Prologue
Letter to Jonathan Harker from Abraham Van Helsing
(Delivered in accordance to his directions upon his death on
December 4, 1899)
March 15, 1897
Friend Jonathan,
If you are reading this, then it
would be that I have passed into the sweet hereafter. I apologize for the shock
I am sure this must cause you, and to poor Madam Mina. Forgive me, friend
Jonathan and dearest Mina, but there is something that I must confess, lest I
be denied entry by Saint Peter. I reveal this with great shame, the burden of
which I have felt heavy in my heart every day and I must confess it, not to a
priest but no less a man of God.
Friend Jonathan, I implore you to
forgive the weakness of this old man but that night in Transylvania I faltered.
Yes, I hunted down those foul women that appeared to Madam Mina and myself the
night before, and to you so terribly months earlier, and threw back the lids to
their graves and found them to be sleeping the sleep of death. At once my mind
and heart was unexplainably taken with pity for these poor creatures against my
better judgment. I held my stake and hammer above the dark one, placing it to
her cold bosom, her voluptuousness enthralling, and drove it deep. The scream
she imparted was most terrifying and until the day I die I will not be able to
banish it from my mind and only after I had severed her foully beautiful head
did it cease. I went next to the similar sarcophagus at its left and found
again another beauty, both dark and sad. My heart grieved for this poor soul,
so long banished from the love of God. I laid another blessed stake against her
chest and with gritted teeth, hammered the top as hard as my strength would
allow. Her eyes suddenly grew wide but instead of a scream, she let loose only
a long sorrowful sigh. Heartache that I am unable to describe was released upon
that death as her sigh filled the room and with it the deepest gray despair
that I had ever known. I prayed for their souls for a moment before continuing
in my butchery, removing the head of this one as well and like the one before
she simply faded into dust. The fair one that remained in the revered resting
place was the most beautiful creature my eyes had ever laid upon, despite her
wanton dress and sensuality. I was entranced so deeply that for a time I could
only stand and stare. I was a fool to think that I could attempt such a feat
alone, and a greater one still that I could not reveal this to anyone before
now. All these years later when I think of the vision I beheld inside that case
of death, the flaxen curls, full red lips and fair skin smooth as oriental
silk, my heart does yet skip a beat. I remember feeling myself falling into the
waking sleep of a hypnotism, her eyes binding me a surely as any chain.
Then, as though the trumpets of
resurrection, I was woken from my thrall by the remembrance of the horrible
ring of dear Madam Mina’s scream. It cut through the fog of my muddled mind and
I did not hesitate further. I placed the lid back on this unholy beauty and
placed a portion of Sacred Wafer on the lid as I had already done inside the
tomb of their master, marked by his family name. I know not what transpired
after this, since I hurried away to Madam Mina before the siren’s call could
grasp me once more. The entrapment of the Sacred Wafer held until we made good
our escape since we did not encounter her wrath for killing her unholy mate and
her wicked sisters.
When we returned to that most
accursed place in seven years, I crept back into the lair of these temptresses
and was determined, despite my shame, if I discovered she still dwelled there I
would call upon the courage of my dear friends and we would end her miserable
life, but alas she was gone, so long that the foul smell no longer lingered in
the room. In the stead of the devilish beauty in the tomb was an unassuming
small book and upon opening it, I discovered it to be a journal. I took it, hid
it in my coat pocket and returned home, saying naught a word in my shame. I
later returned alone to Transylvania in secret and by following the clues
written within this strange account, I discovered another journal by this
bride, this first bride, this Valeria, and similar diaries by his two dark
ones. I studied these works extensively and used clues found within to track
down more diaries and journals across the breadth of Europe. Some were left in
abandoned homes, in a dresser drawer or under floorboards. Another I ransomed
from the descendant of a slayer that had once pursued them. I compiled these
books into a chronological order to better reveal the events of their unnatural
lives. So it is on this day, July fifteenth in the Year of our Lord eighteen
hundred and ninety-seven, I place the diaries and my translation into a parcel,
along with this letter, so it will be received by you now, the date of my death
which remains unknown to me.
I do not believe she will trouble
you or dear Mina, as she has not done so to date of writing this letter. I
trust much fear is within her un-beating heart for those who killed her dark
husband and sisters and I do not think this lesser demon wishes to trifle with
any of you my brave friends. I hope this gives you some kind of comfort.
I beg you forgive me friend
Jonathan and dearest Madam Mina. I was indeed a fool but my failure has haunted
my days and nights since that night and I do not wish to carry the burden into
death. I pray now that you will forgive me then, when it is time that you
should receive this letter. Pray pity upon the soul of a weak old man, as I
have prayed for a blessed life for you both and young Quincey every day of my
earthly life and will, if it does please our good Lord, look upon you
protectively from Heaven until it is that we should be reunited there.
“Your friend”
Van Helsing
* * *
Jonathan Harker’s Journal
4 December- The great man, Abraham
Van Helsing is dead. The light of the world is dimmer for its loss and the
Harker household will most certainly mourn his death. Mina retired early, tired
with grief and sick with emotion. Little Quincey was already asleep,
thankfully. It will give me time to think of how to best tell him. His little
heart will be broken, its first such injury, for Van Helsing was like family to
us all, but to Quincey, he was a like a grandfather or dearest uncle. However
broken my heart may be, my grief is somewhat overshadowed with the dread
knowledge held in my late mentor’s letter. For the love of all that is holy,
does this foul woman still live? I had rested well over the years with the
knowledge that the Count and his ilk had been blotted from the face of God’s
good earth. I have slept well and rarely would the memories of those horrible
days come back to haunt me or Mina. If this damned creature does yet live, she
has been quiet in her hunting. My trained senses have not detected any sign of
her in print, wire, or by word of mouth. So for now at least, I believe I will
bear this burden of knowledge in silence and spare poor Mina the worry and my
departed friend further shame. I will hide these journals, just as the great
man did himself. Rest thee well dear doctor, to you I owe all that I hold dear.
* * *
Part One: The
First Wife
Chapter One
Diary of Countess Valeria Karajan- Dracula
21 May 1460- What a wonderful
treasure I did discover in this diary, tucked inside my dress trunk by my dear
Mother. I think I shall write the events of the last few days to keep them
forever fresh in my mind. To forget them would be a sin. When this beautifully
bound book was purchased for me I was the daughter of a lord, but now as I
write, I am the wife of Count Dracula of Transylvania. Countess Dracula, the
name seems so strange and yet I wear it with such pride. The Count has brought
so much change to the country, done so much good for his people. His ways do
sometimes terrify me, but I cannot forget he works for the greater good though
his ways may be wicked. Father was wise to align our family with him so soon
into his reign, to be my husband’s enemy is to be a fool.
But what a sinful wife I am for
writing such gossip of my husband. Though he may meet his enemy with an iron
fist, he certainly wears a silk glove where I am concerned. He was ever so
patient at our wedding, despite the long road that waited ahead of us to return
to his castle the next day. And it was such a beautiful wedding! The chapel was
bedecked in all manner of spring flower and Father had spared no expense in my
beautiful dress. Vlad said that I looked like a gilded flower. We danced, ate
and drank ourselves merry.
I must admit that my nerves were
beginning to get the better of me by the evening, knowing that soon we would be
alone together for the first time as husband and wife. I am so thankful that
this was not an altogether arranged marriage. I had grown quite fond of Vlad by
the time we were to be married, and though our courtship was brief, he spoke
with me sincerely and put my mind at ease. My husband proved himself to be a
gentleman once more when he chose to sleep in the guest quarters instead of in
my chambers on our wedding night, in respect to my Father’s house. I was
relieved for this gesture, for I was ever so tired from our celebrations and it
allowed me one last night to simply be a daughter in my Father’s house, to say
goodbye to childish things and to prepare myself to be the Countess of my own
house. We left for Castle Dracula early yesterday morning and arrived that
evening. The countryside was beautiful, as is to be expected of Transylvania in
the spring, and the air was filled with the sounds and scents of a region
foreign to me, but that is now my home.
The servants had been hard at the
work while the master of the house was away, leaving nothing undone upon our
arrival. An enormous feast that rivaled that at our wedding celebration was
prepared and kept warm. My dear husband said that he wanted to be certain that
I had anything that I could desire for supper on my first night as the Countess
of his castle. As we dined, the Count informed me of many things concerning the
goings on of the castle and its staff, many of which had served the Dracula
family for generations. The nervous quiver in my stomach returned as the maid
led me through the winding hallways of the castle to the bedchamber I was to
share with my husband, but Vlad stopped us halfway there and instead took me up
the staircase that led up to the battlement. The mountain night air was cool
and crisp and a light breeze blew through the dense forest that surrounds the
castle. The full moon shed her light across the landscape and with the swaying
trees; it looked as though our home was a great ship afloat in the middle of a
dark ocean. My husband stood by my side and quietly took my hand as we looked
across our land. His chest was full with pride, no doubt because his heart is
so full of love for this wilderness and its people. He is their guardian, the protector of their
ways against the world beyond these trees. After a few minutes of silence, he
turned to me and brushed my cheek with his hand and told me that he hoped I
would be happy here, that all I could see was mine and that I was to want for
nothing.
It is not for a lady to speak of
what happened after this tender moment, though glorious it may have been, but
to record my memories here for my own sake would not be considered crass. My
husband pulled me close to him and kissed me passionately, much to my relief
for I had been waiting for it since we arrived. He looked ever so handsome in
the moonlight, his dark hair and eyes reflected the silvery beams beautifully.
I was not sure how to behave or how eager I was to allow myself to appear and
the nerves began to dance in my stomach once more. He seemed to notice this and
somehow put my mind to ease, reminding me that here, within this castle, we are
free to do whatever we wish. It is our domain and the rules within its walls
are ours alone to make. I fell into his strong arms then with abandon, my
anticipation of things to come outweighing my nerves, and held him tightly
against me. After several minutes more of passionate embrace, he took my hand
and led me back through the castle, smiling and giggling as we went like
sneaking children. When we did arrive at our bed chamber, I quickly saw that he
had given instructions to the servants and the room had been prepared
wonderfully! I paused a moment to take in all the luxurious things that filled
the room. Silk adorned the bed and walls, hanging like loose curtains from the
ceilings and gathering in the floor like small lakes below thin waterfalls
around the bed. Candles and incense burned, filling the air with smoky exotic
scents of a land I have only heard of far to the east. He asked me if I
approved, if I was pleased, and I could only smile because I could not find the
words to express my feelings. Such time had been dedicated so far in advance
for my comfort and happiness that I was flushed with emotion and could only
rush into his arms and hold him close as we had done outside beneath the moon.
Again he kissed me, but now I responded with passion that equaled his instead
of nervous timidity. The formal attire of a lady of my stature does not make
for quick or simple disrobing and the time it took us both to unfasten the
layers of my garments seemed agonizingly long. Only days before, when Vlad had
visited me at my Father’s house before our wedding did we share our first kiss,
a simple pressing of tightly pursed lips that then seemed almost scandalous.
Now, just days later, we were husband and wife, intertwined in a passionate
naked embrace. Soon after this, I was relieved that my husband had chosen to
sleep apart from me while we were at my Father’s house, for the sounds of our
unbridled lovemaking would have been heard throughout. My mind was completely
given over to sensuality, and I did moan despite my efforts to be quiet as
parts of my body that had never been seen by any eyes other than my own were
touched and kissed. Afterwards when we were spent and breathless, I laid my
head upon my husband’s chest and listened to his heartbeat as the sounds of the
river below us lulled me to sleep. I did not want sleep to come, as I did not
want the night to end, but I could hardly resist after our long journey home
and all our physical excitement. The last thing I remember was my husband
tucking the silken bedcovers around my shoulders and a thin blanket being drawn
over the top to shield me against the cool night air. I awoke the next morning
to find upon my neck, on each side, the purplish marks that my husband’s kisses
had left behind. I styled my hair drawn up that morning and I felt no shame.
Summary:
When Valeria’s hand was given in marriage to the handsome and
powerful Count Vlad Dracula, she dreamed of happiness but instead her life was
filled with longing for her absent husband, their country ravaged by war. When
Vlad at last returned from the battlefield he was a changed man, an alluring and
dangerous creature with a thirst for her blood…and for more wives.
For over one hundred years, tales of Count Dracula have haunted and seduced the imagination of readers worldwide. Now experience the story of Dracula from a new perspective, as told by the three women who knew him best. Discover their stories, their secrets, and find out what it would be to love and be loved by history’s most powerful vampire in Being Mrs. Dracula.
In a marriage that spans centuries, one man shared between three women, love may be eternal but happiness is not guaranteed.
For over one hundred years, tales of Count Dracula have haunted and seduced the imagination of readers worldwide. Now experience the story of Dracula from a new perspective, as told by the three women who knew him best. Discover their stories, their secrets, and find out what it would be to love and be loved by history’s most powerful vampire in Being Mrs. Dracula.
In a marriage that spans centuries, one man shared between three women, love may be eternal but happiness is not guaranteed.
Author
Info: 
In the fifth grade, Faith Marlow discovered a fondness and
talent for writing and has considered herself a storyteller ever since. The
notion of transporting a reader into another place or time, to allow the reader
to experience life from the perspective of the character is as intriguing as it
is challenging and is at the heart of any project she undertakes
Faith lives in Tennessee
with her high school sweetheart/ husband, their son and Moses, the loyal family
turtle. As often as their schedules and weather will allow, the Marlow’s take a
break from the stress of everyday life and all its technology and escape into
the natural beauty of the Appalachian countryside to hike, camp, and take
countless photographs.
Faith sincerely hopes
you will enjoy her first novel, “Being Mrs. Dracula”, which chronicles the
lives of Count Dracula’s three beautiful, yet very different wives. She is
currently working on its sequel “Being Dracula’s Widow”.
Be sure to check out this author's amazing book! scroll down for a chance to win a copy for yourself!
links-
Goodreads Author Profile:
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Goodreads Book Page:
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