Page 41 of Lucy Undying (Dracula #1)

41

August 8, 1890

Journal of Lucy Westenra

I never made it outside. The horizon roiled and crashed, reaching for us with foggy, clinging fingers. Even as high up on the hill as we are, I half wondered if the ocean would claim us. I half wanted it to. I was ready to greet it.

Mina caught me getting dressed to go out and stand in the chaos. The storm called to me. It felt familiar, the same as I feel inside with her so close and yet so far away. I pretended to be sleepwalking again and let her put me back to bed.

But I missed everything! Today on our walk to survey the damage, we heard tales of an enormous escaped dog, a ghost ship slamming into the harbor, and the death of one of the old men who pesters me whenever I’m out walking—he fell and broke his neck while sitting on my favorite bench! I’ll be furious if he haunts it, though unsurprised he could find a way to make me listen to his stories even after death.

That’s unkind of me. The poor man is dead.

But I don’t care. I’m not feeling kind, or sweet, or happy. Mina wants to attend the funeral of the captain of the ghost ship (his dead body was found tied to the helm!), which will suit my mood as well as anything else. I’m tired of Whitby. I’m miserable, I want this to be over, and I also never want to leave. Is this how prisoners condemned to death feel?

Poor Arthur. I’m comparing our impending marriage to being condemned to death. He doesn’t deserve me. What a wretched wife I willbe.

We settled on September for the wedding. Next month! I can’t breathe when I think about it too much, but I may as well get it over with.

Mina’s cross, too, more worried each day she doesn’t hear from Jonathan. She’s received no letters from him, though she sends out ever so many. I’ve peeked over her shoulder. Most of her missives are written in her shorthand code. When I asked her why, she startled, then smoothed her face into a smile.

“Because it’s faster,” she said.

Mina’s keeping secrets, and I cannot even be intrigued. She’s keeping them from me, not with me. I can feel her getting farther away, like a storm receding. No amount of wishing will keep her here. I know she doesn’t love me—I’ve given up that foolish dream. Could anyone ever love me as much as I love them?

Arthur was supposed to visit again, but his father is ill so he sent his regrets. Maybe his father will be ill on our wedding date, and Arthur will send his regrets, and I can—

I can what? Nothing. Mina will be married. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Mina is asleep. I’m going to walk in the night, where I can make whatever expressions I want, where I can be nothing because no one expects anything from me.

Except, there—

Out the window! I think I have just seen the missing dog. It looked more like a wolf, though, tremendous and frightening. Perhaps I won’t go out tonight, either.