The Unholy Night

Chapter XIX

"Me and the devil, walking side by side" 

- Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin

When we all reached Renfield's room, we found him lying exactly in the way the attendant said he was, in a pool of his own blood.  

I wanted to run back out again, but something much more primal in me wanted to lean over the glistening puddle of crimson and begin drinking it. 

I dug my nails into my palms, which would surely make my hands bleed, and bit my lip, which would surely make my mouth bleed. It's odd, or perhaps not odd at all, that the only blood that I don't care for is that of the undead, cold blood like mine. 

I knew immediately that Dracula had done this. To a servant he had cursed, to someone who's life he had already ruined. 

To a friend of mine.

His face was mangled and bruised, as though it had been smashed against the floor several times. The attendant knelt beside him, looking about helplessly. "His back is broken, and most of his right side is paralyzed. He could mark his face like that by beating it against the ground. I've seen it done by a young woman at Eversfield Asylum once. He might have broken his back by falling out of bed in an awkward way. But he couldn't have beat his head if he'd broken his back, and there'd be marks if he beat his head elsewhere."

I could already smell death perfuming the air, but that would not stop the doctors, of course. Not unless his heart stopped beating.

Van Helsing knelt beside him. "A sad accident, he said dismissively. "Seward! Fetch my surgical case."

When Seward returned with the case, Van Helsing instructed that the attendant be sent away by shouting, "Send him away! You! Go!"

"That will do, Simmons," Seward said, dismissing him properly and in a much calmer manner that was inappropriate for the situation. "Go finish your round and let me know if you see anything unusual."

"Can't the rest of you go as well?" Van Helsing snapped.

It was Bess who spoke up for the rest of us. "No."

From her crossed arms and the way she was tapping her toe against the ground, it was seeming like she had learned something from Mina. 

"It's a fracture of the skull," Van Helsing announced a few minutes later. "The whole motor area will be affected. We must trephine immediately."

"Poor devil," Quincy whispered, his face ashen. 

Trephining, it turned out, was removing part of Renfield's skull, although Renfield did wake up once the trephining was through. The rank stink of death was still heavy in the air, so I knew he didn't have long. 

"Please remove the straight-waiscoat," Renfield rasped. It was clear he was conscious and not possessed at the moment. "I can't - I can't move. What's wrong with my face? I've had the most terrible dream."

"What was your dream?" Van Helsing asked sharply. I wanted to destroy him. This man was dying, and he would not let him die in peace. 

"Hello, Dr. Van Helsing," he answered. "May I have some water? My lips are dry, but I'll tell you." He was slipping back towards unconciousness.

"Brandy in my study, Quincy," Seward ordered. "Quick."

Once brandy was administered, Renfield continued. "It was no dream, but reality. I believe I am dying." He chuckled at the thought. "But I heard the dogs barking, and then he rose up to the window as a bat, and slipped in that way. His red eyes were angry, and he was laughing, showing white teeth."