The Unholy Night

Chapter X

"Don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash"

- Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier

So, reflecting on my life, the garlic prank comes back as something that I probably should have seen was a terrible idea at the time, but I have a tendency to not see how bad an idea something is when I think of it. 

This habit leads to me being a little depressed about it for a few days and then making jokes about the experience for the rest of my eternal life. Brains are weird. 

Addy, oddly enough, called the fact that it was a truly wretched plan before we realized it was. Addy was and is always one for experiments, so perhaps we should have seen it coming then. 

Lucy was actually really interested in it. "These flowers are suffocating me and I'm dying of boredom," she complained. "If manipulating my mother is what it takes to get rid of at least one of those things, I'm fine with that."

"I've been watching Van Helsing," Addy countered with a hiss. "It's clear he's either mad or much smarter than he looks, and either way I don't suspect it will end well for us, because he suspects vampires, so if Dracula gets in..."

"We don't even know if this plan is going to work," Bess replied. "Don't be such a downer. And Dracula won't get in."

Of course, we'd already said this multiple times, so you probably know what's coming. 

"And you all fade perfectly into the background," Lucy added. "It's me they're concerned with at the moment. And I haven't messed with anyone's mind in ages. It'll be almost as good if I get to see the results of you doing it." She disintegrated into a fit of coughing.

So we went off to find Mrs. Westenra. 

We came across her in a corridor. It wasn't came across, such as stalked the door to her room until she finally exited the chamber, but you know. I'll phrase things the way I want to. 

You know, a weird thing that has nothing to do with this story - I get sad at the end of summer. Any happiness I can find is immediately eclipsed by the dreadful melancholy that hits me as soon as I think that the cold might blow in. 

I didn't have it that year. I thought I might have limitless summers left. 

But as I now know, vampires can have existential crises, too! A shitty saying to remind you that freedom from aging won't save you from your mental health situation. 

But that's unrelated. Sorry, super off-track right there. 

Anyway, we finally found Mrs. Westenra. "Hello, Mary, and - Abilene, wasn't it?"

 "Bess, ma'am. We've just come from Lucy's room - she's sleeping like the dead in there. Whatever treatment Professor Van Helsing's doing must be working. But it's horribly stuffy."

"Yes," I added, doing my best to wrinkle my nose. "Those garlic flowers are just awful, don't you think? They smell so strong! It's positively terrible." 

Mrs. Westenra's forehead creased. It was clear she hadn't considered this factor. 

"She's actually got them looped around her neck!" Bess exclaimed, her performance getting a little out of hand. "And the odor is just so strong!"

"I'm worried it might make her sicker!" I went on. "She's so weak already, I would hate for them to further jeopardize her health."

"Oh dear!" Her eyes widened. "Do you think she'll be alright?"