Page 6 of Dracula: Bound in Blood

Perhaps she should tell him how much she cared and how desperately she wanted him to find joy and experience the love and pleasure he so richly deserved. Jonathan was a kind, good man, and seeing him suffer in silence pained her.

For a moment, she considered broaching the subject of telling him to seek happiness wherever he could find it, societal norms be damned. But she hesitated, unsure if such a conversation would bring him comfort or only serve to remind him of the limitations placed upon him by a world that didn’t understand.

Instead, Lucy’s expression softened, a gentle smile playing at her lips. “Oh, very well,” she conceded with a wave of her hand. “But if it ruins the carpets, you’re paying for new ones. Come on then,” she said, gently taking his arm. “Let’s get you both cleanedup and warm. And Jonathan?” She paused, meeting his eyes. “You are wanted here. Always.”

Lucy guided Jonathan to the plush sofa in the sitting room, retrieving a bowl of water and a clean towel. “You know, I frequent the East End myself on occasion. Dressed as a man, of course – it’s terribly exciting. You’ll have to toughen up to sate yourself there.” She gently cleaned his wounds, her touch surprisingly tender despite her teasing words. “Tell me truthfully – did you at least get to enjoy the company of a pretty boy with blond curls and abs crafted by God himself before this beating?”

Jonathan winced, both from the sting of the damp cloth on his cuts and the memory of his humiliation. “No such luck, I’m afraid.”

Lucy patted his hand sympathetically. “Well, better luck next time, darling. Let’s see about getting you and your new furry friend cleaned up and fed. I daresay you both could use a bit of pampering tonight.”

She bustled about, getting the servants up and fussing over him and the puppy in equal measure. Their arrangement might be unconventional, built on mutual need rather than romantic love, but in moments like these, he was profoundly thankful for Lucy’s friendship and understanding.

Now dry and curled up contentedly in Jonathan’s lap, the puppy let out a small, satisfied sigh. Jonathan stroked its soft fur, feeling some of the tension and disappointment of the evening begin to ebb away. Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But for now, in this warm room, with Lucy’s chatter filling the air and the comforting weight of the puppy in his arms, Jonathan allowed himself a moment of peace.

Little did he know that far away, in a castle perched high in the Carpathian Mountains, events would soon draw him into a world beyond his wildest imaginings. In this world, his deepest desires and darkest fears would collide in ways he could never have anticipated.

Chapter Three

One Week Later

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Jonathan Harker’s office as he sat at his mahogany desk, absently rubbing the fading bruise around his eye. The past week had been a blur of mundane legal work and fitful nights, his dreams haunted by shadowy alleys and mocking laughter. He longed for a distraction, something to pull him out of the suffocating routine that seemed to be closing in around him like a shroud.

A peculiar letter arrived on his desk as if to answer his unspoken wish. The envelope was thick and made of high-quality parchment that spoke of old-world wealth. However, thewax seal caught Jonathan’s eye - a beautifully rendered dragon in deep crimson, its wings spread as if ready to take flight from the paper itself.

With trembling fingers, Jonathan broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The handwriting within was elegant, almost calligraphic, yet something was unsettling about the way the ink seemed to glisten wetly in the fading light.

“My dear Mr. Harker,“ the letter began,“I write to you with a most unusual request. I find myself in need of legal assistance to finalize certain estate affairs here in my homeland of Transylvania. Your reputation precedes you, and I would be most grateful if you would consent to travel here and lend your expertise to my cause. I assure you, the compensation will be more than worth your while. Yours most sincerely, Count Dracula.”

Jonathan’s heart raced as he reread the letter. A count! He had never met nobility before, let alone been specifically requested by one. The prospect was as thrilling as it was daunting.

‘Perhaps this is just the escape I need,’ he thought, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘A chance to leave behind the suffocating confines of London, if only for a little while.’

Later that evening, Jonathan found himself in the opulent drawing room of the Westenra estate, sharing the news with Lucy over tea. The room was a hallmark of Victorian excess, with its heavy velvet drapes, ornate gilded mirrors, and plush furniture upholstered in rich, jewel-toned fabrics.

Lucy, resplendent in a gown of deep emerald that set off her flaming red hair to perfection, listened to Jonathan’s excited recounting of the letter with an uncharacteristic frown marring her porcelain features.

Lucy leaned forward, her emerald eyes wide with concern. “Transylvania?” she repeated, her usually cavalier tone replaced by a hint of worry. “Oh, Jonathan, are you quite sure about this? Bistra, my servant - you know, the one from that region - she’s told me the most frightful stories about the place.”

She shuddered delicately, her pale hand clutching the pearls at her throat. “Why, just the other night, she was regaling me with tales that gave me such a fright I could scarcely sleep! Superstitions and folklore, to be sure, but there was something in the way she spoke... as if she truly believed every word. She says that the place you’re going is a realm where evil lingers, you know. Where the veil between our world and something else is frighteningly thin.”

Lucy’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Bistra swears that in the deepest, darkest parts of the Carpathian forests, there are creatures that defy explanation. Things that prey on unwary travelers and drain the very life from their victims. Oh, Jonathan, promise me you’ll be careful!”

Jonathan chuckled, stirring another lump of sugar into his tea. “Come now, Lucy. Surely you don’t believe in such fanciful tales? It’s the modern world, after all. I’m sure Transylvania is no more dangerous than our own dear London.”

Lucy’s frown deepened. “Perhaps,” she conceded, “but I would feel better if you took some precautions.” She rose gracefully, moving to a nearby cabinet and extracting a small wooden box. From within, she produced a silver crucifix on a delicate chain.

“Lucy, really,” Jonathan protested as she approached. “I appreciate your concern, but I hardly think-”

“Humor me,” Lucy insisted, draping the crucifix around his neck. “Consider it a good luck charm, if nothing else.” Her emerald eyes sparkled with a mixture of concern and mischief. “But wait, you simply must hear Bistra’s stories firsthand. Bistra!” she called out, her voice ringing through the opulent drawing room.

As if conjured by Lucy’s summons, the door opened to reveal Bistra, Lucy’s servant. She was a small, wiry woman with dark eyes that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom within their depths. Her weathered face spoke of a hard life, yet her bearing had quiet dignity as she entered the room.

“Yes, my lady?” Bistra inquired, her accented English soft but clear.

Lucy gestured excitedly towards Jonathan. “Bistra, dear, Mr. Harker here is traveling to Transylvania. You must tell him about your homeland, about the stories you’ve shared with me.”

Jonathan’s curiosity was piqued by the grave solemnity that immediately fell over Bistra’s features at the mention of Transylvania. The old woman’s eyes darted nervously around the room as if checking for unseen listeners before she spoke.

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