Father's Blessing"Father..."
A voice too soft to be heard.
Blood from others bleeds from the wound.
But pure tears fall to the cobblestone ground.
They hold their breaths, as if trying to stop the moment, but the cold wind, the breath of God, blows her hair and tears, and makes the moment pass.
The wind so cold, the dark clouds gathering, it will rain, and the sky will cry for them. The heavens took her, and they will show their sorrow for knight. They truly were sorry.
She finally puts her hands over her wounds, and tries to stop the bleeding. She falls to her knees, and the tears mix with the red. Her blood such a deep and dark red. The purity mixes with the evil, and they dance in a puddle into one.
Her breath shakes now. Her ice blue eyes shake in pain.
He looks on, his face hidden by a dark hat, not wanting to show his face, not wanting to look at her like this, not wanting to see what he has done to her. Then a tear rolls down his cheek.
A crossbow loaded with wooden steaks drops to the ground with the tears, still smoking from the last shot.
He holds tightly onto a small silver and gold cross, rolling it in his hand.
He runs to the girl, and falls to his knees with her. He holds her up in his arm, as if keeping her alive, making her stay awake with him.
His warmth touches her cold.
She rests her head on his shoulder, and blood from her chest drips, and stains his crosses and clothing. He would never wash out those stains. Forever would he keep them, a sign of her, that she was his.
And they cry together.
The wind blows, and whispers the voice of god, reassuring he is there, reassuring everything will be okay. Trying to say that it had to be this way. But he doesn't understand why. Why did he have to do this to her? Why did he have to kill her?
He kissed her on the forehead and held her tighter, brushing her dark black hair out of her eyes, so that he may look at her. See her blue eyes one last time.
"Forgive me...I am sorry..." He whispered.
He began rocking her like he did every night when they stared up at the moon and stars, even listen to the wolves howl in the distance. They listened to the children of the night make their sweet, sweet music for them.
Her white and red shirt under her black coat was now just red.
Their chains, bearing the crosses of God tangled to gether. His coat covered hers; trying to give her the warmth she could never feel. The cross upon her neck, the cross he had given her when she was born, was stained red. It did not burn her skin, it did not harm her. She never took it off.
She rested on his shoulder again, opening her mouth, and heaving for life giving air.
And two small fangs slip from her lips. The tips barely stained red.
He is Van Helsing, the newly named hunter. And the small child he held, barely fourteen years of age, is his daughter. Sonia Helsing.
His little Sonia.
He never called her the demon she was. He never thought of her as a vampire. He called her Angel, his angel, his blessing. He held her, and cared for her. He loved his daughter.
She was never a burden, never a demon. She was a gift, like any other child born in the name of God, vampire or not. Her soul was clean, her heart was pure.
It wasn't her fault her mother was a vampire, it wasn't her fault her mother needed someone to have a child, and he was all that was left. It wasn't her fault he killed all the others, simply leaving her crazed mother. It wasn't her fault her mother put him under her control. It wasn't her fault he killed her mother after her birth.
Nothing was her fault.
He remembered holding her when she was just born, the cries of her mother as he shot her. He remembered burning the abandon church her mother lived, and where she was born. He remembered the curse her mother screamed. He remembered the heat of the fire as he held his daughter close to him.
He prayed that night. He prayed for her.
She was only half. Half a demon, and half his daughter. And she was born alive, welcomed into this world, and blessed in Rome.
All Sonia's life she fought with herself, trying to keep her mother's evil out of her heart. All her life she tried to hide her fangs, and forget they were there. Everyday she tried to resist the temptation of sucking the blood from a screaming mortal.
But he gladly cut himself, and pour his own blood to feed her.
Sonia was his daughter, and he loved her. She was his blessing, a gift from the heavens, a reward for what he did for them. At least, that is how he always saw it.
God's left hand, wiped of the memories of the past, released of sin, and given the gift to sense and kill evils. This little girl he held, he saw as a reward for being the left hand. He saw as a thank you. But the gift had to be taken back now, she was not meant to be with him forever. And he didn't understand why.
His little girl. She was always there with him, helping him in the hunt. Screeching at her own kind, all for her father to soon kill. She didn't think of the monsters they saw as her kind. She was not a monster, and then her father would kiss her and tell her that.
She was pure and loving. She was her father's daughter. Always seemingly keeping the evil out of her heart.
But still Van Helsing watched her, and stared at her when she wasn't looking. He would open even the evils of his heart, and he would sense evil in her. That is what he could, feel the darkness in monsters, sense them, and kill them. And he would always look away from his daughter, when he sensed such evil in her. He knew she was fighting it. He knew she was losing against it.
He would sense it when she stared blankly out the window, the sunlight only slightly burning her skin. She would stare at children her age, and how the normal family played with each other. He watched her sigh. He saw her stare at the full moon, and her fangs would slightly grow in its light. He saw how she stared at the ravens and bats at night. He knew she liked it. He knew she wanted to fly with them. He sensed her evil.
But he always feared this would happen. He always feared someday she wouldn't be able to stop herself.
So they would always prayed for each other. Always she held the cross in her hand, and prayed to God no harm would come to her father or her. And he...He prayed the same, adding a little prayer just for his daughter.
And when he would put her to bed, reassuring her she would live to see the next day, no one would come and stab her heart while she was asleep. He reassured her he would always be there. He would look at her, and sense the purity in her fading away.
It seemed to escape her with age. She grew tired of the killing, and the days and nights she spent looking out the window. And he was sorry he couldn't give her anything more but his love. He was sorry his job, his curse, had to curse her as well. She couldn't live a normal life in some village with him. They couldn't go and run in the fields, or ride the horses. No, they lived in Rome and the church. She was taught by him and the priests. She insisted she'd go with him, but he knew she hated it. She just wanted to live a regular life. And he was sorry he was no where close to that.
Slowly, all this drove the purity out. Slowly she lost to the vampire inside her. She grew angrier, staying out of the sunlight, hiding in the shadows from her father. Slowly she would screech with the howling wolves. Slowly she disappeared out of her father's grasp. Slowly his Sonia died, and he couldn't do anything but watch. He was helpless, and he lowered his head in prayer. He was sorry there wasn't anything he could do for his Sonia. And he was sorry for what he would have to do. He cried as he prayed then. And Sonia would wonder why, as she stood behind him, her skin so pale, and her fangs slipping out of her mouth.
"Father...I'm sorry..." She whispered.
She had lost control, she thirsted for blood, her father's was not enough to hold back the vampire. She ran into the night, attacking the village they stayed at. She ran through the streets, screeching at all those who ran away from her.
She didn't even recognize her own father...
And in the night, the full moon being covered by clouds, Van Helsing cried and prayed himself to sleep.
In the morning he hunted her, and this is where they ended up. She was the first vampire he ever hunted. But she wasn't a vampire. She was his daughter. How could he kill his own daughter? How could he? How could he, he asked himself again and again. But the answer was simple, that was his job. There was no other way. He couldn't reach his Sonia...He couldn't...He had no other choice...He had no other choice...
The town was silent, all hiding from the young halfling, who they only saw as a vampire. Only the breath of God was with them now.
And all Van Helsing sensed in Sonia was purity in her now. The vampire was dead, the evil gone, but it was taking his little girl with it. But somehow he knew, Sonia would rather die than be forever an immortal of a vampire. She would rather die, than is the very thing she hunted with her father. He was right.
He lowered gently to the ground.
"Shhh...Rest Sonia, rest..." He whispered.
His tears fell, as he looked at his dying Sonia.
And now a river of blood flowed through the ground, and touched the gun with the wooden steaks.
He still held her, not wanting to let go of her. She stared at her father, her fangs showing. They lay in a puddle of her blood now.
"I love you..." She whispered with everything she had left.
He cried harder for a moment, before lifting her again to whisper in her ear.
"Heaven's Angel, God has given me, my dear Sonia." He whispered.
He spoke a pray he always said when she was asleep, never before had she heard it. Then he began rocking them again, and he held a cross to her heart.
"Not a demon, nor monster, nor even curse. A gift to me, I spare my blood. My daughter, my heart, my love, forever my Sonia. Whose name calls the chorus of the Arch Angels."
He kissed her on the forehead, and she held the red stained cross on her neck.
"My daughter, too pure to hold the name of a vampire. My daughter, too kind to be burdened with these cursed fangs. My daughter, who never complained, who never lost her faith in you o' Lord. My daughter, vanquisher of evil, cursed with it. My daughter, plagued with this life, but to gift and grace mine. My daughter, Sonia."
He held her closer, and looked to the heavens.
"O' Lord. O' Angels I give you my daughter. I plea with everything holy in me, take her now. I have done your tasks, now please take her now. Angels take this heavenly gift you have honored me with back. Angels take my Sonia, and forever watch over her!"
He commanded the Angels. She was not a demon. She deserved more than the flames of Hell. Half vampire she was, stalker of blood, but she was no evil.
Then he looked back to Sonia, holding her tighter, feeling her breaths weaken. He whispered more to her, before kissing her on the forehead again, and looking at her blue eyes.
"I am your father, and with every holyness in me I bless you my Sonia. I love you. I love you so much..."
She looked at her father one last time. Her father. Her savior, protector. The man she asked so little of, but gave her so much.
Then the Angels did as they were commanded, and took her away. For they had to do as he asked, he was God's left hand, and held the name of the Arch Angel Gabriel.
Sonia rested her head on his chest, and there she died, in his arms. He froze for a moment, only allowing his tears to move. Then he closed his eyes, and held his daughter one more time. He cried harder, and soon the heavens cried with him. It began to rain on them.
His Sonia was gone.
He was the only one who shed tears for her. The only one that prayed for her. The only one to visit her unmarked grave. He took her away, before the villagers could burn the body of what they thought was a vampire. He was the only one to stand above her, and just stay there.
Van Helsing had lost a daughter, who he still prays for every night, and tells no one of her. She was his, all his. Like everything, she is taken away from him. He is left alone to do God's bidding. But at least now, he has memories.
And when he returns to Rome, and they all see the cheerful little girl who always followed him around is not there, they will say nothing, and only pray. He will not go to the priest and say his sins, he will wander and pray, asking for answers from God. But God does not answer why he has given and taken so much from him.
No one will say anything, they know better. The priests that blessed her, trying to rid her of the evil in her fangs, will say nothing. Only he will speak her name. And like that only he knows and remembers Sonia Helsing.
He looks to the heavens, and somehow knows she is there.
Sonia was his. His halfling, his Angel, his blessing, and daughter.
He still visits her often, going out of his way to sneak to her grave.
Years after her death he was on his way to Transylvania, and he stopped to see her, praying to her, and crying for her. Then he left, he had to go kill Count Dracula.
At least he now has memories, memories he promises never to forget.
He'll never forget Anna, or his dear Sonia. Forever will the memories stay with him. He'll make sure of it.