“I’ve got the rest of you, Master,” Renfield says, and matches his own hand through the glass, as though the two of them are touching.

“Open the door,” Dracula whispers, and even in the dark, I can hear him smile. He knows he’s about to get everything he wants.

Renfield moves toward the lock, but I get to him first. Fear rising inside me, I could reach out and break him into nothing. I could slash at his skin, delicate as vellum, and unravel him into ribbons. But I do something else instead.

I knit my hand with his, carefully entwining our fingers, and without hesitating, he holds on tight to me. Tighter than I’ve ever been held. As though nobody’s ever embraced Renfield once in his whole life.

“Thank you,” he says, and with a heavy hand, he passes me the urn.

Renfield, making his choice at last.

Dracula shoves hard against the other side of the door, rage flickering across his face, quiet but unmistakable. He’s not used to being denied. He’s certainly not used to Renfield denying him. The shadows dance around him, and he leans closer, his lips nearly pressed against the smudged glass.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks.

“Yes,” Renfield whispers, and that’s all it takes.

With his eyes burning, his silhouette growing longer, Dracula says something else. Something I never expect.

“I release you.”

It’s such a simple phrase. So quick, so irrevocable.

Instantly, Renfield feels it, stirring inside him, the way the thrall snaps like a taut rubber band. Seventy years ago, this would have been a mercy. This would have freed Renfield for good. This would have given him a second chance. But his body’s too far gone now, the decades far too unkind to him.

His arms outstretched, he staggers into me, a single agonizing step, before collapsing to his knees. I kneel beside him, desperate to help him up, but there’s no way to stop this now.

His body breaks apart like chunks of plaster, desiccated and bloodless.

My hands are frantic, trying to hold him together, like he’s a puzzle to reassemble, but Renfield doesn’t fight this. Maybe it’s what he’s been yearning for all these years. With a final wheezing breath, his head lolls back, and he smiles up at me.

“Goodbye, Miss Lucy,” Renfield whispers, and he crumbles to nothing in my arms.

I clutch the bits of him to my heart, but I don’t have time to hold him. The glass door shatters around me, like a spray of diamonds.

I fall back, but Bee’s right beside me, pulling me to my feet.