Page 4 of The Count

The rain couldn’t seem to choose which direction to fall and kept pelting the window so hard that I thought it would break.

The gusts of wind outside howled noisily, rocking the train this way and that while we propelled down the tracks.

I don’t know when I fell asleep. Honestly, I don’t know if I really did. The rocking of the train faded away and suddenly I was on a ship somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, rocking back and forth, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

There was no one else on that ship. No one at the helm. No one minding the sails or anything. I was completely alone, and a storm was breaking overhead.

The rain pelted down on my skull, icy cold droplets rolling down my back and I shivered.

Bright yellow eyes leveled with mine, sharp and intent. I swallowed, realizing for the first time that I was tied to the mast. I struggled, pulling my arms back and forth as I tried to break free. The eyes drew closer and closer. The predatory gaze never left mine.

Finally, the beast treaded near enough for me to make out that it was a giant black wolf. More pairs of eyes appeared all around him. They stopped only feet from me, licking their chops and stepping back and forth as though they were waiting for a specific moment to attack.

I swallowed hard, overcome by fear.

The black wolf cocked his head and time seemed to go on and on. Then he lifted his nose into the air. All around him, a chorus of chilling howls echoed, growing louder with every passing second.

I jerked backwards and I started to fall.

I opened my eyes only to find myself in the bed on the train. I could feel the scream dying in my throat. My heart pounded frantically and I gulped in several mouthfuls of air as I tried to get a hold of myself.

It was just a nightmare. That was all.

I was staring up at the ceiling when the same chorus of wolf howls started to echo all around me once more. In a panic, I sat up and jerked my head around, looking for the source.

Fuck me. It was the television. There was a wolf documentary that had started playing for whatever reason. With a groan, I laid back, turned the television off, and placed the tablet back on the table instead of beside me in bed where I couldn’t accidently hit it again. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

The sound of the train horn woke me up early in the morning, indicating that it was time to start my day no matter how terrible the night.

CHAPTER2

JASMINA

When I’d emerged out of the Edinburgh station, there was a private car waiting for me. The driver took my bags, loaded them, and opened the door as I climbed into the backseat of his blacked-out Rolls Royce. I slid my fingers along the luxuriously soft leather as the car pulled away. The drive to the count’s estate wasn’t very long, but it was beautifully pristine in a way that London often didn’t showcase. The grass felt greener, the trees older and fuller, the blooming spring flowers brighter. I spent the entire ride just admiring the scenery out the window.

When the car pulled up to the Alucard Estate, I gasped. I’d been to several older homes here in England growing up, but this one was somehow grander than all of them. In some ways, it reminded me of Sudeley Castle outside of Gloucestershire, with its breathtakingly beautiful gardens and rolling green acres. My driver opened the door and I stepped out, fully taking in the magnificently unobstructed view of the whole estate.

Alucard Estate was a castle. There was no other way to describe it. It was built sometime in the 1400s, but much to my chagrin, many of the records of the property had been lost. Back then, it would have undoubtedly been a castle in its own right, and since then it had simply grown bigger. I recognized a few different architectural nuances indicative of later eras, notably the Victorian-style spires at the top of the main structure. The windows were rectangular, rather than arched, which gave the whole structure a more modern feel, late 1800s at least. There were carved statues everywhere, including a pair of gargoyles on either side of the stairway of the front door as well as several more up on the top of the pointed towers. The castle itself was at least three stories tall, four in several of the taller towers.

It was beautiful in its authenticity, a gothic masterpiece that had been impeccably cared for over the course of hundreds of years.

The driver strode toward the massive wooden door without saying a word. Not knowing what else to do, I followed him. He carried my bags up the stairs, using the giant metal knocker to announce our arrival.

The door opened quickly as if they’d timed out how long my journey would take to the exact minute of my arrival.

A man in a formal suit answered it, bowing his head respectfully at my presence.

“Miss Jasmina Harker,” he greeted, sweeping his hand aside and beckoning me to enter. “Welcome to Alucard Estate. My name is John Renfield. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Renfield.”

“Please, call me John,” he assured me. He opened the door wider, and the driver carried my bags inside the foyer. He nodded before leaving the way he’d come. I walked inside and John shut the door behind me.

I blinked several times.

It was remarkably dark despite the massive windows that I knew were a significant feature. There was an enormous gold chandelier above my head, its flickering lights a crown of dimly lit candles casting an ominous glow in the oversized entryway. The stairwell was beautiful, likely carved by hand hundreds of years ago. It was worn in places and pristine in others, but it was timelessly crafted and painstakingly cared for. There were several paintings along the walls, but as my gaze lifted to take in the luxurious interior, it was drawn to the landing as if it had a gravitational pull all its own.

The count was standing there, as if he had been waiting for me and me alone. He didn’t glance in the butler’s direction, not even once.

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