Well, this is my first fanfiction entry. Margolo Blu is not me. I stole her name, and this is from an actual RPG, in story form, that Calliope Foster and I did. Yeah, whatever, it may be a bunch of Marty Stus and Mary Sues, but I love it still.
PS On Halloween Hellboy will always get more candy that Van Helsing.
Always Read Ahead
It was near midnight in Paris. The moon lit the river and alleys much better than the amber street lights that lined up along the cobbled streets and waterway. Despite Paris's notoriety and population, the streets were dead, just as if the population had been mysteriously wiped out. It was unbelievably quiet, as if the animals too had been wiped out in the plague.
"This is amazing compared to what Paris was like just a few hours earlier. I don't even see streetwalkers!" Margolo Blu said. The blue haired Gypsy was standing on top of a table—"borrowed" from a local café—overlooking the river. In the distance she could the see the reddish-brownish sparkles of the once proud glass windows of Notre Dame.
"Van Helsing sure pulled a number on Notre Dame," she added as a side note.
"He'll be lucky if he doesn't get fired," Gideon Angelus added at her side. "Very lucky."
"What? For killing Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Mr. Hyde wasn't even human," Margolo said. "Come on, Helsing is a god of a man."
"I was referring to him destroying the stained glass windows of one France's most beautiful and important monuments. If you want to get into some minor technicalities involving Mr. Hyde's origin, let me reminded you that one, Mr. Hyde is actually a human and two, I'm a minotaur—not a human," Gideon said, shaking his curly golden hair, revealing two thick curving equally golden horns. "So does being a minotaur make me a danger? Since it is quite obvious I am not human?"
"Hurrah," Margolo said half-heartedly. "You never let me finish anything. I was just going to add that Mr. Hyde is a threat to society,—something you obviously aren't."
"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or be offended," Gideon said leaning over the table, smirking.
"Now why exactly are we still here? Didn't Helsing take care of Mr. Hyde?" Margolo asked.
"We're not here for Mr. Hyde, Mr. Hyde was just something for Helsing to do on the side and not get into the way. He needed to be kept occupied, Hyde just happened to be in the right place at the right time—for us anyway," Gideon said.
"What do you mean? What can we possibly be fighting that the Vatican does not want Van Helsing to fight? I mean that man is incredible, he can take anything on with ease, why would they want us to fight something he can easily take on," Margolo said.
"First off, you give that man more credit then he deserves. I swear you are the only person in the Van Helsing Fan Club," Gideon added coyly.
"What could we possibly being fighting then?" Margolo added.
"You seen how much destruction Helsing created fighting Mr. Hyde, can you only imagine how much he'll create when he's fighting a dragon?" Gideon said. "If he stayed here and fights the Tarasque with us, Paris will be lucky to have any monuments left."
"Wait a minute—we're fighting a dragon?" Margolo said. "You, me, and Father Liam? You're kidding me."
"I kid you not," Gideon said. "The Tarasque is a dragon from the antiquity of France, long since believed to be slain by St. Martha."
"Believed to be slain? What that heck?" Margolo said.
"Well, actually slain, but we believe it may have laid eggs and one survived. If you read up on your text, dragon eggs are notoriously sturdy and can survive for thousands of years, thank God they only lay two or three," Gideon said.
"So what makes the Vatican believe that there is a French Loch Ness Monster running loose?" Margolo asked skeptically.
"Numerous missing young men and women—all virgins and all partially eaten. They placed the deaths on Mr. Hyde to cover up the Tarasque, but only recently has it been getting bolder and been seen on the streets of Paris blocks away from the river," Gideon said, crossing his arms proudly. "However it has only been spotted at night, and avoids daylight at all costs. Hence, that's why we're staking out tonight."
"What's the deal with virgins?" Margolo asked.
"According to religious text, the only human flesh a dragon can eat is the flesh of a virgin. Impure humans upset their stomachs, and a water dragon like the Tarasque is notoriously finicky over who its dinner is," Gideon said.
"In a town like this I am surprised it hasn't starved to death yet," Margolo said with a bright grin.
"I don't know where you get your sense of humor," Gideon said dryly as he cleaned the night moisture from his glasses.
"Any luck?" Father Liam shouted from a distance away.
Gideon squinted his eyes at a man who was nothing more than a black shadow walking down the cobbled streets. A burning orange spot near the mouth was the only noticeable feature.
"Damn city, it's even damper than London," Father Liam said, tossing his failing cigar away. "You can't get a cigar lit without it going out before it touches your lips."
"Only you can be concerned over a cigarette. Meanwhile the city of Paris is in peril," Gideon said sarcastically, taking off his coat. He threw it on the ground, on top of the slimy, wet cobblestones.
"What are you doing?" Margolo asked, half angry, half confused.
"Reading up," Gideon said, pulling a book from his belt, a book that was in place of his revolver. Margolo noted parchment rolls sticking out where his amulets and Rosary should be. The corner of another book peeked out from the sheath were his blessed dagger was suppose to be hanging.
The blond minotaur, without even a second thought, plopped himself down on his coat, which was quickly absorbing the moisture from the cobblestones. He shoved his blunt snout into his book and completely drained out the world. Near the corner, Father Liam tried to light another cigar, cursing every time the match died in the thick, moist fog.
Margolo sighed, looking upwards to the stars.
&&&
"I checked around this morning, no one saw the Tarasque last night, so it must have already eaten, apparently snatched someone close by the river since it has not been seen on the streets," Father Liam said, opening the door to Gideon's room. "But there are reports of a brothel missing on of their girls—a newer girl, her first day. She apparently freaked out with her first customer and ran outside to get a smoke."
There was no response. Father Liam's face dropped in disappointment as he looked around Gideon's small hotel room. It was filled with musty old books and rolls of parchment. The smell of old books was overpowering. A spot that may have been the bed, moved, toppling several thick tomes. Gideon, his blunt snout peeking out, gazed tiredly at Father Liam with bright, unnaturally green eyes. Father Liam could almost make out the Gideon's cross shaped pupils, the pupils that saved his life from sudden execution when he was just a baby.
"Hunhhh?" the sound was akin to cow. It was one of the few times Father Liam was reminded that Gideon was part bull.
"Put your glasses on and get dressed, we have to go down to the river and check it out," Father Liam.
"But I've only got two hours of sleep, and I feel miserable," Gideon said, getting out of bed. He still wore the clothes he wore the night before.
"Well that's what you get spending your whole night out and reading," said Father Liam.
"For some reason, that's sound just wrong," Gideon said, picking his glasses off of his nightstand, well, taking his glasses off of a pile of books that threaten to crush his nightstand. He ran his fingers wavy tan-streaked blonde hair and pulled it into a ponytail.
"Without a coat, I should add. Which is not very bright, and wearing that very same coat later in the night walking down cold wet streets is not any brighter," Father Liam added as he left the room.
"What ever, Father," Gideon said, emphasizing the word "Father".
&&&
"I feel more like Sherlock Holmes than St. George," Gideon said, pushing his hands into his pockets.
"Who are they?" asked Margolo.
As Gideon opened his mouth to explained, Margolo quickly spoke up. "Never mind, they're from books, I know, I know. I don't need to hear anymore."
"But you didn't let me say anything," Gideon protested.
"Exactly," Margolo said.
"Here we are," Father Liam said, standing in front of a shabby building, just twenty feet shy of the river. Gideon looked down at the river suspiciously.
"Are we at the right place?" Gideon asked. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his face, trying to hide the bovine parts of him.
The door opened, revealing several scantily dress and unattractive women. They welcomed Father Liam and Gideon—hidden in a long heavy brown coat, hat, and a long red and white scarf. However, at the sight of Margolo Blu, they sneered and ignored her as they pushed the men into the building.
"I can probably guess why that girl was a virgin," Margolo said with a grin.
&&&
"Was Mari a virgin or not?" Father Liam stammered. He was getting angry, the kind of angry he gets when a bartender ignores him and refuses to fill his mug.
The brothel workers were crooning over him and Gideon. Of course, unbeknownst to the prostitutes, there was six foot tall minotaur hidden beneath all those layers of cloaks, not a tall, dashing young man. Margolo Blu was being ignored, and hating every minute of it.
"Why would you want to know Father? Wouldn't you like a woman with more experience?" an older woman said, leaning seductively forward. Margolo could see where the auburn red dye she used on her hair was washing out to reveal a dull iron gray.
"Why don't you take that coat off, it is awfully hot in here," one women, much more attractive than the woman attempt to seduce Father Liam. She reached forward to unbutton Gideon's jacked. Like a chicken flapping its wings, Gideon's hands gesticulated widely, swatting the woman's hand away.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Gideon stuttered.
Margolo didn't know whether Gideon was more nervous about his true nature being revealed or the fact it was the first time in his life a woman was hitting on him.
"Oh ho ho," the woman chuckled. "Looks we got a man a little wet behind the ears."
The other women leaned forward curiously, gathering around Gideon. Gideon was pushed further and further back on his chair to the point where he was prepared to scale the back of the chair to avoid just getting touched.
"WILL YOU HARPIES LEAVE MY COMPANIONS ALONE BEFORE I SHOW WHAT A GYPSY'S CURSE CAN REALLY DO?" Margolo shouted, her hands began to light up with a bluish aura.
The women scattered a good distance away from Margolo's male companions.
Father Liam looked at Margolo half-thankfully half-disapprovingly. His only response was a curt nod in her direction. Gideon, shaking, slid down his chair.
"Now then, would you like to answer me or deal with my friend over there?"
&&&
The group managed to receive some important details—and some not so important but on the verge of being raunchy details. Margolo was able to get a few brief peeks of Gideon's snout as he leaned forward while listening to details. His snout was flushed with color, whether it was from the crude details involving Mari's anatomy, or the overwhelming heat in the room, or the cold he was beginning to come down with, Margolo wasn't sure, but she smiled anyway at Gideon's discomfort, believe it was the first of the above.
The interrogation went smoothly enough. One woman, while peeking out of a window between customers, pointed them in the direction in which Mari ran. The Madam confirmed that Mari was still a virgin. Another woman divulged Mari's favorite hiding spot, a small beach underneath a nearby bridge. Everything was going smoothly until Gideon became exceedingly overheated, and forgetfully removed his hat. The women of the evening ran away faster than if someone had thrown a dead rat into the center of the room.
However, the necessary information was given. Other than the fright given to the women, the only other damage was to the few scraps of Gideon's dwindling dignity.
"Forget the bull in the china shop bit, let's start saying a minotaur in a whorehouse? Huh? Huh? Quite good?" Father Liam exclaimed. He was half drunk on good feeling and even better bourbon.
Gideon only grumbled, his face half obscured by the hat he has hastily put on.
"I like it quite well," Margolo said with a wide grin.
"Well I don't," Gideon said. "I don't know why you have to have fun at my expense."
"Here's the bridge," Father Liam said.
The bridge was old and worn, made from black stones now completely covered in dark green moss and whitish scratches. The tunnel underneath the bridge was an imposing sight, a deep whole reminiscent of the caves in Yellowstone where Father Liam was sent to fight bogles.
"Why would the girl chose this as her favorite spot?" Margolo asked as they walked under the bridge. She felt along the slimy stone walls.
"Because she feels safe here, so she can be alone," Gideon answered, his anger/demeanor lost, an empathic tone in its place. "I remember back at the missionary in Italy I used to hide in a cubbyhole under the stairs. It was dusty and filled with cobwebs, but there I felt safe."
"I don't see anything," Margolo said. She stood halfway between the light of the day and the shadow of the bridge. Her male companions were farther down in the cave. Margolo could still make out the color of the clothing Father Liam wore, but Gideon seen like nothing more than a shadow in the distance. "Can we go?"
"Aren't you coming in Margolo?" Farther Liam shouted playfully.
"No thanks, I'm quite happy standing out here in the sunlight," Margolo said.
"Here Margolo!" Father Liam exclaimed, tossing a decomposing fish at the gypsy.
Margolo shrieked. She could hear the stones slide and crack as Gideon turned on his heels to the shriek.
"False alarm, Gideon," Father Liam shouted back.
"Not funny, Father! I can't believe you're a priest," Margolo shouted back angrily.
"Neither can I," Father Liam chuckled to himself.
&&&
As Margolo angrily sat aside, avoiding looking down the tunnel at her cohorts, Gideon and Father Liam explored the murky bridge. Trying to keep her minds on better things, Margolo looked out into the river and the sights of Paris. She could see the beauty of the buildings she was denied as she staked out in the dark. But then Margolo spotted something in the green-brown water. It looked like another dead fish, the similar to the whitish grayish one Father Liam had the guts to toss at her.
Squinting her eyes, Margolo realized that whatever was floating in the ocean was not a fish, nor was it a piece of refuse. She looked down the tunnel at her companions. Sighing, she hiked her skirts up to her ankles and kicked her shoes off, praying no one sees her and no one steals her shoes. She waded out stepping on a variety of squishy objects she didn't know or didn't care to know what they were. As she approached the object, Margolo could already make out the web of hair. Chunks of refuse, flesh, and algae were caught in the strands of think blond hair—hair much like Gideon's—like flies in a web. The girl's flesh was drained of all blood and as white as alabaster. Margolo realized that the girl's body was missing from the shoulders down.
In horror she fell back as the remains turned in the waves. Though blurred gray-blue with death, the eyes expressed a fear and empty sadness that tore more at Margolo's heartstrings than the horrible way this girl died
Margolo fell back, tears watering up in her eyes.
"I think I found her," she said, choking.
"I think I found her too," Father Liam said.
"I think I may have found her too," Gideon said a distance away.
&&&
"This is the best I could do for you," Margolo said as she placed a bouquet of simple daisies on the girl's grave. There was not even a gravestone to mark where the slaughterer brothel worker was buried. In a few years the small plot would be covered with grass and forgotten, just like the girl would be in a few days.
With what money she had and Gideon had with a few coins tossed in from Father Liam, she purchased a plot for the girl. It was better than being buried in a community grave. The girl may have been a prostitute, but she was still a person. She didn't deserve to die that way, no one did, no matter who or what they were or what they did.
"I guess she finally gets to be alone," Gideon said resting a hand on Margolo's shoulder. "It was really nice of you to do this."
Margolo wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. She looked up into Gideon's bright green eyes. The cross shaped pupils were larger than ever and the whites of his eyes were red with bulging veins. Maybe it was from his cold, or lack of sleep, or maybe like her, he too felt like he had lost a friend.
&&&
"We have to get this before it kills someone else," Margolo exclaimed, pounding her fist into her hand. She felt her voice cracking. "We just have to."
"I think we should evacuate this part of the city," Father Liam said, pointing down on a worn map, taken from the library. "This is where all the attacks are occurring. We might be able to lure the beast out and corner it in one of these small alleys. Damage would be minimal to the buildings, and since it is the poorer part of town, we should not have to worry about destroying anything of particular importance to France."
"Lure it out?" Margolo asked. "So, what are we going to use to lure this beast out with?"
"A virgin of course," Father Liam said.
"And where exactly will we find this virgin? You know the Vatican strongly objects to the use of civilians—particularly innocents—as bait or any use in monster hunting. We have to use someone from in our section, we can't just go out and randomly pick up an unprepared, frighten, harmless person off the streets," Margolo argued. "And we can't wait any longer for the Vatican to send us a person to use as bait!"
"Well, are you a virgin?"
No answer.
"Are you?" Margolo said after a few seconds.
"I am forty-five year old priest, what do you think?" Father Liam growled.
"No, since it's you asking."
Father Liam sighed, scratching at his salt and pepper hair. He really could go for a good cigar now, in fact, he could even go for a bad cigar. However, in the removal of Mari's corpse, he had lost his pack in the river. He wouldn't have thought twice about drying the cigars out and lighting them. Looking down into the river he could only think of the blood that was shed in it, not the garbage that was tossed in it. He let the cigars float away.
"Damnit, why can't these Frogs make a nice decent, strong cigar! I can't stand these sissy little things," he snarled loudly, breaking a small cigarette in half.
Margolo leaned against the wall. She had different ways of dealing with her dissatisfactions than ranting and smashing cigarettes as if they were responsible for all the world's problems.
In deep thought she began to crack her knuckles and growl. The only person not making any loud sound was Gideon who was passed out from exhaustion on the table. His chest and back rose and lowered with every deep breath, taken through his mouth because of his cold. He wheezed lightly and his chest rumbled as air flowered through his lungs. He looked at peace.
Margolo watched him.
"We could use a side of beef, I know the Vatican won't appreciate us asking for gold to buy steaks, but it could work. I mean, who can refuse a Delmonico steak? Gideon doesn't even turn that down, and he's part cow," Father Liam said, taking an idea off of the top of his head.
"That's a stupid idea. I don't want stand out in the middle of the night with a side of beef hanging from a lamppost shouting 'Here Tarasque, Here Tarasque' it's bad enough I had to see that girl," Margolo said. "You should probably go get something to drink."
"To clear my mind?" Father Liam asked, taking a whiskey bottle from within his jacket.
"To come up with better ideas," Margolo said smirking.
"I'll drink to that," Father Liam said, raising the bottle. He took a deep draught.
&&&
"Gideon's not gonna appreciate this one bit," Father Liam said, tightening the ropes around the sleeping minotaur.
"I'm surprised he's still asleep," Margolo Blu said, double wrapping the ropes around Gideon's wrists.
"He sleeps like a rock. Trust me, I remember at the monastery when he would fall asleep in the library. We would stack glasses of water on him, put him in ridiculous poses, and one night—after several beers—we managed to winch him into a tree. Never stirred a bit."
They were able to evacuate the city block quite easily. Rumors of a demon cow had spread like wildfire throughout the city, and another rumor of the monster bull hiding in the sewers under the city sent the populace scampering.
"Are you sure he's a virgin?" Margolo asked.
"What do you think Margolo?" Father Liam said tying ropes around Gideon's knees. "He spends his whole life reading books. I doubt that his books teach him anything on that certain subject matter or prepare himself for it."
Father Liam rubbed his hands together, admiring his handy work. "We've got the best of both ideas, a virgin and a side of beef, two in one. And we're not breaking any rules either."
"How long do you think till he wakes up?" Margolo said, standing her distance.
"If all goes as planned, he won't. We'll have the Tarasque slain, the city freed, and Gideon tucked in bed before nightfall," Father Liam said with a grin. He loaded several silver bullets the size of human thumb into his sawed off shotgun. "And he'll be none the wiser."
Father Liam grabbed hold of Margolo's shoulder and ushered her into a dark alley. With a huge expectant grin on his face, he watched the sleeping minotaur and the nearby river. Minutes passed, then hours. Father Liam's gripped tightened on the handle of his gun. His knuckles turned as white as Mari's corpse.
Three hours later, Gideon stirred. He seemed woozy and after attempting to shake the sleep from his eyes, he realized his predicament.
"Guys! Ah dobe tink dis id berry fuddy," Gideon exclaimed, his nasal passages clogged. "Ah goda sneebe billy bad."
"Hadder Wiam? Magawo? Wet me go, unpie me!" Gideon cried out even louder. "Dus wade pil da Badicin hears bout dis!"
"Maybe we should untie him, before he wakes up half the city and we end up saving him," Margolo said, almost stepping out of the shadows. Father Liam pulled her back.
"Let him squirm, it will attract the predator," Father Liam said, his voice so serious it even froze Margolo's blood. She hated it when he was sober.
"Cud you pwease bing me ud tidshoe ad weast?" Gideon begged.
Another hour passed and Gideon was silent. There was a sound of some animal, like a dog, chewing on something noisily."
"Is that a dog?" Margolo asked, horrified. "Or the Tarasque."
"I think that's Gideon, I think he's trying to chew through his bonds," Father Liam said.
Then there was loud, reverberating sneeze as Gideon cleared his sinuses on the rope he was aggressively chewing on.
"Aw chit."
&&&
"I can't believe you guys," Gideon exclaimed, dusting himself off. "Seriously, I can't believe it!"
He stood as far as way from his "friends" as possible. "You used me as bait! Couldn't you think up something better than tying me to a lamppost and marking me as an all-you-can-eat steak tartar?"
"I told you we should have a left a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese beside him," Margolo whispered to Father Liam. "I heard the French like that after they eat a huge meal."
"Look, we didn't have any other recourse, and you didn't argue when we pawned the idea," Father Liam.
"I was asleep!"
"But you were at the meeting, you shouldn't be sleeping during meetings, and since you didn't argue we just figured you'll go along with the idea," Margolo said.
"You didn't have to tie me up!"
"I swear you two are the most incompetent people on the face of this earth! You don't care about anyone's safety, not even your own team member! How can you even think of endangering my life?" Gideon ranted, his cold-reddened face turning even redder with every word. His pupils shrank considerably and his eyes glowed with a rush of anger.
Margolo and Father Liam just stared, stared at the space between his curving horns. Gideon noticed their vacant stares. A chill ran up his furry neck, only to be extinguished by a blast of hot steamy air. His shoulders slacked and he felt his body shake.
"It's behind me, isn't it?" he said, his voiced sounding as if he was taken by seizures. Father Liam and Margolo nodded blankly.
His clunky bovine nature was completely forgotten, the speed at which Gideon darted out of the Tarasque's way was more feline than any cow would ever be. However, his bovine nature was obvious in the landing, Gideon was sent flying head over heals, his hoofed feet in the air. He skidded a good five feet on his chin before semi-flipping over. He was bent over backwards, legs resting on top his head, an act that would gain him access into any circus.
Father Liam raised his gun and fired a round of silver bullets into the dragon. The dragon would have been happily just to pursue its meal, ignoring the impure Margolo and Father Liam, but the bullets irked the dragon. The dragon stopped charging Gideon to turn and face Father Liam.
"Aw chit," Father Liam exclaimed, looking up at the bluish black dragon. He cocked his gun and raised it again, firing at the creatures head.
One bullet grazed pass the creature's head, alarming so that it turned its head off to the side. The other bullet tore through the thin membrane of one of the fins on either side of its head. Gideon considering the wound the creature received like a paper cut on the webbing between the fingers—small and insignificant, but man, it hurts like hell! The creature reared its head up to the sky, roaring in pain. Father Liam was in the shadow on its paw.
"Oh sh—"
If it was not for a quick thinking Margolo, Father Liam would have been a bloody stain on the cobblestones. The creature's massive paw crashed down in the very spot where the Father was standing milliseconds before. Currently Father Liam laid spread out in a puddle of algae stained water, Margolo laid on top of him.
The Tarasque rampaged for a few moments, then realized its adversaries were missing or down for a few moments. It turned to face its quarry. Gideon was coming to, the exertion was too much for him, it could be due to his sedentary lifestyle or his bovine heritage, and he neither one he could change.
Gideon turned, eyes widen as the Tarasque raked at his chest with its claws. It succeeded in slicing through his heavy leather coat, woolen sweater, linen shirt, and cotton undershirt. However, the slash that would have ripped his chest cavity open stopped short. The Tarasque pulled its claw back, the leather cover a book was caught on the tip of its claws. Gideon was in shock, half shocked by not being disemboweled and half shocked at realizing the dragon had just ruined a book (hidden between his coat and sweater for safe keeping) that he had not gotten the chance to read.
"You bastard!" Gideon exclaimed, standing up pointing an accusing finger at the Tarasque who was chewing on the end of its claw. "You ruined my book!"
The remains of Gideon's book fell to the Paris streets and into the muck, but Gideon failed to notice. Furry chest bared to the winds, Gideon challenged the dragon. The dragon, not used to its prey retaliating, took several steps backwards. The scales on its back rose in fright as its tail slid between its legs.
Gideon reached into his coat to pull out his handgun. Instead, he pointed a copy of The Hunchback of Notre Dame at the Tarasque.
"Uh-oh," he said. The Tarasque reached its paw and sent the book scattering through the air in a thousand pieces. In horror, Gideon froze, still holding a corner of the book pointed at the Tarasque's snout as bits of paper fell like snowflakes around him.
His bovine nature was again dismissed as Gideon decided to show his poultry and rodentia qualities and turned chicken and badgered off down the streets of Paris. Doggedly the Tarasque pursued him.
Gideon's hoof beats could be heard echoing down the narrows streets, barely distinguishable from the thundering footfalls of the Tarasque.
Gideon ran like he hand never ran before. He was thankful for his bovine endurance and thigh muscles. A human would have been caught by now or would have just collapsed. Behind him he could hear the Tarasque snort and snarl, and ever further back he could hear Father Liam and Margolo Blu screaming and clamoring.
As he ran, Gideon's mind ran too, running through ever detail on the slaying of the first Tarasque. He had to remember, how did St. Martha kill this beast, how did she over come it? What on heaven and earth did this nun do that Gideon couldn't do?
&&&
For a few precious seconds Gideon has lost the Tarasque. Apparently minotaurs have better brakeage than dragons, and while Gideon was ability with minimal sliding make a sharp turn, the Tarasque slid pass and into trash cans and a building.
His throat drying and his mind quivering, Gideon removed the long scarf from around his neck. The scarf was at least eight feet long and could stretch even more so. If memory serves him right and if the legend is true, this should work.
"For Mari and for Quasimodo," Gideon said under his breath as he prepared himself.
"Over here you fat bastard!" he shouted out as he heard the dragon move around in the alley. "Come and get me fat ass! You heard me!"
The dragon snarled. If this was from offense, Gideon was not sure, but he damn well knew the dragon was pissed off.
The dragon slowly stalked into the alley. Standing at the end of the alley was a minotaur, bedraggled, sweaty and wet, his coat and shirts in strips. He held a knitted scarf in his hands like a whip.
The Tarasque charged, its mouth opened, exposing two layers of glistening white teeth.
This is it Gideon, you stupid bastard. Gideon thought and was pretty sure the Tarasque was thinking too.
The dragon was barely as split second away when Gideon slid under it. The end of his scarf wrapped around the tip of the dragon's snout, and the natural sliminess of the street proved to be quite effective as an accelerator. Gideon kept gaining speeding until the scarf could stretch no more, and on recoil he was yanked back to just under the Dragon's belly, right under its hind legs and tail.
Dragon snarled and reared, the scarf tightly wrapped around its snout like a noose. Despite the weak bond that held it, the Tarasque seemed unable to fight back, like a horse that has been lasso. It kicked and snarled, but otherwise remained in one place.
Margolo and Farther Liam rounded the corner. Margolo let out a gurgled cry, thinking Gideon was going to be crushed by the dragon's flailing hind legs. Aiming his right hoof at a particular part of the dragon's anatomy, Gideon gritted his teeth in concentration and prayer, the words hissing through his teeth in Latin. Then as hard as his body would allow he kicked the dragon right straight in the—
The snarl escaping the dragon's throat went up several octaves.
Father Liam winched and looked away. "Oh, right in the glivvers"
Like a horse shot the head the dragon stumbled then fell over on to its side, whimpering. Moments later it was still.
"Ah ha! Call me Sir Gideon the Dragon slayer!" Gideon cheered, jumping up. A dark green streak of muck streaked up Gideon's back and his clothes was in tatters, but nether less, Gideon proceeded to dance in the alleyway. Margolo and Father Liam were left more breathless than the dragon.
"How did you do that?" Father Liam exclaimed. "How the hell did you slay a dragon?"
"Easy!" Gideon exclaimed as he danced. "Books! I remember from the story of Saint Martha and the Tarasque that she was able to subdue the beast by wrapping her sash around its neck, thus leading it to the town square where it was beheaded. Numerous other resources state that water dragons cannot stand the weight of any binding around their heads or necks."
"Once again the pen has proved to be mightier than the sword," Gideon said, raising his hands in some strange gesture.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure it was that kick to the—" Father Liam said, feeling sick to the stomach. Margolo elbowed him in the stomach.
"It's almost morning," Margolo said, ignoring the background noises of a huffing dragon and an excited Gideon. A slash of red split the sky open like a sore.
"You're right," Father Liam said standing beside her looking upward. "Reminds me of a butt, a real nice one, nice and strong, possibly Cuban."
(He's referring to a Cuban cigar. Nice play on words, huh?) ;)
"We better stop by the church and tell them to come pick this thing up," Margolo said. "They'll be pretty pleased that no civilians were hurt and no monuments were destroyed, and they're sample's in one piece."
"What a life," Father Liam said, holding his as if he was holding a burning cigar.
"Yours or mine?" Margolo asked, smiling.
"All of ours, every freakin' person on this planet," Father Liam said. "Our lives are no different than the lives of all the other people on the planet."
After a comment like this Father Liam would have reached down and lit up a cigar which he seemed prepared so to do; he had his hand in his coat pocket, ready to take out his cigar and light them. Sighing, he held his lighter up—the one he received from a Haiti voodoo priestess as payment—to the sky.
"You want to get go get some coffee and pastries at one of those riverside cafes? After the Vatican comes to get the dragon?" Margolo offered, pulling down his arm.
"Sure," Father Liam said apathetically. But deep inside that rough hewn exterior, Margolo Blu knew Father Liam appreciated the offer. "But no pastries, recent studies from London say all the grease in those can kill."
"Sure, whatever," Margolo said, taking Father Liam's arm. They head down the streets of Paris, the streets drying with the morning light.