The Unholy Night

Chapter I

"We're going to England?" Bess asked, sounding thrilled. Even I was finding it difficult to control my excitement. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet. 

"You will not be going to England," he replied, not looking up from the papers he was shuffling around his desk. "Only I will be going. If all goes as planned, he should be arriving on the eve of Saint George's Day."

"Saint George's Day?" Addy asked, poking her head in. "Coming soon, isn't it? The night where the evil things have the sway? Not that they don't always." She looked at the three of us, all clustered around the desk, and pushed her glasses further up her nose. "Oh, you're doing something villainous again, aren't you, Father?"

The last bit was said with a certain degree of contempt. Bess and I didn't call him much of anything, but Addy had much more nerve. 

"You would do better not to eavesdrop, Adelaide," Dracula said. 

None of us were fond of Dracula. He wasn't a parent to us. He wasn't outright terrible, either, but when you've seen someone kill people mercilessly for over a century, it's very hard not to hate them. 

                                                                                               ***

Meanwhile, Jonathan Harker was travelling across the Transylvanian countryside. He had seen things he hadn't seen before, and already acquired a recipe for paprika hendl that he wished his fiancee to make for him when he returned to England. 

He knew very little about Transylvania, but he knew enough to get by, at the very least. 

The night of May 2, he had a horrendous night's sleep, filled with odd and unusual dreams. There was a dog howling somewhere, which he supposed was partially to blame. Or perhaps all the paprika - there was certainly a lot more than he was used to, and it left him parched. 

He had breakfast early, and got the recipe for an excellent impletata. 

He then rushed to the train, which left the station just before the clock struck eight. He noted that the train was very behind, and thought it was disgusting. The train had been due to leave at seven-thirty, had it not? So why on earth was it so unpunctual?

As he traveled through the countryside, he also noticed the differences in dress than in London, and also the differences in the landscape. It unsettled him. No matter. He wouldn't be there long, and then it would be right back to his perfectly ordered life, with his job that was neither hard nor easy, his fiancee who would always help him if things got too difficult, and trains arriving and leaving exactly on time. 

He arrived in Biztritz (which is now Bistritsa, which I feel is worth noting), and noticed that it was very far from anything he knew. Fifty years before his arrival, a series of very brutal fires had swept through, inciting panic five different times. It had been under siege for three weeks in the early 1600s, but other than that, he knew very little about it. 

Jonathan went to the Golden Krone Hotel, which was a very old-fashioned place. He thought it odd, but slightly endearing. Upon his arrival, he found that Count Dracula had sent a letter. It was the selfsame letter I mentioned earlier. 

The landlord had also received a letter, with instructions to secure a good place in the stagecoach for Jonathan. Jonathan then attempted to make inquiries, but came up empty. 

"Was wissen Sie uber Graf Dracula?" he asked. 

His landlord shook his head and crossed himself. "Ich weiss nichts von ihm." 

I know nothing of him. 

Jonathan simply shook his head. He had heard how superstitious this region was, but he hadn't thought it would be to this extent.