Memories Unveiled

Kelantha's Diary

As my companion vanished into the shadows, I barely took note of his absence, so enraptured was I with the gems the earth had willingly given forth into the count�s languid fingers. Transylvania had a charm and morbidity all her own, for great ages of war had drenched the mountains in blood, the very earth on which I now knelt, holding the necklace concealed for long generations from invaders. In Spain my life had been so conformed, repressed with no sense of timelessness or mystery, but everything about this untouched land spoke of dark horrors. It enthralled me as surely as the books my mother had forbidden me to read. They were the journals of my grandfather, a man of science and invention. Many hailed him a madman, an enemy of the church, even a warlock for the pages of notations on immortality. Father would have burned them were it not for the sentimental value of the man�s captivating writing. He was peculiar but not untouchable. I�d seen him only once as a child, when he�d drawn me onto his knee and smoothed back the dark waves of my hair.

�You must not fear life, Kelantha,� he said meaningfully, gazing into my eyes; his were a peculiar color, of the palest blue imaginable. He was not wholly Spanish but in that pervasive, golden-flecked stare lingered the immortal. �Any more than you fear death,� came his addition. I did not understand at the time, and these thoughts did not return to haunt my mind until many years later, when his journals came into our keeping and were carefully hidden away in the library. They arrived in crates filled with straw, along with his inventions. Many of these were destroyed, a few sold to interested investors. I had been unable to preserve any but doggedly watched the volumes, fearful that my mother might throw them into the fire. She never did, but forbade me from reading them. �They are the fodder of madmen and those opposed to God,� she said.

Given that she was so religious, that they remained in our home at all was a marvel. I did read them, all of them, with growing fascination. My grandfather was not a madman but a genius beyond comprehension; it was his directions that lead me on a search for purpose and experience in a world not prepared to grant it. The books accompanied me, several volumes smuggled out when I left our home in the dead of night. I seemed to always travel by darkness; it was my journey�s beginning and end. Now as I stood in the moonlight in the cold, my breath exhuming soft clouds on the muddied but resplendent pendant, these thoughts came to mind. It was as if the dragon with his sober countenance had prompted them. The necklace was weighty in my palms and in a movement foreign even to myself, I impulsively clasped it around my neck. It was cold even beneath the warm fabric of my gown.

There was a ripping pool through the wood at no distance and I was drawn to it, gazing at my reflection. My hands caressed the pendant and its bejeweled clasp as if I were entering a trance. The world might have ended at that moment without my notice, for I was enthralled. My eyes dwelled on the necklace�s reflection in the icy waters, mesmerized as my hand fell to my breast and lingered there, feeling the constant, steady beat of my heart. I had knelt and the hem of my gown was damp. For a time I remained, never stirring until he returned. I did not hear him approach, nor see his reflection in the pool. His hand lay upon my shoulder, bringing me to my feet as I hastily arose, remembering too late that I wore his heirloom. His touch was not cold as before, but warm and soothing. The high cheekbones were enhanced in contentment, as if the icy world without could not affect the warmth within. He was very much altered, but his eyes were fixed on the ornament around my neck.

Hastily my fingers rose to fiddle with the clasp, issuing a partial apology for my impulsiveness, but it was not condemnation I found in the depths of his remarkable countenance, but an expression wholly unidentifiable, of pleasure. �No,� he said, his hand touching mine, lingering within proximity to my chin, �leave it. It has dwelt too long in the earth; now it should grace and enhance the beauty it was meant for.�

I was both flattered and perplexed at his evident charm, for while he flirted sportingly with me, it was never so obvious. The moonlight and atmosphere of his beloved homeland must have altered him in his walk. He indicated we continue through the wood, for we were at a distance from the castle and the hour was late. I moved at his side, instinctive of the direction he was to take; we walked as one and not two, for I had come to know these woods well myself. It had been almost three months since I came to Transylvania and many times in the afternoon I would walk these paths. I had not plucked any wild flowers since the incident with the roses, which still puzzled me but was not of enough importance to further address.

I was forced to confess growing affection for the count. He was utterly charming and possessed the uncommon elegance of aristocracy; they are born to privilege but few of them cater so willingly to natural ease. He was twice my age and undoubtedly worldly, for I was fully aware of his sudden, violent temper, as well as his evident travels. I never knew where he went in darkness, or why he chose to lock himself away during hours of daylight. He was a nocturnal creature, and it was this that drew me to him. These feelings were not wholly pleasing to me, for I�d granted much of my life in loathing men. Dracula was not like other men. There was nothing malicious in his nature, no desire to use me ill. Not once had he ever sought to take advantage, or prompt me to show affection beyond my will. He kept a distance and yet I sensed that he  enjoyed my company. These emotions left me conflicted, for it would not be long until the summer semester came to an end, and I would be forced to return to London fog and rude scholars all too eager to condemn my scientific pursuits.

�You are very quiet tonight,� he observed as we rippled through a clearing, two black-cloaked figures in the shadows.

�I am captivated by your countryside,� I replied; and saw the pleasure in his face. He was truly proud of Transylvania, fonder of her than many would be of a lover. She was in many ways his mistress, a cold and formidable presence but by no means unresponsive to his loving caresses. To him she yielded all, from the flickering blue flames, guardians of treasure and riches, to the perilous heights, she lay beneath his command and catered to his whims, as if he were a medieval god. It was sacrilegious to think so, but I cared naught for the opinions of my mother and the church she had so determinedly driven into my constitution.

�It is truly magnificent,� I continued, leaning against the nearest tree and feeling the warmth of its embrace, �and I will miss it dreadfully when I return to London.�

His face lay in the shadows so I could not see the expression that came over it, only hear the slight alteration in the tone of his voice. �London,� he said, as if it were an unpleasant afterthought, a reminder of unfortunate partings. He was then silent and I sensed he was as unhappy as I. After the brisk mountain air and bubbling burners in his wonderful laboratory, I could never happily return to my unimaginative flat among insensible females and overbearing men. Nor could I endure the dreadful fog of London in the winter and the clatter of traps on the cobbled streets. I must have sighed then, small as it was, for he consoled me with, �You may return. To foresee the future would be any mortal�s folly, but I do not think we would be so unjustly parted.�

Through the soberness of my constitution I uttered an agreement, nay�an unspoken prayer that it was true, and stepped out of the shelter of the trees. We once more moved through the wood, I becoming increasingly aware of movement in the darkness. They lurked beyond the range of my feeble human eyes, but I could sense their presence. I cast a glance at the count and he was unaffected. I drew nearer his lithe presence and this alerted him to suspicion, for he glanced around at me and then scanned the tree line. �You need not fear,� he said soothingly, �for they will not draw too near.�

He spoke words of truth, for while they haunted our return to the castle, the wolves did not emerge from the trees, their eyes glowing in the darkness. They kept a fair distance, melting away when we came to the side entrance and passed into the candlelight. My host deftly removed my cloak and indicated I should precede him up the magnificent stairwell. When we reached the entrance of my room, I turned and removed the ornament from my neck. It shimmered in the flickering golden light, traces of dirt worn away in the caress of my fingers. �Thank you, Count,� I said softly, pressing it into his hand. �For allowing me to accompany you tonight, as well as your kindness.�

�You may keep it,� he replied, dropping it back into my outstretched hand. �Ornaments are of no worth to tired aristocrats with no use for them; they belong around the slender necks of young ladies. Consider it a gift of Transylvania.�

I had not the willpower to refuse, for something in his eyes halted any objections.

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