Title: Van Helsing 2: Shades of Gray

Author: Ayame

Disclaimer: The characters of Van Helsing are not my own. They are the creation of… well… of quite a few monster flicks, actually…

Rating: R, for future events.

Summary: For three years, the nightmares haven't ended. They continue to haunt his sleep with horrific visions of past battles, and past wounds. But now, they have only had new factors added to them. The death of Anna Valerious still on his mind as though it were an event that had taken place only yesterday, Van Helsing continues to do his work, hunting down what the Order has vied as evil. Oddly enough, the newest task that they have sent him on has been one in which he cannot find the evil they seek. As it turns out, the Holy Order knows neither the identity of this new foe, nor the gender, or race. Only that it is arising in a place the Van Helsing had thought to leave far behind: Transylvania. With events that take the friar, Carl, and the demon hunter throughout the country, beginning in the mysterious British Isles, and across the land to the foreboding realms of Transylvania, they find they must race against the clock, for this new evil seems to be on a strictly timed schedule. They meet with several people who seem to have the same goal in mind, destroying this unknown vice, as well as a mutual connection to the deceased Anna Valerious and her brother, Velkan, as they pull closer to their destination. As time passes, they find that even in death the Valerious Family has more to do with the uprising of powerful foe than would have been thought, and that the family line may not have been completely destroyed, as was first surmised. Nor was the evil that was connected to them…





╔╪Van Helsing 2 :: Shades of Gray╪╗


╓Chapter One╖

┌Omen┐

- Scotland -

The rain pressed into the atmosphere, thick and suffocating, clinging to the nooks and crannies of the world, proving to be as oppressive and disorienting as the fog that accompanied it. There was no lightning to illuminate the dark skies, but the distant rumbling that coursed its way across the heavens only promised the arrival of the chilling element. With the foreboding drone of the falling rain, came an unearthly silence, one that should not have been known to these parts. Even in dreary weather, there should have been the light stirring of outdoor animals seeking sanctuary from the tumult and onslaught of the downpour. That was the first thing that Carl had noticed.

By all accounts, the roadway which stretched ahead was unmistakably void of any passing travelers. Although it was only the early part of the evening, the unprecedented beginnings of a storm had plunged the remaining daylight hours into a premature midnight. It was difficult to see more than twenty paces ahead, and half that behind. He felt unnerved… and quite the fool.

"What am I doing out here? How do I get myself into these situations?" he muttered to himself, urgency and a slight slew of panic causing his voice to rise in pitch. He knew that talking aloud would do little to abstain the surmounting feeling of unease tricking down his nape and along his spine for being about in this unearthly weather, but he couldn't help it. After three years of traveling with Gabriel Van Hesling on his missions to rid the world of evils unseen by ordinary human eyes, one would think he'd be quite used to this type of atmosphere. After all, unnatural dangers had a tendency to lurk in dark places. About ready to mutter a curse under his breath, the friar sighed, before something on the ground caught his eye. Odd…

It should have been near impossible for him to spot whatever gave off that spark in the denseness of the fog that had wrapped itself around the area. But there it was: a soft glinting, reminiscent of the way coins reflect the sunlight through clear pools of water. Not even a single yard from his position, Carl shuffled toward it, squatting to get a better look. Whatever it was, it had disappeared once he had gotten closer to it. No… wait… there it was again. He had found that it was not an inanimate object at all. No… it was… light. Every so often there was a luminosity that seemed to pulse in a streaming line along the edge of the roadway, like a solitary beam with the thickness of a single strand of thread. It glittered and wavered, as though provoked by soft air currents, though Carl could sense no stir in the atmosphere. A crease forming across his brow, he moved his hand over and in front of the thread of light, only to find that it passed directly through the flesh, and continued its pulsing in and out of existence, fading from view every few minutes, and only remaining visible for a second or two. In the rain and the gloom, he had noticed it. But how had it caught his attention in the first place?

The rain soaking into the earth, visibly lightening to something more of a sprinkle, now forgotten, and the thunderous rumblings that had been voicing their sorrow above now quieted, Carl noticed that there was a new sound which had most likely been accompanying the first two. Similar to the pitter of the drizzle to anyone who wasn't as keen on sensing danger as he was, Carl felt the chill that had been working its way down his spine earlier now suddenly become freezing. What he heard beyond the droplets of precipitation was footsteps. No… not just footsteps, but the clicking of claws: something that should have been near impossible to hear on dirt roads that had been dampened by the water. And the smell… What had been an earthly scent of cleansing showers only moments ago was now replaced by the strong odor of… No… it couldn't be… Carl thought as he raised his head from examining the thread of light. Through the fog ahead, he could see neither shapes nor shadows, and looking behind him all was clear. The sound of something approaching, however, was growing louder, and the smell was distinctly sulphurous. A look of concentration drifting over his features, he let his light blue eyes rest on the view in front of him once more. Nothing. Squinting, he directed his gaze over his shoulder, remaining perfectly still, but his scrutiny only showed the same inspection as the one in front: nothing approached. Swallowing, he decided that now was the time that he get a move on, and stop dawdling on the side of a deserted road on a stormy evening.

Squaring his shoulders, he brought his gaze to the ground once more, only to find that the light he had earlier been focusing on was gone. Something else had taken its place: the paws of a dog. Moving his gaze from where his fingertips caressed the earth, he found canine paws covered by long shags of hair only inches to the left. As much as he loathed the idea, he forced his head to move, tilting his scrutiny slowly upward, to take in the front and hind legs, the shaggy black coat, the thick neck, the muzzle, and the eyes, which, contrary to what was seen in most dogs, were swirling circles of ocular flames. The smell was even stronger than before – nauseating – now that the appearance of the calf-sized creature had been made. As it directed its disturbing gaze at the man, it made no sound and it made no move. It was this silence, rather than the rigidity, that made this animal menacing.

"Nice doggy… I… I don't have any biscuits for you… but if you just keep going down the road…I'm sure I saw a cat over there…" Blistering oculars gave the illusion of pulsing flames as the friar cautiously started to rise to his feet, hands held out in a gesture that either meant he was unarmed, he was ready to fight to the death, or that he was about ready to have an incident that involved loosing control of the bladder. As he watched, it simply bared its teeth, releasing a pungent, foul odor, streams of saliva, and a crimson liquid which Carl had no desire to wait around and find out what it could possibly be. Whirling on the balls of his feet, he took off at a run, realizing exactly what the thread of light was now. It was a ley line: a channeled stream of earth energy which sometimes the marked territory of certain supernatural creatures. And the particular creature he now faced… err, ran away from? One of the fearsome black dogs of the British Isles.

The hound had taken pursuit, the clicking of its claws sounding loud against the soft earth as the canine apparition rushed after him. Breathing heavily, knowing the stories of how being touched or touching a black dog would curse a human with death only days afterward, the tawny-haired man didn't bother to glance over his shoulder and pray that he was winning in this race. Instead, he yelled.

"Van Helsing!! Why do I never like my part in your scheeeeemes?!"

As though on cue, the whirling sounds of the Tojo blades cut through the air, seeming to silence the rain, as well as the tapping of the dog's paws in pursuit of Carl. The friar had believed that the absence of those clicking claws meant that the dog had given up the chase. He was wrong when he saw, from the corner of his eye, a long dark snout dripping foam from the mouth and that crimson fluid, appear at his left shoulder. The absence of the tell-tale sound only meant that the mutt had leapt for Carl. With a scream, his arms went up in reaction as his entire body went down, knees buckling; but this was more of a fainting spell than any sort of reflex that was trained into him. As he fell, he saw one of the Tojo blades fly out of the fog and toward him, coming at a velocity that could be rated equal to flying bullets. The blade was meant for the dog, and it met its mark, but it met its mark with no sound. The mongrel did not land on top of or in front of Carl. It had apparently vanished. Breathing heavily, staring into the haze ahead of him, Carl stayed where he was for a few minutes.

The tall man seemed to materialize out of murk, features becoming visible like the unveiling of pieces from a jig-saw puzzle. He emerged, as dark and foreboding as the black dog that had been in pursuit of his sidekick, sauntering forward, one remaining Tojo still at ready, blade whirling with anticipation. Rugged, angular features partially masked by a handkerchief, long, unkempt, dark hair framing his face, topped by a wide-brimmed, black hat, his dark brown eyes darted from one area of interest to the next, quickly and efficiently assessing the situation. The coattail of his long, swarthy trench billowed behind him as though caught up in a burst of wind, though there was none of the sort to cause the action. Ebon boots, fall front trousers, shotgun chaps, butte hunting shirt, and waistcoat adorning the rest of his lean but robust body, making him look quite the lethal figure with the way he stalked forward from the grasping caresses of the surrounding haze; he moved with the purposeful ease of a prowling predator, only making his appearance all the more deadly. His dark eyes roamed the area quickly, in front and behind. But the tyke was gone now, and only Carl remained, getting rather clumsily to his feet, brushing himself off, and then going to stand next to the demon hunter. Breathing heavily, the cenobite started to speak rapidly.

"Van Helsing, we really need to talk about the tasks you have me do! I don't even get paid! The work is hard and dirty, and I always seem to get the part that involves being bait of some sort." As he spoke, he let his gaze drift about the area, following in suit with they eyes of the hunter. Despite the fact that the flea bag had vanished from human vision, the grating sound of its approach could be heard loud and clear.

"Sorry, Carl," Gabriel said casually as the remaining Tojo blade retracted back into the sleeves of his coat. Pulling open his jacket by the lapel, he reached into an inner pocket and removed a rather unique looking double-barreled pistol. Popping two bullets in – one in each barrel – bullets that seemed to pulse with some sort of strange energy, an invention that Carl was quite proud of, he snapped it closed and held it at ready, eyes scanning the horizon. "But I would have thought, as a man of God, you'd have loved doing this type of hands-on work, free of charge."

"But I'm a genius! Not a tasty rack of lamb!" changing the subject none to quickly, Carl continued to be as anxious as Gabriel was calm. "What kept you, anyways?"

"I'm sure to the dog, Carl, you would have been quite tasty." Glancing down at the friar, he patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry, my friend. I was delayed by a banshee." With that he spun around, long coat flying out with the movement, and was met head on by the black dog, which came leaping at them, eyes flaring, no growl of warning issued. Shoving Carl to one side, Van Helsing dodged, rolling slightly off the road, into the muddy grass, and let loose with one shot. A stream of sparks flew into the air, dissipating into the fog almost immediately. It was quite obvious that he had missed. Scrambling to his feet, he spotted the dog only a few feet behind him, whirling around, he aimed his weapon, ready to pull the trigger when the dog disappeared. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Carl shouting.

"Don't let it touch you! Whatever you do! Abate the ley line!" Running back onto the road, Gabriel spun around slowly, the notion of being hunted, rather than doing the hunting was all too familiar to him. He vaguely thought about how he had lost his hat in the first dodge, but that was something he was more than used to.

"Carl, where are you?" he spoke gruffly, wanting more to know the location of his friend, and that he was alright, more than anything else, but the friar didn't answer. Jaw setting into a determined line, he readied the gun just as he spotted the dog out of the peripheral of his vision. It leapt at him, and he dove into a rolling crouch, but when he became oriented, the creature was gone. This was by far one of the more difficult missions that the Order had sent him on. The black dogs of the British Isles had been terrorizing citizens for the better part of a century, and while many still believed them to be nothing more than folklore, they were proving to be a problem, causing those who had the displeasure of encountering them to dies shortly afterward. They were thought to be beasts of Hell, which explained the smell of sulfur that accompanied their appearance, the eyes of fire, and the blood of the victims which dripped from their mouths. They could disappear and reappear in different places at will, and were completely silent save the sound of their nails upon any surface.

Getting to his feet once more, he found the canine waiting for him, just a couple of yards away. Perfect leaping distance. And that's just what it did. With a silent snarl, it cleared the ground and Van Helsing took the opportunity to squeeze off another shot, aiming directly for the leaping dog. But it vanished again, the last bullet released into a haze as a dissipating spark of light. Cursing under his breath, Gabriel removed two more bullets from the inner coat pocked and unlocked the casing of the barrel, so that he might reload, but this action was interrupted by the reappearance of the dog, in the same position as before, continuing the leap that Van Helsing had so obviously failed to interrupt. Clenching his teeth, he let loose an impatient growl as he was forced to fall back into a ducking roll to avoid being pounced on. The action caused him to loose his grip on the remaining bullet that he had left to put in the gun, and the pistol itself, which slid, but not too far, on the mucky roadway. Letting out a sharp exhale, he shifted his position to a crouch where he could easily move from one side to the next without too much difficulty. But, much to his dismay, this only seemed to go in favor to the dog's cause, for now it stood in front of his crouched position, not even three inches from him.

Unarmed and at an apparent stalemate, Gabriel stared the dog down, positioned with one knee and both hands on the ground: a good enough posture for darting to the side, but most likely not good enough when it came to the black tykes of the British Isles. Those ocular flames bored into him as the jaws parting, its squalid breath enveloping Van Helsing's senses momentarily, blood and saliva dripping from its mouth and clinging to the sleeves and gloved hands of the demon hunter, in a thick and nauseating film. It seemed to grin at him, as though in anticipation of gaining another victim on its hit list. He only let his eyes leave the canine for a moment as he looked from side to side, trying to find exactly where the gun had disappeared to. It was to his right, not even half a yard away. The dog started to move closer, as though in a taunting action, but the dark-haired man remained solitary. That was when a ringing shot had sounded through the fog, and a bullet flew in between the three-inch gap between Van Helsing and the monster. The dog flinched visibly, as though it were a real canine, rather than a being of supernatural means. Taking the opportune moment, Gabriel darted to the side, coming just along side the discarded weapon. Letting his body-weight take him to the ground, he snapped the barrel closed, thankful that the bullet had stayed inside, and aimed, but not at the dog as it gained its senses and started toward him. His eyes were on the soft glinting just above the surface of the roadway, behind it. He cracked a smile and pulled the trigger.

Sparks of light seemed to crackle through the matted hair of the dog as it began to back up, a sharp yelping sound filling the air, but not really emanating from the dog. It shook its head from side to side, as though trying to clear its vision, or shake water from its ears. One paw reached up, rubbing at its muzzle as those eyes of flame began to flicker violently and then burst into flaring tendrils of fire. The white glow that had immersed the bullet with which the dog had been shot seemed to spread, much like the flames from its eyes, and cover the body. The creature staggered.

Getting to his feet, his hold on the gun he had never relaxing, not even for a minute despite the fact that it was spent of ammunition, he backed up a few paces as he watched the dog. Carl emerged from the fog, appearing out of breath, as though he ran to find Van Helsing. The friar had his hands over his ears, to block out the yelps and unearthly shrieks that had consumed the atmosphere as completely as the fog had done, looking like a sight in his rumpled brown robes. With a grimace, he stared at the dog as it shook its head more, and coughed silently, liquids of indistinct colors spilling from its mouth. The creature started to convulse, waves of white light pulsing across its body as it staggered from side to side. Gabriel only spent a few minutes more watching before he took his leave, moving off the road, and making sure there was a good deal of space between himself and his foe. "You might want to move back." He said quietly.

Carl had noticed this, but only a little too late, as his fascination with the creatures apparent demise kept his eyes focused on the mutt. The creature only convulsed a few more times before exploding, globs of hair, a milky white substance, and clots of a metallic smelling red liquid, along with tendrils of fire, radiated from the spot where it stood. With a startled shout, Carl stumbled and landed on his back, but could not avoid being pummeled by the excess that was sprayed into the air upon dissipation of the hound. There was a long silence shortly thereafter, and then, as though a cork had been unplugged from the world, sound whooshed back into the atmosphere. The fog rapidly cleared from the area, and the clouds drifted from the sky, showing the world in the early evening hours that it was supposed to be in.

Coughing, and making dismayed sounds as he tried to wipe the goop from his robes, Carl made a comical figure as Van Helsing approached and stopped on the edge of the now clear country road, untouched by any of the aftermath of an exploding mass of unearthly dog. Only bits of mud marred his appearance. Spotting his hat, he leaned over and picked it up. "I love it when they clean up after themselves." He spoke with an amused smile on his lips as he gazed at the ground, and took notice of the first Tojo blade that he had let fly. Moving toward it, he reached down and picked that up as well. Carl could only look down at his robes and frown, following in Gabriel's wake.

"Of course, you would." He muttered as he stared at Van Helsing, holding out the robes of his friar's garments, as though to make a point. Picking at a glob of mucus, he made a face before looking at Gabirel's arm and casually wiping it on him. Arching an eyebrow, the expression on the dark-haired man's face looking as though he were trying not to laugh, took in a short breath.

"Thanks." He said before letting his gaze drift toward the horizon of either side of the road. The sun had yet to set, and everything looked quite peaceful, birds flying through the air, and insects humming low to the ground near the grasses and flowers. Even the roadway where the black dog had once stood was vacant of any sign it had once been there. Carl, it seemed, was the only proof that something abnormal had been vanquished here.

"You're welcome. I thought I might share with you." With a tilt of his head, Van Helsing moved back onto the road and started down it, back in the direction of town. He stopped briefly, eyes drifting to the ground where he had thought he had seen that thin line of light. But, as of now, nothing could be found. With a shake of his head, he started walking again. The sky had cleared revealing the day that had been masked by a metaphysical menace. But even though their foe had been bested, there was something distinctly uneasy about the stir in the atmosphere. Perhaps the legends were true about these black dogs. A bad omen?

"Come on, Carl. Back to Rome."