Chapter 13: Doubts and Suspicions

The corpse spasmed as Hector's magic worked and it came into the form of a demon. He stepped back as it instinctively lashed out and crawled off of the table. He waited until it calmed down somewhat and then he stepped forward and laid his hand on its cheek to calm it. The demon panted for a few moments.

And then Hector smiled. He walked away as it fell into form and walked off to join the others.

He was surprised, however.

'A new night creature,' Carmilla remarked from one of the doorways. 'Amazing. Hector, may we speak?'

Hector didn't react but instead moved about cleaning up. 'Well, I can't stop you from speaking to me.'

Carmilla stepped into the room.

'You're vampire aristocracy, after all,' Hector pointed out. 'I'm a simple human.' He looked at his hammer.

'Your skills are a legend,' Carmilla told him. 'Our kind has never produced a forgemaster.'

'Well, you didn't have to. Before the war night creatures were...simply a species in hiding.' He looked down mournfully at the tools of his trade. Poor things. 'They either reproduced naturally or were created by acts of wild magic. Now they are soldiers. Their numbers have to be replenished. You didn't need forgemasters until now.'

Carmilla chuckled. 'But your intellect cannot be denied.' She moved forward.

Hector ignored the surge of pride he felt at that statement. He turned away from her. 'If you say so.'

'I do,' Carmilla said. 'And Dracula himself clearly agrees. He listens to you.'

'As much as he does to Isaac. Which is, frankly, not much.'

'I believe you are actually worried about Dracula.' Carmilla moved closer and folded her arms.

Hector turned away from her and put the hammer down. He let out a sigh. 'I am. It's...not like him to be indecisive. The fire in him has gone out somehow.' He brushed his hands over the bloodstains on his forging table. 'It's as if we're looking at the embers of a man.'

Carmilla turned. 'There are things we can do that don't require his decisions.'

Hector scoffed and straightened up to look at her. 'Oh, I doubt that.'

She met his gaze. 'There are.' She turned to face him and leaned on the table. 'It means nothing to the war effort if we sent a group to the Belmont home to begin a search for their Hold.'

As Little Caesar hopped up on his leg, he looked down. He briefly considered it as he crouched down to the puppy. 'Why are you so fascinated by that?'

'If anyone in all the world has tools or magic who can harm our Lord Dracula, it is in the Belmont Trove. We need to ensure it does not fall into the wrong hands. Simple.'

Hector patted the puppy as he considered. He'd heard talk of the Belmonts, of course, but he had no idea what about them scared the vampires so much. Besides, if there was only one left...what harm could one man bring upon an entire vampire army. Still, if it would set their minds at ease, he supposed so. 'All right.' He put Little Caesar down. 'This is logical. I agree to that, but Dracula must approve the dispensation of troops.'

Rather than agreeing, Carmilla simply walked over to his desk. 'How did you come to be in his service?' she asked without turning to face him.

'I met him over a year ago, when he was travelling. He sought me out, you know.'

'Did he really?' Carmilla asked as Little Caesar trotted over and looked up at her.

'I was living in the East of Rhodes,' Hector said. 'Very quietly.'

Carmilla crouched down and patted the dog. He felt encouraged on seeing that.

'He'd heard of me from scholars in town, and looked for me specifically.' He gave a light chuckle. 'We talked for hours. After his wife died, he came to me, asking for my help.' He let out a breath. 'Can you imagine? A man like that, asking a human for help? He was a giant,' he let out another breath, 'only a year ago. But now...'

Carmilla walked back over to the table and paused. She changed the subject. 'It was my understanding that when a forgemaster reanimates a thing, it has total loyalty to the forgemaster and his goals.'

'It does,' Hector said.

Carmilla moved to his side, coming close enough for him to smell her perfume. 'Make some troops that you can trust completely with whatever they find, and then help me convince Dracula to attack Braila.'

Wallachian Countryside

Trevor leaned back, watching the sky.

Sypha glanced over at him. He seemed so unbelievably bored. Or perhaps he was depressed. He was, after all, going to the ruins of his old home. Last time he'd been there...well, she couldn't imagine it was bringing back too many fond memories. Suddenly he made a sound of interest and sat up.

Sypha was surprised as he pointed to something off to the left and she looked. It just seemed to be an extremely large tree. Apparently, that was what he was looking at.

'That's my tree,' he said. 'I used to play in that tree. We're near the house.'

Of course, that explained why it'd gotten his attention. It was most likely one of the few fond memories he had.

'It's...' Sypha hesitaed, 'hard to imagine you playing.'

'Yeah,' he said softly. 'I suppose so.'

She looked back at him.

There was a sad smile on his face. 'It was everything, that tree. It was my house and my boat and my fort. Anything I wanted it to be.'

Which meant, before the church had beset his family, Trevor's childhood was rather normal, demon hunting aside. He'd been a thoroughly ordinary boy with a mother and a father and a home, who'd played and imagined things. The only thing extrodinary about him back then was that he was born into a family of demon hunters.

Trevor turned and murmured, 'Goodbye, tree.'

And that...well, it really broke Sypha's heart a little.

It was a scent that got Alucard's attention.

As soon as Sypha stopped the cart, he hopped out and sniffed again. It was a strangely pleasant smell but, at the same time, it put his instincts on high alert. Alucard looked around as he walked around the cart. He paused when he saw Belmont fold his arms and smile wryly as he watched somebody approach.

It was a woman, walking towards them and away from the burnt-out and hollowed Belmont home. She was easier an inch or so shorter than Belmont with long blonde hair and the same blue eyes he had. There were several weapons strapped to her and the Belmont crest was emblazoned on the sash she wore around her waist and it was also a golden pendant that hung around her neck.

The odd smell was coming from her.

'Yvette,' Belmont said. 'How long did you beat us by?'

'Not long.' She spoke with only the faintest hint of a French accent. That was when Alucard realised who she was and why she smelt the way she did.

'Interesting,' he remarked. 'I was under the impression that Slayers only lasted a handful of years. You must be at least two hundred years old.'

'Close enough.' Yvette studied him. 'And you must be the dhampir.' She then looked at Sypha and smiled before holding up some unlit torches. 'Trevor told me you're a Speaker Magician. Any good with fire?'

With a wry smile, Sypha lit them.

Yvette chuckled. 'Very good with fire.'

That was how they ended up walking into the remains of the homestead with the torches, following Yvette.

'This was your home?' Sypha asked Belmont.

'Yeah,' Trevor said.

'You grew up here?' Sypha looked around and examined a blackened stair railing.

'Yeah.'

'I can't imagine what it was like to grow up in a single place,' Sypha remarked.

'It was...' Trevor hesitated as he watched Yvette slam her torch into the ground before she started shifting debris. 'It was fine.' He brushed his hand over a wall. 'Wasn't the worst way to grow up.'

'How old were you when your family home was taken?' Alucard asked.

Trevor let out a puff of air. '13...14, something like that.'

'13,' Yvette said as she pushed another slab of debris out of the way. She paused and looked back at him. Then shook her head. 'I was going to ask if you really don't remember, but I realise that time period was probably really blurred for you.'

Trevor grunted and shrugged. 'Who remembers that sort of thing?'

'You've been on your own since you were 13?' Sypha asked.

Alucard imagined, as a Speaker, that must've been a horrifying concept for her. She was used to being surrounded by people. She'd have been raised to have a very strong sense of community and suddenly losing all of that...Alucard mused, '13?'

'Is there a point to these questions?' Belmont asked, irritation clearly coming over him as he stood up.

'I'm disturbed to find that I had more of a childhood than you did,' Alucard said.

'And your dad's fucking Dracula,' Trevor remarked.

All four of them began to chuckle at that.

'All right.' Yvette brushed her hands off. 'Here it is.'

The other three walked over and looked down at the stone slab. The golden paint was still intact and the Belmont crest carved into it was not even chipped. Alucard couldn't resist. 'Congratulations. You've just discovered a big piece of stone.'

'It's the door,' Trevor said flatly.

At the same time Yvette gave him a cheesy grin and then stepped forward. She stood over the slab and held a hand over the slab. She began to chant. It wasn't a long chant but it was fast and clearly a chant that she knew by heart, and in a language long-since dead. There was a bright blue glow that grew out of the symbol on the door before the stone slab vanished.

Yvette then stepped back and gestured to the descending staircase before them. 'Happy?'

Sypha smiled. 'I know that language. That was an Innocian Ward.'

'Well, we can hardly let just anybody wander down into the Belmont Hold, can we?' Yvette said.

'Well, well,' Alucard remarked. 'Naughty Belmonts, hunting all the terrible things of the forest but sitting on a magic door opened by a Cult Language.'

Yvette and Trevor both glared at him.

'Would you like to walk down these stairs or be thrown down them?' Yvette asked pointedly as Trevor started to descend himself.

'But you know that the word Teloch means "of death", right?' Alucard asked.

'Shut up,' Trevor told him.

'It's the Magical Door of Death, Belmont.'

'Are you coming or what?' Trevor asked impatiently as Yvette shoved Alucard down.