The hunt turns deadly on Kaeltripton! Last time, the team faced Dracula at Carfax—now Jonathan closes in on the Piccadilly boxes, only for the Count to retaliate with a brutal assault on Mina. The stakes soar in this free slice of Dracula, with a teaser excerpt below and the full text from roughly pages 281 to 297—covering relentless tracking and a horrifying betrayal. 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 savage twists. Ready for the counterstrike? Let’s face the blood!

Jonathan Harker’s Journal (Continued)
11 October.—The Piccadilly lead paid off—Arthur’s clout got us into the house to-day. Big, empty place, dust thick, but we found nine boxes of earth in the cellar—same moldy stink as Carfax. Dracula’s here, or was. Van Helsing consecrated them with wafers, cutting his strength again. Quincey scouted—saw a man watching us, tall and dark, but he slipped away. ‘That’s him,’ I said, gut certain. We’ve got twenty left to find—scattered, likely—but we’re tightening the net. Back at Seward’s now, planning the next hit.
Dr Seward’s Diary
12 October.—Renfield begged to see me to-day—sane as I’ve ever seen him. ‘Let me go,’ he pleaded. ‘He’s after her—Mina—I can’t stop him here.’ I thought it madness, refused, and locked him tight. Mistake—God, what a mistake. To-night, all hell broke loose.
Near midnight, a crash from Renfield’s room—we ran in, found him on the floor, skull cracked, blood pooling. He gasped: ‘Dracula—came for me—wanted her—tried to fight—’ Then he was gone. We raced to Mina’s room—door locked, Jonathan pounding it—and broke through. There she was, on the bed, white as death, blood streaming from her throat. Dracula stood over her—pale, red-eyed, his lips dripping—forcing her to drink from a gash in his chest. ‘Your war ends here,’ he snarled, eyes blazing at us. Van Helsing raised a cross—he laughed, flung Mina down, and melted into mist, out the window.
Jonathan caught her, sobbing—she choked, ‘He made me—unclean now!’ Her neck bore two red wounds, like Lucy’s. Van Helsing cleaned her, grim: ‘He’s marked her—we’re not done.’ Renfield’s dead for her, and we failed her still. The fight’s personal now.
Mina Harker’s Journal
12 October.—I can’t sleep—write to stay sane. He came—Dracula—burst through the window as mist, then solid, pinning me down. His eyes burned, his voice a hiss: ‘You hunt me—you’re mine now.’ He bit me, then forced his blood into my mouth—bitter, foul. I fought, but he was iron. Jonathan’s screams saved me—he fled. I’m tainted—feel him in me still. The men swear revenge, but I fear I’m lost.