3 Jonathan Learns He Is a Prisoner

CHAPTER 3 Jonathan Learns He Is a Prisoner Jonathan slept late into the next day. When he awoke, the count was gone. In addition to another fine meal, which Jonathan would eat alone, the count had left a note. It encouraged Jonathan to go anywhere he liked in the castle, except into those rooms whose doors were locked. "And you must never," the note stressed, strangely, "fall asleep anywhere else in the castle, except in your own room!"

Jonathan worked most of the day on the count's property purchase. Needing a break, however, he decided that he would explore a bit. The castle was like a museum, he thought, marveling at the antiques, art, and other collectibles, all of the finest quality, and most of which seemed to be hundreds of years old. In all of his wanderings, however, there were two things Jonathan did not see. The first thing missing was other people. How can the count not have anyone to help him in this huge castle? he wondered. The other thing missing, he noticed, was mirrors, even in the bathrooms. He was not vain, mind you, but a mirror did come in handy sometimes, such as when shaving. Thankfully, he had brought his own, a small compact, part of his traveling toiletry kit. The count came home that evening after dark and their routine continued. The count

never ate, always claiming to have already eaten, and instead just kept Jonathan company, going over the papers he had prepared that day and asking him more questions about the house he was buying in London. Jonathan had made the offer on the house on the count's behalf, although at the time he had not understood how anyone could want the property. Carfax was an ancient and gloomy stone structure with an attached old chapel, which had been abandoned for years. Having now met the count, however, and having seen his current home, Jonathan realized that his new home would be perfect. Perhaps it was his ancient Transylvanian roots, Jonathan thought, but the count seemed meant for shade and shadow. Every night the count kept Jonathan up and talking almost until dawn. It seemed strange at first, but Jonathan quickly got used

to it. After all, he thought, some people were just night people and, as he was here on a job, he had to adjust to his client's schedule. Every day Jonathan woke up late, showered, used his little mirror to shave, ate a quiet breakfast alone, and worked on his papers. Occasionally he would write in his little journal, which, out of force of habit from childhood, he kept hidden on his body. Sometimes he wrote letters to his boss, Mr. Hawkins, or to his fiancée, Mina, but Jonathan dared not write anything too personal, and certainly not to write in shorthand, which Mina understood. This was because the few envelopes the count gave him for his personal use were so thin anyone could see right through to what was written on the paper inside. Just as speaking a foreign language in front of someone who did not understand could seem rude or suspicious, so might writing in shorthand, Jonathan

thought. It was a dull routine, but then work was not necessarily meant to be exciting. And besides, soon some things would happen that would make him long for a dull life once more. First, the count casually mentioned that Jonathan would be staying on at the castle for at least another month. Jonathan frowned. It seemed strange that this was such a long project. Seeing Jonathan's face, the count frowned, too. "That is what I want, and I will take no refusal. Your employer assured me that my needs would be met. Is there going to be a problem?" Jonathan forced his face to go blank. "No, of course not. I will stay as long as you need me." The next thing that happened was even more upsetting. Unable to sleep one night, Jonathan hung his shaving mirror on the wall

and was trying to shave when he heard the count say "Hello" directly behind him. Jonathan jumped, not so much because the count had surprised him as because he realized that the count's reflection did not appear in the mirror. What kind of strange magic was this? Spotting the mirror, and himself not in it, the count's eyes blazed with fury, and he made a sudden grab for Jonathan's throat. When his hands touched the rosary beads that held the crucifix Jonathan wore, however, the count pulled away almost violently. But he was not finished. Muttering something about vanity, the count opened the nearby window and flung the mirror outside. Somewhere far in the ravine below, the glass shattered into a thousand pieces. "So sorry about that," the count said, "but mirrors are not a good idea out here. They are so likely to break and cut people, and