Title: The Thorns (2/?) A/N: Totally forgot to mention in my last note that I'm calling Frankenstein's monster "the wretch," as he is called in the original novel. So yeah, Frankenstein's monster is the wretch and the wretch is Frankenstein's monster. This chapter is big on dialouge and explaination, lacking with the action. But I outlay my theory on what the secret should have been/how the ending should have gone so it's worth reading, trust me! Even though I am a bit biased. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! Keep it coming people, you're all awesome.
He burst into the opening, breathless, his right hand clutching his rosary so tight the beads left an impression that would last for days. The only thing from that day that would last longer was the horror that seized Carl's heart.
Anna was crumpled on the floor, bleeding for a gash down her side. A huge black beast, something that Carl could only assume was Van Helsing, loomed over her, panting, a clawed hand clutching some cloth from her bodice. The thing turned to face Carl as the wretch thundered up behind him, letting out a small curse to God.
"I don't think you should say that," Carl whispered, fumbling for the weapon Van Helsing had given him either. "We need all the help from God that we can get."
"She's still breathing," the wretch muttered. Carl glanced over his shoulder at him and saw that he was bracing himself for combat.
"Don't," Carl said. "He would tear you apart."
The beast was stalking up and down now, behind Anna. His lips were pulled back, his fangs bared. He was shaking his head.
"But if she injected him with the antidote," the wretch argued, "he would be weakened greatly."
Carl leveled the silver weapon at the hulking form on Van Helsing. "I don't see it anywhere in him though, do you? She didn't get the chance." His hands were shaking almost violently and he did all he could to strengthen his resolve. He fingered the trigger. "I'm so sorry, Van Helsing. God forgive us."
He got Van Helsing in his crosshair. The beast faced him, and he drew himself up on his hind legs as he reared back and let out an unearthly roar. "Wait!"
The wretch threw himself against Carl, easily knocking the weapon out of his hands and the man onto the ground. Carl scrambled back up to his feet, his eyes blaring.
"What do you think you're doing? We cannot afford to waste time now!"
"I'm not wasting time!" the wretch bellowed. The wretch grabbed Carl by the collar, hoisting him up in the air and gesturing violently with his other hand. "Look!"
Gasping for air, Carl slowly struggled to move his head in the direction that the wretch gestured. Just feet away the beast had begun tearing at its own hairy chest with his claws. Layer by layer, his skin came off in thick slices, leaving his hands sticky with blood. The roar became louder, more tortured and then slowly more heart wrenching, more human. The beast collapsed to the ground, its back arched and seizing as his panted heavily. Van Helsing raised his canine head one more time and screamed before he fell flat to the ground.
The wretch slowly lowered Carl to the ground. The friar and the monster stood and stared as Van Helsing's breathing became more labored, shallower. "Maybe she did inject him after all," Carl speculated, beginning to tenderly walk towards where he had fallen.
Meanwhile, the wretch had made his way over to Anna. He cradled her head gently, checking her pulse. "Well, she's still alive," he said. "Though for how much longer I am not sure."
"Umm..." Carl quickly tried to figure out how to address the unholy creature behind him and came up with nothing. "I think you should come here."
The wretch softly laid Anna's head back onto the ground and limped over to Carl's side. "What is it?"
Carl looked up at the wretch with wide eyes. "It's a miracle." And then slowly, he drew back a layer of coarse hair to reveal a human again Van Helsing face down on the stone ground.
"Amazing," the wretch breathed. "Maybe I was wrong about the nature of the serum. It is implausible, but not impossible."
"I don't know," Carl said, checking to make sure that Van Helsing was in fact still alive. "I don't see it anywhere on his body."
"Let us turn him over and make sure," the wretch advised, and easily slid his arm underneath Van Helsing's prone figure and flipped him over. "Well, there is certainly no sign of the needle at least," he added, shaking his head.
Instead, Van Helsing's mouth was covered with blood. The wretch touched it experimentally. "It's very warm. Must be Anna's, not Dracula."
"Is he going to be okay?" Carl asked.
"I do not know," the wretch said sadly, shaking his head. But then he remembered and jerked up, crying out, "But Anna will not if we don't get her some medical attention, and soon! Come on," he said and easily scooped up both Anna and Van Helsing's unconscious forms, slung them over each shoulder and bounded out quickly. Crossing himself quickly, Carl hurried out after him.
"This is the best we can do for now," Carl said, looking around at the small amount of surgical supplies that surrounded them. "I've already sent a message to the Vatican. They should arrive shortly to give us the extra help we need." He looked at the wretch and shrugged. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave before they get here."
The wretch huffed. "Do not worry. I will not stay around to terrorize your priests and hypocrites."
Carl sighed. When the two weren't busy trying to stop Anna's bleeding and return Van Helsing to consciousness, the wretch had argued incessantly about religion and politics. Carl sensed that it was mostly because the wretch had never before had another person with which to argue, but after days of it, he wasn't as sympathetic.
Both Anna and Van Helsing had remained unconscious since being recovered from Dracula's castle. It looked like Anna was in a state of shock after loosing so much blood at the hands of Van Helsing, but they could not reason why Van Helsing wouldn't wake up. The wretch had said that it was best to just let him rest, calling it Ôspiritual exhaustion.'
Meanwhile, Carl had prayed at the bedsides of both of them nearly constantly while the wretch mostly stayed away, choosing to bury himself in countless archaic books about vampire lore. The wretch hadn't shared anything he read with Carl, and Carl decided not to ask.
"I hope you know that I'm only looking out for your safety," Carl sniffed. "If it was up to them, they would probably study you."
"Yes," the wretch growled, "as they study the rest of the monsters." He turned from Carl, and gazed down at Anna's prone form. "But it takes a monster to be able to help another monster."
"No one is calling you a mon- wait," Carl said. "What do you mean?"
The wretch turned to face Carl, an extremely rare smile distorting his face. "I have found something." He strode victoriously to a table where a book, withered and half-destroyed, sat, beckoning Carl to follow. "This book contained all the notes of my father." He touched the page longingly, fingering the burnt edges of paper. "I memorized all of its contents during my year in hiding. However, there were always some things whose meaning escaped me. But now, now it all makes sense."
"Would you please stop being so vague and let me know what's going on?" Carl demanded.
The wretch's upper lip pulled at the edges to resemble a sneer as he began flipping through the brittle pages carefully. "We know that Anna is of the same bloodline as Dracula, correct? And we also know that the only thing that could defeat Dracula is a werewolf. Despite this, Dracula was always very sure to have a werewolf close at hand."
"Yes," Carl said, frustrated. "But we all knew that. Dracula has the antidote to turn a werewolf back into a human should the werewolf step out of line."
"But why keep a werewolf at all?" the wretch questioned.
"Well, for protection, I suppose." Carl shrugged. He didn't see where the wretch was going with this line of questioning.
"But Dracula had his vampire brides as well as countless other followers for protection, never mind the fact that he was practically indestructible himself. In actuality," the wretch said triumphantly, "the werewolf proved to be more of a weak link than strong one. It's proven hard for Dracula to get total obedience from the creatures. So why keep them close?"
"But they do obey them, if not always completely," Carl argued. "And they're necessary because they can protect them during the day, when Dracula's vulnerable."
"But as it turns out, Dracula can only be hurt if he's actually out in the sunlight, not if he's awake during the daytime. So as long as Dracula stayed indoors, he is most assuredly safe."
"Fine." Carl huffed. "Why do you think he kept the werewolves so close?"
"I think that Dracula kept the serum much closer than we guessed," the wretch speculated. "I think he contained it inside of his blood."
"His blood?" Carl was now thoroughly confused. "Why would you think that?"
"Because of this," the wretch said, pointing to the page before him. It was covered in rushed, nearly indecipherable scribbles and handwriting. "It says that the two sub-races are linked intimately. My father writes about it as if they were two different viruses with the same origin. If one was to be infected with both, then the two strains would destroy each other and in turn kill the carrier."
"Which means?"
"If a werewolf was to bite a vampire, or vice versa, the creature would be destroyed."
"Ah." That made some sense to Carl. "Is that why only a werewolf could destroy Dracula?"
The wretch shook his head, thumbing through some more pages. "No, the strain inside of Dracula was the original, the most pure. Only the strength of a werewolf could destroy Dracula, not the werewolf's blood."
"If this idea of yours is true, then why isn't Van Helsing dead? You are saying that a werewolf that came into contact with such strong blood as Dracula would be destroyed, right?"
"Correct," the wretch said eagerly, "but the blood must be ingested or injected into the blood stream in order for there to be any effect. We can only assume that Van Helsing didn't do either of these things."
"So what does this have to do with Van Helsing and Anna, anyway?" Carl was thoroughly confused, his head spinning. "Anna isn't a vampire, so her blood couldn't have destroyed his werewolf strain. Besides, he's not dead."
"Yes, of course, of course," the wretch mumbled. "But look here!" He pointed violently to an intricate family tree that was sketched in Frankenstein's book. "My father documented extensively every branch of Dracula and Anna's family, which leads me to believe that the answer is in the bloodline. What if the family always had the antibody that fights against the werewolf strain, and the vampire virus only adds strength to the natural trait?"
"So you're saying," Carl said slowly, "that both Anna and Dracula were born with this trait in their blood?"
"I believe so, yes."
"But I still don't understand. If Anna's family has a natural vaccine against becoming a werewolf, then how come her brother became a werewolf? And again, Van Helsing isn't dead."
"Since both Anna and her brother were never vampires, their blood is natural to them and their bodies accustomed to it would have no effect of them. And, as I said before, their virus wasn't supplemented by vampire blood and therefore wasn't predatory or that strong. Ergo, Anna's blood would only destroy the werewolf blood and then destroy itself, without doing any damage to its host. Biting Anna and drinking her blood enabled Van Helsing to become human again, but also let him live."
"So Dracula keeps werewolves around..." Carl trailed off.
"Because they prove no threat to him, and they're the only way to destroy rogue vampires. They're good henchmen, and are easy to dispense of. Which explains his desire to rid the world of the Valerious's. They're the only ones who can cure werewolves and, arguably, with the right amount of Valerious blood, they would be able to have the werewolves under their control."
"So biting and ingesting Anna's blood cured Van Helsing," Carl mused. "Maybe that was the secret that Anna said her brother hinted at."
"I think it's only a matter of time now before Van Helsing wakes up," the wretch said, closing the book. "It's just a matter of when he decides to wake up."
"What about Anna?" Carl's brow furred, desperately worried for the woman. "She was bit by Van Helsing while he was a werewolf, obviously. Does that mean-?"
"Yes," the wretch said. "Her blood isn't able to fight it off when it invades her system. She'll succumb to the virus within a fortnight." He hung his head, adding sadly, "And there is no one left to heal her."
He burst into the opening, breathless, his right hand clutching his rosary so tight the beads left an impression that would last for days. The only thing from that day that would last longer was the horror that seized Carl's heart.
Anna was crumpled on the floor, bleeding for a gash down her side. A huge black beast, something that Carl could only assume was Van Helsing, loomed over her, panting, a clawed hand clutching some cloth from her bodice. The thing turned to face Carl as the wretch thundered up behind him, letting out a small curse to God.
"I don't think you should say that," Carl whispered, fumbling for the weapon Van Helsing had given him either. "We need all the help from God that we can get."
"She's still breathing," the wretch muttered. Carl glanced over his shoulder at him and saw that he was bracing himself for combat.
"Don't," Carl said. "He would tear you apart."
The beast was stalking up and down now, behind Anna. His lips were pulled back, his fangs bared. He was shaking his head.
"But if she injected him with the antidote," the wretch argued, "he would be weakened greatly."
Carl leveled the silver weapon at the hulking form on Van Helsing. "I don't see it anywhere in him though, do you? She didn't get the chance." His hands were shaking almost violently and he did all he could to strengthen his resolve. He fingered the trigger. "I'm so sorry, Van Helsing. God forgive us."
He got Van Helsing in his crosshair. The beast faced him, and he drew himself up on his hind legs as he reared back and let out an unearthly roar. "Wait!"
The wretch threw himself against Carl, easily knocking the weapon out of his hands and the man onto the ground. Carl scrambled back up to his feet, his eyes blaring.
"What do you think you're doing? We cannot afford to waste time now!"
"I'm not wasting time!" the wretch bellowed. The wretch grabbed Carl by the collar, hoisting him up in the air and gesturing violently with his other hand. "Look!"
Gasping for air, Carl slowly struggled to move his head in the direction that the wretch gestured. Just feet away the beast had begun tearing at its own hairy chest with his claws. Layer by layer, his skin came off in thick slices, leaving his hands sticky with blood. The roar became louder, more tortured and then slowly more heart wrenching, more human. The beast collapsed to the ground, its back arched and seizing as his panted heavily. Van Helsing raised his canine head one more time and screamed before he fell flat to the ground.
The wretch slowly lowered Carl to the ground. The friar and the monster stood and stared as Van Helsing's breathing became more labored, shallower. "Maybe she did inject him after all," Carl speculated, beginning to tenderly walk towards where he had fallen.
Meanwhile, the wretch had made his way over to Anna. He cradled her head gently, checking her pulse. "Well, she's still alive," he said. "Though for how much longer I am not sure."
"Umm..." Carl quickly tried to figure out how to address the unholy creature behind him and came up with nothing. "I think you should come here."
The wretch softly laid Anna's head back onto the ground and limped over to Carl's side. "What is it?"
Carl looked up at the wretch with wide eyes. "It's a miracle." And then slowly, he drew back a layer of coarse hair to reveal a human again Van Helsing face down on the stone ground.
"Amazing," the wretch breathed. "Maybe I was wrong about the nature of the serum. It is implausible, but not impossible."
"I don't know," Carl said, checking to make sure that Van Helsing was in fact still alive. "I don't see it anywhere on his body."
"Let us turn him over and make sure," the wretch advised, and easily slid his arm underneath Van Helsing's prone figure and flipped him over. "Well, there is certainly no sign of the needle at least," he added, shaking his head.
Instead, Van Helsing's mouth was covered with blood. The wretch touched it experimentally. "It's very warm. Must be Anna's, not Dracula."
"Is he going to be okay?" Carl asked.
"I do not know," the wretch said sadly, shaking his head. But then he remembered and jerked up, crying out, "But Anna will not if we don't get her some medical attention, and soon! Come on," he said and easily scooped up both Anna and Van Helsing's unconscious forms, slung them over each shoulder and bounded out quickly. Crossing himself quickly, Carl hurried out after him.
"This is the best we can do for now," Carl said, looking around at the small amount of surgical supplies that surrounded them. "I've already sent a message to the Vatican. They should arrive shortly to give us the extra help we need." He looked at the wretch and shrugged. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave before they get here."
The wretch huffed. "Do not worry. I will not stay around to terrorize your priests and hypocrites."
Carl sighed. When the two weren't busy trying to stop Anna's bleeding and return Van Helsing to consciousness, the wretch had argued incessantly about religion and politics. Carl sensed that it was mostly because the wretch had never before had another person with which to argue, but after days of it, he wasn't as sympathetic.
Both Anna and Van Helsing had remained unconscious since being recovered from Dracula's castle. It looked like Anna was in a state of shock after loosing so much blood at the hands of Van Helsing, but they could not reason why Van Helsing wouldn't wake up. The wretch had said that it was best to just let him rest, calling it Ôspiritual exhaustion.'
Meanwhile, Carl had prayed at the bedsides of both of them nearly constantly while the wretch mostly stayed away, choosing to bury himself in countless archaic books about vampire lore. The wretch hadn't shared anything he read with Carl, and Carl decided not to ask.
"I hope you know that I'm only looking out for your safety," Carl sniffed. "If it was up to them, they would probably study you."
"Yes," the wretch growled, "as they study the rest of the monsters." He turned from Carl, and gazed down at Anna's prone form. "But it takes a monster to be able to help another monster."
"No one is calling you a mon- wait," Carl said. "What do you mean?"
The wretch turned to face Carl, an extremely rare smile distorting his face. "I have found something." He strode victoriously to a table where a book, withered and half-destroyed, sat, beckoning Carl to follow. "This book contained all the notes of my father." He touched the page longingly, fingering the burnt edges of paper. "I memorized all of its contents during my year in hiding. However, there were always some things whose meaning escaped me. But now, now it all makes sense."
"Would you please stop being so vague and let me know what's going on?" Carl demanded.
The wretch's upper lip pulled at the edges to resemble a sneer as he began flipping through the brittle pages carefully. "We know that Anna is of the same bloodline as Dracula, correct? And we also know that the only thing that could defeat Dracula is a werewolf. Despite this, Dracula was always very sure to have a werewolf close at hand."
"Yes," Carl said, frustrated. "But we all knew that. Dracula has the antidote to turn a werewolf back into a human should the werewolf step out of line."
"But why keep a werewolf at all?" the wretch questioned.
"Well, for protection, I suppose." Carl shrugged. He didn't see where the wretch was going with this line of questioning.
"But Dracula had his vampire brides as well as countless other followers for protection, never mind the fact that he was practically indestructible himself. In actuality," the wretch said triumphantly, "the werewolf proved to be more of a weak link than strong one. It's proven hard for Dracula to get total obedience from the creatures. So why keep them close?"
"But they do obey them, if not always completely," Carl argued. "And they're necessary because they can protect them during the day, when Dracula's vulnerable."
"But as it turns out, Dracula can only be hurt if he's actually out in the sunlight, not if he's awake during the daytime. So as long as Dracula stayed indoors, he is most assuredly safe."
"Fine." Carl huffed. "Why do you think he kept the werewolves so close?"
"I think that Dracula kept the serum much closer than we guessed," the wretch speculated. "I think he contained it inside of his blood."
"His blood?" Carl was now thoroughly confused. "Why would you think that?"
"Because of this," the wretch said, pointing to the page before him. It was covered in rushed, nearly indecipherable scribbles and handwriting. "It says that the two sub-races are linked intimately. My father writes about it as if they were two different viruses with the same origin. If one was to be infected with both, then the two strains would destroy each other and in turn kill the carrier."
"Which means?"
"If a werewolf was to bite a vampire, or vice versa, the creature would be destroyed."
"Ah." That made some sense to Carl. "Is that why only a werewolf could destroy Dracula?"
The wretch shook his head, thumbing through some more pages. "No, the strain inside of Dracula was the original, the most pure. Only the strength of a werewolf could destroy Dracula, not the werewolf's blood."
"If this idea of yours is true, then why isn't Van Helsing dead? You are saying that a werewolf that came into contact with such strong blood as Dracula would be destroyed, right?"
"Correct," the wretch said eagerly, "but the blood must be ingested or injected into the blood stream in order for there to be any effect. We can only assume that Van Helsing didn't do either of these things."
"So what does this have to do with Van Helsing and Anna, anyway?" Carl was thoroughly confused, his head spinning. "Anna isn't a vampire, so her blood couldn't have destroyed his werewolf strain. Besides, he's not dead."
"Yes, of course, of course," the wretch mumbled. "But look here!" He pointed violently to an intricate family tree that was sketched in Frankenstein's book. "My father documented extensively every branch of Dracula and Anna's family, which leads me to believe that the answer is in the bloodline. What if the family always had the antibody that fights against the werewolf strain, and the vampire virus only adds strength to the natural trait?"
"So you're saying," Carl said slowly, "that both Anna and Dracula were born with this trait in their blood?"
"I believe so, yes."
"But I still don't understand. If Anna's family has a natural vaccine against becoming a werewolf, then how come her brother became a werewolf? And again, Van Helsing isn't dead."
"Since both Anna and her brother were never vampires, their blood is natural to them and their bodies accustomed to it would have no effect of them. And, as I said before, their virus wasn't supplemented by vampire blood and therefore wasn't predatory or that strong. Ergo, Anna's blood would only destroy the werewolf blood and then destroy itself, without doing any damage to its host. Biting Anna and drinking her blood enabled Van Helsing to become human again, but also let him live."
"So Dracula keeps werewolves around..." Carl trailed off.
"Because they prove no threat to him, and they're the only way to destroy rogue vampires. They're good henchmen, and are easy to dispense of. Which explains his desire to rid the world of the Valerious's. They're the only ones who can cure werewolves and, arguably, with the right amount of Valerious blood, they would be able to have the werewolves under their control."
"So biting and ingesting Anna's blood cured Van Helsing," Carl mused. "Maybe that was the secret that Anna said her brother hinted at."
"I think it's only a matter of time now before Van Helsing wakes up," the wretch said, closing the book. "It's just a matter of when he decides to wake up."
"What about Anna?" Carl's brow furred, desperately worried for the woman. "She was bit by Van Helsing while he was a werewolf, obviously. Does that mean-?"
"Yes," the wretch said. "Her blood isn't able to fight it off when it invades her system. She'll succumb to the virus within a fortnight." He hung his head, adding sadly, "And there is no one left to heal her."