The Unholy Night

Chapter I

When I go into the ground, I won't go quietly, I'm bringin' my crown

Bury Me Face Down by Grandson

As I said, the name's Mary. And I said I was eighteen, but I'm like... three hundred and fifty? I stopped keeping count. I prefer to think of myself as being eighteen for a very, very long time. 

This is a story that takes us back to when I was a bit younger, around... damn, I was two hundred twenty at oldest. The time does fly. 

So, I'm a vampire. Nosferatu, if you will. I was turned when I was about three, and I never really knew my parents. Can't remember them, which is a bit depressing, but I do have family. So I started out as a bloodsucker at age three, grew until I hit adulthood, and now I'm eternally eighteen. And it's not half-bad like that, either. 

I had a name before I was Mary, too. It's Crina, which means lily, but no one's ever really bothered to use it since I became a vampire, so I usually go by Mary. 

Now, about that aforementioned family. I don't mean Dracula. I hated the guy. I have two non-biological sisters, Elisabeth and Adelaide, who are about fifty years older than me. Bess and Addy are the constant type. I assume that's why they still put up with me. They're the other two Brides of Dracula, or wards, if you're like me and think the brides thing is disgusting. 

Anyway.

I hate to start a story with Jonathan Harker, because he's boring as hell and I don't really like him, but there's really no other place to start, and that's infuriating. 

Dracula had been looking at the prospect of buying an estate in England for a while now - and by a while, I mean at least twenty-five years. I liked the idea, because it meant not being cooped up in a castle for another century, and it also meant not being constantly feared by everyone around me. 

Dracula was the boyar, or nobleman, so we were treated with respect, but it's not very fun when everyone is too scared of you to talk to you. Truth be told, I'm not even sure how Dracula ended up a nobleman, because he certainly wasn't Vlad the Impaler. 

I got sidetracked again. 

Jonathan Harker was a solicitor, who was going to help Dracula purchase a home in England. Bess and I were eavesdropping in Dracula's study when he was writing a letter to him. Dracula had greatly increased the number of letters he wrote recently, so we'd taken to keeping an eye on them. 

"What's all that about?" Bess asked, looking over his shoulder.

"I know you aren't illiterate," he replied, "unless, of course, I've seriously overlooked a critical part of your education! Read it!"

"'My friend,'" she began. "'Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. At three tomorrow, the stagecoach will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land. Your friend, Dracula.'" She looked up. "We'll be having a guest! Tomorrow!" 

Bess was so excitable then. Incredibly easy to laugh at. (She just hit me. Ow.)

"He'll be coming in two days, not tomorrow," Dracula corrected. "And most likely you won't be seeing him till the morning after. And he won't be seeing you at all." 

"Who's the guest and why are we having him?" I asked. 

"He comes from London!" Bess exclaimed. "Is he handsome?"

"So help me, Elisabeth, I will lock you in your room until he is gone," Dracula replied. "He is Jonathan Harker, a solicitor. He will be helping me purchase a home in England. You are not to have any contact with him whatsoever."