Dracula the Un-Dead by Dacre Stoker;Ian Holt

Author:Dacre Stoker;Ian Holt
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Occult, Horror, Occult & Supernatural, Fiction
ISBN: 9780451230515
Publisher: Penguin Group USA
Published: 2010-11-15T17:18:17+00:00

Stoker kicked the desk, shoving the chair back and throwing Basarab’s hand off his shoulders. He swung the chair around. “I don’t care who you are. Do you think you can intimidate me into granting you this role?”

Basarab ignored the question. “You are a fool and your writing is reprehensible. Your Dracula walks about in daylight. You falsely accuse him of murdering Lucy Westenra’s sick and elderly mother and feeding a live infant to his brides. You call him a count when he was a prince. This is an insult to my nation.”

“Your nation is still in the Dark Ages. I’m not sure if the average Romanian can even read.”

Basarab’s eyes flashed. He slammed the yellow-jacketed book on the desk. The whole room seemed to shake. “You write casually of things you do not understand or believe, of people you have never met. You are a talentless oaf.”

Stoker stammered, “I will not defend myself to you. Dracula is merely a character in a story born out of my own head.”

“If Prince Dracula is such a villain, why did he allow Harker to live when he had him captive at his castle?”

“You speak of these things as if they were true events,” Stoker said.

“If you had bothered to check with the harbormaster at Whitby, you would have discovered that a ship named the Demeter crashed upon the rocks during a storm in 1888, not 1897, as you claim in your book.”

Stoker needed to end this, and end this now. He rose up into Basarab’s face. “I demand you leave—”

“The crew of that ship died of plague brought on by rats,” Basarab interrupted. “They went mad, killing one another. There was no hapless dog, and not a single throat was torn out, as you had written, by a savage claw.”

Stoker’s left eye twitched in anger. He prayed it would go unnoticed as he pointed at the door. “Immediately.”

Basarab seemed to grow larger as he loomed over Stoker. The author retreated along the desk ’s edge.

“It was Van Helsing who murdered Lucy Westenra, not Dracula. Van Helsing botched the blood transfusion and poisoned Lucy’s blood. Dracula turned her into a vampire to save her.”

“What do you know of Professor Van Helsing?” Stoker asked, retreating farther into the room. He felt as if all the warmth had run out of his body.

The candlelight threw living shadows across Basarab’s face. “Van Helsing’s arrogance is matched only by his ignorance.”

Stoker’s courage waned under Basarab’s withering gaze. His breath ran short. The weakness in his threats were obvious. “If you are here as an advocate for Quincey Harker in some libelous lawsuit, I warn you . . .”

“You’re just like the pompous hypocrites in your novel,” Basarab said. “You really believe that by merely standing up to perceived evil, that evil will fall?”

Stoker could retreat no more. He was backed into a corner. The room seemed to grow darker. Basarab was so close that he completely filled Stoker’s vision. Those eyes! Those black eyes! Stoker could feel his left arm growing numb and cold.

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