Anna, My Beautiful, My Beloved
Van Helsing stared at the flickering flames. He could swear he could see Anna's face in the flames. He missed her, he had barely spent anytime with her, but he missed her. He missed her sad, girlish smile, her thick accent, the wave of her hair as it flowed to her shoulders. He missed everything about her.
Carl was busy preparing the evening's food rations and Van Helsing studied him for a moment before turning back to the flames. He watched them as they flickered up and down. The crackling noise of the fire was comforting to him and he watched as small bits of ash hit the grass.
He closed his eyes and leaned back on the grass, enjoying the heat from the fire. He could see the events rolling back through his mind, Dracula and Anna were the closest. Anna, his Anna. He allowed a small smile to come to lips as the memory of her comment about the sea, how she had never seen it, and how she thought it must be beautiful.
He wished she was still alive. If she was, he would have taken her to see the sea. Van Helsing wondered about what would have happened had she lived. Would she have stayed in Transylvania? Probably. Would they have stayed in touch? Probably not.
He knew that Anna was happy, in heaven, with her family. She was reunited with her brother, her father, and countless generations of the Valorous family. Anna had dedicated her life to destroying Dracula and it had boiled down to him doing it. Van Helsing had to finish what he had started.
What he had started. He blamed himself for Anna's death. If he had not killed Dracula nearly 400 years ago, he never would have been involved in Anna's death. Had he not allowed himself to be bitten by a werewolf Anna might have survived. Had he not been for forceful as a werewolf she would have survived.
He reached over and pulled a blanket over his body. He wished beyond all else to see Anna again. He could however, remember her. He saw her face clearly behind his eyelids as though she was right in front of him. He also knew that The Order had a photograph of her.
He would have to request it from the cardinal. Strike a bargain. He would continue his work in exchange for the photograph. It would give him some closure, he believed. For now he had the memory of her. He had, and always would have, the memory of her smile, her hair, and her smell.
He allowed his thoughts to drift backwards some. Yes, Anna had left an imprint on his heart. One that would never fade away. Anna was his beautiful. Anna was his beloved.
THE END