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anncanta · 1 month ago

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Savior

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Dracula, Zoe Van Helsing, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Zoe Van Helsing, Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Mature

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @moremoveslessannouncements-blog

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‘Doctor Helsing.’

‘You're not surprised.’

‘Why would I be?’

Dracula stepped aside, let her pass, and Zoe entered.

‘Are you bored being alone?’

‘Rather, I indulge in thoughts.’

Zoe took a few steps, looking around.

‘A tall building, stands alone, no churches nearby’ She turned to him. ‘You're easy to find.’

‘I'm not hiding.’

She nodded.

It had been two weeks since they had last met. Zoe chuckled to herself. She had never believed in the power of ‘special’ meetings, turning points, or fateful events. Scientists believe in cause and effect. And yet it was after Dracula had appeared, the same evening he had left Harker's Center. She had written her resignation letter – and, despite Kate's protests, said goodbye without looking back.

Was Dracula the reason she had quit? Was it bitterness and irritation, a vague sense of being used, or simply that she was fed up with... everything?

Zoe glanced at Dracula. She wished she had that kind of nonchalance, even if it was feigned. Her eyes slid over his slightly disheveled hair, his shirt, casually unbuttoned and apparently buttoned again, his rumpled, elegant trousers. He had clearly just arrived.

Dracula bowed his head.

‘You don't look like the type to visit at night.’

Zoe smiled and turned away. She walked around the long table, approaching the penthouse window.

‘You said it yourself. Childless, loveless, friendless, keeping myself apart from this world, I'm empty, alone.’ She turned. ‘But that also means I can do what I want.’

Dracula walked up to her.

‘You came here.’

Zoe shrugged.

‘I wanted to have some fun.’

They looked at each other for a minute.

‘Is that what I think?’ Dracula asked.

Zoe shrugged again.

‘I couldn't find anyone better.’

Dracula looked at her with admiration.

‘Zoe Helsing, did you choose me thinking any hole's a goal?’

She didn't have time to answer. Finding herself lifted and pressed against the window glass, Zoe thought for a moment that it would all be over. But the man's palm under her T-shirt had other plans. Running over her sensitive skin, it moved up, stopping between her breasts. Covering the left one, it froze, as if listening to her heart. The fingers grabbed the nipple, squeezing almost to the point of pain.

Zoe held her breath.

‘Doctor Helsing,’ Dracula said, looking up at her. ‘This is going to be a long night.’

With these words, he lifted her T-shirt with his other hand and pressed his lips to her right breast.

Zoe arched her back and closed her eyes. For a moment, she imagined what she looked like – disheveled, open, spread out before him. Understandable, finally visible. For some reason, this was important.

She wanted to go further. Deeper, where those hands and lips would extract everything she was afraid to admit to herself.

Further, harder, further. No need to take off her jeans. She barely understood whether she was speaking to herself or out loud. One of his palms under her shoulder blades, the other on her waist, down, down. Tight and damp, there, in the core, and not enough... yes, more. No... tenderness... Let me splash it out... like this.

She woke up when she realized that she was lying on the table, and her bare buttocks were cool on the smooth marble. Opening her eyes, she looked at Dracula. He looked as crazy as she did. Just as blind. Drunk. Disheveled. Jacket and shirt untouched, trousers unbuttoned and lowered. Zoe raised an eyebrow.

‘Maybe we should move to the bed?’

Dracula shook his head.

‘Here.’

She grinned and wrapped her legs around his waist.

This time she knew for sure that she wasn't speaking – he was simply doing what she wanted. Because he could hear her heartbeat, feel her blood, feel the same. Don't stand on ceremony with me, act like I don't matter, like it's not me, like it's just you and what you want. Like I'm here for you...

‘...Yes!’

When her last screams died down, Zoe felt his hand on her cheek. She smiled a tired smile – she didn't even have the strength to open her eyes. For several long minutes, she just lay there, listening to her breathing, and then she felt Dracula carefully lifting her and carrying her somewhere. Through the fog that filled her mind, she heard his footsteps, then the door creaked, and Zoe sank onto the bed.

She thought it was funny that he was pulling her clothes off – now. She laughed, stood up, tried to help him, but her hands wouldn't obey. Her body was still shaking slightly. Dracula stopped her and, leaving her naked at last, covered her with a blanket.

‘Sleep, Zoe Van Helsing,’ he said and left.

***

The penthouse kitchen adjoined the living room, a nook with a high-tech worktop and sink.

Dracula stood with his back to her, fiddling with some nickel-plated designer gadget, humming softly to himself. The kitchen smelled of coffee.

‘It would be foolish to lose sight of the head of the center created to capture you,’ Zoe said, pulling her housecoat tighter around her chest.

‘You mean the one who managed to keep me in this center for about three hours?’ Dracula asked, turning around. He was holding a cup of freshly brewed coffee. ‘Good morning, Dr. Helsing,’ he added, handing her the cup.

‘Good morning.’ Zoe took the cup and made a sip. The coffee was delicious.

‘How did you sleep?’

Zoe shrugged vaguely. She was in no mood for small talk. The evening's ardor had passed, but it left no shame or awkwardness behind. She took another sip from her cup.

‘I didn't know you could…’ she said, pointing to the cup. ‘Oh, of course. The Turks.’

‘The Turks?’ Dracula frowned. ‘Oh. No, no, no. I didn't learn how to make coffee from the Turks. Believe me, the Italians left them behind long ago.’

Zoe nodded. They spent a few minutes in silence. Zoe drank coffee, Dracula opened the fridge and took out a dark red transparent bag.

‘What do you want, Dracula?’ Zoe asked, watching him open the bag and fill a glass with blood.

‘I want to take you from behind, and the sooner the better,’ Dracula said. He leaned over and threw the empty bag into the trash can.

Zoe finished her coffee in one gulp and put the cup on the table.

‘But that's not why you came.’ Dracula licked his lips and pushed the glass away. He walked around the narrow kitchen table and stood in front of her. ‘We had a great time, but that's not why you came.’

‘How do you know?’

Instead of answering, Dracula turned and left. He returned a few minutes later with Zoe's bag in his hands.

‘Get it,’ he said, handing her the bag.

The vial with the word ‘Dracula’ written on it was at the very bottom, in the back pocket.

‘You wanted to know what I meant when I said about the secret of the blood.’

Zoe looked up from the vial in her hand, startled.

‘I won't drink it.’

‘Do you think it's a trap?’

Zoe was silent. She looked at the vial again. The dark red blood inside looked completely harmless.

Why was it so hard?

Zoe quickly uncorked the vial, brought it to her lips, and drained it to the bottom.

…Zoe stood in the dungeon. In the dimly lit room, she noticed two tables: a stone one by the wall and a wooden one in the center. Both tables were covered with stacks of books, with bottles of some kind of medicine wedged between them. Zoe recognized a pickled bat and a frog.

Leaning over so as not to hit her head on the low stone arch, Zoe walked forward. A man in dark trousers and a white shirt stood in the middle of the room with his back to her. Dracula. A woman in a nun's robe froze in front of him.

Suddenly the woman looked away from Dracula and looked straight at Zoe.

It was like looking into a mirror. Strange, unfamiliar. Alive. Zoe had seen these features many times, she knew them. As if possessed by the same thought, the woman opened her eyes wide.

Feeling sick, Zoe grabbed her head and slowly sank to the floor.

***

‘I saw her,’ she was shaking. Dracula was sitting next to her and silently looking at her. ‘I saw Agatha Van Helsing,’ Zoe raised her hand to her face and pushed her hair off her forehead. She threw the empty test tube away with irritation. ‘I saw her, Dracula.’

She still felt sick. The room was swimming before her eyes.

Reaching out for Dracula, Zoe leaned on his arm and stood up from the sofa they were sitting on, but immediately sank back down.

‘What was that?’ Zoe asked.

Something inside her was wrong. As if it had split in two, opened up, revealing something hidden, new, like in those pictures where the images are visible only in defocus. And at the same time, it felt as if she had finally found something important.

‘Dracula, what the hell –’

‘You'll be part of me. You will travel to a new world in my veins.’

Now she knew what he meant. More than that, she remembered. And that could only mean one thing.

‘You bastard,’ Zoe said quietly. ‘You brought her with you. Like on a flash drive. And now you've downloaded her into me.’

Dracula smiled.

‘It's not that simple. But now we can talk about it.’

He stood up from the couch and looked over his shoulder.

‘Coffee?’

***

‘Dracula,’ Zoe said, putting down her almost empty cup. ‘I don't believe in reincarnation. Maybe blood is lives, maybe it's stories, like Agatha said, like you always say. But I'm not her.’

Zoe looked at Dracula almost with regret.

‘Agatha is dead.’

‘What is death?’ Dracula grinned.

‘I'm sorry?’

Dracula picked up the glass he was holding.

‘Young man, twenty-six or twenty-eight, tall, thin, blond. Graduated with honors from college, majored in finance. Dropped out in his second year, made a career as a jazz musician in the Bronx. Recently returned, plays in an orchestra. Married, two kids. Happy.’

He ran his finger along the rim of the glass. He looked at Zoe.

‘I know all that about him,’ he said, in response to her confused look. ‘What I don't know is whether he's alive or not.’

‘Dracula –’

‘Agatha is dead, that's a fact,’ he interrupted sharply. ‘What I'm trying to explain to you…’ Dracula fell silent. ‘That DNA and time…’

‘Wait,’ Zoe said suddenly.

She stood up.

‘If it's as you say... If you're convinced she's dead. Then why…’ She paused. ‘That night in Whitby... You couldn't possibly believe…’

‘I didn't.’

Zoe nodded. The sudden realization struck her as so obvious.

‘You slept at the bottom of the sea for a hundred years. Your box may have drifted away. In fact, you came up in a completely random place. What were the chances that she would be waiting for you there?’

Dracula smiled.

‘Helsings.’ He became serious. ‘That's what made me wary. Even if Agatha had become a vampire, we don't have the gift of foresight. She wouldn't have been able to find me.’

Zoe thought about it.

‘So it was a trap.’

‘Exactly.’

She paused, considering what she had heard.

‘DNA,’ Dracula said.

She shuddered and stared at him.

‘After I left your center,’ Dracula smiled, ‘I dropped in for a quick visit to St. Bartholomew's. They have an institute for genetic research. Renfield told me about it.’

Zoe rubbed her forehead tiredly.

‘All the experts are alive.’

She snorted incredulously.

‘And even the service staff.’

Dracula paused.

‘What bothered me,’ he said finally, ‘was that you were so much like her and that I could learn so little about you.’

Zoe sat down at the table and crossed her arms.

‘What you call DNA,’ Dracula said slowly. ‘It's not exactly a data bank or a specific record. Rather, I would say it's like a single thread on which individual lives are strung, like beads.’

He looked at Zoe.

‘From the point of view of that thread, time doesn't exist. It's you and me, Jonathan, Sokolov, and Agatha, all together. Like in my blood. That context is unchangeable, independent of historical situations and physical bodies. Blood is the perfect material, it contains information about who we are, who we were, and who we can be.’

Zoe looked at him in amazement.

‘All it needs is a vessel.’

For the second time that day, the room spun around her. Zoe gripped the table with white knuckles.

A few long seconds passed before she heard Dracula's worried voice through the roaring in her ears. Zoe looked up.

‘I didn't speak until I was five,’ she whispered. ‘Power outage... my mother went into labor late at night, during a snowstorm. They couldn't revive me right away. The doctors said I was lucky.’ She closed and opened her eyes.

It needed a vessel.

‘I'm just a vessel. I was born... empty.’

All her life she had been haunted by this strange feeling – as if she were a black-and-white photograph, a matrix, a negative. Zoe was smart and very strong. Hard-working, inquisitive, and stubborn. But for as long as she could remember, she couldn't find what made her different from others. In her teens, this especially tormented her. All her peers rebelled, tried to stand out. And she was…

She had no special hobbies, no preferences. She even started painting her nails black because that's what her friends did.

Loveless, childless, friendless. You keep yourself apart.

‘Zoe!’

Dracula's voice barely broke through the panic that had gripped her in a vice.

‘That's not what I meant,’ he spoke very softly. He stood up and came over. ‘Life is not a constructor, not glue, not a form. It does not seek emptiness. But sometimes,’ he chose his words, ‘it is difficult to say where someone's Self begins and ends.’

Suddenly he leaned over and took Zoe's face in his hands.

‘Why do you think that you missed Agatha, and not Agatha missed you?’

…

‘What troubles you, my child?’

Agatha raised her head, without unclasping her hands, clasped in prayer.

‘I have sinned, Mother. I have been carried away by the dark forces. I cannot be trusted.’

Mother Superior closed the door behind her and crossed the room. She paused at the table, littered with papers. She snorted, glancing at the jar with the pickled frog. In a few steps, she was next to Agatha and sat down at the table in front of her.

‘The dark forces are part of nature, – perhaps part of our own nature,’ she said. ‘It is natural for us to want to know this world. And to know ourselves.’

‘I have gone beyond knowledge,’ said Agatha. ‘Much further. I was proud and unrestrained. I... went to extremes. I wanted to find Him too much.’

‘You were looking for our Lord,’ there was understanding in the Mother Superior's voice.

Agatha shook her head.

‘I've gone too far. I've lost my way.’

‘Our Lord is the good shepherd. ‘Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?’* Mother Superior quoted. She reached out and stroked Agatha's clasped hands. ‘Do not lose faith, child.’

Agatha looked at the plump fingers clutching hers for a moment, then took her hands away and stood up.

‘There's a dead man in the monastery, Mother Superior,’ she said. ‘A creature of the night. The fishermen brought him. Because they know I understand such things. They know I'm interested in them. Sometimes lost sheep die in the mountains,’ she said bitterly. ‘And there's nothing you can do about it.’

The memory ended as abruptly as it had come.

‘Zoe, can you hear me?’

Agatha stared at Dracula, who was sitting next to her. He was holding her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes with concern.

The feeling of inner duality grew stronger. She was Zoe. She was Agatha. The nun. The woman who ran the Harker Center. The passenger of the Demeter. The scientist who was searching for Dracula. The nun. The vampire expert and the specialist in the field of dark forces.

‘It's a good thing we slept together,’ Agatha said absently.

They were sitting in the living room again. A spring breeze blew through the half-open doors onto the terrace.

‘Delightful,’ Dracula looked closer. ‘Are you… are you okay?’

‘It was long overdue,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I don't know what I was waiting for.’

‘Zoe!’ Dracula barked.

‘What's wrong?’

‘What's happening to you?’

‘What you wanted,’ Agatha was surprised. ‘I'm back. I was Zoe Van Helsing. A wonderful girl. It's strange.’ Agatha listened to herself. ‘She is still me. It is hard to explain. But now I understand all this stuff about DNA and genes –’

‘Zoe,’ Dracula called her.

She fell silent.

Dracula suddenly smiled.

‘You were always only yourself. Don't doubt it.’

Agatha chuckled.

‘Expert opinion.’ She suddenly became serious. ‘Now I understand not only about DNA. How did Zoe find you? Why, of all the staff, was she sent to ‘meet’ you on the shore? Who was really looking for you?’

‘Welcome back,’ Dracula grinned. And added in response to her irritated look: ‘I am sure that you, as well as I, understand that all these questions come down to one thing.’ He looked at Agatha. ‘Who finances the Harker Center?’

***

‘I used that money for good.’

‘Agatha, I'm not going to judge you,’ said Dracula. ‘God knows, I'm the last one who would. But we need to know’ he paused ‘who arranged this whole fucking rock concert.’

‘Language,’ said Agatha tiredly.

Dracula snorted.

‘Or you'll deprive me of my treat?’

‘Dog-eat-dog world.’

She closed her eyes.

‘You have to understand,’ she began, ‘things were going terribly at the Harker Center. Zoe… I applied to a bunch of organizations, wrote grants. They all turned me down. Mina's fund was running low, and I didn't know… It didn't seem fair to just close… The Center was their life's work,’ she finished quietly. ‘How could I?’

‘What did they offer you?’

‘Provision. Full funding for all research.’

‘And what in return?’

Agatha was silent.

‘Their representative said we might be asked to go back to a few old projects,’ she finally said.

‘Look for Demeter, for example.’

She nodded.

Dracula thought for a long time.

‘Something doesn't add up here.’ He stood up. He said to Agatha, who was looking at him in surprise: ‘In these strange times, people don't believe in vampires. Stupid movies and books don't count. The Center could have been an excellent cover for illegal experiments, drug production, biological weapons. But they,’ Dracula looked at Agatha, ‘remembered an old fairy tale and brought it to light. Besides, how did they know the ship's route? You said that a sailor and a cook were saved. They could tell this story for the rest of their lives, but they hardly managed to write it down. There must be someone else.’

He walked back and forth across the room.

‘Who were you talking to?’

‘What do you mean –’

‘You must have made arrangements with someone,’ Dracula said impatiently. ‘Who was it?’

Agatha frowned.

‘I don't know. Some clerk. Middle-aged, short. Small eyes, round cheeks. Spoke with a German accent. Stuttered, I think… Dracula?’

Dracula froze. Turned slowly.

‘A German accent, are you sure?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said cautiously.

Dracula approached her.

‘One learns to keep a tidy slaughterhouse,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘Of course, he knew where to find me.’

***

‘How could you turn a sailor?’ Agatha screamed.

‘Most of my victims die!’ Dracula screamed back. ‘And those who don't die are no better than zombies. You've seen them,’ he said, suddenly calm.

He sat down on the sofa and closed his eyes.

‘No, I haven't,’ Agatha said.

‘Then you've seen others,’ Dracula responded. ‘In Budapest, in the cemetery. They're all the same.’ He shook his head. ‘That's why Jonathan was so important. He was a treasure.’ Dracula paused. ‘And he hated me.’

‘Okay,’ said Agatha. ‘Okay. Let's say that man –’

‘Portman.’

‘Let's say Portman became a vampire and retained his personality and will. Let's say he learned to choose his victims. That was a hundred years ago. Why would he need you?’

Dracula smiled, and there was no trace of his usual mocking amusement in that smile. He stood up slowly and walked to the door to the terrace. He stopped, looking at the skyscrapers against the blue of the night.

‘You weren't listening?’ he said. ‘Jonathan hated me.’

‘What does Jonathan have to do with it?!’

Dracula turned around, and Agatha saw an expression on his face that she hadn't expected to see at all. An expression of devastation and – indecision. She stood up and walked over to him.

‘Portman is unimportant,’ said Agatha. ‘We need to find out who he works for.’

‘You don't understand,’ said Dracula. ‘You really don't understand, do you?’

They froze facing each other, and for a moment Agatha imagined that she was naked, as if the previous evening, when she came to him, he had taken everything off her, and now she was standing before him, dressed only in silence and the scents of a spring night.

This was long overdue... Zoe was experienced, and Agatha was a virgin, and when, obeying her desire, he filled her to the brim, Agatha understood why she had hesitated, could not, did not want to do it – before. Because never before had she been ready to accept someone with all of herself, entirely. And even more so – she hadn't been ready that it would be so wonderful.

‘What don't I understand?’ Agatha said, looking him in the eye.

And then he leaned over and did what Agatha had been secretly waiting for all this time.

The sea roared steadily and quietly. The creaking of the wheel echoed the distant scolding of seagulls. Above them shone the sky, full of bright stars.

Lowering her head, Agatha saw the wooden flooring and in the corner of the deck – the wreckage of a broken barrel. The lights of Whitby flickered over Dracula's shoulder.

‘Remember,’ said Dracula.

…She was not in pain. She was not lonely or afraid. She did what she had to do, without hesitation and without regret. Such was the price of her knowledge and her mistakes. Agatha was calm. Only the thought of what would happen… later tormented her terribly.

Looking at him, she inhaled sharply, convulsively, as if a noose had once again caught her neck.

‘You see,’ said Dracula. ‘Now you understand.’

The rumbling of the sea and the deck of the Demeter disappeared, leaving only Dracula's embrace and the trembling of his lips on her neck.

‘I thought you left me to die,’ Agatha said, watching him pull away. ‘Left me to drown because I lied to you and because I didn't become a vampire.’

‘Every vampire knows who turned them,’ Dracula said. ‘The one who condemned them to this… existence between earth and sky, where daylight is your enemy and blood is your comfort, but only until you're hungry again, and where you're not welcome anywhere. Every vampire remembers who took their death from them.’

Agatha buried her face in his chest.

‘I couldn't let this happen to you,’ Dracula whispered, burying his hand in her hair.

Agatha smiled weakly.

‘But you just drank Portman and threw him overboard. He managed to survive and decided to take revenge.’

‘Yes. That's why me. That's why you.’

The resignation in his voice struck Agatha.

‘He didn't succeed,’ she said, raising her head and looking at Dracula. ‘He didn't catch you.’

‘Did he?’

Turning to the door to the terrace, Agatha stared at the skyscraper opposite Dracula's house for a moment. She absentmindedly rubbed the wound on her neck.

‘You bit me.’ She turned to Dracula.

‘At least you noticed this time.’

Agatha came closer.

‘The last time you tried to drink my blood, you poisoned yourself. What's different now?’ She frowned. ‘And if Portman was planning on using me to find you and maybe trap you, how could he be sure it would work?’

Dracula did not answer.

‘He could have thought up a thousand plans,’ said Agatha. ‘But how could he be sure that by the time you showed up, I would not be dead? Oh, no,’ she moaned, seeing the innocent expression on Dracula's face. ‘You bloody dirty, vile, lying –’

‘Language.’

‘Damn you!’

Dracula raised his hands.

I didn't deceive you. At least not completely,’ he admitted. ‘In that woman's house, when I bit you, I saw that you thought you were sick. But that didn't make sense. Your blood had no signs of any illness.’

‘And you dared –’

‘I realized that in front of me was a piece of cheese,’ Dracula interrupted her. ‘A mousetrap, then. No wonder. I'm used to it. What I didn’t expect was that you were not on their side.’

‘Otherwise, why would they lie to me?’ Agatha said slowly.

He nodded.

‘That explains why he was so sure he could do it. And they tricked you to tie you down. To paralyze you with fear of illness and imminent death. When did you get the news?..’

‘Shortly before we raised the Demeter. Maybe before a week. He'd been planning this for years,’ Agatha whispered.

‘I'm glad he had a good time.’

Dracula closed the door to the terrace and moved into the room.

‘You can’t leave,’ he said suddenly when they had settled back on the living room sofa.

‘What?’ Agatha asked in surprise.

‘Portman used you as bait,’ Dracula replied. ‘For the obvious reason, I'm harder to get to – ask Renfield. But then you missed me.’ He paused. ‘I suspect he'll want to… punish you.’

‘Damn you all,’ Agatha cursed. ‘What should I do?’

‘Oh, if only I could order you,’ Dracula said dreamily; his eyes glittered.

‘Concentrate.’

‘I'll contact Renfield,’ Dracula smiled. ‘Let him find Portman first. Let's try to talk.’ Dracula took out his phone and dialed a number. ‘Portman doesn't know you're back, so you're just a doll to him. I order you to lie in the box and wait.’

He reached up and kissed her forehead.

Agatha opened her mouth to speak, but Dracula pulled back and raised his hand. Renfield's voice crackled on the other end of the line.

‘And what will I do in your enchanted castle?’ Agatha asked when Dracula hung up.

‘Like all princesses,’ he said, ‘wait for news and be attacked by a monster.’

He grinned and threw the phone aside.

***

‘So my blood won't kill you?’

‘So it won't.’

‘What a pity.’

Getting out of bed, Agatha began to dress. ‘I'll go downstairs,’ she threw over her shoulder to the chuckling Dracula. ‘I need tea. Sandwiches... And a break!’ she snorted, dodging the fingers sliding up her spine.

‘The losing side.’

‘One must never rush a nun,’ Agatha grinned and left. A deafening laugh followed her.

In the kitchen, she made herself a large cup of tea. Looking into the fridge, she cast a critical eye over the bags of blood, closed it, and pulled a plate of half-dried crackers from the table towards her.

Agatha drank tea and absentmindedly tapped her hand on the table. Pictures of her reality overlapped one another. The evening before yesterday, yesterday, night, morning, day. Zoe Van Helsing's old blouse. Agatha's nun's dress.

Zoe Van Helsing grew up in the English countryside. Many years ago, her father, who was fond of all sorts of strange things, took her to a fair. There was a pavilion there, stylized at the beginning of the twentieth century. ‘Incredible Cinematography,’ said the gaudy sign above the entrance.

Inside, in addition to many old films, they were showing an attraction – a projector in which images from different slides were scrolled together. On the white big screen, African elephants roamed English parks, elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies swirled in underground caves with rock frescoes on the walls, and the giant chandelier of the London Opera illuminated the forest landscape.

She felt something similar now.

Agatha remembered her childhood in the Amsterdam suburbs. Her mother's lullaby in German – her father was Dutch, married late. The young German's parents came from Hanover. Angus Van Helsing took her in penniless. He adored her.

She remembered herself in a house in west London – adjusting a stepladder to a bookcase, balancing on the top step to get an encyclopedia of the animals and plants that inhabit England.

She remembered Uncle Gregorius and Aunt Julia, their stories about the fish market in the center of Amsterdam, and about her Great-grandmother Agatha, who went to a monastery before they were born.

The event projector twirled and twirled the slides, and like the images on the umbrella of Ole Lukøje, they revolved above her.

Ole Lukøje was Zoe's favorite fairy tale. As a child, she had reread it hundreds of times.

She remembered very well that there were two of them. A colored Ole Lukøje, with bright pictures on the umbrella, and a black one – on a horse and with two fairy tales, a happy one and a scary one.

Which one Ole Lukøje is for her, Agatha thought, when the doorbell rang. She put down her cup and, looking into the living room and seeing that Dracula was nowhere to be found, went to open it.

‘You are early, Mr. Renfield,’ Agatha said, throwing open the door, and choked on the stinging drizzle that splashed into her face.

The smells and sounds of the Demeter surrounded her again. The sea and flames raged around her, and there was someone else – on the shore, in the distance, and for some reason, Agatha could see and hear him. He stood and watched the ship burn, the fire die out, and the blackened hulk sink into the water.

‘Ich komme wieder,’** said the stranger. He turned and walked away.

***

‘He's nowhere to be found.’

‘It can't be. Keep looking.’

‘I'm trying, Dark Lord.’

Renfield leaned over his laptop, his face grey.

‘They're well hidden.’

‘I don't care.’

Dracula stood up from the table and walked around to Renfield.

‘Find him, or I'll tear you to pieces.’

Renfield's face went white, but there was no fear on it, only stubbornness.

‘The Harker Center's trail leads to Argentina,’ he said after a pause. ‘Most of the transactions over the last three months came from there.’

‘I don't care about the transactions,’ Dracula said. ‘I want to know where Portman is.’

He barely had time to finish speaking when his smartphone on the table came to life. Dracula reached for the phone, opened the message. He stared at the screen for a minute, then picked up his jacket from the chair and walked to the door.

‘Dark Lord!’ Renfield called out to him.

Dracula turned around.

Renfield bit his lips.

‘Dark Lord... Dracula... Don't rush. Wait for backup.’

Dracula shook his head.

‘It says I must be alone.’

The door slammed behind him.

***

Agatha woke up in a room that looked like a cell or a hospital ward. The walls were mirrored, and it was impossible to see anything behind them. As soon as Agatha got up from the bed she was sitting on, the narrow cot folded up like a book and disappeared into the hatch in the floor with a quiet hiss.

If they were watching, she couldn't show fear. However, Agatha didn't feel fear. More like curiosity and anger at herself. How could she have been so careless?

The last thought made her smile. She was no better at being an investigator than a nun. Agatha closed her eyes and tried to remember how she ended up here. But the memory felt... crumpled and sticky, like raw dough, it had gathered into one uneven lump.

The problem was that Agatha still felt uncomfortable as if she hadn't fully returned. She looked around. Zoe Van Helsing knew this place – this room, the mechanics, and the strange walls – but Agatha's anxiety prevented her from fitting the familiar pieces together.

All Agatha could think of was that she was just a living bait, toyed with before being released onto the prey.

Something inside Agatha twitched at the thought. She sucked in a sharp breath, and a new memory crashed on her.

…

‘I fainted? My God, what a shame!’

‘To be fair, anyone would have fainted.’

Agatha looked up. Dracula was standing next to her, looming over the narrow bunk she was sitting on. She winced.

‘Move away. Unless you want me to faint again.’

‘You are no longer in danger of this.’ He smiled.

The floor beneath her feet swayed rhythmically. So he took her to the ship.

‘What if I get seasick?’

‘It would have manifested itself by now.’

Agatha stood up.

‘Why didn't you eat me right there?’

‘I don't know.’ He told the truth. She was sure of it – his voice sounded too surprised. As if he were asking himself the same question. ‘Maybe I…’ he grinned, ‘maybe I thought Jonathan wouldn't approve. All these people around. Killed. Torn apart, desecrated.’

‘It's my fault what happened to them,’ Agatha said.

‘I killed them.’

‘I let the beast in.’

Agatha bit her lip. Standing right in front of her, in Jonathan's bloody white shirt, his fangs bared, he seemed more terrifying than he had been completely naked at the monastery gates. As if the humanity stolen from another had made him more of a predator. He stood in front of her, and Agatha barely heard what he was saying to her. She saw only his face and only his fangs, and then everything went dark. How shameful.

She shuddered when she heard him calling her.

‘I deserve everything you can do.’ She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. ‘You took me on the ship, so you're going to –’

She didn't have time to finish. Nor did she have time to retreat, escaping the embrace Dracula had taken her into.

A new expression appeared on his face. Agatha caught his greedy gaze, cast at her skinny body. This strengthened her suspicions.

‘If you expect me to beg you –’

‘Agatha,’ Dracula interrupted her. ‘I'm sorry I frightened you.’

It seemed that these words surprised him. They were standing in the middle of the cabin... embracing, and it was so strange. Agatha bowed her head and put her hand on his shoulder.

‘How will it be?’ she blurted out.

The pause lasted a long time.

‘As you wish,’ Dracula answered.

‘I don't…’ she fell silent, licking her lips. ‘I only wanted to save this poor girl. I…’

He stood, his arms around Agatha, – and looked at her.

‘It will be as you wish,’ he said. ‘I will be there. And you will be there.’

Something sharp, bright boiled in Agatha's blood. Responding to the touch of his palm on her exposed neck.

She raised her hand and pulled the edge of her dress.

‘Come, boy. Suckle.’

***

Dracula pushed the door and walked through the corridor, illuminated in green. At this late hour, there was not a soul in the above-ground part of the complex. At first glance, the bunker was also deserted. The round lamps on the walls were out, the dim light of those under the ceiling was reflected in the edges of the glass chamber, inside which there was complete darkness. Dracula stopped.

‘You asked me out on a date. I thought it was dinner.’

No one answered him. Dracula moved on.

‘So many years have passed,’ he said, ‘I am impressed. I did not expect this from you.’

‘You thought I was an idiot.’

The voice echoed in the almost empty hall. Dracula turned around.

‘I think everyone is. Experience of life among people teaches that most of them are stupid and stubborn. That is why vampires from them turn out wild and useless.’ He took a few steps forward. ‘But you turned out to be different.’

‘I had to learn.’ A short man in a dark suit stepped away from the opposite wall. ‘If I wanted to survive.’

‘You're dead,’ Dracula smiled.

The man shrugged.

‘You get used to it.’

‘Really?’

‘You said it y-yourself, ‘You are what you eat.’

Dracula paused, looking at him.

‘I see that you have mastered the art of... good hunting,’ he said with exaggerated nonchalance. ‘However, I do not understand why you need such secrecy.’ He waved his hand around the room. ‘All this ceremony. A hundred and twenty years have passed. Morals are different now. You could have simply called me.’

Portman grinned slightly.

‘Perhaps I am old-fashioned. Or perhaps I have a g-g-good memory,’ he added.

Dracula was silent.

‘Maybe I remember being attacked on d-deck, having my throat ripped out and thrown out like a piece of shit,’ Portman grinned. ‘The water was cold. You know, that's the first thing I felt when I woke up. Cold, icy water. It was everywhere, filling me. It took me a while to realize that it wasn't cold outside, that the cold was inside.’

He fell silent.

‘I tried to drive away this cold for weeks. Food saved me. I ate. I ate everything, but as soon as I warmed up, the cold would start eating me up again. I ran from it, but the cold always caught up with me. I killed, killed, killed. I ate again, and I felt sick.’

‘But it didn't get any warmer.’

‘But I got smarter.’

Portman came closer to Dracula.

‘It's worst at night. You're f-free. Do what you want. You can hunt, eat, remember. The time when you weren't Bavarian bacon. When you were worth something. When it was warm.’

‘Portman –’ Dracula began.

‘I had a bride!’ Portman screamed. ‘Her name was Brigitte!’ His voice rang out and broke. ‘You turned me into a monster,’ he said; a foxy anger flashed across his puffy face. But it froze immediately, like a mask. ‘It was not easy to f-find the place where the Demeter sank,’ he said. ‘It took me years to find a way to raise your box from the bottom. But I was in no hurry.

Portman licked his lips. His face was wet, his eyes were shining. He walked along the wall, stopped. Dracula watched him without moving.

‘I have imagined this moment for so many years... I have dreamed of it for so long that I was almost disappointed when it came. But you gave me a gift,’ Portman said quietly. ‘I was there, on the shore.’

Dracula raised his eyebrows.

‘You were gorgeous when you came out of the water. Wet hair, shirt stuck to your body, oh, pure sex. I wanted to jump out and merge with you in an embrace. But then I saw the way she looked at you.’

Portman smiled happily.

‘And then I knew what I had to do.’

His smile was like a spill of black oil. Dracula ran his hand over his face.

‘Where is Agatha?’

‘Oh, are you changing the subject? Are you scared?’

‘Portman. Where is she?’

‘Still, he softened with time,’ grinning, Portman took a couple more steps. He stopped behind the glass triangle. ‘I can't understand why you call her by that name,’ he looked back. ‘Is this her pet name? Well, it doesn't matter. I don't care what you two play. Today I'm playing.’

The light flashed in the cell.

Agatha was sitting on the floor inside it. When the lamp lit above her head, she shuddered and hugged herself. Squinting in the bright light, she slowly rose.

‘You came for her,’ said Portman.

Dracula was silent.

‘So go and get her.’

The silence that followed was almost absolute.

Still a little confused, Agatha walked over to one of the glass walls. She watched as Dracula raised his head and looked at the hatch in the ceiling. He glanced in the direction of the control panel that Zoe used to control the camera.

Portman, who had been watching him, smirked and reached into his inside jacket pocket. He pulled out something that looked like a magnetic car key and weighed it in his palm.

‘Modern technology is so convenient,’ he purred. ‘I can't get enough of it. Oh, sorry. Hands on top of the blanket.’ He raised his hand with the key and twirled it above his head. ‘Do you want to c-come with me?’

Dracula turned away from him. He walked up to the wall of the cell and placed his palm on the glass.

‘Don't do this,’ Agatha said.

‘I'm to blame for everything that happened,’ Dracula said. ‘For the sinking of the Demeter, for the death of your sisters.’ He turned halfway around. ‘I'm to blame for the fact that this madman lived for decades, turning into me.’

Agatha was silent.

‘Didn't I deserve this?’ Dracula said.

He sank down, crouching in front of the cell, and pressed his forehead to the glass.

‘Don't do it,’ Agatha said barely audibly.

Dracula raised his head.

‘The rules of the beast,’ he said, looking at her. ‘The beast obeys, even if it doesn't understand their meaning.’

Agatha held back her tears.

‘Please help me,’ Dracula asked.

It took forever for Agatha to nod.

Dracula smiled briefly and nodded back. He turned.

‘Nicholas Portman,’ he said, raising his voice, ‘I accept your condition. I will enter the cell and take Agatha.’

He stood up.

Portman grinned happily.

‘But first, you will promise me that you will let her go.’ Dracula's face was stern and severe. ‘I will enter this cell, and you will let Agatha Van Helsing go.’

‘I agree.’

‘You will make a promise,’ Dracula continued, ‘the only one you cannot break. The vow given to the one who turned you.’

A shadow of doubt flickered across Portman's face. Agatha, who had never heard of such a promise before, straightened up in alarm. Dracula waited.

‘Breaking means death,’ Portman croaked.

‘Breaking means death.’

‘I agree,’ Portman said again.

Dracula stepped away from the wall of the cell.

‘I, Nicholas Portman,’ he said, looking at Portman.

‘I, Nicholas Portman,’ he repeated.

‘…I give my word to the one who turned me, Vladislav Basarab, Count Dracula.’

Agatha looked at them, standing opposite each other, and the words they spoke seemed visible, like lamps flashing in the darkness.

…to let go of Agatha Van Helsing, who is here before me.

...in this time, in the year of our Lord 2020, bearing the name Zoe Van Helsing...

...alive and unharmed, free...

...of sound mind and sober memory...

...not attempting to subject her to the action of sleeping, stupefying, or any other poisonous means, as well as to the action of bladed or firearms or any weapon unknown to her or Count Dracula...

...to allow her to go independently, without anyone's help, wherever she wishes, not to pursue her on land, water, or in the air, alone or accompanied by others, under her own name or someone else's...

...not to attempt to harm her directly or indirectly, independently or through third parties...

...not to attempt to induce her, directly or indirectly, independently or through third parties, to harm herself...

‘I promise before the face of the one who turned me,’ said Dracula.

‘I promise before the face of the one who turned me,’ Portman repeated.

Dracula turned and looked briefly at Agatha. The promise was exhaustive and left no loopholes. She was free.

‘I think you'll want to watch to the end,’ Dracula said, turning to Portman. ‘Don't turn on the toy. You might not have time to get aroused,’ he added, approaching the isolation cell and opening the door.’

Let it be quick, Agatha thought, taking a step toward him.

Let it be quick, she thought, touching his shoulder and running her palm over it.

Let it be quick, she thought, hugging him and burying her face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent and feeling how fear ran down Dracula's spine like a light shiver and how Dracula let it go.

The camera starts moving and spinning.

Agatha hugs him, closing her eyes, and stands still.

Until she realizes that nothing has happened.

Pulling away and breaking their embrace, she and Dracula look at each other.

The sun lashes through the hole in the roof, hitting their eyes.

Reaching out, Agatha places her palm on Dracula's forehead and feels the cool skin under her fingers. Taking her hand in his, Dracula brings it to his lips and kisses the center of the palm.

‘And there was light.’

A deafening ringing broke the silence.

‘Sumpfkreatur***, you're not going to leave like that!’

Having grabbed her with his arms and covered her with his body, Dracula pressed Agatha against the opposite wall.

‘Can you do that too?’ Agatha asked, looking over his shoulder at the shards of super-strong glass that littered the floor of the cell.

‘Of course I can,’ he answered irritably. ‘Do you think I talked to you in this cage because I was afraid of cutting myself?’

‘But the mercenaries –’

‘Agatha!’ Dracula roared. ‘For God's sake, step back!”

‘He promised not to touch me,’ Agatha said hesitantly, retreating.

‘I don't want to hurt you.’

Dracula stood there, staring at Portman.

‘Daddy finally realized this is serious,’ Portman said. ‘Okie-dokie. Not as cool as burning you alive, but it works for me,’ he added and lunged at Dracula.

Agatha had never seen wild animals fight. On her aunt and uncle's farm, she had watched the poultry fight; the worst was when the neighbors' goats started bucking.

Now the predators were locked in combat before her eyes, arms and legs entwined, growling, biting, and rolling on the floor.

Portman was strong. He was like a vicious bulldog, winning not so much by weight or skill as by mad tenacity and... training. Agatha frowned. She had never seen Portman before, but everything about him – his face, his figure, his mannerisms – seemed strangely familiar to her. And at the same time, wrong. Surprisingly... old-fashioned.

This strangeness seemed important, it pricked and irritated. Portman said that he was learning. He drank blood, choosing victims, learning... but learning what?

The opponents in front of her had separated and were standing in front of each other, breathing heavily. Dracula's suit was torn, Portman's arms and chest were all covered in blood. Agatha examined him, watching how he leaned his palm against the wall of the cell, leaving a scarlet mark on it. Even his gait was uneven, she suddenly realized. It happens to those who spend a lot of time at sea. And his shirt was too small for him, looking like it was cast-off clothes.

‘You are mistaken,’ Agatha said slowly.

Dracula turned to her. But she was looking at Portman.

‘Who were the people you ate?’

Portman wiped the blood pouring from his nose.

‘Who were you hunting?’

Agatha didn't wait for an answer. She turned to Dracula.

‘You are mistaken,’ she repeated. ‘He did not turn into you.’ She paused. ‘He would like to, and he would like you to think so.’ Agatha looked around the broken cell, at the darkened hall beyond. ‘He wanted to look like some kind of… criminal genius. But he is still the same as before.’

There was no evil plan, Agatha suddenly realized. Invoices and receipts and documents came flooding back from Zoe's memory. There was no mention of Dracula in any of the contracts, neither in the main paragraphs nor in the supplementary protocols. No hint that Zoe was supposed to do anything other than the medical research described there. Agatha closed her eyes and sighed. She had simply received the grant. Her own fear and depravity had made her think otherwise. Portman had simply used them. He must not have even been working for those people, but had simply tricked his way into the meeting and put on a little show. When Agatha opened her eyes, her head was buzzing and her cheeks were burning.

Dracula looked at Portman.

‘Your English,’ he said. ‘Primitive, almost childish. The German accent is still there. Comment vas-tu?’**** he asked experimentally. ‘Tu, mostro ignorante.’***** Have you learned nothing? All you know is how to fight?’

‘Oh, my God, of course! Fight!’

Agatha pushed herself away from the wall. She waved her hand at Dracula, who jerked.

‘That's who you were hunting. Wrestlers, murderers, and mercenaries.’ She looked at Dracula. ‘I couldn't remember where I'd seen it. It was at the fair. In the ultimate fighting pavilion.’

‘Comment vas-tu,’ Portman muttered. ‘No use in your science. Damn aristocrats. All talk, no use in it.’

He straightened up, taking out a gun.

‘I hated you and wanted to punch you in the face,’ he said. ‘That's what I was preparing for. A couple of good fists are always better than all this play.’ He spat out blood. ‘All the best fighters in England, France, and Germany are here in me. The toughest, the ones who didn't shy away from anything. The only thing better than them is a couple of silver bullets.’

He raised the gun and aimed it at Dracula.

Agatha stepped between them.

‘That's clever, that's really clever,’ she said. ‘You could fight him all day,’ she said to Dracula. ‘It's no use. He'll anticipate every undercut, block every blow.’

Portman looked at her with a satisfied grin.

‘You're right,’ he said, ‘a human woman. He can't defeat me.’

Agatha nodded.

‘And if I'm right,’ she said, ‘then you still don't know how dangerous it is to rely solely on reflexes.’

And she stepped forward.

A shot rang out. Agatha was thrown back, right into Dracula's arms. She watched as Portman, still holding the gun, crumbled into ashes, and as these ashes floated in the light pouring through the hatch in the ceiling.

Dracula picked her up and laid her on the floor.

‘Well, that's it,’ Agatha said quietly.

Dracula leaned over her.

‘Why?..’

‘If you don't have enough strength, use your weakness,’ Agatha said. ‘It was the only way.’

‘I wanted to show you all the happiness in the world,’ he said, confused.

‘As always, grandiosely,’ Agatha smiled. ‘And as always, life flicked you... on the nose.’

She was choking.

Dracula's pale face was blurring above her, slipping away into the fog.

Agatha grabbed the sleeve of his bloody, crumpled shirt.

‘I don't know about all the happiness... But what happened in cabin number nine was wonderful... Despite everything,’ she whispered, already losing consciousness.

And fell into the darkness.

…

The darkness accepted Agatha ingratiatingly, softly, as if it had been waiting for her.

Agatha was not surprised.

Black Ole Lukøje.

For naughty children.

For lost sheep.

It was understandable. Not surprising. What was surprising was the pleasure.

‘Dracula,’ said Agatha, watching the golden rays disperse the darkness.

‘I have experienced a lot in my long life,’ Dracula chuckled, ‘but I have never been confused with death before.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘I am making love to you.’

‘You are drinking my blood.’

‘Captain Obvious.’

‘You said you did not want to turn me.’

‘Yes. Not today.’

‘I am dying.’

He smiled.

‘Think, Agatha.’

‘Portman shot me. He hit me in the chest.’

‘Yes. And the bullet?..’

It was starting to dawn on her.

‘...still there. If it had been different…’

‘...he would have hit me. I was standing behind you.’

In her youth, Zoe had worked as an ambulance attendant. They often brought in patients with gunshot wounds.

‘The bleeding should have killed me,’ Agatha said, ‘but the bullet inside stopped the bleeding; or it should have been the shock of pain.’

Dracula leaned toward her lips.

‘After all this time, did you think I'd let it hurt?’

The sun blew around them. It washed away the anger and grief, the rage and fear of poor Portman. Agatha thought that if it hadn't been for his stubbornness and anger, none of this would have happened. She would have been Zoe, half of half, or Agatha, far away, lost to herself. And there would have been no blinding light in the cell. And Portman would not have been able to leave.

‘I should be grateful to him,’ Agatha said.

‘As am I,’ Dracula smiled.

She felt him again, all over her. His strength, his sadness, and hope.

Black Ole Lukøje or colored, Agatha thought, it doesn't matter. Anyone can be a savior.

She looked at Dracula.

‘A fairy tale stops being scary when you're ready.’

‘Oh, yes.’

Notes

* Luke 15:4, New Revised Standard Version of the Bible.

** ‘Ich komme wieder’– I will return (Germ.)

*** Sumpfkreatur – swamp creature (Germ.)

**** Comment vas-tu? – How are you? (French)