Chapter Two: First Fight
The wind raced through the nearly-deserted streets in gusts, sending leaves and assorted debris skittering across the cobblestones, swiping the hats and scarves of any who dared to brave the chill of Bucharest's autumn. Weathered wooden signs swayed in the wind, the chains holding them over the doors screeching as metal links ground against each other.
Egil Swenhaugen's stormy eyes scanned the horizon, narrowing slightly against the frigid wind. His bulky trench coat flapped and swayed in the breeze, but he took no notice of it. He was on a mission, and nothing would distract him from what he needed to do.
His nostrils flared slightly as his animalistic senses went to work; he caught the scent of the man he was looking for-and quite a few others as well, both male and female, mostly inhuman. His face remained a stoic mask, but a tiny glimmer of triumph flickered in his eyes. He was so close…
Now, if there's any one place they went, it would be an inn. Where is it..?
As he scanned the horizon again, something caught his eye-a building towards the end of the road, one that appeared to be an inn. The scent trail seemed to continue in that direction, heightening the chances that the one he sought was there, at that inn. With no change in his icy expression, he set off towards the small building at a steady, assertive lope, his hands slipping into his duster, checking his firearms holsters, making sure not a one was missing. He wasn't sure exactly how these…negotiations, for lack of a better term, were going to go…but nothing wrong with having a backup plan in case of emergency, at least not in his opinion.
Thor's hammer, I really hope this doesn't end as a free-for-all, he mused gruffly. Those are quite messy, not to mention such a waste of time-
His musing was cut short when he noticed a female in the window near the inn's front door, her curious gaze directed at him. She was young, no older than seventeen or eighteen, if that, but quite pretty, with brown hair that had an auburn tinge to it, and a small, slender frame. Temporarily ignoring her curiosity, Egil picked up the pace until he made it to the inn's door. He grasped the knob and yanked the door open, coming in from the blustery autumn air. The young woman-who looked to be a maid, judging by the worn, threadbare dress and apron she wore-turned to face him.
"I'm searching for Gabriel Van Helsing," Egil told her. His voice was deep, icy, and gruff, rich with a clipped Norwegian accent. "Tell him I desire an audience with him."
The girl nodded, directing him to a table. "Have a seat, sir. I shall go get him for you."
She disappeared up the stairs at the rear of the tavern, and returned a few moments later half-ushering, half-dragging a bemused Van Helsing by his wrist. "Begging your pardon for being so forward," Egil heard the girl apologize. "But the gentleman over there-" She gestured in Egil's direction. "-Wishes to have an audience with you."
Egil watched the woman curiously as she approached. Something about her aura was puzzling him-not only was it inhuman, but it was arcane as well.
I wonder what she is…she definitely isn't human, any fool can see that-
But, once more, his internal musings were cut off as Van Helsing approached the table, the puzzlingly inhuman young woman now lingering a respectful distance behind him. The legendary hunter's hazel eyes were locked on Egil, eyeing him in a gauging, perhaps even slightly distrustful way. The Norwegian mercenary offered a glare in return, conveying that he was in no mood for doing anything other than getting down to business.
"So," Egil drawled coolly. "Are you ready to talk, Van Helsing?"
He gave no response; he only pulled out a chair and sat, still eyeing Egil. He waited for a moment, waiting for Van Helsing to sit down all the way, before speaking once more. "I heard you are after Count Dracula, King of Vampires. Am I correct?"
"Might we know your name first, sir?" a female voice asked out of nowhere. Egil's head swerved until he noticed a ginger-haired woman, older than the first girl by a few years, standing behind Van Helsing. His eyes narrowed hostilely at the newcomer as his aggravation spiked; so much for getting down to business, as he had planned.
Then again, his mind protested, at least they're on their toes somewhat. I was beginning to question some of their level of competence.
"I suppose there's no harm in the request," he replied, his tone bored as he placidly folded his hands together. "My name is Egil Lars Swenhaugen, but you may call me Egil."
The ginger extended her hand, her brown eyes locked onto his stormy ones, almost as if she was trying to penetrate his cold eyes and stoic demeanor. "Lexa Goering. A pleasure to meet you."
"Egil, then," Van Helsing said, speaking to the mercenary for the first time. "Now, you seem to want to talk about something. What is it you wish to talk about? And, to answer your question, I am hunting Dracula, King of the Undead."
Egil had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Of course you are, all mighty Van Helsing. If you weren't, I'd have to have a little "discussion" with my sources.
"I possess some knowledge that might be of interest to you. It concerns Dracula…and his plans." He paused, making sure he had effectively ensnared the hunter's attention. "Intrigued at all, Van Helsing?"
"What's in it for you, telling us what you supposedly know?" Lexa cut in, leaning on Van Helsing's chair. "How do we know you're being honest with us?"
Van Helsing continued to observe Egil, his face just as unreadable as that of whom he was observing. It wasn't that he didn't trust Egil-it was merely that he was getting a strange feeling from the man.
But he has information about Dracula…information that could end his reign, his mind reasoned. Information that could get Catherine out of that damned castle before someone wises up to her crazy scheme!
"Am I intrigued?" he asked slowly, rhetorically. "Yes, I'm intrigued. But I have to agree with Lexa-what's in it for you, revealing this information?"
Egil rested his icy glare on Lexa, making her shiver involuntarily. "If you are worried about me being an accomplice of Dracula, just mention my last him to him and he'll go into a raging hissy fit. The Swenhaugen family was never on good terms with the vampire king, and neither was he with us." He paused, and after a moment, a hint of a smirk curled his lips. "As for what I can gain by this…well, let's just wait and see about that, shall we?"
Lexa gave a small, rather cold laugh. "A little cocky, don't you think?"
"Wench, I've been cocky since the day I popped out of my mother's womb. You better get used to it."
"Well, then, I guess we shall determine what it is you want at a later date, now won't we?" Van Helsing cut in, lacing his fingers together. "But, in the meantime…what is this information of yours?"
The smirk left Egil's face, and he took on a more professional air once more. "From my resources, I managed to glean where Dracula and his mates are cached in." He paused, eyeing them, making sure they were paying attention. "They are currently residing in a castle near the Alps, inside the Eiger, a treacherous mountain in the Swiss region."
Van Helsing's eyebrows rose slightly. "The Alps? Huh…I would've thought-"
He stopped then, as if he'd thought better of what he was about to say. Egil wondered if he had been about to voice something that he shouldn't be saying; the mercenary opened his mouth to voice a caustic comment, but stopped short. A prickling, foreboding sensation made its way down his spine, radiating outwards until it washed over him completely. There was danger, it was close…and it was unnatural danger, too. Already steeling himself for a battle, he pulled out a revolver, cocking it for an impending fight.
"Something's coming," he muttered to Van Helsing, Lexa, and the as-yet unnamed girl. "Something unnatural…evil…Be on your guard, for the menace draws near."
Van Helsing's wolfish hazel eyes darted around the tavern at Egil's words, and he slipped a revolver from the holster at his waist. Minutes ticked by, and the group remained in tense silence, waiting for something to happen…
Two things happened at once: A shriek rang out upstairs, and the window near them shattered as something crashed through it. In a flash of pale skin, brunette hair, and gauzy, midnight-blue cloth, one of Dracula's brides landed on the table, fangs bared in a savage hiss. Her midnight-blue eyes had a reddish tinge to them, and yet, at the same time, they sparkled in what appeared to be admiration and delight as they landed on Van Helsing. He couldn't help but inwardly breathe a sigh of relief when he saw which bride it was he, Lexa, and Egil were facing.
Much to their luck, it the false bride, the one undercover for their own little band, at great personal risk: None other than Van Helsing's younger sister, Catherine Van Helsing.
"Hello, Gabriel," she hissed. Her voice was dripping with contempt and suppressed rage, but she winked surreptitiously at her brother. "I see our paths are fated to cross again…and hello to you, too, Lexa…"
It was then that she noticed Egil at the table with Van Helsing and Lexa. She turned to see him, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "And who the Devil are you-?"
She never received her answer, for suddenly, Dracula dropped from the ceiling, his eyes flashing a vivid, electric blue. He quickly relieved Van Helsing of his crossbow, watching in delight as the hunter, now deprived of his weapon of choice, retreated.
"Ah, Gabriel," he drawled, smiling darkly. "How good to see my brother-in-law again. You know…you're all being quite selfish, ruining our honeymoon with the kidnapping and manipulation. Catherine's been very upset."
He untied his cloak, casting it aside with a bit more panache than usual. A mocking leer played out on his pale face as he pranced forward aggressively, and only widened as the hunter retreated once more. Dracula's fangs descended ominously, a mocking invitation, a sign of a challenge.
"What's wrong, Gabriel? Has your friend Lucien deserted you already?"
He stopped, listening to something from upstairs, though his eyes were still locked on Van Helsing. His words came in a loud, commanding tone. "Alyssa…do not touch her, she is not worthy pray. Go, take Catherine and Alex with you, to the Valerious residence. I have some unfinished business with Lucien." And then, his attention was back to Van Helsing once more; he stepped forward again, his foe retreating in return. "Are you going to keep running away? You've been dying to see me, haven't you, Gabriel?"
Having seen Dracula come in, Catherine leapt gracefully from the table, leaving Egil behind and sauntering up to Dracula, putting an arm around his waist. She swallowed back the bile of revulsion rising in her throat, keeping her bride-of-Dracula-esque façade.
Push those feelings deep, Catherine, she scolded herself. Push them deep. Can't blow your cover now…
"Too true, my lord," she purred sycophantly. "He has ruined our reunion, what with taking Quinn and putting you and Alyssa out like that…"
Egil rolled his eyes in disdain. Trust Dracula and his simpering brides to make a flamboyant entrance. Honestly, that demon hasn't changed at all.
At the same time, Egil cocked his revolver, aimed at Catherine, and fired. The bullet tore into her left arm, shattering the bone with a resounding crack and evoking a shriek of pain from her lips. The slight scent of burning flesh reached Egil's nostrils, as the silver reacted with the vampiric curse in Catherine's blood-thought, strangely enough, it wasn't as strong a scent as it usually was with a vampire. Either way, a grim smile found its way across Egil's face as the intoxicating thrill of adrenaline, brought on by the fact that there was a vampire before him simply waiting to be hunted, started to pump through his blood. He cocked his revolver, firing again and again, shooting a round of bullets at Catherine, relishing her screams as silver bullets tore into her flesh.
Behind those pained shrieks, Catherine's frustration was building. Finally, she sprang forward, hitting the mercenary head-on, taking him to the floor (and sitting on his chest to keep him pinned). Her sapphire eyes, swirling with a carmine color, blazed with anger.
"Fool!" she snarled irefully. "You'll pay for that! No one-I repeat NO ONE-dares to shoot Catherine Dragulia and gets away with it!"
And, dwelling only momentarily how bizarre "Catherine Dragulia" sounded in her ears, as opposed to the familiar old "Catherine Van Helsing", she proceeded to bear her fangs and slap Egil soundly across the face.
Egil felt the pain of her hand colliding with his face shoot up his jaw, spreading like fire. But, being no stranger to pain, he quickly severed all ties with agony, then proceeded to shove the enraged bride off of him with a brusque kick to her ribs. As she recovered from the kick and scrambled to her feet, Egil holstered his weapon and adopted a defensive, almost animalistic stance, much to Catherine's bemusement. His grin only grew wider.
"And no one, my dear, assails a Swenhaugen unscathed." He shifted his weight, resting now on the balls of his feet. "And that is a lesson many learn quite painfully."
He pounced for her, and as he did…he started to change. Muscles throughout his body stretched and shifted as his body took on a new, unusual shape. Both his fair skin and platinum hair darkened to a sable shade, and similar-colored fur sprouted to cover his body. Human hands and feet morphed into feline paws, while his face became more feline, with a sloping brow, feline snout with sharp, lethal canines, and gleaming yellow eyes with vertical pupils.
He had lunged as a human. He came down (missing Catherine by mere inches as she dived out of the way) as a sleek, swift black panther.
Catherine couldn't help but gawk momentarily as she dove to avoid being mauled by a panther. She couldn't believe it-he was a shapeshifter!
Fascinating…she thought to herself. I mean…I've heard about them in Grandfather's diary, but I've never been this close to one…Although…he's going to be surprised by my next little…trick…
"That is a wonderful trick, Mr. Swenhaugen," she purred coolly, masking her curious surprise. "But I'm afraid you've rather underestimated me. A panther can hardly injure a normal vampire as it is, and guess what? I'm not a normal vampire!"
The muscles of Catherine's back tensed and contracted, while a smirk curled over her rose-colored lips. With a slight tearing noise, her wings burst forth in all their gray-feathered glory, pushing out from the holes already ripped in the back of her dress.
"Won't this be an interesting battle?" she asked coyly.
Egil flexed his powerful claws, growling his agreement. He was a bit surprised at the sudden appearance of Catherine's feathery wings; clearly, she was no ordinary bride of Dracula. Hm, a fallen angel? First time I've witnessed one of those.
"Don't disappoint me," Egil commanded in a low, velvety growl, pausing a moment before pouncing at Catherine once more. She avoided his attack by jumping up and grabbing the ceiling beam, waiting until he had landed on all fours before dropping back down to the floor. Egil turned, his stance defensive; he was ready to fight again.
"Hmm…you're a pretty good fighter," she mused, shifting into a more defensive stance himself. "Mind telling me the name of my opponent? I should like to know, just so I can say I had the pleasure of fighting you-and defeating you, should I get that chance…"
She's a plucky one, considering the other wenches Dracula usually chooses, Egil thought to himself in regards to Catherine's saucy comment. His tail swished in amusement, his sleek, feline body poised and alert.
"Certainly. What harm is there?" He dipped his head forward, tantamount to a mock bow. "Egil Lars Swenhaugen is the name. Hunting and killing is the game. Pleased to meet you, Catherine, bride of Dracula."
"Egil, then," she said. "Glad to see that I have the fortune of battling a gentleman, unlike some people I know-" She shot Van Helsing the nastiest of glares, but, at the same time, the tiniest of grins. "And I am pleased to meet you too, Mr. Egil Swenhaugen."
A gentleman, eh? How regaling. "Tell that to your groom," Egil growled, circling with Catherine, muscles tense, his burning yellow gaze never leaving her defensively-positioned form. "He'll burst into a neurotic tantrum while cursing the Swenhaugen name."
"Will he now?" Catherine retorted, taking careful, measured steps backwards as she and the shapeshifter continued to circle. "And what is it you Swenhaugens have done to anger my master so?"
We're equals in battle, she realized as they kept circling. The question is…who will move first?
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Egil quipped, analyzing the fallen angel-vampire hybrid's every move as they stalked. "I'm certain the oh-so-grand count has an impeccable memory of us."
It was then that he saw it: The brief but conspicuous flare in her crimson-flecked azuline eyes, brought about by a mention of her connection to Dracula. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but Egil's keen eyes-as well as a knack for perceiving deception-picked up on it right away.
Perhaps I can use this to my advantage later…
"Well, after this little battle of ours is over, I shall ask him," Catherine retorted, as the two kept circling. "You know, Egil, we cannot continue to circle like this until Kingdom come. One of us has to move eventually…the only question is will you be the man and make a move first, or will I have to make the first move?"
"Chivalry is dead, Catherine, and has been for centuries. So do your worst, I'm a patient man."
Catherine sighed, sounding a little disappointed. "Maybe not so much a gentleman as I thought. Fine then. Since you've invited me to do my worst, I shall do my worst."
She lunged at him, commencing the battle. One step ahead of her, Egil sprang up, his massive paws regressing into human hands to grab the ceiling beam over his head. At the same time, his hind legs metamorphosed, becoming human once more and delivering a powerful kick to Catherine's face; she stumbled and fell from the impact. Egil's hands released the beam, and he metamorphosed as he fell through the air, landing as a panther.
He's quick, Catherine thought as she sprang to her feet, shifting her jaw back into place. And a clever fiend, too, I'll give him that. But I'm not giving up that easily.
Repeating his move, Catherine jumped up and grabbed a ceiling beam, avoiding another attack from Egil. But she didn't jump over him, as would have been anticipated of her…she let go of the beam and landed on Egil's back, rolling him to the ground as she did. She settled herself on his underbelly, pinning him to the floor, a devilish smile curling her lips.
As he realized that she was just as shrewd as he was, the adrenaline pumped harder in his veins, further stimulating his animalistic senses. His panther form began to melt away, reshaping itself into that of a python, and then proceeding to constrict himself around Catherine, cutting off circulation. Sputtering, she clawed at his scaly hide with sharp nails, trying to force him to slacken his grip. Her struggling only convinced him to tighten his hold; he nuzzled his head against the nape of her neck in a pleased manner as she struggled fiercely.
And then…he began his death squeeze.