Dracula's Ghost - Chapter 19
A Ruined Tomb in an Unknown Land
1893
Somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains
He sleeps in the daylight hours, and in the netherworld of the dead, his rest is haunted by visions of men on horseback. He has prepared for every eventuality, even this one, but in the darkness of his tomb, he is helpless and frightened. He feels the castle in his bones, and its very heart beats within his chest, but now, when he is so close to victory, something has gone horribly wrong. As the horse stumbles and the box falls from the cart, the answer comes to him in a flash. The Harker woman. Somehow, she has guided the others to the very threshold of his home. By your own hand, you sealed your fate.
The coffin lid opens, and a knife plunges into his heart. He is doomed now, but his murderer is already dying, and he has one final surprise before his own dissolution. Perhaps they will linger at his graveside until the sun sets. When the curved blade of Jonathan Harker severs his head, the pain is unimaginable.
Still, if death is the doorway to another world, there are other doors that lead back to this one.
I.
The cold overtook him halfway up the mountain, and he lay in the road, shivering and slightly delirious. His mind drifted, and when the big man came trudging behind him - doubtless one of the dead, following his trail for a crepuscular feast - Reinhard Heydrich found himself too cold and tired for fear.
“Jesus, Reinhard, what happened to you?” The monster stared at him in surprise, and Heydrich’s head cleared a little.
“Otto. You’re alive.”
“Barely, but more than you. You look like shit.” Skorzeny pulled him upright. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know. I heard gunshots around sunset and something that sounded like howling wolves. When I came back to the village, everyone was gone.” If Skorzeny caught the lie, the big man gave no sign.
With Skorzeny’s help, he found that he could walk. He was conscious of the flask in his pocket, weighted by the bloodshed and betrayal, but he was satisfied - the death and rebirth of Jonathan Harker had validated his efforts. With proper study, the blood could be his gift to the German Volk, like Prometheus bringing fire from the gods. Still, the last words of Quincy Morris - May it bring you the joy that you deserve - unsettled him. After all, extracting promises from the gods was a tricky business.
“Tell me something Reinhard.” Otto Skorzeny studied him as the birds began to stir in the treetops. “What did you find in that old castle?”
“Nothing.” Heydrich shook his head. Let him believe what he wants. “The mission was a failure.”
II.
Rupert Holmes loaded the body onto the plane, and Sarah Spencer gave him a polite nod as she climbed into the cockpit. He felt slightly wistful as the plane vanished over the horizon. He searched the riverbank as morning yielded to noon the sun climbed higher in the autumn sky. Gabriela rested at a bend on the far shore, and Holmes tarried at the water’s edge, watching as she rocked gently in the current. When he could delay no longer, he removed his shoes and entered the river.
The water was colder than any stream of the Cairngorms, more frigid than the bitterest winter in the trenches. A strong swimmer in his youth, Holmes fought the urge to yield to the current. To sleep, perchance to dream; for in that sleep of death, what dreams may come. Gradually, the chill began to ease, and he felt almost normal as he reached the far shore. Holmes brushed an errant leaf from Gabriela’s face and guided her into the channel. When his journey was complete, he pulled the body onto dry ground and stretched across a rock to rest.
The sunlight felt warm on his skin, and Holmes was tempted to sleep away the afternoon, but there was work to be done. He would find a spot for Gabriela’s grave among the sun-dappled oaks, and the remaining German, the lone survivor who collected fresh sprigs of hawthorn for the cemetery, could help with the burial. Afterward, he would search the village for any errant dead that rested among the ruined houses. There were tools in the castle, and a few strokes with an axe would put them at rest. Then, perhaps, he could work out how to get back to London.
And then what? Quincy Morris expected payment in exchange for his new life, and though the price was not unreasonable, Holmes found it somewhat cryptic.
“Keep an eye on Sarah when you get back to London. I’m looking for someone, and I think she will lead me to them.”
Holmes had stared into the glittering eyes for a long time. Did Sarah know what he had done to her? Did she understand what it meant?
“Don’t worry about her.” Quincy’s eyes remained perfectly blank, his face impassive. “The last few days have been difficult, but she will recover fully – perhaps. In the meantime, she is a sentinel to watch the far shore.”
The sun climbed higher, and Rupert Holmes stood to stretch. Time to get to work. He set about the day’s business, wondering where he had left his pipe.
III.
They reached the campsite by early afternoon, and Skorzeny wandered for a hundred meters in every direction, a baffled expression on his face. Heydrich saw no point in searching. Even Peter’s body has gone missing. He checked their fuel supply and armed himself with a spare pistol from the glovebox, heedless of the scattered debris of their campsite. Time and the elements would remove all traces of their passage, and the camp was unlikely to be found. Like so many things that enter these mountains.
“Reinhard? What the hell happened to everyone?”
“I don’t know.” Heydrich saw the expression on Skorzeny’s face and responded with a shrug. “It’s classified information. If you have any concerns, take them up with Himmler when we get back.”
Otto Skorzeny was not listening, and Heydrich followed his gaze. Klaus emerged from the forest, his clothes encrusted with mud and a bloody gash on his forehead. His speech was an incoherent babble, wild talk of mountain streams and African hunters, and Heydrich cringed as Klaus threw both arms about his neck. He patted the wretch’s shoulder as Skorzeny watched impassively.
“Never been so afraid in my life… I ran, and I was sure he would catch me.” The words were cut off by a choking sob. “I figured it out, though - it was the water. He fell into the water, and it killed him. Are the others coming back soon?”
“The others will be here soon,” Heydrich whispered. “Why don’t you climb in the truck and sleep for a few hours? When you feel better, you can tell us everything.”
Heydrich continued to talk, speaking as tenderly as he would to his infant son, as he pointed toward the truck. Klaus continued to mumble about demons and blood and running water, his back turned, as he eased the pistol from his belt.
So many things that enter these mountains are never found.
Thanks for reading! Chapter 20 (the final chapter) will be released tomorrow, and an epilogue and acknowledgements will be released in a week.