The war escalates on Kaeltripton! Last time, Van Helsing armed the team with vampire lore—now Renfield drops a bombshell about Dracula, and Seward, Arthur, Quincey, and Jonathan raid Carfax to destroy his earth-boxes. We’re serving this free slice of Dracula with a teaser excerpt below, followed by the full text from roughly pages 250 to 267—covering a madman’s warning and a daring strike. We’re dishing out Dracula in chunks—keep checking back for more, or grab a $ subscription to unlock the whole saga now, plus my takes on its tense showdowns. Ready to strike back? Let’s hit the monster hard!

Dr Seward’s Diary (Continued)
7 October.—Van Helsing finished his vampire talk yesterday, and to-day he took me to see Renfield. The man was lucid—too lucid—sitting calm, eyeing us like a judge. ‘I know what you’re after,’ he said. ‘Him—the Master.’ Van Helsing leaned in: ‘Tell us, then.’ Renfield smirked: ‘He came to me—Dracula—tall, thin, red eyes. Promised me life, oceans of it, if I’d serve. Flies, spiders, birds—all for him, through me.’ I asked why he’d turned wild, and he laughed: ‘Wanted a cat—more life—but he said no. He’s here, near, growing strong.’ Van Helsing pressed: ‘Where?’ Renfield clammed up, muttering, ‘I’ve said too much—he’ll know.’ We left him pacing, eerie as hell.
8 October.—Mina’s typing’s a godsend—she’s our archive now. Jonathan’s mapped Carfax with Godalming’s help—fifty boxes shipped there, per the Demeter’s log. To-night, we struck. Me, Jonathan, Arthur, and Quincey armed up—crosses, stakes, revolvers—and hit the estate next to my asylum. Old house, dusty, rank with decay. We found the chapel—twenty-one boxes of earth, stinking of rot. Then rats poured out, hundreds, red eyes glaring. Quincey fired, I swung a shovel—chaos—but Van Helsing held up a cross, and they scattered. We smashed those boxes, consecrating the earth with holy wafers. Twenty-nine left—somewhere else. Dracula’s wounded, but not down.
Mina Harker’s Journal
8 October.—Jonathan’s out with the men to-night—I’m safe here with Van Helsing guarding me. He’s worried—says Dracula might target me next, sensing our fight. I’ve typed Renfield’s words—chilling, how he’s tied to the Count. Jonathan came back late, grim but alive—rats at Carfax, he said, but they hit some boxes. ‘He’s on the run,’ he swore, kissing me fierce. I pray they’re right.