Jonathan Harker woke in the embrace of the grave.
He scrambled upwards, and rather than crushing weight and suffocation, he moved through the soil and the earth as if it was nothing more than air. His palms swept through the material and he found himself moving up like a cork in a bathtub -- until at last, his head emerged from the ground. There, his control failed him, and he sank back down into the darkness. Then he managed to weakly kick, his head emerging again for a short gasp. He could see the silvery shape of the moon overhead, and gleaming red eyes looking down at him -- frightening enough that he froze, then sank again.
This time, a hand reached down, into the soil, taking hold of his face, then sliding down to his neck, then his shoulder. Once it found purchase, the hand drew him upwards and Jonathan popped out of the soil and sprawled upon his back, gasping heavily. His head rested in a soft lap of silky fabric, and fingers caressed through his hair. "Jonathan? Jonathan, you're okay!"
Jonathan blinked -- and through the gloom of midnight, his eyes saw his fiancee. Mina was looking deeply concerned, her eyes...glittering red...like rubies. Her fangs, hooked over her lower lip, tiny exclamation points against bloodless flesh, her ears coming to narrow points. Jonathan groaned in horror and despair both -- the feeling mingling in his belly with the impact like a blow. He had tried so hard...and he had still failed.
"No..." he whispered.
"It's not that bad!"
Another familiar voice drew his eyes -- and Jonathan yelped as he saw that Lucy Westenra, Mina's close friend for years, was perched upon a gravestone. She was dressed in a frilly red dress that seemed as unsuited to perching as a workman's coveralls were suited to a high society ball -- and yet, she not only perched, she did so with a complete lack of concern towards falling nor her dress. And, as he looked at her, he saw that her dress was entirely clean and unruffled. And that she, too, had become monstrous, with glittering red eyes and chalk pale skin and a voluptuous eagerness that made him want to scramble backwards. He managed to get his feet underneath him -- and then realized that, ontop of these horrible creatures having replaced his fiancee and her best friend, he was
also
naked.
"Ah!" he cried out, stumbling backwards -- then tripping over a gravestone. As he crashed down, he groaned and rubbed his head.
"...how...did he even
manage
that?" Lucy asked, her voice soft.
"Jonathan, please, you must remain calm," Mina said, standing up and hurrying to him as he rolled onto his belly, and then started to scramble away.
"Stay back!" he said, getting up and running to the trees.
Mina called out. "Jonathan!"
Jonathan ignored her. He turned and he ran, and he ran, and he
ran
. Trees slapped at his features and he stumbled upon roots -- crying out as he fell forward, his palms sinking into mud as easily as if it were water. He fell, then actually fell
more
into what he thought might have been water or air. He struggled, choked on dirt, and managed to scramble free again -- stumbling against a tree. In the darkness around him, he found nothing but terrors...for he
saw
everything clearly, as clearly as if it had been a bright day. A tiny sliver of moonlight, dappling along the leaves like a brush of bright, glittering paint cast enough glowing illumination for him to see every gnarl of bark, every scowling face in the trees. And worse, it allowed him to see the wolves. There were two of them -- one silver, one black -- and they paced him as he sprinted away, panting and gasping.
He heard the rushing of paws-
He turned!
The wolf, the silver wolf, was upon him, his paws slapping against his chest. Jonathan stumbled backwards and once more plunged into water -- no, into the Earth itself, as if the ground in this horrible place was trying to drag him down. He kicked his legs, struggled, and came up again, gasping desperately for air as he saw that he had reached the edge of the forest. But the silver wolf had paced him, emerging from the ground without a ripple or distortion. It was as if the wolf was not of this world, but rather, some kind of horrid apparition.
That is, until it chomped down, firmly, upon his ankle. The teeth that locked against him did not break his skin, but he could hear the growling of the wolf -- and swore that he heard a voice as well, speaking in his mind:
Stay still, Harker, you idiot!
Jonathan kicked with his other foot as hard as he could, crying out in desperate terror. To his utter shock, not only did his foot connect a glancing blow with the silver wolf, but the silver wolf was torn from him like a twig caught in a hurricane. The wolf let out a single ungainly, shocked
yelp
before hurtling backwards and striking a tree with the force of a cannon-ball, shattering the tree apart into a haze of splinters.
Jonathan didn't question his salvation. He simply scrambled up and sprinted again -- and the wolves did not chase him. He glanced back -- and saw the black wolf had paused by the silver, and was nosing at it.
Jonathan looked forward, and saw moments too late, that he was approaching the edge of a delve -- where a thick furrow of roots thrust from the side of a worn away hillside, revealing a smooth curve that went down towards the tilled fields and the fallow plots that were used by farmers around the world. He tripped on his own feet as he tried to stop himself, but then he was tumbling down -- and this time, the earth did not embrace him. He struck the ground, rolled, and felt every agony of rock and branch against his shoulder, his back, his naked buttocks, before at last, he cracked his head against a rock and saw nothing but a white flash and a long, agony of pain.
He heard the sounds of barking -- but they were the friendly, low
wuuf
of dogs, not the panting, soft
growling
of the wolves. And then a light shone down on his features and a voice spoke in a tongue he didn't recognize, though it was female. He opened his eyes to slits and groaned, softly. The figure knelt down and then spoke again -- and to his shock, he almost understood her...and...then she said, quietly: "Are you okay? Did you escape from the Dragon?"
"What? Dragon?" he asked, quietly -- and realized that he was speaking Romanian.
"Here, hold this," she said, firmly, and pressed a wooden cross into his hand. Jonathan held it -- and felt neither discomfort nor burning. He opened his palm, and the woman nodded, lowering the lantern that she had been shining down upon him. Looking up at her, he saw that she was a tough, brown girl with green eyes and a narrow, angular face. She looked as if she had seen a great deal of the world -- and beside her, there were two heavy set sheepdogs that looked as if they could crack his skull between their jaws.
"Well, you're not one of his spawn then," the woman said. "Come up, before any try the salt..."
"Salt?" Jonathan asked as she helped him to his feet -- and then he realized, he was naked before a woman, a woman who was neither his wife, nor...well, anyone that he knew! He clapped a hand over his crotch and she let out a little bark of a laugh.
"Yes, salt. You must be from Little River," she said, chuckling and shaking her head. "They are far enough from the Dragon, they can get away with cloves over their doors -- the line of salt has been blessed. It keeps the land from accepting the devils." She paused. "And you know, I have seen it before."
"R-Right..." he stammered, following after her, his hand still clasped over his crotch.
From the woods, the two wolves watched as Jonathan and the farmwife headed for her home, quietly, crouching in the brushes right before the line of salt that marked the edge of Dracula's territory.
Quietly, Mina whispered, growling with her wolfish mouth: "What do we do?"
"We watch, this is going to be hilarious," Lucy said, cheerfully.
"Hilarious!? Do you know how much of his vitae he used powering that kick?" she asked.
"It was pretty impressive for someone like Jonathan," Lucy said, laying down on her silvery paws, her tail wagging happily. "And he picked up Romanian faster than us."
"He was here as a human, remember?" Mina started to pace back and forth. "His new vampiric mind would work on the memories of Romanian he heard." She whined, then pranced back and forth in agitation, which provoked a wolfish giggle from Lucy. "It's not funny!"
"It
absolutely
is, Mina dear," Lucy said. "What's the worst that happens?"
"His bloodlust takes over and he drains her dry?" Mina muttered.
"Oh. Right." Lucy paused. "Well, we'll keep watch then. If he drains her, we can swoop in with album vitae and restore her!" She chuckled. "Any other worries?"
