Page 46 of Dracula: Bound in Blood
“Father,” Andor gasped, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. “You made it out.”
Dracula nodded curtly, his attention still focused on Jonathan. “What happened with Van Helsing? Are they in pursuit?”
Andor shook his head. “No, they’ve retreated for now. But...” he hesitated, glancing at Vigo.
“Speak,” Dracula commanded, his voice hard.
Andor took a deep breath. “It was Vigo. He’s been helping Van Helsing. Feeding him information, and... giving him vials of your blood.”
Dracula’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. “Is this true?” he demanded of Vigo.
The old servant, looking more haggard than ever, nodded weakly. “I... I’m sorry, my lord. I…I only wanted them to get Andor…I have no excuse.”
A low growl escaped Dracula’s throat, but Jonathan stirred on the altar before he could respond. In an instant, all of Dracula’s attention was back on the young man.
“He needs help,” Dracula said, his voice tight with worry. “I... I didn’t give him my blood. I couldn’t risk it.”
Andor moved closer, examining Jonathan’s wound. “It’s bad,” he said softly. “Without intervention, he won’t last much longer.”
Dracula closed his eyes. “I know. But after what we saw in the East Wing... I can’t condemn him to that fate.”
A moment of heavy silence fell over the group. Then, to everyone’s surprise, it was Vigo who spoke up. “There is a witch in Moldova who can surely heal him enough to keep the wound from killing him.”
Dracula’s eyes flickered with a mix of hope and skepticism. “A witch? Are her powers genuine or merely a trick of light and shadow?”
Vigo struggled to rise, bracing himself against the altar, his voice raspy but resolute. “She is formidable, my lord. Though her methods may be unconventional, I have seen her work miracles with mere herbs and incantations.” He paused, swaying slightly. “She took me in a long time ago. I’m sure she still lives.”
“And if we seek her out, we risk drawing attention,” Andor warned, glancing anxiously towards the door. “Van Helsing’s hunters could be tracking our movements. They will not rest until they capture us, and who knows how much blood our little spy has been giving them.”
“I believe Van Helsing may have another vial, but only enough for himself...”
Andor thumped his skull.
“Then we must be swift and stealthy,” Dracula said, stepping from the altar and fixing a hard look on his son. “Andor, you do as you please with him,” he said, gesturing to Vigo. “I will fly with Jonathan to Moldova, and you, you filthy worm, you will tell me this witch’s exact location.”
“Father, I must insist you reconsider using your blood to save him. Perhaps... perhaps if we are careful, we can control it—“
Dracula’s voice cut through the air, a cold wind sweeping through the room. “I will not risk that path again. Once Jonathan is healed, I beg you to take him to the train station so that he may return to London.”
Dracula gently scooped Jonathan in his arms.
“Father, it’s dawn! You will not make that flight and survive!”
“It no longer matters,” Dracula muttered, his tone finite and resolute.
“Drochia,” Vigo spoke up. “That was her last known location to me.”
Dracula’s eyes narrowed, the name echoing in his mind like a distant bell tolling in the fog. “Drochia,” he repeated, tasting the syllables like bitter wine.
Andor stepped forward. Urgency was etched on his face. “You cannot fly to Drochia! What if she doesn’t live there anymore.”
Dracula hesitated, glancing down at Jonathan’s pale face, the young man’s chest rising and falling unevenly. “I will fly low and fast. Find Jonathan there tonight.”
Andor didn’t want to agree to what would amount to damn near a suicide mission. Dracula was strong, for certain, and he couldwithstand some sunlight, but he was talking about flying without any protection to a witch none of them knew was still there. To Andor, the sure thing was taking the risk to turn Jonathan. But it wasn’t as if his father would listen.
“Fine. I will stash this fool somewhere and find you tonight.”
“I didn’t say findme. I said find Jonathan.”