The upcoming book by J.D.
ReadingDraculis like watching a classic vampire film, R.L.
Stine has already raved about the book.
Credit: Everett Collection
Horror lives on nearly every page.
A terrifying read that gave me hours of fun.
In other words,Draculasuperfans: This could be your next must-read.
Putnam
EW can exclusively reveal the cover forDracul, as well as an excerpt.
Read on below for your first taste of this long-untold story, and preorderDraculahead of its Oct. 2 releasehere.
Excerpt fromDracul, by Dacre Stoker and J.D.
Barker
NOW
Bram stares at the door.
Sweat trickles down his creased forehead.
He brushes his fingers through his damp hair; the ache thrives behind his temples.
How long has he been awake?
There can be no thoughts of sleep.
He forces his eyes wide.
He wills them open, preventing even a single blink, for each blink comes heavier than the last.
Must watch the door.
He thought he had seen it move, but there had been no sound.
The doorknob remains still.
The ornate hinges appear as they probably did a hundred years ago, the lock holding firm.
The key is in his pocket, and it will remain there.
His free hand slips over the cold steel, ensuring the bolt is in the proper position.
He pulls back the hammer.
Noiseless, Bram sets the rifle down, leaning the weapon against the chair he vacated moments before.
The oil lamp at his side flickers with the motion, the only light in the room.
With caution, he approaches the door.
The stench of rot wafts up; the rose has taken on the scent of a corpse flower.
Bless this rose, Father, with your breath and hand and all things holy.
Direct your angels to watch upon it, and guide their touch to hold all evil still.
Then all is quiet again.
He lowers the barrel then, his eyes sweeping the room.
What would one think if they were to walk in and see such a sight?
His tired face stares back at him a hundredfold as the image bounces from one mirror to the next.
Between the mirrors, he has nailed crosses, nearly fifty of them.
Most likely, he will never leave.
Bram finds his way back to the chair and settles in.
Outside, a loon cries out as the moon comes and goes behind thick clouds.
He stuffs it back into his pocket.
Another bang on the door, this one louder than the last.
How long can it hold against such an assault?
The edges of the rose petals have already begun to brown, much faster than the last.
What will become of him when it finally does breach the door?
He thinks of the rifle and the knife and knows they will be of little use.
He has very little time.
FromDraculby Dacre Stoker and J.D.
Copyright 2018 by Dacre Stoker and J.D.
