Dracula

Chapter 11

Three days after the first transfusion, another transfusion was necessary; this time, the donor was Jack Schwartz. He sat down in the chair beside Lucy's bed, thinking that unless one experiences it firsthand, it's hard to understand what it feels like to have one's own lifeblood drawn and sent into the veins of the woman one loves.

Three days later, the patient's condition worsened again, requiring a third blood transfusion, this time from a vein in Hao Xin.

About a week later, on Sunday, September 18, Arthur Hongbird was by his father's deathbed when the blood transfusion was repeated; Quincy Morley became the fourth person to donate blood to Lucy.

The morning after the blood transfusion, Quincy Morley, though somewhat pale, declared that he had regained enough strength to participate in any operation. He carried a Winchester repeating pistol and, together with Jack Schiewer, went downstairs and into the hall of the Shilling Manor.

Quincy said to his old hunting buddy, "Jaco, you know I love that girl just as much as you do."

“My friend, I have no doubt at all.”

"Does that old Dutchman really know what he's doing? How much blood have we already given him? Where has all that blood gone?"

Jack shook his head helplessly. "I learned many years ago that I didn't have the intelligence to question Howing's methods... Frankly, Quincy, I'm out of ideas."

Quincy touched his arm, which still ached slightly. "Hmm, I think even a witch doctor would be terrified of him. You know what this reminds me of? I had a very fine mare on the Pampas plains, and one night, a large bat, which people call a 'vampire,' bit her. After the bat sucked her blood, the wound was too large to clot, so the next morning she couldn't stand up from blood loss. I had to shoot her. What a fine beast!"

Howsing put on his coat and prepared to leave, joining the two of them at the front door. If he had heard Quincy's words, he remained unmoved and showed no reaction.

He only said, "Jaco, hurry, I have a lot to tell you—important things I need to know myself tonight." He then turned his gaze to another person. "Mr. Morley, protect her well!"

"Of course I will." Quincy's tone and attitude showed that he was not very convinced by the old man.

Howsing chuckled, completely ignoring the Texan's opinion of him. Despite numerous setbacks and struggles, the old professor remained excited about the war and delighted with his discoveries. "If we fail, your precious Lucy will become the devil's whore. I advise you to rely on garlic and crosses rather than treasure your gun."

Quincy almost punched the old man. He stepped forward. "You sick old bald eagle—"

Howin said seriously, "I believe you are both reasonable people. If so, please listen to me! I have tried to tell you again and again, the truth is that Lucy invited that beast into her bedroom! She drank the beast's morbid blood, and that blood changed her, making her like it!"

The Texans were astonished by the sincerity and depth of the old professor's terrifying statement, yet felt helpless, able only to look to Jack but receiving no hints.

Haoxin laughed again, his laughter containing a considerable degree of hysteria, while the two young men could only stare at him as if paralyzed.

"Get in the car, Jack." After his outburst, the old professor ordered, "We must talk. Then I need to go somewhere I can learn. So far, we haven't done enough for Miss Lucy."

"Professor, where are you going? — Where is a place where you can learn?"

“I received an answer from an old friend. At the British Museum, he allowed me to go into a room to explore some secrets, as long as I knew where to look. I didn’t want to waste any more time—let’s go now!”

Arthur Hound's father lay dying in another bed in another house. Meanwhile, Arthur was keeping watch by Lucy's bedside that night. Though he didn't understand, he was well aware of Howsing's warning, so during his vigil, he made sure to leave a fully loaded pistol on the table next to the vase of garlic flowers the old professor had arranged.

But for Arthur, the long and futile struggle against something he didn't know, and the pain of his father and the woman he loved both teetering on the brink of death, were unbearable. He found it difficult to stay lucid.

At that moment, just as Arthur was dozing, Lucy suddenly awoke. Her eyes snapped open, and she felt a surge of ecstasy and devilish energy. She didn't even glance at her fiancé, who was dozing beside her. Yet she remained still—for she knew—in her deep and wicked pleasure, she knew she didn't need to move at all.

Her vampire lover is drawing closer, and he will surely find her, just as he has many times before. No matter what clocks ordinary people set, what obstacles they erect, or what conspiracies they devise, nothing can stop him from entering.

Quincy and Morley were finally persuaded to accept that the old professor's repeated mentions of a vampire beast were true. It was for this reason that the Texan had voluntarily kept watch alone in the garden. Quincy—often accompanied by Jack and Arthur—had hunted many large carnivores from Sumatra to Siberia, and therefore knew the ways of the hunt well.

At least that's what he thinks.

It was a quiet night, though a breeze was beginning to pick up—there was no sign of an intruder in the garden. Of course, there was none. Yet, no matter how tight the defenses, the enemy—if there was a bloodthirsty one, and Howsing wasn't a madman—always managed to slip through.

Quincy, though preoccupied with this seemingly unsolvable puzzle, maintained his keen hearing thanks to his hunter's intuition. He turned and caught a glimpse of a dark, inhuman figure rushing forward. In the next instant, he raised his rifle and fired at the figure—he instinctively knew the shot was accurate, but it had no effect.

Immediately afterwards, some kind of superhuman force rushed past him and flew towards the house, knocking him unconscious.

A large wolf leaped over Lucy's tightly closed French windows, shattering the glass. The impact and the sound of breaking glass immediately jolted Arthur awake, who was dozing beside the bed; but he was too late, and he was not prepared to take any effective action. Moments later, he was knocked aside by the same force that had knocked Quincy down, collapsing unconscious in the corner of the room.

The next second, the massive gray beast, drooling, jumped onto the bed; and Lucy laughed and murmured, welcoming it warmly with outstretched arms.

She grabbed the giant's short hair with both hands, hungrily pulling the wolf's fangs toward her own body...

At approximately the same time, a carriage stopped on Russell Street in central London. A moment later, two passengers alighted and stood in front of the British Museum, which was almost completely dark at the time.

The previous night, the reading room's countless books remained closed to ordinary visitors as usual. But now, in the early hours of the morning, a senior member of the museum's management committee was about to guide two eager individuals through the museum in search of knowledge: one was the committee member's old friend, Abraham van Hausing, and the other was the anxious Dr. Jack Schiewold.

The three people were looking for a very secluded little reading room; they could only enter after the management committee member unlocked the door with a private key.

The hinges creaked rustily as the small room door opened. Haoxin muttered something, then eagerly plunged into the stacks of dusty books and shelves, inhaling the scent of old paper and ancient wood, while the management committee member whispered the contents of the book, and Jack held up two oil lamps.

The old professor was soon excited to have found the book he was looking for.

It was a thick, old book, locked with a buckle, requiring the management committee member to pull out another key to unlock it.

Chapter Twelve

On the morning after Lucy's final demonic attack, the sun shone once more upon Hilling Manor. Inside, everyone except Mrs. Wertner, still unaware of the truth, knew that the long and agonizing struggle for Lucy's life over the past weeks had finally reached a cruel conclusion. The ugly truth seemed to hang in the air, though no one discussed it openly, and almost no one understood its true nature.

Of all those fighting to save the girl, only Howing truly understood the horrific coercion she had faced. And he too found it difficult to take any action based on what he knew, especially since he could hardly explain it to anyone. How could he convince this suspicious, enlightened late 19th-century modern man without being locked up as a madman? Yes, sometimes the old professor felt deeply discouraged at the thought that he would never be able to convey the truth.

The mysterious attack did not seriously injure Quincy Morley. As he gradually regained consciousness, he found himself lying on the dew-covered grass, unharmed except for bruises. He immediately believed Howsing's declaration: some terrible beast must be responsible for Lucy's condition—and this beast was strangely impervious to the power of a shotgun. Quincy had witnessed this firsthand.

Unsurprisingly, Arthur Honwyn's father, Lord Gothmin, had passed away at his old home the previous night. Arthur received the news early the next morning via a special messenger. Although his father's death was expected, it still dealt a heavy blow to Arthur—as he struggled with the news, he tried to catch some sleep on a sofa in a room near Lucy's bedroom.

Around six o'clock in the morning, Haoxin entered the room to relieve his student and bent down to conduct a more detailed examination of the patient.

After the old professor carefully examined Lucy's face, Jack heard him gasp.

"Open the curtains," the old professor commanded. "I need light!"

Jack readily complied.

Hausin moved aside the garlic flowers, and there was also a silk handkerchief that Lucy wore around her neck.

“The devil’s whore!” he murmured in despair.

Jack rushed forward to check, and upon seeing it, he couldn't help but shudder.

The scars on my neck have completely disappeared.

Howsin stood there staring at the patient with an extremely serious expression for a full five minutes. Then he turned to Jack and said calmly, “She’s dying, and it won’t be long now. Go and wake the poor child so he can see her one last time. He trusts us, and we promised him.”

Jack obediently went to Arthur's room, woke him up, told him that Lucy was still asleep, and then, as tactfully as possible, told him that both doctors believed the end was near.

When the two returned to Lucy's room, Jack noticed that Howsin had already started tidying everything up, trying to make everything look pleasant. He even combed Lucy's hair, letting her red curls fall naturally onto the pillow.

When Arthur walked in, she opened her eyes and, upon seeing her fiancé, whispered softly, "Arthur! Oh, my love, I'm so glad you're here!"

As he bent down to kiss her, Haoxin gestured for him to step back. "No, not yet. Holding her hand will comfort her more."

Therefore, although Arthur glanced at the old professor with suspicion, he obediently took Lucy's hand and knelt down beside her bed. She looked so perfect, her soft features complementing her angelic eyes. Then she slowly closed her eyes and drifted into sleep. Her chest rose and fell gently, her breathing as faint as a tired child's.

Then came the strange change that Jack had noticed earlier. First, almost imperceptibly, her breathing slowly turned into snoring, her mouth opened, and her white gums receded, making her teeth appear longer and sharper.

In a sleepwalking, unconscious state, Lucy opened her eyes; Jack found her gaze dull and indifferent. She repeated in a seductive whisper, "Arthur! Oh, my love, I'm so glad you're here! Kiss me!"

This time, Arthur bent down eagerly to kiss the woman he loved; but at that very moment, Howin, who was as shocked as Jack by Lucy's changed tone, suddenly lunged forward, grabbed Arthur's neck with both hands, and pulled him back with all his might, almost throwing him to the other end of the room.

“Absolutely not!” he said. “For your life and for hers!” He stood between the engaged couple like a fearless lion.

Overwhelmed with surprise, Arthur was momentarily at a loss for what to do or say. Before any violent impulse could seize him, he realized the situation and stood quietly to the side, waiting.

Lucy first barked at Howsin for interfering—Jay couldn't think of a more fitting description than "bark"—but a minute later, after her demeanor and attitude softened, she blessed him and thanked him.

“My true friend!” she whispered, gripping Haoxin’s hand tightly with her withered fingers. “My true friend, and his true friend too. Oh, protect him, and give me peace.”

Haoxin knelt down on one knee beside her bed. "I swear!"

Then Lucy's breathing became heavy again, and then suddenly stopped.

Shortly after sunrise, while Arthur Hung still waited numbly, Dr. Jack Schiewert declared the patient dead and signed her death certificate within an hour.

At noon, the pure and lovely Lucy lay peacefully on the white satin cloth of the glass coffin in the hall, surrounded by lilies and roses.

Jack stared at the corpse beneath the glass, thinking to himself that each passing hour seemed to deepen Lucy's loveliness. He felt confused and horrified, so he wasn't surprised when Arthur finally trembled and was shaken by doubt.

Arthur finally leaned towards him and asked in a low voice, "Jaco, is she really dead?"

Jack had to assure his friend that Lucy was indeed dead.

Meanwhile, Lucy's ailing mother was completely devastated upon receiving the devastating news—they could no longer hide the tragic truth from her. Mrs. Wertner lay in her room, cared for by her maid and her private physician. Jack guessed that she might receive news at any moment that she had followed her daughter in death.

After noon, Arthur and Quincy Morley, both on the verge of tears and unable to sleep, stayed near the head of Lucy's coffin.

Equally grieving, Hausin and Jack stood a short distance apart discussing their grief. At that moment, at Hausin's signal, Jack turned and walked with him into the greenhouse where no one would hear their conversation.

The old professor began, “I know you love her very much. My discovery last night was too late to save her life.” He paused. “But we have something even more to fear.”

Jack could feel his facial muscles twitching; he could only stare at his teacher with a haggard expression. "There's more to be afraid of! Professor, for God's sake, what could be more terrifying than what we've just endured?"

"Jack, do you trust me?"

"What are you doing?"

Even if Howsin disagreed with Jack's lack of confidence, he remained silent. His gaze drifted into the distance, his mind busy devising plans.

When he spoke, his voice was calm: "I need you to bring me a set of autopsy knives today or tomorrow."

Jay said in an almost desperate voice, "So we have to dissect the body?"

“Yes, but not entirely. I am going to operate, but not in the way you think. Let me tell you, but you can’t say a word to anyone else.” The old professor’s voice was calm to the point of being cold: “I’m going to cut off her head and take out her heart.”

Jack gasped in surprise.

“Ah, you’re a surgeon, and you’re so surprised. But I can’t forget—my dear Jack—you loved her very much.”

"Yes."

“But you must help me… I really want to do it tonight, but I can’t for Arthur’s sake; after his father’s funeral tomorrow, he’ll be fine, and he’ll want to see his lover one last time before she’s buried. However, once she’s laid to rest, whether she’s in the ossuary or not, one night after everyone’s asleep, you have to come with me. We’ll open the coffin, make the incision, and then put everything away so that no one but us will know.”

Jack was no longer so surprised, but still frustrated and confused. "But Professor, why operate? This poor girl is already dead—why dismember her? I see no benefit in it, for her, for us, for science, for human knowledge—?"

Howsin's attitude shifted to a fatherly tenderness. "My friend Jack, I sympathize with your bleeding heart. You don't know this, but you will understand—though it's not a good thing."

“Weren’t you surprised, or even horrified, when I didn’t let Arthur kiss his lover—even though she was dying—and pulled him away forcefully?”

"To be honest, that's what I think."

“Right! But didn’t you also see her thank me, with those dying bright eyes, kissing my rough old hand and blessing me?” Howin held up the hand that Lucy had kissed; Jack saw that the hand trembled slightly.

"Yes, I saw it."

The old professor continued, "Didn't you hear me swear to her that I would do it so she could die in peace?"

"Yes, I saw and heard everything."

"Then there are very good reasons for everything I'm doing now. Believe me, Jack. The best reasons?"

As expected, Waiter was too overwhelmed by the devastating news of his only daughter's death and passed away just a few hours later.

In his notes, Jack wrote that in the double funeral, the old lady was laid to rest next to her daughter Lucy, "in a cemetery in her relatives' graves, in a grand house of the dead... far from the hustle and bustle of London. Here the air is fresh, the sun rises from the Hangsdale Mountains, and wildflowers bloom freely throughout the valley."

When dawn first appeared in the Hangsdale Mountains, a homeless child, only seven or eight years old, dressed in tattered clothes, was warming his cracked hands and bare feet by a small fire lit by scraps of wood and scavenged ashes.

For a moment, the child forgot his hunger and discomfort, his gaze fixed intently on a beautiful red-haired woman walking towards him from the direction of the rising sun. The woman was alone at that moment, dressed in a delicate white dress embroidered with lace, leading the naive child to wonder if she was a bride. She smiled gracefully at the boy who stared at her with his mouth agape.