16 October 2026
Friday. The catacombs are open. My letter has been read in Melbourne, my relics have been lifted from their wrappings by living hands, and nobody has yet laughed at my handwriting, which I attribute to the lighting.
The rules of my house are not the Count’s rules. He insists on four guests; I will take two, most of the week, because a pair of determined hunters is a fine thing. Friday and Saturday evenings are the exception. Those are the busiest hunting hours, and the house asks for four or more. Eight is the most I will send below. Eight is already a crowd in a catacomb.
Tonight being Friday, the parties came in fours and fives, in good coats, straight from their offices. One recruit asked the empty air whether the Count himself would appear. I will not say. I will say that you should keep your relics close.
The Count will have heard by now. He hears everything eventually. I await his reply with the patience of the long buried.
— Prof. Van Helsing
