“This is not Lucy,” Van Helsing said. “She is one of the Un-Dead—a vampire.”
Quincey Morris fell, mortally wounded by a gypsy’s knife. He whispered to Mina, “I am glad to die… a man’s death.” Seven years later, Jonathan and Mina had a son, whom they named Quincey. The scars of the past remained, but the nightmare was over. Dracula was truly dead. And yet…
Jonathan took a great Bowie knife and plunged it into Dracula’s throat. At the same time, Quincey Morris drove a stake through his heart. The Count’s body crumbled into dust before their eyes. A smile of peace crossed his hideous face—then nothing.