The hunt sharpens on Kaeltripton! Last time, Lucy’s death united the team—now Mina and Jonathan dig into Dracula’s moves with Seward, Quincey, and Arthur, while Van Helsing lays out the vampire’s deadly powers. We’re serving this free slice of Dracula with a teaser excerpt below, followed by the full text from roughly pages 235 to 250—covering their detective work and a chilling lesson. 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 strategic dread. Ready to track the beast? Let’s map the fight!

Mina Harker’s Journal (Continued)
5 October.—We’re a proper war council now. Jonathan’s thrown himself into the hunt—stronger every day, though his hair’s gone grey at the edges from the strain. Dr Seward brought his phonograph records, and I’ve typed them up—Lucy’s story breaks my heart anew. Arthur—Lord Godalming—offered his title’s pull to open doors, and Quincey’s calm grit steadies us. To-day, Jonathan traced the Count’s London estate—Carfax, near Seward’s asylum! He found bills of lading from the Demeter’s cargo: fifty boxes of earth shipped here. ‘That’s his lair,’ Jonathan said, eyes fierce. ‘He needs them to rest.’ We’re closing in.
Dr Seward’s Diary
6 October.—Mina’s a marvel—her typing’s turned our chaos into order. She’s cross-referenced Jonathan’s journal with my records and Quincey’s notes from Whitby contacts. The Count’s boxes went to Carfax via a carrier—Godalming’s men are checking now. Renfield’s odd again—quiet one minute, raving the next about ‘blood’ and ‘the Master.’ Van Helsing thinks he senses Dracula near; I’m watching him close. To-night, Van Helsing called us to his room for a lesson—we need to know our enemy.
He paced, voice low: ‘This Dracula is no mere man—he’s Nosferatu, a vampire, centuries old. He’s strong—could crush us with a hand—but cunning too. He shifts shape: wolf, bat, even mist, slipping where we can’t follow. He commands beasts—rats, owls, wolves—and bends weak minds to his will. By night he’s a terror, feeding on blood to live; by day, he’s weaker, tied to his earth-boxes. Garlic repels him, the cross burns him, and sunlight slows him—but only a stake through the heart, or beheading, ends him true. He’s here, in London, building his power. We must be smarter, strike when he’s vulnerable, or he’ll outlast us all.’
Arthur’s jaw tightened: ‘Then we hit him fast—those boxes first.’ Quincey nodded: ‘Burn ’em out, like a rattler’s den.’ Jonathan added: ‘He’s near—I feel it.’ Mina paled but stayed firm: ‘We’ll find him.’ Van Helsing smiled, grim: ‘Good. We begin to-morrow.’