Now I can only live with guilt, for deep down I know death would not wash it away. I can live, knowing that I have taken life. I can live, knowing that a day may come when my own life will be taken, and not one person will shed a tear for such doubtful loss. It is ironic, how much can a man bear, how much weight can one's heart carry throughout centuries, how much sorrow. And yet his strength will not fail him, save when fear is allowed to rule him.
The seed of fear has found a breeding ground within me, calling me to step aside and look at myself with an open mind. How I wish I had not complied; I would have been better off not knowing, not seeing myself for what I was. That night I was loathe to pray, for I saw no chance for redemption; not in my words, nor in my tears. Not in anything I would ever do could I redeem myself, I knew, yet I entrusted myself to God.
For who else would hear my cry, the cry of a wolf, a monster, a murderer, and not turn away?
I remember being asked once, how does it feel to have no roots. To have no clue where you come from, not to know where you belong. I remember my answer was a blank look, a ring of sorrow clutching at my heart. I thought for a while how it would feel to be whole, to know who I am. How it would feel to let my memory go back in time and, with no sorrow of a void within me, recall those whose lives are past, yet never forgotten.
Those who have ever loved someone and lost them are granted the comfort of looking forward to seeing them again, beyond the confines of this world. I am granted no such solace. If I look forward to leaving the sorrowful pit of earth, it is only for I know it will bring end to my struggle. And yet, I look to it no more than I do to a moment of peace; to the day when I can leave with no regret nor guilt that I have left something undone.
Perhaps that day will come. Perhaps I will awaken in the morning and find myself unbound, untroubled. Perhaps I will close my eyes to pray one night and when I open them, I will see a whole new world where I must take lives no more, no matter the reason.
Such a day, perchance it will come. But it is not this day; today, the sun rises far in the east, reminding me I must heed the call.
The inn was quiet, but it was not a surprise - everything Van Helsing had been told of that land proved more true than he had wished it would. The silent streets were empty; were it not for carriages left for the night nearby households, it could have been taken for entirely abandoned. The silence, tightly embracing the small, rural town, had an uncanny feel to it. The hour was not yet late, but the people had apparently chosen not to risk their lives leaving their homes after dusk.
It suited his purpose; after the unexpected encounter on his way there, merely few hours before, Van Helsing appreciated the tranquility of the place. Small, sleepy towns were less likely to be inhabited - or visited - by those who sought adventure and money in pursuing ones like him.
Weariness began to tighten its grip on him; that, combined with hunger, urged Gabriel to seek a place to stay for the night. He had been trying to forget those needs as he had pushed on, hour after hour. Yet soon he remembered; even a man like himself, accustomed to the hardships of a life on the run, would at last reach the limits of his strength.
The tavern door creaked miserably. A soft stream of light from the inside poured out on the street, onto his dark, tall figure, as Van Helsing halted in doorway. Having assured himself that his hat conveniently veiled his face in the shadows, he crossed the threshold. A pair of chestnut eyes examined the darkened room, barely lit in the corners by the slowly going out lamps. Small, faint flames flickered on the rock-strewn walls, casting eerie shadows that played lazily in the curves of stone.
Upon his entrance few heads raised and turned towards the door. Had it not been for the fact that not drawing too much attention to himself was his main concern, Van Helsing wouldn't have kept from smirking. His appearance almost always guaranteed outcomes of two sorts. Some people feigned a blatant disregard for his presence, resigning themselves to watching him warily from safe distance. Others went straight in for an assault. The villagers attested to the former, as they resumed staring blankly into their mugs, when Van Helsing's heavy boots clacked against the wooden floor.
Lowering his hat a little more as he approached, Gabriel regarded the bartender as the man rose slowly from his chair. The hunter's watchful eyes caught the slight movement of his hand under the counter, his breath heavy from tension, the intent look on his face turning it into a bloodshot stone. Slowly shaking his head, Van Helsing pointed the barrel beside the bar. If it didn't put the inn keeper at ease, at least it told him that there was no need for defense just yet.
Two pairs of narrowed eyes watched him as he paced the room to the corner where a paraffin lamp died out a while ago.
He watched them from his shadowed corner; two men, arguing in quiet voices between recurring fits of hiccups; an older farmer, falling into the arms of oblivion, brought to him by a sum of surely more than five drinks. His hat low over his eyes, Van Helsing wondered, as he looked at those men, whose lives revolved around the quests to that pub or another after long hours of hard work, if he would, one day, become like them.
Thinking of the future seemed ridiculous as it only could. No longer did he see himself as an old man, no more hunting, nor being hunted, but at peace. He had once dreamed of it - of the end of the ruthless game, of no longer having to toy with life and death at all times. A dream that had left him no less bewildered, uneasy, as a nightmare would. In a mirror he saw himself; each day stained with new gray hair, a remarkable sign of his life, cast into the void halls of awaiting, before for his body would turn into ash. He saw his own reflection fading, becoming like a memory that in time grows far and faint. Until, at last, none save the subtle melody of rain remembered him for who he was; the only thing upon the earth that saw in him no evil.
Now, the past unleashed sorrow, hidden deeply in the foundations of his heart. The past that could have been his haven had become his curse; an ally altered vicious had joined the ranks of his foes. In the end, there was but there and then to think of; hard as it proved to be, it left him with no choice. The past had kept him a slave to its will, the future rendered him fearful of things to come. Yet, surrender did no longer lead his thoughts when those were left unguarded; ironically, he had come to understand the call more fully than before.
Soothing as the soft tapping of rain against the window was, the first droplets dancing down the glass pulled Gabriel out of his reverie. A deep breath lifted the heaviness from his chest, albeit a little. He had long since decided not to trouble himself needlessly with days to come; he knew that, no matter the path he chose, at the end of the last road he would meet his fate. What it would be was not to be revealed to him at will, the oath once sworn to himself held true while he could still draw breath.
Something plunged heavily onto the ground outside with a loud noise; one voice, and another, soon joined by an angry unison of others, rose amidst the silence of the night. The commotion grew louder by the second. Van Helsing frowned, leaning sideways closer to the window, in vain hope to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the street. A deep, thumping sound reverberated between the walls of the room as something heavy slammed against the door, pushing it open. A few heads snapped up at the sound, the villagers raising from their tables in an instant to find out about the cause of the turmoil.
Smoothly lifting himself up from his chair, Van Helsing paced towards the door, one step after another quiet not to draw attention. The villagers were long gone, standing outside in the pouring rain, watching as two men struggled in a drunken hand-to-hand combat. He passed quickly alongside the building's wall, his vigilant eyes fixed upon those fighting. He sensed no immediate danger, nor did he intend to get caught up in another's brawl; yet, his instincts told him to stay behind as long as he could. Slipping round the corner, where darkness provided him with enough shelter, he watched.
"Don't move, or I'll pull the trigger."
Van Helsing winced as a familiar voice hissed right behind him, cold steel of a pistol teasing the back of his head. He began to slowly lower his right hand to reach under his coat, but the movement was countered by a punch. He leaned backwards, insignificantly shifting his weight towards his stalker. "Enjoying your vengeance?" he whispered under his breath.
Pressing the barrel a little harder, the hunter let out a quiet, forced laugh. Its sound, albeit subtle, mingled with the noises of the tumult round the corner, letting it pass unnoticed to all save the man. "Immensely. Just like you, I like playing games."
Van Helsing sucked in a breath, slowly, finding himself unable to contain a small smile. "I am sorry I left you in the wild," he spoke in a tone saturated with genuine regret, although what he regretted more truly was not seeing the woman's face, as he brought the matter of the sudden cease of their duel to surface. He could sense her fury; near as she was, he almost felt the warmth of her quickened breath on the back of his neck.
Her gun still pointed at his head, her finger resting firmly on the trigger, Leah paced around, and stood in front of him, face to face. Big droplets of rain glimmered on her timeworn coat, reddish strands of wet hair hung helplessly around her face. She shot an angry look straight into Gabriel's eyes. "You ought to be sorry you didn't leave the country when you had a chance."
The skirmish, merely few feet away from their scarcely hidden place, grew louder. The street was now lit by lamps and torches, loud with raised voices of the bystanders and the falling rain. Van Helsing gazed quickly past the woman, regarding the crowd before he spoke quietly, "I have no intention to leave until my task is done."
His small step back, further into the shadows, was countered with Leah's concurrent one forth, the barrel of her weapon pressing against the middle of his forehead. "Some say you're not what you appear to be," she told him. "They are wrong. Who is it this time, Van Helsing? An innocent villager? Or perhaps two?" Leah's voice grew louder with increasing rage, its pitch rising at the man's reaction - or lack thereof - to her accusing words. She mused briefly how cold one must be, how heartless, to kill like that man did, and don't fret about it. And yet, she found herself baffled when, try as she might, she found no cold in his chestnut eyes. Only a distant hint of sorrow she could not comprehend.
Refusing not to keep an eye on the situation, even as his own life was at stake, Gabriel continued glancing at the growing number of men within his sight, for the noises had slowly begun to die out. Seemingly ignoring the fact that she still held him at her gun's length and ready to shoot, he looked at Leah again, his left brow slightly raised. Somehow, he knew that the bounty hunter would not pull the trigger. Had she intended to do so, she would have done that a long time ago. For all he knew, Leah was not one much into needless talk when situation called for deeds. "A certain prince I'm after," he answered at length, carefully applying more emphasis to the word 'prince' as he spoke.
Van Helsing's words had caught the hunter off guard; he could tell by the bewildered look on her face, by the shade of recognition that passed across it. She lowered her arm with a frown, regarding him grimly. Before she had a chance to react, Leah saw him shift his weight in a fluid movement. He was staring intensely past her, his face set - like a cat, ready to pounce on its prey.
Turning around in an instant, she understood.
The fight had broken off, the gathering around the two duelists parted as, gradually, all faces turned to look at them. Voices murmured, the villagers observed the couple intensely, some pointing fingers, some preparing anything that could do for a weapon. A grotesque gang of roughly twenty men, all dripping water and trying to restrain their unrest. Murderer, they spoke to one another, It's him, others whispered. Van Helsing.
Leah cast a quick look back at him just as Gabriel reached for his own weapons. Fragmented thoughts rushed with a flood through her mind, the man's last words reverberating loudly, as though he had spoken them repeatedly. Her sight shifted swiftly from the crowd to the man by her side. Kill the prince, he said, she thought to herself, heeding the impulse that told her what to do. Quickly shaking her head she stayed Van Helsing's hand, her eyes darting wildly from the crowd to the man. "Wait," she whispered, "Stay quiet."
That instant of hesitation on Leah's part was obvious to him, as Gabriel locked eyes with the hunter. He frowned, yet upon seeing the villagers close in on them, ever more of them leaving their houses to join the crowd, already armed and ready to advance on him, he obeyed.
"Well, well. Look at that." A tall, muscular man stepped forth, a thick stake in his hand, "Isn't that the one wanted for more murders than a man can count? Van Helsing himself." He eyed both hunters, then turned to the crowd with a smirk. "Looks like it's our lucky day," he said, slowly sauntering towards the couple.
"Back off," Leah hissed through her gritted teeth, "The bounty for his head is mine." She took a small step backward, her back lightly touching Gabriel's chest. Caught up between two fires, both of which were likely to strike her at will, she was yet, ironically, more inclined to trust Van Helsing not to kill her - their chances of bringing death upon one another had so far been equal, yet neither had made the final choice to strike. The aroused crowd, that outnumbered them by at least twenty strong men, was her last choice when it came down to trust.
Leah watched the man in front of her, about six feet tall, as he smirked, idly tapping his fingers against the rough surface of the long stake he held in his hands. Involuntarily she moved slightly backwards before she realized that she could not move far. Both glad and displeased at Van Helsing blocking her way out from behind, she stood firmly, straightening herself with her head high. Adrenaline shot through her veins as she felt him twitch a little; yet, much to her relief, Gabriel remained passive.
"Says who?" meanwhile the other man questioned, his face twisted in a wry smile, "Isn't it the one who brings him to justice that gets the reward?" The crowd attested to that with quiet murmurs, moving forth ever so slowly, forcing both hunters into a trap against the wall of an old, single-floor house.
"I intend to do so," the woman retorted angrily. She pulled Van Helsing by the coat, shifting her pistol in his direction as she motioned for him to step forth. She prayed in her mind that he would read her intentions properly, sending him a pleading look as he moved.
"I wouldn't be so sure, if I were you," the other chuckled, accompanied by ferocious laughter of a couple of men who stood nearby him. Others, however, stopped their slow progress in their direction, resigning themselves to tentatively watching the incident.
"Just try and stop me." In one swift movement Leah leaped forth, pointing her pistol at the man's forehead. The villagers fell silent, some stepping back at once, others lowering whatever they held in their hands. Few stepped forth to the leader's defense, yet he raised his hand and bade them halt.
"Let her go," he laughed, "She won't get far anyway. They say the blood suckers are out on the hunt, and the night is still young. Who knows what might occur." As whispers arose, the man laughed viciously, crossing his arms on his chest. "Where will you go, Leah, with your prisoner? In fact, it's such a convenient coincidence. Let the vampires do the dirty job, I'll pick whatever is left of him--" he broke off, pointing his hand towards Van Helsing with a smirk, "After they're done."
"You shall burn in hell, Ronan, long before it happens," Leah barked in an angry riposte, and gave Gabriel a light punch to urge him to move toward the horses. As Van Helsing did so, the hunter followed close behind him, covering their retreat with her gun still directed at the villagers. Mounting their steeds, they urged them hurriedly into a dash.
Under the jet-black sky, the faintly lit streets appeared to be ever darker ways away from the crowd. The rapid beating of the hooves echoed far beyond the village as Van Helsing and Leah spun their horses with a soft cry.
"Don't forget to leave a good trail, hunter girl. You're good at that!"
Leah's head whipped around in an instant to Ronan's words, just in time to see him aim a gun in their direction. Had she been any nearer, she would have likely caught a glimpse of a menacing smirk twisting his lips as he pulled the trigger.
Next thing she knew, Van Helsing swayed unsteadily in his saddle, with a quiet involuntary cry escaping his mouth. Taming the nearly frenzied horse she leaned towards him, attempting to grab the sleeve of his coat. The soaked leather was slippery under her equally wet hand, dripping heavily with rainwater. As soon as she caught a firm grasp, Leah pulled Gabriel back into balance. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed, much to her relief, that Van Helsing still gripped the reigns tightly.
A quick, inquiring look she cast him was met with Gabriel's small nod of reassurance. "Move along," he mouthed to her, and gritted his teeth as they sped down the narrow road.
"Don't thank me, Miss Connor!" The old hunter's cry reached the riders' ears, muffled by the roaring downpour. "You'll repay me in due time!"
Author's Notes:
First of all, I should apologize. This was supposed to be longer, but I kind of lost it and am suffering from a major writer's block. I hope it wasn't boring as it is, though, I tried hard =)
m31: Thank you, hon, for your extensive reviews. I'll be revising the first three chapters right after posting this, and am definitely going to use your suggestions. That's what happens when Rhea doesn't run her chapters by picky betas such as you before posting. Bad me =P
Damnedimmortal: Since I enjoyed your story very much, I sure do hope you're still enjoying mine, even though it has evolved into more than just a character study piece. Thank you for your kind review, and I hope you'll let me know if you're still among my readers after this ;)
Horserider: That's a hell of a compliment, thank you =) I'm trying to make it interesting and not to let things drag too long; I have a nasty tendency to go into descriptions too much and forget about action even if that's what I'm at. I'm trying to work on that, heh. Anyway, I'm glad you like it, and I hope you still do.
Sabecat: You're most welcome, I review what I think is worth it ;)
Brainfear: unfortunately, my writing skills tend to abandon me when I most need them =P Like when I want to write more but can't. Anyway, according to your wish, here's more ;)