#edmina

Ok.

....

“How is it that Theo retains her sanity?” Mina asked as she watched Dr Jekyll prep her arm for an injection.

She grimaced at the wicked-looking needle in his left hand. Jekyll swabbed her skin, then pinched it slightly. He flicked the syringe and carefully inserted it. She was seated at his desk in his quarters. A fire crackled softly, and the good doctor had set out a tray of tea and an assortment of biscuits. It was pleasant and cozy despite the clinical nature of her visit.

A few minutes after the liquid entered her system, her hunger began to dull, and with it came relief.

“Theo’s sire has no interest in controlling her, if he even can,” he said as he scrawled in a neat and efficient shorthand.

“Who is her sire?”

“All we know is his name is Varney. He was only with her a short while and didnae strike her as particularly powerful… or intelligent,” he added as he tapped the end of his pen on his teeth. He made one final note and tucked the paper away.

“Is Dracula unusual for a vampire?” Mina asked.

“You are full of questions,” replied Jekyll; a smile tugged one corner of his mouth.

“Does my curiosity bother you?” Against her better judgment, she smiled back.

“On the contrary. There are few qualities more worthy than curiosity. When paired with intelligence, it is a marvelous treat to encounter in another.”

“I can’t disagree,” said Mina.

He looked at her fondly for a moment, then cleared his throat and averted his gaze, a faint pink on his cheeks.

“If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that vampires are a wide spectrum. Dracula is the founder of his brood and currently the primary vampire. He got his powers directly from Hell.”

As he spoke, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small slate and a stick of chalk and began to draw a crude chart.

“Vampires are similar to certain types of insects. There can only be one primary vampire at a time ruling over a brood like a queen over a hive.”

The chalk squeaked as he drew a line with forking branches extending from it. “When the primary dies—” he crossed out the first line and circled one of the branches; “—their eldest childe gains control over all thralls and fledglings. Carmilla, for example, began her life as a fledgling, but following the death of her sire became the matriarch of her bloodline. Varney's brood has only two known members. Himself and Theo. Dracula, on the other hand, is notable for the sheer size of his brood. His brood numbers in the hundreds and it’s still growing."

“He’s building an army and wishes me to be part of it,” said Mina grimly, her hands folded under her chin as she squinted at the lines of chalk. A shadow crossed her face. “What is the purpose of a bride? Dracula had three.”

“Vampires have human urges, and in some cases a desire to have a mate. Carmilla has one bride, Laura. Dracula keeps a harem. His reasons have naught to do with his curse and everything to do with his personal preferences. He was a king in his life and kept several mistresses or consorts for his pleasure,” Jekyll rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Is that something you would do if you were a vampire? Dr. Jekyll?” Mina asked teasingly.

Jekyll laughed. “Hardly, I dinnae even want one wife, much less a wife and multiple mistresses. I have determined that I shall die a bachelor.”

“Even if there was no Hyde?”

Jekyll’s eyelids dropped a little. An unsettling glint twinkled beneath them. “Even so,” he said. A marked coldness had crept into his voice.

Mina smiled disarmingly to try and warm it away, “Even if you met someone who was curious and intelligent?”

A faint smile crossed his lips. For a moment she thought she'd won him over again. Then the atmosphere in the room changed. Jekyll’s expression had taken on a hint of slyness. Her chest tightened. Guilt seized her. His gaze lingered well beyond the bounds of what was decent. Blackened hair spread along his sharpening jawline.

“I may no’ wish tae keep a wife, but if a woman were curious and intelligent, her having a husband wouldnae deter me from takin’ an interest.” He leaned forward, one broad hand planted on the desk, until he was quite close.

Then Jekyll seemed to catch himself. He scratched at a thick sideburn until it lightened and receded back into his cheek. 

“Suddenly the questions have stopped,” he remarked almost cheerfully.

“They have,” replied Mina. He was so close she could smell his soap and the hint of cologne he’d applied that morning. Jekyll was quite fastidious. As if carefully applied pomade and a dab of fragrance could cover the persistent smell of expensive cigars and smoke from the motorcar Hyde prized. He’d offered her a ride the other day, and she'd almost taken it. She'd written it off as a strange and wicked impulse and put it from her mind. Until now.

Hyde could corrupt a nun with his poisonous charm and the implicit promise to fulfill unspeakable desires. Mina had no understanding of how or why she was so affected by him, only that there was an undeniable allure. Vividly in her mind's eye, she saw Satan holding out an apple.

It was the feel of his breath ghosting over her lips that sobered her.

She whipped her head away so Jekyll's lips grazed her cheek. Rising so quickly she nearly lost her balance, she thanked him hastily and walked out the door. Mina did not look at him. She didn’t know if the man she’d see was Jekyll or Hyde but she was certain if she turned and looked back now she’d be lost. Like Lot’s poor wife.

It is the curse. Nothing more. These thoughts are not mine. They are the vampire’s wanton cravings.

Someone's gotta do something about the shortage of content for this rarepair. ....

It had been the most peaceful sleep Mina had had in months, and the first sleep she’d had in some time where she’d woken up next to another person. She had gone to bed with Edward, expecting that he would seize his opportunity to sleep with her. When he simply kissed her a few times and stroked her hair, saying in his rough voice, “Sleep, Mina,” she didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed. In the light of day, she was grateful. Tired and worn thin as she was, she might have had regrets. She was glad for the daylight slipping in through a small gap in the curtains. At night, Dracula’s influence threatened her sanity. When he slept, she was herself again, rational, sensible…

…and lying in bed next to a man who was not her husband. She could feel the warmth of him at her back, his breath stirring the wisps of hair at the top of her head. A large hand cupped her shoulder loosely. Some lingering shred of propriety still held fast within her and roused her sense of guilt. Nothing indecent had happened, but surely this was some kind of sin. If nothing else, it would be difficult to explain should anyone see her leaving Edward’s room. Mina realized she wasn’t sure which she cared more about, or even if she only cared out of habit anymore. Curiously, she reached up until her fingertips brushed his. His hand was different. Softer, less gnarled than it had been last night. The callouses and scars were still the same. They covered the pads of his fingers and spots near his knuckles from frequent chemical burns. It was not a laborer’s hand, nor an artist’s. But it was a good hand, warm, strong, reassuring. She laced her fingers through his, and he sleepily curled his own in response. Mina lay there, wondering how the touch of a kind hand was all it took to make her forget any thoughts of sin or degradation and if the absence of that touch would be all it took to bring it back. She wasn’t allowed to ruminate for long. The hand squeezed, and then withdrew. She felt the bed creak and shift and heard the rustle of his dressing gown. She knew without looking that it was no longer too small for the form it was wrapped around. 

More rustling, the clink of something metal, and the sound of water running in the adjacent washroom and faint splashing. Heavier footfalls. Slower movements. Her heart hammered. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to look, wanting to hang on to Edward a little longer. “Mrs. Harker?” a silky English baritone, devoid of the familiar brogue. She finally turned. “Good morning, Dr. Jekyll.” He looked down under the pretext of buttoning his shirt, his cheeks flushed. He was quite handsome. Despite his age, his face was smooth, and he had only faint streaks of grey at his temples. She couldn’t help but be a bit saddened, as if every neatly combed hair and carefully enunciated syllable widened an invisible gap between them. “You can call me Mina. After last night, I think we’re allowed to stop using our surnames,” she said. She saw his hand tremble. “Nothing happened,” Jekyll said at length. He sounded surprised. “You were very kind.” “Hyde seems to have grown a capacity for tenderness,” Jekyll mused, though he didn’t look reassured. “Or he’s always had it. His kindness feels like yours.” Mina stood, wrapping the thin sheet around herself. She was still in her nightdress and seeing him getting so meticulously dressed made her feel self-conscious. “He shouldn’t have let you stay…everyone will be awake by now, and they’ll think— ” He was looking at the clock; it was nearly noon. “It did me good. More good than sparing my reputation would have.” She walked over to him and placed a hand on his arm.

 “Please don’t say you regret it. I think if you say that I will weep.” “Mrs. Hark–" He softened. "Mina, I would never say that.” Jekyll placed his hand over hers. Warm and confident. Reassuring. Just as it was when he comforted her as Hyde. “Since it is noon and I have only my nightgown to wear, perhaps we should take breakfast in your quarters? I’m sure I’ll have much to explain to Quincey, but I’d like to delay it a little longer.” “I can tell the boy that I needed to keep you overnight for observation. He may not like it, but he won’t be able to protest it either,” said Jekyll with a very ungentlemanly snort. “I think I would rather have your company. Last night was the first I had without Dracula in my mind. I’m not ready to end it just yet.” Jekyll smiled and nodded, understanding all too well. He kissed her brow and walked to the curtain, closing the gap and fending off the daylight for a few more precious hours.

Yup. .....

Mina didn’t know what had brought her back to Jekyll’s quarters. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was confusion, or perhaps it was grief. Maybe it was all three. The only certainty she had was that she did not want to be alone. She knocked on the door, and when she heard the voice that called back, “Enter,” her heart sank a little. Still, she turned the knob and walked in. It was not Henry Jekyll who sat in the large, wingback armchair, reading a battered and dog-eared book by lamplight.

Edward Hyde shut his book and gestured to a chair opposite him. The only sign of the doctor was Jekyll’s oversized dressing gown swimming around Hyde’s short, dense frame.

 “Make yerself at home,” he said. Mina sat, wondering if it was too late to leave. Edward said nothing further, only looked at her expectantly. The fire flickered, and the clock on the mantel ticked loudly. At length, Edward broke the silence. “Would you like some tea, Mrs. Harker?” “Yes, thank you…Mr. Hyde,” she replied, pretending to be preoccupied with fiddling with her sleeve. Edward stood and walked across the room. He set a teakettle on a small stand fixed over a Bunsen burner and got out a tray and two cups. Mina listened to him shift around for a packet of biscuits. While he waited for the water to heat, he tapped his foot and stole glances at her. His eyes in the firelight were large, green, and cat-like. She felt rather like a coal miner’s canary herself. Each day, Dracula grew more powerful as her symptoms worsened. Large swatches of time became empty periods of blackness. Her mind and body weren’t her own, and everyone was watching her at all times to measure the growing danger of Dracula’s return.

“What brought ye tae my quarters?” Edward asked, partly out of curiosity and partly to fill the silence. 

“I can't sleep,” she replied.

“I've medicine fer that.”

“No!” 

He raised his eyebrows. “No?” he echoed.

“I don't want to sleep!” she said firmly, her hands clutching the arms of her chair. “When I close my eyes, I see him there, waiting for me to let him in. He wants my mind, and if I falter, even for a moment, he’ll have it, and who knows what he’ll make me do,” her voice broke. She trembled, and a sick feeling washed over her. She felt firm, steadying hands at her elbows. “There now, it's alright, deep breaths. Let’s keep calm, now,” Edward soothed her, rubbing circles into her upper arms. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. When she was more settled, she looked at him. His coarse face was calm, even gentle. It was a strange and misplaced look on Edward Hyde, like hearing a familiar hymn played in a different key. A thick knotted coil of tension unwound within her, and her head bowed until her cold forehead met his warm, furrowed brow. She felt his hands on her arms tense, then grip. He trembled just a little. She expected him to say something. Instead, he held there and let her rest. The dancing glow of firelight traced shadows over them. He moved, ever so slowly, one hand up her arm and over her shoulder, a hesitant crawl towards her chin. The rough pads of his fingers lingered there and brushed forward towards her lips- The kettle whistled, and he pulled back. “The tea…” He pulled away from her, and she missed the comfort of his warmth. More than she cared to admit. She watched him pour the tea and arrange the biscuits on the tray. Straight-backed and stiff-shouldered, he dropped a sugar cube into his own cup. “One or two?” he asked gruffly, tongs poised above the sugar dish. “Just one, please,” she replied. He turned, tray in hand, and set it on the small table in front of her chair. They drank. Hyde fidgeted and made an effort to sip his tea instead of gulping it, and he nibbled at the biscuits. Bringing one to his mouth, he carefully bit off a corner as delicately as he could with his unfortunate arrangement of teeth. Mina could tell it was making him uncomfortable to be so restrained. Mina reached for a small shortbread biscuit and shoved the whole thing into her mouth, crunching it and licking the crumbs from her lip. Edward’s eyes widened. She ate another in a similar fashion. His frame relaxed and he broke into a twittering giggle. “Oh, I see what yer on to, lass!” he raised his cup and drank deeply. Propriety forgotten, he indulged himself, savoring his tea. When the plate was nothing but crumbs, and the tea had been drunk, the clock chimed a late hour. Mina stood as if to clear the tray, but Edward stopped her. “Leave that; I’ll tend it in the morning. What we need now is to figure out what to do with you,” he said pointedly. “Ye cannae simply wander the manor each night resisting sleep. You need to rest.” Mina fell silent. Edward made an impatient sound. “What if Dracula takes hold of me and I hurt someone? Like Quincey?” “Perhaps ye shouldnae sleep alone,” Edward suggested, “Maybe someone could watch over ye, and if somethin’ does happen, he can intervene.” He looked thoughtfully at her. The unspoken invitation was a clear one, and Mina was not so naive as to be ignorant of who he was offering up to be her keeper. “Is that wise?” she asked. “It is safe,” he emphasized, “and that is far more important.” “How safe?” Her eyes bored into him, pinning him in place. “You will come to no harm in my care,” he insisted fiercely. She leaned back in the chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She chewed her lip and looked at the clock. How late the hour had grown. If she left now, there would be questions should she be seen exiting Hyde’s room well after midnight. “You may stay here tonight and take the bed. It’s rather nice, if I do say so myself. Linen sheets and eiderdown covers. Jekyll has a taste for luxury,” Edward said, making a sweeping gesture towards the bed. “Where will you sleep?” asked Mina, raising her eyebrows. “I will remain awake to watch you unless you would like a bedfellow.” He gave her a grin that was blatantly indecent.