Page 72 of Now Comes the Mist

My thumb finds the charred bullet again, and Quincey nods and takes back the stone and the arrowhead.Life can end in the blink of an eye.

“Lucy? Are you all right?” he asks as sobs shake my frail body at his kindness and his trust in me. I start crying brokenly as I clutch the bullet, aching for the life I never wanted and pushed away with both hands, and through my tears I see Quincey going to the door to call Jack. Right behind them is Arthur, still in his coat as though he had just arrived. He hurries over and hugs me tightly to him, ignoring Jack’s warning to be careful.

“Hush, love, don’t cry like that,” Arthur murmurs. “I’m here now. I’m here.”

“She was trying to say goodbye to me,” Quincey says in a low voice. His hands flutter helplessly at his sides. “She was talking nonsense and I got frightened.”

Jack leans over Arthur’s shoulder, lifting each of my eyelids gently and checking my pulse. “This is the longest she’s been conscious, but her heart is a little stronger than before.”

“When did she wake?” Arthur asks. “Have I missed anything?”

“Half an hour ago. She drank water but hasn’t eaten anything,” Jack says thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s the lack of food that’s gone to her head. She has been saying strange things.”

“Should I go get some broth? Do you think she’d like that?” Quincey asks.

“Why are you talking about me as though I’m not here?” I ask, looking at Arthur with pleading eyes. “Why won’t any of you believe me?”

“Hush, darling,” Arthur says gently, lowering me onto my pillows.

They all look at me. Had I not been so weak, sad, and certain I would die, I might laugh at the sight of the three men who want to marry me standing there together. Instead, I shut my eyes and think of a fourth man, one who doesnotwant to marry me, but who dangled a great gift before me without any intention of bestowing it. And now I will do what I feared most: leave my loved ones behind in grief, mourning, and utter disgrace.Curse you, Vlad, I think.And curse the mist for bringing me to you.“I want to be alone with Arthur, please,” I whisper. My fingers are still curled around Quincey’s bullet, and I tuck it carefully into my nightgown pocket.

Jack and Quincey move to the door at once. “We’ll be just across the hall,” Jack says.

Alone with Arthur, I see how exhausted he truly is. His face is grey with weariness, and his chin is rough from lack of shaving. “Now what’s all this about saying goodbye?” Arthur asks, stroking my hair. “I know you have been very ill, my beloved, but this confounded dog hasn’t harmed you as much this time. Thank God.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. “I feel immensely worse.”

“Well, the first time it attacked you, Dr. Van Helsing had to give you some of my blood. Remember? And this time, you haven’t needed any blood.”

Slowly, it dawns on me that Jack and Dr. Van Helsing have not told Arthur about the other transfusions. Perhaps they wished to spare his feelings, thinking he might not like the idea of other men’s blood flowing in his fiancée’s veins. “How is your father?” I ask.

Arthur bows his head. “He will leave us soon. Any day now, I imagine. The doctors told me very quietly that he will not live to see us marry next week.” He struggles not to cry for a moment, his face twisting, and I pull him close to me.

“Go on, Arthur. You may cry before me.”

And he does, with his wet face pressed to my neck and his shoulders heaving in that silent, gasping way in which some men grieve. I rub his back, feeling that even with all the pain already housed within me, I would gladly take his too, to spare him.

“I was half-asleep, so I can’t be sure,” I say, still hugging him close. “But I think I heard a servant say that Mina wrote to tell me of her marriage in Budapest. She and Jonathan will be home soon, man and wife. They never wanted a big society wedding like ours. It must have been a simple ceremony, with him in a hospital bed. Just a chaplain, a prayer book, and their hands joined like this.” I lace my fingers with Arthur’s. “I would marry you like that, gladly.”

He gives a soft laugh. “What about your gown and veil and flowers?”

“Mamma cares about those things, not me,” I say, stroking his hair. The thought of further hurting him with my own death makes it difficult to breathe.Curse you, Vlad.But if I am to die, perhaps marrying Arthur on my deathbed would ease the pain. I would leave him a widower, unblemished by me. “You will be Lord Godalming and take over the estate. You must be strong.”

“For you, I will try.”

I put my hands on either side of his face and lift it to mine. “My heart is yours,” I tell him. “And I will love you until the end of time. It will not fade even in death.”

“I can’t bear it, Lucy,” he says, anguished. “Don’t say goodbye to me, too.”

He is waiting for a reassurance I can no longer give. What can I say to him? How can I explain what I have done? He would not understand. He has never been able to see into my dark and tortured soul, and he did not witness what I gave Vlad—and what I asked of Vlad in return—in the shadows of that churchyard, with my family’s mausoleum hovering above us in the mist.

And so all I do is bring Arthur’s face to mine and kiss him, hoping that my lips will tell him everything I cannot say. He kisses me back, hard, pressing my head into the pillow.

“Stop!” Dr. Van Helsing shouts. He grabs Arthur’s shoulders and pulls him away from me. Behind him, in the doorway, I see Jack staring at the opposite side of the room. His eyes, so red-rimmed and tired before, are wide awake now. His face is white as a sheet.

Arthur twists furiously out of the older man’s grip. “What are you doing?”

“You must stay apart,” Dr. Van Helsing says sternly. “You must not kiss. Come over here and I will show you why. You see it, too, Jack?”

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