In the Shroud of Night

Dracula's Account

Deftly does nighttime close around the Carpathians, enclosing all within its grasp in a shroud that darkens the heights. It is when the earth is thus in harmony with the moonlight that the forest appears most enchanting. My country is beautiful, rich in history and steeped in tradition, but it is cold; the harsh reality of daylight does not appear to the advantage. When the veil of evening has softened the landscape, when the snow and lightly frosted trees bask in the glow of the stars; that is when it is the most beautiful�and the most dangerous.

I had lingered by the window hours before the expected carriage was to arrive, watching the falling snow blanket the countryside in purity and cursing the sudden change of conveyance. The coach awaiting in Bistritz, it was to be empty�entirely empty save for one single traveler. The peasants were simple enough but not wholly asinine. They knew where the perilous road led to and what the ominous stone walls harbored. Though rarely spoken of beyond a whisper, it was well understood and unerringly respected. Who, then, was this openly defiant stranger, daring to board the appointed carriage and venture out? Resentment grew as I watched the coach rapidly approach on the winding road. As for the other passenger, she was a foreigner, unused to our customs and practices. Besides, hers was the right to come, having sent a request and received my invitation. My design for her did not include the presence of another, and he must be expelled before she could be welcomed with all cordiality native to boyars. 

Without hesitation, I flung open the casement, the wind whirling about my cloak as I leaned forward to embrace the great void. In the moment before the transformation took place, I hung suspended; but the night air had given me wings, and without taking my eyes off the coach, I had blocked the path of the two noble beasts under the reigns. Their cries of fright pierced the tranquility before all was suddenly still. I remained at the foot of the clearing, waiting. Only two should have suffered the fatality of the blow, and I observed with satisfaction a third rise from the tumult. She ran toward the castle with urgency, and I arrived in time to hear the long dormant sound of the doorknocker. Opening the door, I stood back to better observe my guest, who remained swathed in shadows.   

�Good evening, Miss Cabrera. You are most welcome�come in without vacillation!�

Smiling, I extended my hand. She took it without immediate reply, entering quickly and releasing me from her grasp once the door closed behind her. Glancing at the candles that surrounded the foyer with a dim illumination, she did not notice as I came up behind her to take her cloak. She started as I relieved her of the flowing garment, turning her head sharply to scrutinize me with dark eyes.

�Do I have the honor of addressing the Count?� she inquired.

I bowed in assent. �At your service.�

Her manner eased slightly�not in comfort, but in expectation. �Truly, I am grateful to make your acquaintance. It is not often that one meets with nobility and generosity in this day.�

�It is not often that one receives a letter as charming as yours. I was most intrigued by its contents�but I am getting ahead of myself, I fear. Allow me to assure you that the honor is mine.�

She held out her hand in an act of instinctive protocol. The faint lighting illuminated the slender fingers, merely inches away and covered in blood. Instantly a sort of shudder passed through my frame; unthinkingly I snatched the hand. The blood was not entirely fresh, nor was the wound on the hand, but I knew my eyes had widened in a frenzied blaze. I could feel this existence slipping away, until the warmth and scent was nearly intoxicating, melting into that other existence which, for a fortnight, I was not to reveal. The influence had all but mastered me when a slight gasp diverted my attention. Reassuming my previous stance, I turned her hand over in my own. �How did this happen? Is speed so valued, and drivers so careless, as to neglect the well-being of their passengers?�

The dark eyes furrowed slightly as she retracted her hand. �I thank you, but I am tolerable. Would that I could say the same for the rest.�

�Was your companion less fortunate?� I asked innocently, watching her closely for a reaction.

�My companion?� she repeated, �I had no companion. I do not know who the other passenger was.�

�Do you always travel alone, seqorita?�

She turned to face me fully then, her eyes flashing indignantly and her air diffident. Something in my words had struck a breach, and I did not see any forgiveness in the flushed countenance. Still, I smiled at her in spite of her fury. �Come, Miss Cabrera, you must excuse my curiosity. It is merely an unorthodox method that surprised me. Tell me of Madrid, where, I understand, your family resides. It has been many years since I have been there; I imagine it is much changed.�

She continued to eye me warily, though her visage softened. No discourse did she offer, but I sensed warmth underneath her proud and guarded exterior.

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