near the main road through the pass. A lone motor vehicle, with wavering lanterns, was making small progress a few kilometers outside the village.

Pointing to the lights, he asked, “How far to that village?”

Sabina, already dismounted and walking her horse to the small railing outside the cabin, answered back, “About 10 kilometers.”

He had momentarily forgotten his reluctance to talk to Sabina; embarrassed, he quickly dismounted and helped Karoly with the pack horses.

The cabin was disappointingly small. It looked like everyone would be sleeping under the stars. Stefan and the doctor went inside the cabin with Sabina while Quincey joined Karoly and Jonathan in caring for the horses.

He heard the doctor exclaiming about something inside, followed by laughter. They all  turned around in time to see Stefan and the doctor come out of the cabin carrying huge bundles of quilted blankets.

"We will have hot tea tonight and Turkish coffee for the morning!" Doctor Van Helsing dropped his bundle under a large tree, avoiding the cold fire pit in front of the cabin.

"The cabin is the entrance to a large underground store room. We may be sleeping under the stars, but we will still have the comforts of home."

Sabina appeared in the doorway carrying large leather bags of feed for the horses. Stefan and Quincey raced over to help her.

"Jonathan, can you draw some water from the pump in back of the cabin?" Jonathan nodded as he made his way to the rear of the building.

The camp was in merry disarray as hooded lanterns were fetched and a camp stove set for their evening meal.

Jonathan's eyes were beginning to close as he stretched out on a blanket, a saddle under his head, with his stomach rumbling contentedly after a light supper prepared by Sabina and her two companions. He was ready to surrender to sleep when Dr. Van Helsing called out his name. He sat up and looked over at the doctor.

"You and I and Karoly and Stefan are going to sleep first. Quincey and Sabina will take the first watch. We will take the second watch. Karoly and Stefan will leave for the village during the second watch, so get some sleep now because we will be up early."

He nodded, turning over to get more comfortable, adjusting the blanket to cover him, and, at the same time wondering why the doctor had to wake him up to tell him to get some sleep. He shook his head to dismiss the thought and, curling up under the blanket, he gave way to sleep.

CHAPTER TWO - Breakfast on the Borgo Pass

"There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard, as if from down below in the valley, the howling of many wolves. The Count’s eyes gleamed, and he said:-
‘Listen to them - the children of the night. What music they make!’ Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:-
‘Ah sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter.’ "

-Jonathan Harker’s Diary

Dracula,

by Bram Stoker

25 July 1914. Borgo Pass 

Someone above him was talking; annoyed, he pulled the blanket over his head. Then that same someone shook his shoulder. With an effort, he turned over, “What?” 

Sabina stood up, “Your turn for the watch. Time to get up.” Jonathan sat up, now fully awake. He nodded in understanding, and as Sabina departed, he threw his blanket off. He was surprised how cold it was. He quickly reached for his coat and boots. 

Karoly and Stefan had their horses already saddled, and without a word, left the camp. Sabina motioned to Doctor Van Helsing and Jonathan to follow her. She led them out of the camp and along a ridge, stopping by a small path leading upward. 

"Follow this trail to the top. You will be able to see in all directions. Watch to the west and east, that is where the main road is located. If you notice any movement off the road, warn us." 

She handed Doctor Van Helsing the shotgun she had been holding and removed a small satchel from around her shoulder, putting it around the doctor's neck. “Extra shells,” she explained, glancing over at Jonathan. 

“I have my father’s Kukri, well, actually it’s known as a Gurkha blade, ” He pulled out the large knife from the back sheath. 

Sabina’s eyes widened a bit. “Your father’s?” She reached out to touch it.
He nodded, surprised at her reaction. 

“It will serve you well. You are well armed.” She turned and left them. 

Doctor Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder. "I had not realized how unsettled this region is right now. I never would have brought you and Quincey here if I knew of this.” 

"Do you think Sister Agatha and the Szekelys can protect us?” 

"In some ways, yes, but in some ways, no. If we do not hear from the good Sister soon, I will take you both into my confidence and then we will decide what to do." 

He hefted the shotgun to his shoulder. "In the meantime, let us keep watch on the road." 

Jonathan welcomed the quiet night. Walking through the woods brought back memories of his night excursions in Exeter, a world that seemed so far distant now. As in Exeter, he walked as quietly as he could; trying to draw in any sights, sounds, or smells.
Once, upon turning, he caught sight of the doctor sitting on a rock, watching him. He waved, and, turning away, wondered if he could sense the doctor's presence as well as he did Sabina’s earlier. The most he could conjure up was a shadowy presence, and, if Jonathan was not imagining it, a distinct feeling of a wall in front of the doctor's thoughts. 

The only disturbance during the first few hours was the sound of a lone motorcar traveling on the road; the lanterns not readily visible from their vantage point yet. He focused on the noise, watching to see when the vehicle would appear below him on the road. Eventually, the doctor joined him. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“Yes, some time ago. I am trying to see if I can catch its lights.” 

Finally a glow appeared from the west, leading into the village. He pointed in the direction of the vehicle, its flickering lanterns pinpointing its location now. In a few moments the doctor acknowledged seeing the vehicle. 

They watched as it made its way into the village, and continued to watch for its departure; but, as the minutes went by,it became apparent that the vehicle had stopped.
After a time, they stretched and moved back to higher ground. 

“Well,” said the professor, “Maybe Karoly or Stephan will have more information for us later.”  

Each took a different circuit around the ridge; but patrolling the area was becoming increasingly monotonous, and Jonathan was getting hungry. He walked further and further afield, but had used up all the options in the little area allotted them.
He had checked the doctor's watch so often in the past hour that the good doctor was definitely getting annoyed with him. He finally sat on a rock, arms crossed, not even bothering to look at the road anymore.

He did not realize he had fallen asleep until a sound woke him. There was the palest change to the dark woods that signaled the dawn. Turning, he saw the doctor twenty yards in back of him, his back towards Jonathan. He could not tell if the doctor had made the noise. Holding his breath, he listened intently. 

There it was again!  

Standing up,he turned in the direction of the noise. There was no time to try and warn the doctor. He scanned the woods, the light barely enough to distinguish one tree trunk from another. He could see no movement, but the noise told him where to look. The sound took on a pattern, something moving through the leafy part of the forest floor; but no stealth to the pattern. 

New movement behind him announced the professor’s approach; at the same time, he caught the distinct aroma of freshly baked bread. Villagers! Probably from the village below. He sighed, relieved, and turned towards the doctor who had come alongside him. The first thing he saw was the muzzle of the shotgun sliding into view. He backed up and put his hand on the barrel, gently pressing down. He leaned over to the doctor and whispered, "They are from the village." 

"How do you know?" The doctor hissed back. 

"Smell the fresh bread." He heard the doctor audibly sniff the air, and hesitate; then he shouldered the gun. 

"Let's go back to camp and see what news they bring." 

Just then Jonathan heard something rustling behind the advancing villagers; he grabbed the doctor's shoulder. "I hear something else behind them. Stay a minute." He felt the doctor stiffen. 

He squinted, trying to pierce through the lingering darkness, willing his eyes to catch any movement to match the sound he heard. Finally he caught a streak of movement separating itself from the general gloom. It was fast! 

The villagers were not the targets. It swept past them without any loss in its stride. What was its target? He took a chance and tore his gaze away to scan ahead to see what its prey might be. 

Sabina! 

He saw her outside the cabin. She appeared to be looking for tinder. He bolted down the cliff face, startling the doctor. Half his mind was focused on finding a path through the tangled trees; the other half was furiously gaging his speed against the wolf's.
He had already determined that, indeed, it was a wolf stalking Sabina. He spared a second to wonder why it did not attack the villagers. But he could not afford wasting any more precious time. He kept on calculating, and recalculating, judging how much speed he needed to intercept the beast. 

While running, he drew his blade. His only focus was on reaching the wolf before it reached Sabina. He saw Sabina turn her head toward him, alerted to his presence by the noise he was making crashing through the underbrush. 

"Sabina! Wolf to your left." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the wolf slow slightly. He took advantage of that to steer closer to the wolf. 

"Jonathan! No!" 

At the sound of Sabina's voice, the wolf gained greater speed and ran towards Sabina. Jonathan let a cry escape from his lips. He would not make it in time. He put forth a last tremendous effort and leaped toward the wolf, hoping to distract it. The wolf was beginning its own leap towards Sabina. He could see the yellow eyes look blankly at him before passing by and landing in Sabina's arms. Jonathan hit the ground and had the wind knocked out of him. He forced himself upright, blade in hand. The wolf had knocked Sabina down.
It was now on top of her, wagging its tail and licking her face. He stared at the scene in front of him, letting a few moments pass, allowing his mind to catch up with his senses. Sabina was quietly laughing and making cooing sounds to the great wolf who had toppled her over, and who was still wagging its tail furiously. 

Jonathan sheathed his knife and stepped back from the scene in front of him. Quincey, standing by the cabin, was watching him. 

"Sabina! 

The villagers rode into camp. They dismounted as Sabina, and her companion, went over to greet them. There was much conversation as Sabina took the baskets and bundles handed to her. 

Jonathan felt Quincey staring at him. He looked up. "That was quite a leap you took."
He blushed. "Yes, and quite a tumble too." 

Quincey continued to stare at him. "Yes...." Quincey drew out his response as if he had intended to say something more. 

Jonathan turned to Dr. Van Helsing, who by now, was alongside him. He was out of breath and looked annoyed. "Why did you run off?" 

He sighed, "I thought Sabina was in danger of being attacked by this wolf." 

Dr. Van Helsing looked over at Sabina, now kneeling by the wolf, ruffling her ears while she continued talking to the villagers. He heard the doctor grunt in understanding. "Yes, the wolf certainly does look ferocious." 

He risked a sidelong glance, quick enough to catch the beginning of a smile on the doctor's face. He felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder, "Good instinct though. I did not even see the wolf. Thank you for coming to her aid." 

Jonathan turned his attention to Sabina as he had heard his name mentioned. The two villagers were looking at him as Sabina spoke. They smiled and nodded to him as one of the villagers handed Sabina a strip of yellow cloth that he guessed had been the same strip she had attached to the tree limb when they were hiding from the motorcade.
Sabina, still speaking, now pointed to Quincey. "Ahhhh" they exclaimed. 

The sun had not yet reached the mountaintops, and the cold chill of morning was still in the air. Sabina kept on talking, slowly ushering everyone back to the fire, which was now crackling away. She smiled to the doctor as she held up a coffeepot and set it onto a small camp stove. 

The villagers stopped in front of Quincey and Jonathan. The man reached out to shake Jonathan's hand. He did it solemnly, and Jonathan bowed in return. The woman grasped Quincey's hand with both of her hands and murmured what sounded like blessings. Both the lads were embarrassed by the gestures, but were determined to match the villagers' formality and solemnity. 

Breakfast was wonderful! His stomach had been growling for quite some time now. The smell of the fresh bread was overwhelming his senses. Even though his sole intention was on eating breakfast, he managed to keep one ear tuned in to the conversation between Doctor Van Helsing and Sabina.  

Sabina continued, "Officers have been coming into our villages to conscript our young men. They do not even care to check their age. We have had to go to Bacau several times to remove any young boys' names from the lists." 

"This morning Stefan and Karoly went with some of the townsfolk to gather the boys that were listed by the Hungarian First Army yesterday afternoon. From time to time we have to remind the authorities that we have our own regiments to which we serve. Now we have learned to take the boys to one of our hidden encampments in the surrounding mountains. They do not go back to their villages for a while."

"There is more bad news. Last night Serbia refused the Ultimatum." 

He noted that the doctor looked startled at what Sabina told him, but sat in silence. He took that opportunity to finish his breakfast. 

“What is this? What is this Ultimatum?” 

Sabina sighed, "The Austrian Emperor has demanded many concessions from Serbia because of their involvement in Franz Ferdinand’s assassination.” 

“But that was a month ago! Why now? And the assassin was captured and jailed! ” 

“I only know what I am told, Serbia has refused the demands, and there is now talk of war preparations. That is all I know. We will not be going into the village, it is too dangerous, and the First Army will be back again. We are to go straight to our camp near the Count’s castle." 

The professor, seated on a camp stool, with head bowed, studied his hands lying on his knees. After a pause he turned towards Jonathan and Quincey. He stood up, ushering the boys to follow him away from the campfire.  

They followed him out in to the warming sun, which had now crested the surrounding mountains. Dr. Van Helsing walked over to a large mass of boulders. Leaning against one of them, he crossed his arms, "I am so sorry that I have taken you both on this trip."  

He lifted a hand to quiet the instant protests coming from both Jonathan and Quincey. 

"This trip was dangerous enough before this. Now we face other threats." He straightened up, pacing back and forth.

"But milk spilt cannot be undone. We are here, and, with this turn of events, we are most likely safer if we stay here than to try to return to England; as we did not report our presence when we first arrived."  

Jonathan sighed. Reason told him the professor was right, but his stomach was definitely protesting. Dr. Van Helsing stopped his pacing and looked at the two young men in front of him. 

"I am not going to wait any further in telling you both as much as I know about why we were asked to come here. I cannot wait for Sister Agatha any longer. I was hoping she would be here to tell us what she knows. But with this latest danger, we will have to proceed with what information we have." 

He sighed. "The primary reason we are here is to help Sister Agatha and her people. She has asked our help in investigating some new mischief at the Count's castle, as you know." Jonathan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen. The Professor looked at him, "We owe much to Sister Agatha.” 

He nodded. “I know; she saved father’s life.” 

"Yes, but more than that. She has been watching this region, with the help of these good village people, by our request, for over ten years. She has been our eyes and ears."
"You both overheard how your parents,", here he nodded at Jonathan, "and how your uncle," he nodded at Quincey, "did battle with the Count. Unfortunately for us the story did not end there." 

"A few years later, when you were still very young Jonathan, we all came back here to reassure ourselves that what we had done, and what we had all suffered, was not just some horrible dream that had afflicted us all. 

“The castle no longer looked threatening, and, again to assure our sanity, we gathered up enough courage to go inside the castle. Remember Jonathan, your father had been a prisoner in there for quite some time." 

He nodded, noticing Quincey giving him a sharp look. He realized that Quincey would need more updating than he. 

"We entered the Count’s castle; a gloomy place, but not frightening in the daylight. Your father was still plagued with recurring nightmares, and we thought this trip back to the castle might help him. We traced his footsteps with him. 

"Our first task was to visit the Count's chambers to see if any of the gold that your father remembered being there might still be left untouched. There was no gold. We do not know if the Count had it all sent with him to London, or if the castle had been ransacked.
"After looking through the rest of the castle, and finding many things undisturbed, we determined that the Count most likely took the gold with him, or hid it elsewhere before he left here."

"I again exorcised the chapel where the Count, and others of his kind, had laid in their unholy rest." Quincey shifted uncomfortably. "We then visited the apartments where your father had been held against his will. Again, as I mentioned, it did not look like anything had been disturbed.” 

"We looked through the library that your father knew so well. We examined it thoroughly and were surprised that the newspapers, periodicals, and books were all of this century. That struck us as odd. For a, …man, of his many years, we expected the library to be filled with many ancient texts. "

"Lord Godalming, more of an expert on ancient architecture and furnishings than the rest of us, began examining the walls for the possibility of hidden rooms, a feature not uncommon in more unsettling times. Perplexed by the lack of older publications, we all joined in to help." 

"Towards the middle of the afternoon, we were rewarded. The afternoon sun cast rays of light from the ceiling transom onto the east wall of the library and illuminated a crack between two of the bookshelves lining the wall. Your mother was the one who, pausing from looking at the books, first noticed this dark crack. She thought, at first, that the sun was playing tricks on her eyes. But as she drew closer, she felt a slight draft emanating from the crack. Your father and I noticed her, and we joined her investigation. It soon became apparent that this was a concealed doorway. We tried to force it open." 

"Lord Godalming, now intrigued by this discovery, moved to the window. As we pulled on each of the bookcases, Lord Godalming gazed towards the ceiling, and followed the casing to the nearest window. Here he selected one of the curtain pulls and gently tugged on it. Before our eyes, one of the bookcases slowly opened into the room. We stepped out of its way. There, with an old whiff of escaping mildew and dust, we found the Count's private library. " 

"Your mother and I entered the passageway that led to the library and opened the window to get some light and air into the room. Here is what we were looking for. Some of the manuscripts were so ancient that we were fearful they would crumble under our fingertips. Here also your father found his luggage and papers that the Count had stolen from him."  

"We closed the hidden library at the end of the day. We could tell that this was too huge an endeavor for us to finish in the limited time we had. We declared a council meeting, as we had done when we were fighting the Count. We could not let these writings perish, and we could not let them fall into the wrong hands. It was decided that we needed local help. The only person in this region that we felt confident with was Sister Agatha." 

"We would have to see her and explain all that had transpired after Mina and Jonathan left the hospital. I took that task, as I felt I had a better understanding of the history of Count Dracula, as well as the details surrounding poor Lucy. I left immediately as it would take two days to reach her at the hospital."  

"Your mother cataloged all the volumes in the private library before closing it off again. Lord Godalming and your father contracted with some of the local villagers to repair the outer doorways and entrances into the castle. They did the final locking up of the castle after the local folks left. They wanted to secure the castle in such a way as to discourage any curiosity seekers. They then joined me at the hospital. By that time, I had told our story to the good Sister." 

"She asked questions of us all, regarding our past adventure. She said she would think about helping us out and taking over the responsibility of securing these ancient volumes in a safe place. I had already mentioned to her that I hoped her abbey could be the depository. The nuns here were trained in the handling and preserving of ancient manuscripts. I thought Sister Agatha could persuade her Bishop to take on the task of preserving this ancient library. 

"Lord Godalming, although not of the Catholic faith, said he would present a generous grant to the parish as his way of showing his appreciation to the abbey for taking on this task. He would of course, reimburse the abbey for any expenses incurred. He asked that Sister Agatha be the conduit through which the money would flow to the parish and to the abbey." 

"I volunteered to stay on until all was settled. Your father and mother stayed on too, so that your father could file papers with the local magistrate showing he had power of attorney over the Count's property, and that Sister Agatha was to be the local agent for his firm. We still had the original documents, signed by Count Dracula, attesting to the fact that the Hawkins Law firm, now known as Hawkins and Harker, were the designated legal representatives for the Count. We gambled that no stories had circulated about the Count's untimely end. The gypsies that scattered after the Count's death were not from the local region." 

"Our plan did work. With your father’s power of attorney, the path had been cleared for me and Sister Agatha to begin transporting the Count's library to a safer place. The good Sister and I took your mother's catalog of the contents of the Count's library, and the instructions from Jonathan and Lord Godalming as to how to get into the castle, before the three of them left to go back to England." 

"Dr. Van Helsing!" Sabina shouted from the cabin entrance. They all looked in her direction. "It is time to leave." 

Dr. Van Helsing stood up. "We will continue with this story later."

CHAPTER THREE - To Camp

“That treasure has been hidden,” he went on, “in the region through which you came last night, there can be but little doubt; for it was the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all this region that has not been enriched by the blood of men, patriots or invaders.”

-Count Dracula,

Dracula,

By Bram Stoker

26 July, 1914 - Through the Carpathians

They rode single file leaving the cultivated fields behind them, steadily climbing upward, winding around one mountain, descending slightly, and then climbing again across another mountain. As they climbed, the fir wood closed in on them so tightly the sun’s rays could not penetrate the gloom. Grey clouds promised rain later.

Quincey turned up his coat collar and pulled down his cowboy hat; Sabina now allowing him to wear it again.  Dr. Van Helsing had donned a coat given to him by Sabina. She said it was of Saxon design and would keep out the cool damp mountain air. The good doctor appeared embarrassed about accepting such a rich gift, but it did not stop him from wearing it.

Dead branches cracked and fell as horses and riders brushed against them. There was no trail, or if there was, it had to be for very small animals.   

Sabina did not seem bothered by the lack of any trail. Her wolf companion; Jonathan found it difficult to call her a pet, was running alongside her and occasionally looking up at her, as if they were conversing. He momentarily considered testing his own ability on Lupa; he now knowing her name, but decided not to take the chance of catching Sabina’s thoughts instead.

As the day wore on, so did the weather. The clouds rolled in and a fine mist enveloped them. Their stop for lunch was cheerless, except for the food that the villagers had provided them for their journey. They ate standing beside their mounts, but the fresh bread and fruit lifted their spirits somewhat.

Towards the middle of the afternoon Jonathan caught a glimpse of a large clearing on the side of one of the mountains before they dipped back down into the unrelenting forest. However, as they wound their way back up again, Sabina stopped at an outcropping that gave all the party a view of the surrounding countryside, and especially of the large clearing, now at eye level, but still some distance away. She took out a bright red kerchief and waved it over her head. An answering movement in the clearing resolved into a man waving a red flag.

Jonathan swept his eyes over the clearing wondering if there was shelter for them for the night. He liked camping, but with rain threatening, he had hoped to enjoy the night with a roof over his head.

Finally, he spotted a peaked roof, cleverly blended in to the landscape by the use of moss and bark on its roof. Now knowing what to look for, he spotted other similar shaped buildings before the clearing dropped from their sight again. Relieved, he settled back into his saddle.

They followed along the foot of a large cliff face towering almost 13 meters high above them on their right side. After a while, the distinct odors of a stable assailed his senses, which seemed out of place in the middle of the woods, but, as they continued, the odor grew stronger, and soon, the low murmur of voices signaled the presence of people somewhere ahead of them.

The weary group of travelers rode into a naturally carved out depression in the cliff face. A cool draft of air hit Jonathan in the face. Turning to his right he saw the entrance to a cave; and from his quick look into the interior, a substantially large cave.

Loud voices broke out in greeting to Sabina. Friendly hands took his reins as he dismounted. He stretched his legs while young men took over unpacking and unsaddling the horses. The horses were led into the cave, which was grandly outfitted with stalls and feeding bins.

Sabina was busy answering questions from some of the young people around her while shouting instructions to others. As all this business was being conducted in Hungarian, he stepped out of the way and looked at his surroundings.

 There were pavilions constructed outside and around the cave opening, and, just like the roofs Jonathan had spotted in the clearing, these roofs were also covered with moss and bark. 

One of the youngsters was staring at Quincey, or, more accurately, at his cowboy hat. 

Emboldened by Quincey’s smile, the young man shyly asked, “Are you a cowboy?”

Quincey looked surprised, Jonathan was not sure whether it was because of the question, or because the young man spoke perfect English.

“Well, I guess you could call me a cowboy, I work a ranch in Texas.”

Some of the others stopped what they were doing to listen.

“Is that a cowboy knife?” The young boy pointed to the large knife that Quincey carried in a sheath attached to his belt.

He drew out the large knife from its sheath as more of the young men came closer. “This is a Bowie knife.” There were exclamations from the small crowd gathered around him.

A burst of Hungarian voices excitedly bombarded Sabina with a flurry of questions. Sabina held up her hands for silence before answering them. 

She looked at Quincey, “We all know the story of your uncle, and his heroic death trying to protect his friends. They want to know if this is the knife that your uncle used to fight off the Count.”

Quincey solemnly nodded. A collective sigh emanated from the audience. The young boy reached out to touch the blade. Others pressed forward for their turn to touch the blade.

Jonathan backed away, allowing others to take his place, watching Quincey struggle to regain control of his emotions, so plainly registering on his face. Maybe this was what Quincey was searching for on his journey to Transylvania. Maybe he needed an answer as to why he was deprived of his uncle’s love while he was growing up, wondering if the loss of his uncle was worth the change it may have brought to these people.

Jonathan wondered too. He suddenly realized that Quincey’s search for answers may be bound up in his own unanswered questions. He watched with renewed interest as everyone made the small pilgrimage to Quincey’s side to either gaze upon the knife, or to touch it.

He felt a small hand at his back and whirled round to see. A surprised youngster backed into others milling around behind him.

The youngster pointed at Jonathan and said something unintelligible. 

Sabina translated, “He wants to know about your knife.”

Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable. He took Quincey’s lead and pulled out the Gurkha blade while Sabina narrated the story of how his father, astride the speeding wagon, had dealt the Count the final mortal blow.

The crowd seemed satisfied and soon dispersed picking up bundles and packages, as they made their way past the cave and heading towards a wall of boulders along the cliff face. Sabina beckoned them to follow. 

Hidden among the boulders, some as tall, and as wide, as a man, was a small trail that wound its way among the rocks and steadily climbed upwards. Here and there one could see where the trail was improved with wooden logs banked with packed soil behind them giving the climbers a better purchase as they made their way upwards. Dr. Van Helsing was allowing others to pass him, but Sabina did not pass the good doctor and engaged in light conversation with him as they climbed. Jonathan followed her example, and he noticed, so did Quincey.

Good-natured chattering could be heard above them and soon the boulders gave way to an open clearing, now populated with friendly faces.

“My God, Arminius, is that you?”

Jonathan reached the top of the trail in time to see the doctor embracing a scholarly looking man, intermittently pounding him on the back and shaking his hand.

“I thought you were dead! Why did you not let me know? What are you doing here?”

Arminius, with a patient smile on his face endured the barrage of questions. “My dear good friend, I will tell you all as soon as we get you settled in. Just know that if I have caused you any pain by my silence or lack of explanations, you will understand why when I have a chance to tell you what happened in Buda-Pesth.”

The doctor looked tired, as if the journey and the unexpected appearance of his old, supposedly deceased, friend had used up the last of his reserves. He let his friend and Sabina lead him into a sheltered pavilion and sit him on a bench close to a nicely blazing hearth. Sabina spoke to one of the woman who appeared soon afterward with a steaming cup of tea, which Sabina took from her and handed it to the doctor.

Jonathan was alarmed at the doctor’s fragility. He had known him all his life and always considered him indestructible. He was ashamed to realize how much he had taken the doctor for granted. It was obvious that Sabina had been more attentive to his frailty than he.

She now waved in their direction. “Jonathan, Quincey, come sit over here, we will make sure you have supper before we take you to your lodgings. We want everyone secure before the rain starts.” 

He and Quincey did not need any encouragement. As soon as they sat down platters of meat and fruit were put within their reach along with steaming mugs of hot tea. While filling his stomach, Jonathan watched the commotion around him. Everyone seemed to know their responsibility. The packages and bundles brought up from the stable quickly disappeared into other hands where they were carried to various small cabins and straw huts surrounding their pavilion. Most were nestled among the trees as if the clearing was purposely left open. The peaked roofs extended almost to ground level, and, by watching the people enter these buildings, he saw that they stepped down into the interior.

Within fifteen minutes of the first peals of thunder, the pavilion emptied of people and goods. Sabina, taking charge of the doctor and Arminius, waved to Jonathan and Quincey to join her. She led them to one of the cottages snuggled up against the back of the clearing where the steep forest floor rose above the roof. The side door, or more accurately, panel, opened outward, and, as he expected, led to a few steps leading downward into the cottage. They all hastily entered and were greeted by the warm glow of a terra-cota heater set into a half-submerged pit placed in the center of the room. Raindrops spattered on the tin hood protecting the opening in the roof above. Four good-sized cots were placed around the room, although Jonathan was not sure any of them would accommodate Quincey’s large frame. Copious hooks hung all about the walls with a few shelves above the cots.

“Gentlemen, I’ll leave you now, I want to settle in before the storm.”

As way of punctuation, another loud thunderclap struck, accompanied by a plaintive whine from the wolf waiting outside. They all laughed and said their goodbyes as Sabina scampered to the door panel and hurriedly set it in place while Arminius secured it fro the inside.

Jonathan sat down on his cot and tested its softness. He was pleased, and began to unpack his belongings and stack them on the shelf above his bed. The weariness of the last two days was catching up to him, and all he wanted to do was crawl in under the quilt and relax.

“Arminius, you promised me some explanations.” Doctor Van Helsing’s voice was tight with emotion.

“Yes, my good friend, I will answer all your questions and ask your forgiveness for having to deceive you and cause you pain.”

The doctor shook his head and smiled, “Seeing you alive is apology enough.”

Arminius clapped the doctor’s shoulder, “You cannot imagine how this deception has weighed on me, but it was very necessary.”

He continued, “When last we met, we had been working on the small slips of papers, possibly sigils, that Lord Godalming had found in the Count’s private desk.”

“Yes, I thought they were lost when I heard about your, untimely, death.”

 Well, I am sorry about that too, but they are not lost, I have them with me. You and I had agreed that I should take them with me back to Buda-Pesth University and research among the old handwritten manuscripts in our archives to see if I could uncover anything similar to the symbols on the parchments.”

Jonathan recalled that Lucy, his sister, and the good doctor were always searching the library at the Westenra Foundation, as well as numerous trips to the British Museum and other private libraries for information on what Lucy called their ‘Project’. He had not been interested at all in what they were doing, although he knew it had something to do with his parents' past adventure. It had looked like too much book work for him, but now he was beginning to realize how extensive the doctor’s ‘Project’ was. 

“In the past, I have always had access to all the University’s antiquities, but these past two years, the University’s normal unfettered pursuit of knowledge has been challenged by some radical elements in the government. It is, after all, a state university and has been subject to the whims of politics throughout its existence.”

“I discovered that I was now required to submit, in writing, my reasons for wanting access to these ancient manuscripts, or indeed, to any of the most valuable research archives at the University. I must admit to poor judgment on my part for what happened next. I certainly was very public about my feelings regarding this state imposed intrusion into the free access of our most valued archives, which did not endear me to my colleagues or to the University administration.”

“After all, I was making their work harder for them. I realized I was not going to be able to gain access by legitimate means, for how could I explain that I had, in my possession, unregistered ancient manuscripts? So, with the use of some of Lord Godalming’s funds, I was able to, persuade, some friendly compatriots to allow me time within the archives.”

“I had a premonition that this may be my last opportunity to view the archives so I took with me two trusted assistants, trained by Sister Agatha, and, with the help of the Dominican nuns on Saint Margaret Island, we quickly compiled a catalogue of the archival collections housed at the University. I found no reference to our specific quest, but I did find some intriguing clues as to where we might next look.”

Jonathan noticed Quincey, sitting up in his cot with his back against the wall, drinking in all that was being said, as if, by intense concentration, he could absorb all the knowledge that it had taken these two gentlemen a lifetime to acquire. He wondered how this story must seem to Quincey; it was strange enough for him; and he had the advantage of hearing many parts of it over the past years.

Arminius paused as a thunderous roar, followed by a flash of lightning distracted him. The rain, by the sound of the drumming on the roof, was increasing in intensity. He stood up and went over to a tray placed on the stone rim of the fire pit and poured some hot steaming tea into one of the available mugs. He held up the cup and proffered it to the other occupants. Quincey began unfolding himself from the cot, but Arminius strode over and handed him the cup. Quincey thanked him, and leaned back, holding the hot mug with both hands. Arminius gestured to the others, but they shook their heads at the inquiry.

As he poured himself a cup, he continued, “About a month after my visit to the archives, I was informed by one of my close colleagues that inquiries, from the police, mind you, were being made into my research activities and my affiliations!”

He shook his head. “The government has become extremely paranoid, what with the Serbian wars demanding autonomy, and the, just recently deceased, Franz Ferdinand so unpopular.”

“But you have nothing to do with these groups.”

“That does not matter. This turmoil is a good excuse for any group to advance its power, and the University’s freedom has rankled authorities before this newest upset. It is not I personally that they are after, but, by my actions, I may have compromised the University’s sovereignty. And so, I decided, with Sister Agatha’s help, to plan my demise.”

“Sister Agatha?”

“Yes. As you know, she has helped many Szekelys begin new lives, with new identities, and so I asked for the same thing. Of course, she was quick to point out that I was asking for the reverse of what she had been doing. She was now being asked to help a well-known individual disappear rather than send out a young, university educated person to begin building their own identity and reputation.”

Jonathan sat up. This was a new bit of information. 

Arminius looked over at Jonathan. “Ah, you did not know how active our Sister Agatha has been.”

He went on, “It has taken the good sister many years to win the elders and the Brotherhood over to the truth that, unless some of the youth leave Transylvania, and disperse among the general populations, the Szekelys may drift into the land of legends only. They were never numerous, and, as the King’s border guards throughout the last several centuries, they were always in jeopardy. It is a testament to their abilities as warriors that they have managed to survive through some of the most turbulent times. They were the only bastion against the Ottomans for over 150 years!”

“The new dangers to them come from the Vlachs who, although they also lived in Transylvania over the last several centuries, do not feel beholden to the Szekelys for the relative peace and prosperity they enjoyed. After all, the Princes only granted the Szekelys certain rights and privileges,  that these Vlachs did not share in. And now, with the Princes no longer in power, and with a very weak Emperor, the Vlachs are taking the opportunity to subtly persecute the remaining Szekelys. I say subtly, mind you; because they do not raise their voices against them, but, at every opportunity usurp the local powers and resources. It is a dreadful travesty, but overlooked by the authorities.”

“Fortunately, Sister Agatha agreed it was important enough to free my hands to continue our research, and so, with a great deal of help from my two assistants, we created a traveling accident that would be difficult to investigate and so I disappeared. She had warned me that I would have to leave behind my dear friends and colleagues, and that I could not entrust my secret to anyone. I agreed reluctantly. You are not the only person I have hurt by my subterfuge, my dear friend, and that guilt weighs heavily on me.”

“I only hope that our research compensates us for our sacrifices. But now, if I have answered your immediate questions, let us wait until tomorrow to continue our conversation. The rain is making me drowsy and the warmth of the bed is very inviting.”

Arminius reached up to turn off the lantern, the embers providing enough light while they readied themselves for bed.

CHAPTER FOUR - Sister Agatha

"Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain."

Dr. Van Helsing,

Dracula,

by Bram Stoker 

27 July, 2014 - Camp in the Carpathians

Vivid scenes of ancient, bloody battles troubled Jonathan’s sleep, intermingling with scenes of upland meadows filled with fair folk in native costumes, laughing and singing. Not able to  force himself fully awake, nor rid himself of the bothersome dreams, laughter from the dreams eventually resolved into voices of children playing outside the cabin. He peeked out from under the covers, squinting at the bright sunlight flooding the room as someone propped the door open. He groaned, ducking his head back under, hoping that no one would find it necessary to rouse him. He tried to recall his dreams, to make sense of them, but, unable to conjure up much detail, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

A shout jolted Jonathan awake. His eyes flew open, but, not remembering where he was, he lay quite still.
A young excited, and loud, voice announced, “Sister Agatha, she is coming up the trail.”
Jonathan heard cots creaking and knew that he was going to have to get up too. When he pushed back the covers, he saw Dr. Van Helsing and Arminius already leaving the cottage; and Quincey was nowhere to be seen. He calculated how long he could stay in the cot before someone was sent to look for him, and, turning over, hid himself once more under the covers.

He woke with a start, having no idea how long he had slept this time, but he was wide awake now. He threw off the quilt, grabbed his boots and made for the entrance.
The air outside had that clean crisp smell that can only be enjoyed after a heavy cleansing rain. He stopped to take a deep breath, responding to that vague familiarity of having experienced mornings like this before; and also to put his boots on as the ground was still wet.
He had to admit, the morning was glorious; the sun was shining, and as a small breeze stirred the meadow grass, glints of light flashed off the still wet grass. Quincey was sitting at a picnic table, his back to Jonathan. He strode over and sat down next to him.
“Jonathan, I didn’t hear you.” Quincey slid over to make room for him, at the same time, folding the sheets of paper he was writing on.
“What are you writing?”
Quincey stammered, “Just some letters.” He firmly folded the papers and put them into his jacket pocket.
Jonathan was confused by Quincey’s actions. He was hurt to think that Quincey might think he was intruding on him. He flushed, embarrassed by this sudden awkwardness between them.
“Quincey, Jonathan, come meet Sister Agatha!” Dr. Van Helsing was waving to them from the edge of the clearing. Jonathan jumped up, glad of an excuse to leave the table, Quincey followed.
Coming towards them was a handsome woman, taller than Dr. Van Helsing, and much younger than Jonathan had expected, or maybe, younger looking. For a moment it was hard to reconcile this woman with the one he had been corresponding with for so many years. In his mind, he had pictured a fragile little nun, busily writing at her desk, or tending to her garden, or doing other such tasks.
She wore the customary gray robe of a Franciscan Sister, but there was nothing customary about the shiny black riding boots that peeked out from under her robe every time she strode forward.
Jonathan was dumbstruck as he hastily readjusted all his notions concerning his pen pal, trying to reach a newer, truer picture of his friend before she stopped in front of him. He managed a smile as she extended a hand in welcome.
“Jonathan, at last we meet.”
He gave her a big smile, realizing, at that moment, that they had truly been friends for many years. He nodded his head, “At last.” He shook her hand several times, letting go only when he noticed others looking at him. There was so much to ask, and so much to tell her, he did not know where to begin.
“I look forward to our conversation later, we have a lot of catching up to do.”
He looked at her gratefully, she understood.
“And this must be Quincey,” Sister Agatha turned her full attention towards him. Quincey took off his hat and grasped her proffered hand.
“Your presence is an unexpected gift.” Quincey blushed.“My people consider you a good omen.” Puzzled, he looked to Dr. Van Helsing for an explanation.
“Your uncle and Jonathan’s father delivered the fatal blows to the Count over 16 years ago. Now, with this latest emergency, who should appear but the son and nephew of these same fine men, heroes to these people.”
Quincey turned back to Sister Agatha, “I am honored by the warm and generous welcome I have received. I came here to find answers, and to understand what happened to my uncle, I had not expected to gain so many friends and allies also. I hope I can be of service.”
A few in the crowd, who had followed Sister Agatha, translated Quincey’s little speech to the others; murmurs of approval and smiles towards Quincey spread throughout the gathering.
“I smell the wonderful aroma of food cooking. We left before daybreak and we had only a small breakfast. Hopefully some of you will join me?” Sister Agatha made her way towards the cooking pavilion with many following her, including Jonathan.
As they approached the pavilion, those already seated either moved over to make room, or gave up their seats altogether for the new arrivals. In the daylight, Jonathan was amazed at how many people there were. He counted up to fifty before losing track among the mingling crowd.
He watched Sister Agatha as he ate. An older woman came up to her and whispered in her ear. Sister Agatha smiled and nodded her head. She turned and said a few words and, as the woman bowed her head and turned away, another took her place. He noticed a gentle jockeying for position around the sister and realized that these good people were awaiting their turn to speak to Sister Agatha, or to possibly receive a benediction or blessing. Certainly some of the supplicants crossed themselves after speaking with her.
He admired Sister Agatha’s forbearance. She listened intently, occasionally eating some of the proffered food, and, when introduced to a young child or new baby, always had time to lift the child onto her lap to have a private conversation with them. He wondered how often this same scene was repeated among the villages.
Eventually the gathering thinned out and Sister Agatha was handed a steaming mug of coffee, which she accepted with a grateful sigh. Her eyes found Jonathan’s, and with a nod in the direction of the grass-covered clearing, she rose, mug in hand, and walked in that direction.
He stood up and followed behind her. She stopped to sip her coffee and Jonathan came up beside her. They both looked out past the clearing and gazed at the surrounding mountains.
“A beautiful place.” She did not hide the emotion in her voice. “I love these mountains and valleys and the people that inhabit it.” Jonathan had an uneasy feeling that she was speaking as if this place and these people no longer existed. He was going to jokingly mention it, but thought better of doing so. She seemed sad, and he did not want to add to it.
She turned away, back to the valley below them. “I could tell something had changed for you this past year. Your letters became queries, but you only hinted at what you were looking for. I sensed you felt I may have some answers for you and that is why I thought it time we met.”
She moved over to a small boulder, and, still facing the mountains, she sat upon it. “So tell me Jonathan, what answers can I give you?”
He could not speak; he had rehearsed this scene over in his mind so many times, but the words were never adequate.
In desperation, walking over to her, he pulled the Gurkha from its sheath and quickly drew the blade across his left forearm, leaving a rivulet of blood behind. She gripped her mug tighter, but that was the only movement she made.
They both watched as the blood, no longer running freely, congealed, and, before their eyes, the wound began closing at each end, slowly reducing the size of his cut until they could not see any trace of his self-inflicted wound. He wiped his arm with his shirt sleeve, cleaning off any telltale blood, exposing an arm free from any scar or redness.
Sister Agatha placed her hand over the sacrificial arm. “My dear, do not be afraid. You are not alone. There are others with your,” here she paused, “…gift.”
The touch of her hand felt like an absolution on his tortured thoughts. Tears of relief welled up in his eyes. He turned away, his shoulders shaking, and the feel of her arms encircling him caused him to sob out loud.
With her arm still around his shoulder, they walked side by side towards the edge of the clearing, picking their way through the small boulders.
Sister Agatha gave him a final squeeze before removing her arm. “Does Lucy know about this?”
“In a way.”
Sister looked at him questioningly.
He explained. “When I showed her she thought it was a trick.”
Sister Agatha erupted into laughter; he could not help smiling in response to her good nature.
“And dear little Agatha, my namesake? Or Aggie, as you call her.”
Jonathan felt a wrench of guilt. His little sister was very upset about him leaving. She had followed him around since she learned to walk. She was his constant shadow and he had loved making her laugh and entertain her with simple games.
He shook his head.
“And your parents?”
He gulped, forcing down another wave of guilt. “No.”
“Ah, it must have been very painful to keep this secret.” He closed his eyes, nodding in agreement. “Well, the time for secrets is over. There is nothing wrong with you my dear. The Count has a long reach, and his death did not, in some ways, diminish it.”
“Some survivors of the Count’s, attention, were left with, what we call gifts. We say gifts because our people can be very superstitious and we do not want the innocent to be ostracized or feared. Sabina is able to communicate with animals, some of our young people are very strong, or, like you, heal quickly. Your sisters, I am sure, most likely have gifts too, as does your mother.”
Jonathan stopped. He felt that rush of unease and nausea when he suddenly recognized, belatedly, an obvious truth.
“But come, I have some news for the professor and the doctor; and we must get ready for tonight. We may be joining the guards who watch over the Count's castle.”
He tripped over one of the numerous rocks cluttering their walk back to the pavilions, convincing himself that her mention of a possible expedition tonight had nothing to do with his clumsiness.
They went over to the table where everyone in their company had taken up residence; curious stares accompanied their progress, turning into smiles of welcome as they approached.
A few villagers joined them when Sister Agatha sat down. She covered Doctor Van Helsing's hand, “I could not meet you at Bistritz because I was still traveling back from Karlsburg. I met with the Bishop and he has agreed to house the Count's manuscripts and papers at the Batthyaneum Library and to offer Professor Arminius a position there for as long as is needed and under any identity he chooses.”
Doctor Van Helsing pulled his hand away. “How much have you told this Bishop? Can we trust him with the Count’s affairs?”
Sister Agatha smiled, ignoring Doctor Van Helsing's reproach. “If we cannot trust him, we will be in sorry shape indeed. He is himself a Szekely Prince, one of the last. He knows the Count's history; it is his people's history, but he was unaware of the new activity at the castle. He will help us in any way we require.”
“Abraham,” Professor Arminius turned to the doctor, “in the Buda-Pesth University archives there were references to a codex housed at the Batthyaneum in Karlsburg and I told Sister Agatha that our best plan is to continue our research there. It is fortunate that we have such an ally as the Bishop.”
Everyone's eyes were on Doctor Van Helsing. With his head bowed, he sat there for a long time, long enough for one of the children to start fidgeting. He looked under his eyebrows at the child and smiled. Lifting his head, still smiling, he looked at Arminius.
“I have been pursuing the Count's legacy for so long, and for so many times, alone, that I am finding it difficult to,” he waved his hands, “share, what may be said, is my life's work.”
“But I would be foolish to not be grateful for the friends I have met along the way and who have unstintingly joined me in my crusade. Thank you all for lightening my burden and for showing an old man how fortunate he has been in meeting so many good folks.”
Sister Agatha leaned back. “My dear doctor, we are all in this together. The Count's reach is long, and, I am afraid timeless. So many lives have been affected that it would be absurd to assume one person could carry this burden.”
She smiled, “Why it only seems like yesterday when you visited me in Klausenberg and asked for my help. I remember that wild story you told me about what Mr. Harker had suffered, and later on what his wife had suffered. I listened while you told me how four men and a woman were able to subdue the Count. Even then, even then I knew you were speaking the truth. ”
Dr. Van Helsing returned her smile.
She stared past the doctor, “How naive I was when I first accepted your proposal.”
She looked around her, “But I would not change a thing. I would have never met these fine people or learned of their proud history.” She spread her arms wide encompassing the clearing and the group sitting around the table.
“It is hard to imagine any other work than what I am doing now.”
Leaning on the table she continued, “And we will continue.”
Dr. Van Helsing patted her hand.
She squeezed his hand, “So, it is decided. Arminius will join the monks at Karlsburg.”
Dr. Van Helsing raised his hands, “As you wish.”
One of the villagers brought over a steaming pot of coffee and refreshed everyone's mugs. Jonathan noticed a serious young man come over and speak in Hungarian to one of the elders sitting at their table. The elder nodded his head.
The young man looked at their group and in perfect English said, “Vadim Bacsi has determined tonight is an auspicious time to view the castle. We will leave for our encampment atop the mountain tonight after the evening meal, just after sunset. We have supplies, but wear warm clothes.”
Doctor Van Helsing was the first to find his voice. “Thank you my good man, we will be ready.” The young man nodded and turned his attention back to the elder.
The Professor rose and made his way over to where the elder sat; all eyes following him. He bowed, “Vadim Bacsi, it is good to see you enjoying the fresh air.” The young man translated for him.
Vadim Bacsi grinned, showing bright eyes and a lined face that creased in unison with his smile. He spoke to the professor in an unexpectedly strong voice, while the young lad translated for him.
Jonathan leaned over to Quincey, “I wonder what he meant by auspicious.”
Quincey snorted, “My thought exactly.”
They all listened intently as Bacsi instructed the professor on what he wanted to know. Bacsi had seen the ‘trouble’, but wanted the professor’s opinion. The lad translated.
“There were signs that changes were happening to the castle after you left us the last time. His concern is that your visit may have disturbed some devilment. He wishes you to know it is going to be important for all your company to be clear-sighted and observant as he needs as many different opinions as he can…, capture.”
Here, Bacsi looked at each member of the party. Jonathan was affected by his gaze as he read extreme intelligence in those eyes, or maybe it was  more of a knowing look of what was to come. But he was heartened by the courage he saw there too.
They all looked at one another, and then nodded to Bacsi, realizing their roles had taken on a responsibility towards this mystery.
Sister Agatha stood up, and, nodding at a group of villagers in front of the entrance to a small, walled-in enclosure, remarked, “And it appears there are some parishioners who need my attention. I will be with you all tonight, however I must leave tomorrow for Bistritz. If you have any letters that need posting, be sure that I have them before I leave.”
Arminius shifted in his seat. “Abraham, I would like to confer with you before we leave tonight. I have with me some copies of manuscripts which may, or may not, help us.”
“Certainly.” Doctor Van Helsing stood up. “Let us go back to our quarters, and maybe we can prevail upon our good friend Sabina to have someone bring us a fresh pot of coffee to sustain our research?” He smiled as Sabina acknowledged his request by striding towards the kitchen shelter.
Quincey left the table, nodding to Bacsi.
Jonathan’s attention went back to Bacsi who was waving him over, patting the seat next to him. Captivated by the elder, he complied.
“He asks to see your arm.”
Bacsi reached over to grasp his left arm, but fell back when he noticed Jonathan stiffening. He mumbled to the lad.
“There are no secrets among…, brotherhood, allies.”
Bacsi extended his hand again and Jonathan reluctantly placed his arm within reach and allowed it to be examined. His touch was gentle, but when his finger traced over the area that had been cut, Jonathan flinched, surprised by a tingling sensation.
Bacsi spoke again.
“He says your cut is still healing.”
Surprised, Jonathan could only nod in answer.
“He also wants to know if your two sisters have the same blue eyes as you.”
Again surprised, he only nodded, and watched as the two next to him conversed.
“Bacsi wants you to know that you and your sisters will always be welcome among the Magyar and Szekelys, you are one of us and our history is your history.”
The lad looked at him intently, mirroring doubt as to what he just said; most likely reading the confusion on Jonathan’s face. Again, Bacsi muttered.
“He says not to worry if you do not understand, soon it will be come more clear to you.”
He watched as Bacsi stood up and, patting his shoulder as he turned, walked away to the camp kitchen leaving an emptiness behind that could be felt; and Jonathan was left to wonder about the strange emotions running through him.