Hello again. As you can see i'm back with another little story. This time it's longer, and has an actual plot, so forgive me if it's a bit, well all over the place, i'm not so good with plots : ) I saw Van Helsing when it came out, and i thought it was hilarious, possibly for all the wrong reasons. I thought Stephen Sommers wasted some good characters, and took it upon myself to play with them a little. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you, Nic.
Chapter One
His horse stopped as they rode up to the bridge of the river border of the town, tossing his head and whining. The town was small and dark, even in the summer morning, as if something unnatural lingered over it. The circle of houses on the edge seemed abandoned. Shutters of windows hung haphazardly from their hinges, and a few of the doors had been splintered, as if they had been forcefully kicked in. One building was now but a charred shell, it's hollowed, paneless windows revealing an uninhabited, seared interior. Carl began to think his assumption of a harmless, charming Irish village might have been nothing more than wishful thinking.
Ahead of him, Van Helsing demounted his horse, and pulled it reluctantly through the main street. The highly stacked shack houses bent over the dirt road, many had fallen into disrepair or abandoned. At the end of the lane, a small inn was nestled into the row of quarters. A slight, cracked stone basin was set in front of the inn doorway. The fountains shoot that rose out of the centre was matted with green moss and no water issued from the spout. Carl tied his horse to a wooden stake in the ground, and turned to the dishevelled, rundown inn. Van Helsing stepped up and broodingly he watched the inn's tattered signboard dangle arbitrarily, creaking in the bitter wind.
"An Dubh Uain." He read aloud. Under the handpainted text was a weather-beaten painting of a black lamb.
"This is the place." Van Helsing muttered uneasily.
The windows were boarded up, and a faint glow of candlelight seeped through the cracks in to aging wood. The inn itself did not seem very big, but the building loomed over, casting a great shadow over the square. Two further floors were stacked onto of the inn, and the wooden facet of the biulding was beginning to rot away, it's long beams flaking age old paint. Black streaks of carbon stains licked up on the wall above the first floor windows, inplying that the building had not only been scarred by age, but also by fire and disaster.
Carl shivered at the sight of it, and again began to wonder how he had let himself get dragged into this trip in the first place.
†
He strode down the long winding staircase, it's cracked, age worn walls shrouded by the outlying darkness a single candle warrants. Only half listening to what the red robed man beside him was saying, he nodded, though he was not wholly sure what he was assenting. He had the essentials of it, and now the cardinal was probably updating him on the generally dreary goings on of the Abbey.
They reached the end of the dim, dank stairway, and walked into the warm orange glow of a large open room. It was bustling with life, as hundreds of people worked at benches and tables, tools and instruments rumbling. A constant cloud smoke hovered above, and every so often, the sounds small explosions echoed through the room, accompanied by a brief burst of flaming sparks.
He stood and looked over the scene with fondness; it was a sight he had not known he missed.
He approached a long, untidy workbench at the very back of the room.
It was laden with bits of dissected weaponry, and long white scrolls with holes burned through them. A small beaker of luminous blue fluid bubbled hazardously over a large candle, and a pile of nuts, bolts and other pieces of scrap metal sat precariously atop of a swaying pile of leather bound books. In the middle of it all, a smallish figure, clad in a well-worn habit bent over the table, muttering to himself, sparks flying out around him. He dropped his blowtorch, momentarily setting fire to his thick Hessian sleeve, and swore irately.
"Damn it!"
Van Helsing stepped up behind him. "What have I told you about cursing?"
Carl turned around, startled by the familiar voice. His stared for a moment, the magnifying device he wore strapped to his head enlarging his blue eyes like a bug. Carl pulled off the gadget and beamed at the sight of his friend.
"Van Helsing! Kind of you to stop by. Here on business I presume? Some dreadful new monster to be dealt with?"
"Something like that."
"Well don't think you'll be enlisting my aid this time! I had quite enough 'adventure' in Transylvania, and I've no desire to repeat the experience!"
"It wasn't all bad Carl." Started Van Helsing.
"Easy for you to say, you're the infamous monster hunter here!" He muttered, fidgeting about his bench. "Vampires, werewolves."
"Not to mention peasant girls." He shot a roguish glance at Carl.
Carl looked at them in disgruntled offence, turning back to his work in a sulk.
"Carl, -", Van Helsing started apologetically, sighing as he was reminded of Carl's fragile and sensitive nature.
"No!" He interjected brusquely. "Quite aright. After all, I am here only for your amusement! It's not as if I'm a genius inventor or anything like that. I live only so that my exploits may serve your pleasure!"
Van Helsing stood behind him, trying desperately and somewhat in vain, not to laugh at Carl's thin-skinned melodramatics.
Giving up on comforting him, Van Helsing changed the subject.
"So, Cardinal Jinette tells me you have a new creation."
Carl turned, perking up a little, but still he looked hurt, making sure he milked his rueful sympathies.
"Yes, it's just over here actually." He turned and heaved a heavy gun, shaped like a small, highly mechanical looking cannon from the bench behind him.
"It's just a prototype, but it's coming along nicely. One of my best designs yet!"
Van Helsing smiled as Carl briefly flashed a playful grin.
"There are some other things I wanted to show you, now you mention it." He said, dumping the large, technological weapon into Van Helsing's arms, who, despite his strength, almost dropped it in surprise. Carl was now lost in a huge chest, overflowing with unfinished bits and pieces, with only his legs visible, splaying out as he stretched into the box.
Quickly realising that this demonstration could go on for many hours, knowing Carl, Van Helsing again started to change the subject.
"Err... Carl, perhaps this isn't the best time for….Carl?"
Nevertheless, Carl was still wedged head first in his box of tricks, and it sounded as if he had already begun the exhibition, talking to himself enthusiastically.
Determined not to be drawn into another of his presentations, Van Helsing grabbed the back of Carl's habit, hauling him out of the trunk, almost raising the scrawny friar off the ground.
"Hmmm?"
"Not today." He said, and Carl's face fell like a disappointed child.
He set him down on his feet, and he turned and began to tidy his work away.
"If you're finished for tonight, I'd like to go somewhere where we can talk."
"Why?" Carl asked, turning slowly, with a hint of suspicion and slight panic in his voice. "If this is about one of your 'missions', then I'd rather not if you don't mind. My involvement will not extend outside of this abbey! Not that I had much choice in the matter last time." He muttered.
"Exactly. So why bother arguing?"
With that, Van Helsing strode out of the room, and Carl sighed. Realising this was a rhetorical question; he set down his work and scampered after him.
†
The corridors of the monastery were silent as he made his way up the shadowy passageways, desperately trying to keep up with Van Helsing, who was always sweeping around a corner ahead of him.
Arriving at the library and Van Helsing went to the small fireplace at the end of the long, high walled room and began trying to light it. This library was one of many in the Abbey, but this one did not have its door bolted, unlike the Order's library below the Cathedral. The room was lined floor to ceiling with old books, pious scriptures mostly, giving the room a musky smell. In the centre of the room was a strewn assortment of tables, many complete with inkwells and piles of scrolls.
Carl dragged a worn, deep armchair from one of the desks and lugged it to the end of the room, where Van Helsing already sat in front of the now flaming fireplace. Cautiously he sat down, watching Van Helsing intently.
"We're going to Ireland. The order has allocated us a new task."
Carl sprang up apprehensively. "'We'? 'Us'?!"
"Yes. We. Us. You and me."
"Me? Why?" He yelped.
"Why you're a mastermind Carl, you speak all kinds of languages, and you have a knack for solving little puzzles, as you displayed in Transylvania. You're a genius, or so you keep telling me."
"Well yes, but, but… I'm fairly unfamiliar with the Gaelic language, and besides, most of the Irish people speak English these days. You won't need a translator."
"What about all your other skills?"
"I suppose so. But I still don't understand why you need –"
Van Helsing interrupted impatiently.
"I'm not going to sit here all night begging you nicely. The Order bade you to join me."
"Why?!"
"Perhaps they were highly impressed at your achievements in Transylvania. Maybe they would like your expertise to be extended beyond the crypt of the Abbey more frequently. Most probably, it's purely a chance to get rid of you for a while! Frankly, I have no idea. At any rate, there's no point in arguing. Whether you desire to go or not, our passage to Ireland is already arranged. I'll come for you first thing tomorrow."
"Well," Carl sighed, defeated "what is it we're investigating?"
"Murders. Strange occurrences in the village. There's something uncanny at work there. Something strange enough to merit the attentions of the Order."
"The usual then…" Carl muttered gloomily.
Van Helsing rose from his chair and headed out of the door. Before he reached his exit, he turned around and shot a glance at Carl.
"Be ready in the morning." He turned back to the door and strode out, his long leather coat sweeping behind him.
Carl gave a small whimper of dread and sunk into his chair. The slamming of the giant heavy door blew out the lantern as he went, and Carl uttered another stifled yelp of fright as the room was plunged into darkness.
