A/N Thank you very much indeed to everyone who has reviewed so far! I really appreciate your comments. Apologises for the cliffhanger - for both the previous one, and the one to come, in fact :-) Don't worry, I'm writing this really quickly, so it should be updated again very soon.
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Tallander was a priest.
Or rather, he wore the face of a priest; the vestments of a priest, the manner of a priest. He wore the latter as he would a suit of clothes, for he was a master of disguise.
Tallander had lived for a long, long time, although perhaps 'lived' is stretching the meaning of the word; he existed, certainly, he subsisted, in a strange and dreadful way beyond the understanding of mortal men.
Tallander maintained his existence by travelling, or as he sometimes called it, partnership. Every now and then, he would choose a host, and they would become partners together, each feeding upon the other, sharing their talents, their abilities, their body. Partners always fought at first, but in the end, they acquiesced – because Tallander could give them what they wanted. Anything they wanted. And how did he achieve it for them, this magnanimous traveller? By mystic powers? By crime? No – Tallander got what he wanted, and what his all-important partners wanted, by sheer force of personality.
Tallander was unique, or so he liked to think. No one had ever managed to destroy him – though one, years ago, had made a fine attempt. In a church; in Tallander's church, one of many, in a small English village where he had set about a new partnership. The priest he had chosen to be his partner on this occasion had fallen in line with his wishes so easily it was really quite disappointing, but Tallander made efficient use of him, and soon had a worthy flock.
And then the other had come, doubting, sowing the seeds of discord in the minds of Tallander's flock. And he had struck out against Tallander, hurting him, weakening him. Tallander had been furious; but his assailant had died, and he had subsisted. As he always did.
Tallander had been silent for decades, rebuilding his great strength; now he sought another partner, someone he could tempt and subvert easily to his will– and yet he craved a complex mind, a brilliant mind, an intellect as sharp as his own. And, of course, it had to be a holy man – a man of God. That was essential.
The choice was obvious, really.
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There was a long silence when Van Helsing finished his narrative. The sun was sinking now, casting long shadows across the grassy hill on which he and Carl sat. After a long moment, the friar looked up at him.
"You're saying that this Tallander, this dark priest, wants – me? As his...his what, exactly?"
Van Helsing did not answer; he did not need to. Carl was quite intelligent enough to work out the answer for himself. He did.
"Oh, my God."
"I wasn't supposed to tell you this," Van Helsing remarked, as the horror of the situation hit Carl fully. "I was supposed to take you to the church, find out whether Tallander was really stalking you, and then watch for signs."
"What...what sort of signs?"
"Nothing I've seen, thankfully." He looked down at Carl, who had slumped down on the grass, his face deathly pale.
"What will he do to me?" the friar asked eventually. "How will he – possess me?"
"Not much is known about his exact methods," Van Helsing struggled to keep his voice steady and his tone professional, but the look of frightened misery – and betrayal – on Carl's face made him feel utterly wretched. He gave up.
"I'm going to help you," he said earnestly, looking into his friend's eyes. "I won't let this thing hurt you. I promise."
"This 'thing' is already inside my head, Van Helsing. What in the world can you possibly do? It's not a monster – not the kind you usually fight. Weapons won't touch it." He stared blankly at the church, watching as it became a black silhouette before the setting sun. "I'm doomed," he said, quietly.
"Don't talk like that. This isn't over. You have to fight him, Carl."
"Fight what? He hasn't done anything yet."
"You said you went inside the church in your last dream..."
"Yes..."
"Then next time you sleep will be the time you face him," Van Helsing said grimly. "And you have to be ready."
"Ready for what?" Carl spluttered. "If you know so much about this, tell me what will happen!"
"But I don't know."
"Well, that's a bit bloody useless, if you don't mind my saying so! The bloody fount of all damned knowledge seems to have dried up, doesn't it?"
"Take it easy."
"And stop telling me to take it bloody easy!" Carl snapped, so ferociously that Van Helsing felt almost as though he'd been struck. Carl could be irritable sometimes when disturbed in his work, but he had never been like this – he had always been so amicable, so gentle. Van Helsing closed his eyes, fighting his own fear and concern. At the back of his mind, a nasty voice was telling him that it had started already, that the man he was talking with and trying to comfort was no longer entirely the same person he had met seven years ago. But that could not be – Carl had not yet faced Tallander in his dreams, and that, surely, was the crucial point.
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"It won't help," Van Helsing said. They were sitting in the double bedroom they shared at the inn, or at least, Van Helsing was sitting while Carl paced restlessly.
"You can't put it off," Van Helsing went on. "It isn't going to go away, Carl."
"You're essentially telling me that the next time I go to sleep, I might well die. I don't think it's unreasonable to want to delay that as much as possible."
"But you can fight him. And you can win. You will win."
"Has anyone, ever?" that stopped Van Helsing in his tracks. He hesitated, but before he could formulate an answer, Carl provided it himself.
"Of course they haven't – otherwise we'd know about it, wouldn't we? We would know how they did it, what exactly happened to them...what Tallander's method is..." he sank suddenly into a chair, burying his face in his hands. Van Helsing went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, powerless to do anything else. This was one fight Carl had to face alone.
"If he was flesh and blood and I could reach him, I'd gladly fight him for you," he said, quietly. "And just as gladly, I'd take this burden on myself. But I can't. It's fallen to you, and you have to bear it. I believe you can do it. You have the most extraordinary mind of any man I've ever met."
Carl gave a wan smile. "Coming from you, I suppose that means I'm three parts insane." He sighed. "All right. You're right, the only way to deal with this situation is to face him..." he broke off, looking Van Helsing in the eyes for the first time. "But I'm frightened," he whispered. "I don't want to face him alone."
Van Helsing squeezed his shoulder.
"You won't be alone."
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In truth, of course, all men are alone when they sleep – and when they die. Van Helsing sat at his friend's bedside through the night, watching Carl as he slept, anxiously searching his face for any sign of what might be transpiring within his dreams. There was nothing; Carl slept deeply, his breathing shallow and his face pale, never moving. There was something unnatural about that stillness.
Dawn broke, and still Carl slept, with Van Helsing watching over him. In his hand he clutched the telegram he had received earlier that day from Rome, the one he had carefully kept hidden from Carl. It was from Cardinal Jinette himself, and said that Father Michael would be coming to England as soon as possible to ensure that Van Helsing remained impartial enough to complete his mission 'as discussed'.
As discussed. How did you 'discuss' the prospect of killing your best friend? When did a man's life become a point in a debate? Jinette's argument had been brutally logical and simple: Tallander was a threat which must be destroyed. If Carl could be spared, that was all to the good – he was a useful member of the Order. But if Tallander should succeed in possessing Carl, Van Helsing must not hesitate to take advantage of this – for Tallander could only be destroyed when inhabiting a human body, and even then, only on the consecrated ground of the church in which a young man named Reicher had once come so very close to eradicating him. In his weakness, it was speculated, Tallander was drawing on the souls of those who had been sacrificed under his direction, in order to survive.
Van Helsing's orders were simple. As soon as he could be certain that Tallander had taken full possession of Carl's body, and the friar could not be saved, Van Helsing was to take him to the Church of the Sorrowful Mother, and kill him.
Simple.
Whether Van Helsing could bring himself to do it remained to be seen. He prayed he would not be tested in that way, over and over again as he sat by Carl's bed. Prayed that Carl would defeat Tallander and that all would be well. He could not help remembering, however, that no one yet had prevailed over the dark priest, and as he gazed upon his friend's sleeping face, he prayed as well for the strength to release him from the torment Tallander would bring, should it become necessary...he gazed down helplessly at the bed...
And, as sunlight filtered through the dirty window and fell upon his pale, still face, Carl's eyes begin to open.