Gabriel's eyes instantly grew wide with surprise. It was not that the old man knew his name, and the moment he saw him, he matched it with his face. Van Helsing's name was known among hunters, as was the picture of him on the wanted posters - vague, but detailed enough so that an experienced eye could make no mistake. It was not even that Padraig knew his given name; that fact, though disturbing, only brushed his conscious, and Gabriel quickly decided to ponder it at a later time.
It was, however, the look of sheer certainty, that particular hint of recognition that reflected on the old man's face. The tone of Padraig's voice spoke of knowledge that went far beyond what the world knew of him. There was something in his eyes - he was strangely calm, despite the grave mask he had put on upon their arrival, his gestures told Gabriel that the stranger was not a stranger at all. He seemed content, in a peculiar way, as though their coming to his house had not only been expected, but anticipated for a long time.
The old hunter measured Van Helsing, studying him with care, and Gabriel couldn't rid himself of an acute feeling that, from this man, there was no secret he could keep. He exhaled slowly to restore his composure. It was not like him to give a potential opponent such advantage as to let him know that he had been caught by surprise.
Leah's eyes were narrowed and her brow furrowed. She kept shifting her sight from one man to the other. The sheer concentration written in Van Helsing's features told her that he searched his memory, yet failed to trace any source of familiarity in Padraig's name or face. His eyes were fixed stubbornly upon the old man as the two regarded each other warily.
It seemed as though hours had passed, not seconds, before Leah stepped forth and, clearing her throat, she broke the uncomfortable silence. All reason told her that there was nothing strange in Padraig's knowledge of Van Helsing, although she found herself taken by surprise by the way he had welcomed them, going straight to business. She remembered having spoken with Padraig of that strange, wanted man, in the years when she had been too reckless and inexperienced to have been his match. She remembered the old hunter's subtle suggestions that, one day, she might lay her hands on the prize for his head. And now, that the man himself had come to his domain in her company, even Padraig's obviously feigned astonishment at their arrival could not have misled her. She could not understand; what business did he have to act in such way? Was he not the same man who had taken the young huntress under his wings many years ago? For all Leah knew, he had retired when his encounter with Liam's vampires resulted in too many wounds to ever fully heal. Padraig bore his scars with pride, but never again did he set out on the hunt afterwards.
And yet, a voice in her mind whispered that she should let her thought reach beyond the safe assumptions, explanations her mind provided to calm her, designed to keep from her something crucial. What lay beneath the surface might as well lead to a disaster, she knew, yet somehow it seemed to her that it would happen only if she failed to see all ends.
Padraig's dry voice took her out of her reverie. "Last time I checked, you didn't need my approval before collecting a bounty," he said a bit mockingly. Looking up at Gabriel, the old hunter regarded him with a critical glare. "He doesn't look like a prisoner, either."
Her face remained calm, but Leah stirred inside at the memory of the previous night that momentarily came over her with a wave of mixed warmth and shame. She found it hard to shrug off; it felt almost as though the recollection lingered not only in her mind, but it had summoned quite physical form of pressure where Van Helsing's hands had touched her, where her lips still remembered his. Instantly she reasoned with herself that Padraig could not know that; the father figure he sometimes was to her would never learn, unless she told him, that she had dismissed the hunter's duty in favor of an impulse, that she had allied herself with that man because trust was born between them out of a hunch, not a tangible reason.
"It's a long story," she said at last.
The look Padraig fixed her with immediately demanded a more precise answer, and the flash in his eyes warned her that it had better be truth. "I'm sure it is," he said, his voice saturated with an underlying tone of disapproval. His last words were left hanging as though to prompt her to speak.
But Leah couldn't bring herself to tell him of all that had come to pass since the night she had sneaked up on Van Helsing in the wild. Nor was she willing to do so - now that she thought of it, it seemed so bizarre, that she could never count on the old man's understanding - let alone approval - of any of this.
"I…" she started hesitantly, remembering the purpose of their visit. Upon casting a brief glance at Gabriel, she reflected on her choice of words. "We need your help."
The old man's brow furrowed in surprise. Strangely enough, his eyes seemed as though they were made of steel and stone, no hint of wonder flickered in their endlessly deep blues. He said, "I can't begin to imagine why the two of you would need my help."
Gabriel shrugged, showing his discomfort as if he strained against invisible bonds. "We're wasting time here," he barked impatiently, taken aback by the old hunter's attitude. When Leah had told him, on their way here, that the man was the closest to a family she still had in this land, and that he had always been eager to aid her, he had expected all but this.
Aware of Van Helsing's unease, Leah reached out her hand as if to stop him, though Gabriel had not yet made a move. She locked her eyes with his for a second, mutely pleading with him to wait. With a soundless sigh, Van Helsing obeyed. From his eye's corner he watched as Padraig stood still, just as he had when this strange conversation began, with his arms crossed on his chest. He could have sworn there was a shade of amusement painted on the wrinkled face.
Leah turned to Padraig. "I need you to tell me all you know about Liam."
"I know what everyone knows," said the hunter. "What you know as well. Strange days have come indeed, if now, of all times, you choose to go after him, while the bounty for Van Helsing's head could settle you for years."
"That one's personal," Leah said slowly. Deep down she began to feel wary of him; his immediate answer, though vague, bore no hint of surprise anymore. She began to wonder if, in some eerie trance, she hadn't already told him her purpose. It seemed to her as though each question she asked, each thing she said, was leading the conversation further away from the track she had wanted it to go.
"Personal?" Padraig fake-frowned at her, at Van Helsing, and smiled somewhat ironically, as if to take some weight off his grave tone. "I can tell. But I bet it's tempting to score such a good catch," he teased.
Leah regarded him with a wry smirk. "Dreams die hard," she said.
Behind them, curiosity drove people from their homes. The villagers gathered on the road, short ways away from the house. Now, they watched the three talk at Padraig's door. Even though no words had been spoken loud enough for the bystanders to hear, Leah suddenly realized that being in the center of attention was far from what they needed. Indeed, such company of two - a renegade, whom many have surely recognized by now; and a once rebellious child, who had grown up, away from her homeland, to a woman who lived what they considered the opposite of a decent life, would be on many tongues in the several weeks to come. They needed no more attention than they had already drawn.
Leah pointed significantly to the gathering on the road, and looked past Padraig at the half-open door. The old man stepped aside, making way for her and Van Helsing to enter.
She walked in, sure in her tracks, although she briefly looked over her shoulder as her companion climbed the stairs with ease. Padraig's face was blank when his gaze turned to her, then back to Van Helsing. She couldn't help but notice that the old hunter's attitude was devoid of all emotion - his look upon Gabriel told her as little as had any of his actions. She shrugged; something was not right, and she began to wonder if coming here was indeed a good idea.
"Alright, have it your way. Ask," the hunter said, when the door closed behind them.
Leah strode to the table and sat in one of the four heavy, wooden chairs. Van Helsing leaned in doorway, but she beckoned him forward with a wave of her hand. Padraig O'Hely took another chair for himself, at the head of the long table.
"You alone survived a meeting with one of the vampires," she started.
"How?" Van Helsing cut her off immediately, frowning. Perhaps coming here wasn't a waste of time, after all.
"You never speak of it," Leah continued upon Padraig's silence. By the second she believed more strongly that he knew every question which was to be asked that day, one wicked way or another. "It's said they can't be killed. But if there's a way, I need to know, and I need it now."
The old man remained silent, but to Leah he didn't appear thoughtful, judging whether they were worth knowing the true tale of the events from five years ago, or not. His stare was piercing upon her face, as he took his time to engage the whole of his visitors' attention.
"My lucky star shone bright on the sky that night," he began at last, letting out a humorless laugh. As he leaned back in his chair, Padraig released Leah from the grip of his stare.
He reminded her of the old days, when he had told tales, passed from father to son, over a pint of beer. It was long ago, when she had been a girl with a goal that he made possible for her to achieve.
"I ran into them on the outskirts of Cork. It's a mystery to me why they set out to the city, so far from their lair. You would think it makes a difference where they feed." Padraig shrugged and took a deep breath. "The female vanished from my sight. Must have continued her search for prey, for soon the cries of terror reached me, loud and clear. Horror, and death," Padraig said, gesticulating slowly as if to emphasis the weight of his words.
He did not need to. Having faced death before, on more than one occasion, Leah and Gabriel alike were fixed with memories of their own, depicting the scene better than a description would.
"The male was watching me, his fangs bare and hate in his black eyes. He held a man in his hands - couldn't have seen more than thirty springs. The poor fool was still alive."
As he paused, Leah became aware of dismay lining her face, and she averted her eyes. She overcame the nauseating sensation before the hunter went on with his tale.
"I saw the vampire rip that man to shreds. Lifted him up, like he weighed nothing. Drank him dry, until his skin was like that of a withered apple. Threw him away, like a useless thing." Padraig's face was blank when he spoke. Even as he recalled those memories that surely must have left a scar on more than just his flesh, he seemed entirely unaffected by the horror of it.
"I hurled myself at him," the hunter continued two deeper breaths later. "With a wooden stake in my hand. But even though he couldn't have been much taller, he tossed me left and right, kicking, clawing, until he decided he'd toyed enough." His voice dropped and his speech slowed down. Looking at the two on the other end of the table, he seemed pleased that neither of them moved nor made a sound. "At last he stood above me; I lay wheezing on the ground. Looking weaker than I was, you see. He reached down for me, and then - I did it."
The pause that followed was deliberate; having known the man for more than a half of her life, Leah knew how much delight Padraig took in telling the tales of his many quests, and how much of a show he liked to make of it. Despite that, his ways still had her long for more as he broke off, always just before he reached the crucial part. Like a child, yearning in anticipation for the story to unfold, Leah could not resist asking, "Did what?"
Padraig summoned a triumphant smile. "I drove the stake through his heart. He fell. I got to my feet and took flight, as fast as this old body of mine allowed. But then - something happened."
Letting the man take his time, Leah shifted her weight. The chair seemed strangely uncomfortable.
"The night began to wane," The hunter resumed his story once more. "Thirty, perhaps forty minutes till sunrise. Then suddenly, just as I turned to leave, the female returned. My, have I ever heard a shriek like that of hers! I took cover in the trees nearby, you see, hoping that sunrise would catch her outside and burn her down to Hell. But then, curse her, she came to her mate and drove my stake out of his chest." Padraig shifted his gaze from Leah to Van Helsing and back. "He stood up."
The hunter spoke with such deep contempt that Leah shuddered.
"As if nothing happened. They fled before the sun licked at their rotten flesh."
Leah let out a quiet sigh, absently shaking her head. Beneath a fall of red hair, her eyes were turned down, her brow furrowed, her hands clasped together. She was pale when she looked up at Padraig once more. "They spared you." Her tone underlined with a thin thread of disbelief, it still seemed to have had no impact on the hunter at all. He was resilient to her trying to sort through his words to find which were true and which were not.
"Oh, I'm sure it was never their intention to let me get away," Padraig dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "But their fear of the sun is far greater than their urge to kill."
Leah still pondered the tale he had told, time after time glancing at Van Helsing. She tried to read his face, to guess what he made of it all, for doubt shadowed much of her perception of truth, as far as the vampires went. Not once did he meet her gaze, not during the story, not after, not now. His unblinking eyes were focused on something indefinite on the far wall of the common room. Van Helsing seemed absent, but Leah would not be deceived by his oblivious mask. She knew he had listened. She would bet she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Not before she spoke did Gabriel look toward her. His face was dark and grim.
"If a stake won't kill him…" she started, never looking away, despite an urge to do so. She did not like the other alternative at all; it might seem easy, but she knew - in this job, if something was easy, it was also likely to be fatal.
"We'll drag him out in the open, and let the sun do its job," said Gabriel.
Both of them looked at Padraig.
The hunter rose from his chair, fiercely shaking his head. "You won't beat him in combat. No man is a match for a vampire like this. Even his minions are too strong for just one to defeat. He'll have you dead before you draw your weapon."
"I've fought vampires before," Gabriel said carefully. "And we killed four Ghouls in the wild last night."
He was glad that neither Padraig O'Hely nor Leah knew the cost of victory over a certain vampire. This was one of the things he would rather keep to himself forever. Yet, fighting Dracula had left a mark on his confidence, even though he would be loath to admit it. Some of the dark forces were beyond any mortal man to banish from the world, he knew it now. Nothing could be gained at no cost at all. Deep down Gabriel feared what the price for killing Liam would turn out to be.
Padraig smiled wryly. He strode with no sign of haste toward the end of the table where Van Helsing and Leah were. He stood there, within an arm's reach, towering above them like an ageless statue of a prophet and a bearer of bad news. As he looked down on them, Gabriel wasn't sure whether he had not noticed before how tall the man was, or if it was an illusion, conjured up by his mind, or perhaps by the man himself. For some strange, uncanny reason, Gabriel suddenly felt very small.
"I'm sure vampires aren't a novelty to you, but not ones like Liam, surely not ones like him," Padraig spoke at length. "If the Devil sired more than one of his kind, Heaven help God's kingdom on this Earth." He sighed. He no longer seemed quite as tall or half as magnificent. "No man can kill Liam, save, perhaps, by trickery."
Two pairs of eyes pleaded for an answer; the question hung in the air and needed not be said aloud.
"North of the castle there's a graveyard," Padraig said. "At the far end, there's a crypt. At all times it's guarded by Ghouls. Day and night. They let no one come near it, and it's been long since any tried."
Leah's brow climbed up at those words. "How exactly does that help us?" she asked suspiciously.
Suddenly, a thought crossed Gabriel's mind - it came unbidden, and yet its clarity convinced him that it must have been his own. The only thing that concerned him was that it could not have been, but Van Helsing had no time to think about it. Words began to slip past his lips, as if against his will. "There's a legend," he said in a voice that sounded half like his own. "It says a vampire can't be killed, if his heart was taken out and hidden in a secret place, to protect the immortal life. Only if you find where the heart is, and destroy it - not by stake, holy water, nor a silver cross - but by utterly destroying its very substance, can the vampire be slain."
When the words stopped flowing, Gabriel looked up at the old man, bewildered and uneasy. Padraig's face resembled stone. He nodded gravely. "Either that, or by dragging him out into sunlight, as you said before. But that is beyond me, you, or even the two of you together." He leaned against the table, each of his huge palms pressing hard against the tabletop as they bore much of his weight. "They fear fire, but I wouldn't rely on it as a weapon. Too many a vampire can suppress their fear so well that it would be useless. And their wounds are quick to heal."
From past experience, Gabriel could attest to what the old man had said about fire. All means by which the common people thought the vampires could be vanquished were insufficient. He shook his head at those thoughts. No wonder the local folk feared the bloodsuckers more than anywhere in the world that he had seen. They seemed indestructible, like nightmares from Hell that return every night, and all you can do to stop them is never to close your eyes. Van Helsing knew a thing or two about nightmares of such sort. It did not seem so much different to him now. The vampires, just like the dark dreams of his own, fled with the rising of the sun, only to return at the end of the day, night after night.
His thoughts drifted back to what he had said just a while ago. He tried to remember where he had heard that legend, but he could not track any reliable source of it among the memories he could recall. Accustomed to possessing knowledge that must have been a remnant of his life before he'd lost his memory, he resolved it was the only explanation he found believable. Padraig seemed strange, a little too strange in his book, but he couldn't have caused him a déja vu like this. The hunter wasn't evil; the colors of his aura were the calming hues of blues and greens. Gabriel could tell the old man was troubled; by what, he could only guess. It could be the current situation; he understood it well when it became clear that he would come to face it himself soon enough. It could be something out of his past. It could be anything, and Gabriel was convinced it was none of his concern.
Leah's quiet voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"The tomb," she said. "That's where the heart is. That's why they protect it so well."
"It's possible," said Padraig, sitting down on a chair he had pulled up next to them. "Nothing is certain. But it's surely worth a try."
Leah shrugged and sent him a scornful look. "And you're telling me this now?"
As the man nodded, she suddenly felt angry, her cheeks began to burn and her stomach turned. "Why now?" she asked. "Why not years ago? Before so many of our people died trying to accomplish the impossible?" She tried to pin him down with her questioning look, a glint of accusation and resentment in it, demanding that he revealed whatever his reasons were for keeping all that information hidden for so long. Yet the old man was still like a stone, though his gaze was turned downward and he refused to look her in the eye.
"Why now?" she repeated somewhat harshly.
Padraig shook his head, suddenly seeming to have lost patience with her lack of understanding something he apparently deemed obvious enough. "Because," he spoke, finally returning her stare with a hard one of his own, "Had you tried it alone, and I know you would have, no one would have seen you alive ever again." He glanced at Gabriel, the curves of his face softening a little. "Neither of you should attempt it alone. Together, you might come out of this alive."
Stricken by a sudden realization, Leah slumped in her chair. Now she knew for sure what she had suspected from the moment she entered through Padraig's door. Still with a bit of disbelief, she said, "You knew why we came. You knew all along."
"No," the hunter said simply, and silence lay between the three for a few unbearably long seconds.
It sounded convincing to her, but even though in his face Leah saw no hint of a lie, she was wary of him now more than she had ever been. The strangeness of this visit had played with her instincts, telling her something was not right. She remained silent, hoping to hear the truth after all. Losing trust in that man did not come easily; she was loath to listen to a hunch that whispered against what she had known for years.
"I didn't know," said Padraig, addressing her doubt as if she had given it a voice. "But I hoped." He rose to his feet. "Beware his Ghouls servants. Each has the strength of two, twice as vicious as they had been in life. Their eyes are keen, but they're not quick to act on plans of their own. They're not expecting you, so you stand a chance. Unless told otherwise, they should keep their posts. Take them down quickly, and pray that your lucky stars rise early tonight."
As they left Padraig O'Hely's house, each lost in thought, the air was thick with suspicion and doubt. For a while, neither of them spoke.
They rode southward toward the shore, where the Emerald Isle met with the Atlantic sea. As the narrow lane became wider and the trees fewer, Gabriel couldn't help but notice the strange silence that lay about the land. The wide open plains ahead of them, the still-green hills brought to life by the subtle luminosity of the autumn sun, were now almost lifeless despite the light. No, it was more than just silence that stirred his blood as he looked around. Were it not for the uncanny feeling in the air, a streak of foulness only he could sense, the landscape around him would take his breath away. At any other time, perhaps he would even be able to step aside from the path of brooding thoughts he carried with him everywhere he went. Maybe he would even enjoy watching how the tall trees, bent by the winds sweeping across the land from the shore, and by the pressure of time, leaned gently ever-down.
But this was not the time for such things. The task at hand rendered him troubled, and the old hunter didn't help at all. Surprised, Gabriel realized that he had become so numb in all he had done in the past few months, that he had nearly forgotten how it felt to hear his own heartbeat, albeit even as it always was, stand out against the stillness of the air. Even their mounts were anxious; Gabriel could feel the animal's muscles twitching madly under him. They too must have sensed that evil, for as they neared the shore, it became ever harder to tame them.
Leah slowed down to a trot, waiting for Van Helsing to catch up with her. "How did you know that?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. "The legend. Thirty years and I've never heard of it."
Gabriel shrugged. He knew this was coming, but since he could not quite believe the answer to this himself, he was reluctant to reveal it to Leah. He said, "I must have heard it somewhere." She would have to settle for what he believed to be half-truth.
"Unlikely." Leah raised an eyebrow, eyeing Gabriel with care. "Van Helsing, if you know something, it's time you stopped keeping it to yourself."
Slowing down the horse, he shook his head. "There's nothing more that I can tell."
"This won't be child's play." Leah seemed irritated, though more disturbed by the ever growing number of questions requiring immediate answers, and finding none. "If I am to die there, I'd rather it's because of plain old bad luck, than ignorance."
"Then perhaps you should have pushed your friend a little harder," he shot back not without a hint of discontent.
Her head whipped around and she brought her horse to a halt, angered by those words. Then she realized that Van Helsing was right. So he too knew something was amiss. She bit down on her lower lip and remained silent.
"He's never been like that," she said at length, a little more reluctantly than she wished to. "I've known him for years. Why would he lie?"
"I was hoping you would tell me."
A sudden thought churned her stomach and Leah looked away. "You don't think he's allied with Liam, do you?" she asked quietly, uneasily.
The answer came just as quiet. "He isn't evil."
Leah turned around, frowning. "How do you know? You've never seen him before, have you?" she asked suspiciously.
Van Helsing shook his head 'no'. "I can… sense it," he said with reluctance, observing how she reacted to his words. "Every living person has an aura about them that is their true nature. I see it. Padraig isn't evil."
Her head tilted, Leah's eyes narrowed slightly. "There's more to you than meets the eye," she said at length. "Still, it's the castle, or the graveyard. Either way, we're pushing our luck," she said, sighing, but her expression lost some of the shade of doubt. If this were what they had to do, she would be armed and ready to go as far as it took to succeed.
"We can do both." Gabriel shifted his weight in the saddle. "It's still light. We'll scout the terrain before they wake, and see if the old man's tale was of any worth."
As Leah nodded her agreement, Van Helsing urged his horse forth. It was still midday, plenty of time to look around and devise a plan. Nonetheless, there was no time to be wasted. He looked back.
Leah trotted behind him at a leisurely pace, watching him with a curious look. "Van Helsing?" she asked as she caught up with him. "What is the aura you see about me?"
A too familiar one, he thought to himself, suddenly feeling just like the previous night - intrigued, anxious, unsure, yet somewhat enthralled. For the past several hours he had tried to ignore what he saw in her, but it proved hard. Now and then he even wanted to ask; perhaps her answer would chase away the treacherous mist of expectation and hope. But when a chance came, he decided not to take it.
"You're not evil, either," he said with a half-hearted smirk.
"But we already knew that," she said, a little disappointed. "Is that all you can see? Good or evil?"
Gabriel swallowed audibly, letting his gaze slide away from hers and he urged his horse to speed up. "That's useful enough, don't you think?" he said, never looking back.
He knew Leah was there, right behind him. He was glad she was silent and pursued the matter no more. He knew that, in all likelihood, letting her in on one of his secrets was a mistake he should not have made. Through all those years, he had always known better than to share more than was necessary - even as some people, who had become close to him, inquired about it with their ever-so-gentle persistence.
Until now.
She had asked, and he had answered, breaking the vows of silence he had sworn to himself seven years ago. Much to his distress, deep down Gabriel knew that just a while ago he had felt as if a great burden had been lifted off his chest, but that feeling quickly fled. The shreds of secrets, the thin streaks of memories running down the blank pages of the book of his past, were merely a part of who he was. He had once thought that the other half had been locked in the unknown. It was what he had pursued all those years.
Yet, now he knew. No matter what lay behind, it was the way he stepped on the road still ahead of him that determined who he was. And how much easier it was to walk that road with someone by his side.
Leah's question kept coming back to him like echo returned the eagle's piercing cry. It was white, his thoughts answered, even though he would not tell her this. The pure white of affection with blue hues of mild grief, like an overcast morning sky.
Even as they saw the castle looming ahead of them, Gabriel's attention was as much on the task as it was on the woman who rode by his side. They hadn't spoken since the question was asked that had made them stray into ominous grounds. Now, still in silence, Gabriel and Leah scouted the land for any places where the enemy could be lurking. For themselves, they found the quickest ways to escape, and set a meeting place in case they would part in the dark.
The castle and the adjacent buildings seemed entirely abandoned. While the day was in full, it was easy to believe that the vampires and their pets were but a myth, conjured up by the elders to give children a fright, and told in pubs to pass away the long winter nights. Yet as the sun lowered its face toward the horizon, and the darkening clouds with golden linings overhead covered the sky, the presence of evil seemed to grow nearer. Waiting for nightfall in the vampires' lair would equal certain death; the hunters decided, though both with a similar dose of reluctance, to check if the graveyard nearby indeed held what the legend told. While the light of the day forced the undead to stay hidden, the hunters would be fairly safe.
They left the horses hidden, far enough so that their impatient whining would not betray their presence. The evening was cold, as it always was at the end of October. The icy wind from the sea chilled them both down to the bone, but it was not the time to notice. Quiet and cat-like, they slowly made their way toward the graveyard, moving sideways, like shadows, among the hills.
Far upon the hill, the ancient crosses stood in their fading majesty, tall and solemn against the darkening sky. Silence could be deceiving; if what Padraig had told them about the guarded tomb was true, the hunters expected to have company soon enough.
The old wood moaned quietly when Leah and Gabriel jumped across a fence. Van Helsing dropped to the ground, listening. He motioned to Leah to hold still; soon he picked up a sound, far and faint, of leaves rustling under someone's feet.
With a wave of his hand, he pointed to whence the sounds came and, rising as quietly as he could, Gabriel wove his way among the graves. Far in the west, the last hues of the crimson sunset faded away, shy in the presence of the night's blanket of silky black. At the far end of the graveyard, hidden behind an opaque curtain of shadow, an old medium-sized crypt loomed over the crosses and tombs of lesser size.
By an unspoken agreement between them, Gabriel and Leah split up. The huntress continued north-west, while her companion sneaked up on the crypt from the other side. No Ghoul was yet in sight, but their heavy steps grew louder as Leah came nearer. Her own steps small, each carefully placed not to make a sound, she covered several yards staying low and watching for any signs of guards other than those by the crypt. Soon she heard their footfalls no more; they had not yet sensed her presence. Then she saw them - two shadows ahead of her, inanimate like statues made of stone. A small smile came on her lips; neither of the Ghouls had turned in her direction even as she approached. If she kept quiet and managed to come close enough unseen, the fight would not take long.
Three steps before she reached them, Leah drew two daggers from their sheaths. Then a noise came from the eastern side - a muffled sound of breaking bones. Smiling wryly, she leapt behind the nearest guard just before he moved; like a statue brought to life by a breath of wind he rushed forth, but he did not get far as Leah's knife cut his throat.
The hollow noise of a falling body left the other Ghoul bewildered and unsure; hesitating between two directions to go, he lingered a second too long. Kicking his dead brethren aside, Leah dropped to one knee and threw the other dagger with great force. The momentum carried it straight toward its aim; as the dagger embedded in the guard's neck, death claimed him quickly and restrained his final cry.
Short ways away, the creak of a snapping neck was the last sound to be heard before silence lay about the graveyard again.
Leah sheathed one dagger. Retrieved the other from the slain Ghoul, wiped it clean. When she looked up, Van Helsing emerged from the darkness behind the crypt, dusting off his hands.
"That was almost too easy," she whispered, glancing around.
Gabriel nodded. "That's what worries me," he said. "We're not alone."
Frowning, Leah took a quick inventory of her surroundings. Nothing in the quiet of the night signified that they had more company.
As if on cue, a small flame flickered down the hill, just behind the fence. Two, three, one by one torches lit up around them, closing in on them faster and faster as they came. In the trembling light, black-clad silhouettes moved steadily forth. Several Ghouls emerged from behind the distant graves, as if they had been hiding in the ground while the hunters took down the four guards.
Her eyes darted around wildly as Leah reached for her blade. Back to back with Van Helsing, who had readied his crossbow in a matter of seconds, she watched as the shadows of the fallen men surrounded them in a circle. Their faces were white and their eyes eerily black when she saw them in the light of flames. Some halted at a distance, others merely slowed down their march, yet they kept approaching from all sides - how many, she couldn't tell. Too many.
The two hunters turned around slowly. Neither of them had hoped the task would have been as easy as it had seemed, yet they had never expected to be outnumbered by so many. The Ghouls moved almost without a sound; only the fire's restless sizzle could be heard as it licked at the torches with unfaltering passion.
Behind her, a sword cut the air in a piercing swish. Leah whirled a fraction of a second before the blade found its aim in her flesh. Paring the blow, out of her eye's corner she saw that many others, encouraged by the leading aggressor, advanced on their preys. The bolts launched at great velocity from Van Helsing's crossbow darted through the air like a livid rain, some reaching their targets with perfect accuracy, some falling limply out of sight. The Ghouls fell, one by one, as Leah swung her saber against their ever-quicker blows, yet she felt that her body was growing weary by the second.
Backed against the crypt's front wall, Leah struggled for breath. Her counter blows became weaker, slower, yet somehow still fast enough to keep the enemy at bay. With Van Helsing out of sight, she had to focus the harder to keep her mind clear of fear for his life and for her own. Around her, the torches colored the night crimson red entwined with orange and yellow as the flames danced on the wind.
Sending another beast dead to the ground, Leah felt weak in her knees and the sword almost fell from her hand. Regaining her balance, aware of having lost her focus, she thought only that of all hazardous jobs she had dared thus far, the one she had taken upon herself this time had given a proof of her folly.
But no more strikes came, neither then, nor the second after. Raising her head, Leah caught a glimpse of Gabriel, still strong on his feet, engaged in a fight. The surrounding Ghouls stood still in a wide arc, each holding a torch.
Clap, clap, clap, came the sound behind them, strangely clear against the slowly subsiding noises of the fight. At first, her mind barely registered it - the sound came from distance, like the tick-tack of a clock that disturbs the morning sleep. Then it quickened, and slowed down once more, and it could have been ignored no more. The ever-changing rhythm told her that the sound could not have been just a part of the battle song. It was deliberate. Leah turned around as the Ghouls broke their circle, parting to make way for someone she could not yet see, but she knew he was there.
She saw Van Helsing, whirling furiously between two besotted men, paring their blows as they kept rushing at him, two at once. But her vigilant eyes caught a brief glance of a tall man; different than all others, for he stood at a halt while many others were still on the move. Her eyes narrowed, she stopped as the stranger looked straight at her.
If her heart could beat any faster, it would beat its way out of her chest - instead, all of a sudden she felt as if it stopped. Her body was still, as though it got locked in a chunk of ice. Heedless of all sound and sight but the tall, dark silhouette in front of her, and a pair of snow-white hands that still clapped to the rhythm of the fight, Leah focused on it as the man strode to her at an unhurried pace. At any other moonless night like this, where the only light was that of the torches glowing in a circle of flickering flames, she would have not seen nor recognized his face from such distance. Yet now she knew - was it her sight that grew keener as her fear grew fierce? Or was it the small voice in her mind that whispered his name in a tone that felt unwelcome and strange?
"Liam," she said slowly.
Though he could not have heard it, the vampire nodded and sent her a smile just as his name faded on her lips. She could not help but stare at him in some strange kind of awe, drawn to him so much stronger than her will was able to resist. Deep down she knew - she hated that face; it had of old haunted her dreams, and year after year she fed on the hope that one day she would bring end to his mockery of life. Now, looking so intently into his lifeless eyes, she found them strangely beautiful.
She barely registered someone darting towards her and shaking her by the arms. Just as she would look to see what occurred, he would capture her, again and again, with that smile that carried no warmth, eyes that shone bright but not with the sparkle of life, open arms that spoke of invitation she knew she was forbidden to heed. Leah willed herself to tear her sight away from him, for just long enough to glance to her left. Van Helsing was there, and he was… afraid? She couldn't understand the urgency written in his face, nor the terror that set his eyes ablaze. She had no time. The eyes of another were calling out to her, with a soundless cry that tore her mind to shreds.
What do you fear? She asked in her mind, before the memory of her companion dissolved into nothingness. But no answer came; instead, all movement around her ceased, and everything was silent and still.
He was drawing nearer and nearer, his steps unbearably slow - did she really wish for him to reach her already? Or perhaps it was Leah herself who had lost the sense of time and place, as the vampire gradually claimed her with his charm. His eyes, so magnetic and deep, saw through her, through her veil of indifference, down to the deepest corners of her heart that she had hidden from the world. Come, something in her mind told her in a soft voice. Come, mo mhuirnín.
It was not until she took one tentative step forth, and she saw something - someone - a shadow at first, then the contours of a person grew clearer, that she heard a vicious laughter that shattered the glass cage of silence that separated her from the world.
"Truly," the voice laughed, "You two seem so well matched. Like sunrise and sunset."
Leah frowned and, glancing to her side, at last she understood the speaker's meaning. Van Helsing stood still and silent like a stone, mirroring her awe in his blank stare set upon the vampire. A sudden wave of anger shot through her body, and Leah's eyes darted back to Liam. Then she felt it - a sting of cold at the back of her mind, spreading quickly until her body sensed the physical chill and she shuddered. She felt him in her mind - was it possible? What are you doing to me? She kept asking. But even though the vampire's lips were still, she heard bright laughter echoing in her ears. Go away, her mind wailed, but she knew it was no use asking such a favor of that beast of a man. She looked up at him, as though an invisible finger lifted up her chin, and some uncanny force bound her eyes to his. At once she felt rage washing over her, but for now, it was easily tamed within the bonds of the vampire's charm.
His voice was not vicious, as his laughter had been, when Liam spoke again. It was familiar. She knew what he would say before he opened his mouth. He let her know so that she would have no doubt as for the meaning of his words.
"You deserve one another," he said, as he took a step to where she and Van Helsing were. Then he laughed again, out loud, and the sound was devoid of all warmth.
Sobered up in an instant, yet still unable to move, Leah shot a wild look that was met with the vampire's cold, amused eyes.
Van Helsing stood still, frowning; he stared at Liam, as though he tried to remember him. Did he speak to you too? Leah asked in a hardly audible voice - not even a whisper - but Gabriel paid her no heed. Why was he doing so? What was it that he was remembering?
As if on cue, Liam's clear voice shot through the still silence. "Yes," he said, capturing Van Helsing with his piercing gaze, "You deserved the gift I had once offered you, Gabriel. But you deserve it no more."
Fully back to her senses, Leah felt that whatever it was that had tamed her so far, it couldn't contain her fury any longer. She advanced on the vampire, but her sword was strangely heavy in her hand. Even as much strength as she spent on swinging it against him, she knew it was not enough - the monster had no fear of her at all. Not until her blade was merely an inch from his neck did he dodge, and only so much as to avoid her strike. He caught her wrist, forcing her to bend down under his weight. The blade fell to the ground.
Struggling against his grip, Leah noticed that behind her, Van Helsing had begun the last desperate attempt to win freedom for them both. His blades whirled with fury, wreaking havoc upon the Ghouls. She knew he must have overcome Liam's power over him, somehow - or had the vampire released him for the sake of his own pleasure? She could not be sure. She watched as Gabriel fought his way out of the circle that four Ghouls formed around him. He tried to drive them away, sending one after another to the ground dead - but Leah knew that whatever he did, it was hopeless.
"Look," whispered Liam, just behind her ear. "Savor this, mo mhuirnín."
His voice sent her jumping; his face was just next to hers, and Leah had not sensed him draw so near. She never felt his breath on her skin - the vampire's chest was not moving at all, his skin was pale, almost white, his eyes black as midnight sky.
"Look, how his cold precision shatters and breaks." Still holding her with his one hand, spending impossibly little effort on holding her down, Liam pointed his other hand to where Van Helsing had just beheaded another of the vampire's foul servants. "Is wrath not a glorious thing?"
Leah watched helplessly as in the place of one slain Ghoul two more emerged from the circle around them, darting wildly, but not mindlessly, towards their lone opponent. Soon Van Helsing stood his ground no more, then he struggled to his feet, just to fall again. He kept paring the quick, heavy blows that came upon him from all sides. Yet no matter how many Ghouls fell lifeless on the blood-soaked ground, more and more would come, until Gabriel began to falter.
Leah knew that they had lost. She had not the strength to do so much as to strain against Liam's grip. They could be slain any second now, both of them, and yet both were still alive. It was just a cruel game, the first act in the prince's perfect play.
"Human anger carries such great worth," meanwhile Liam continued, pulling Leah out of her reverie. "It is also the one thing that makes them valuable. All else is their weakness."
Her vision was blurred - not by pain, but strangely enough, not by the fear for her own life, either. Against the wrath that would have driven her into battle, had Liam granted her a vent to unleash it, within her there was fear for Van Helsing's life. She hadn't fully realized that until she saw him fall, again and again, still rising to his feet in his hopeless persistence. There are so many of them, Leah thought to herself as Gabriel hit the ground hard again. It hurt to watch it, but she could only do so much as stare at him in silent anguish.
"Yes," said Liam, as if answering her unspoken plea to call the Ghouls away, "My servants deserve a bit of a reward for their blind obedience. Long have they awaited this day, as have I."
"I hate you," at last she managed to utter through her gritted teeth.
"Of course you do," Liam laughed, observing with clear pleasure as two of his servants dragged Van Helsing, half-conscious, towards their master. "You always have, have you not?" Liam whirled her sharply, and forced her to meet his possessive stare. "It is exactly what makes you valuable."
Two servants tied Van Helsing as he slowly struggled to return to his senses. A scrollwork of blood obscured his features; his resistance was now almost unnoticeable, his eyes half-shut, his mouth a thin, tight line. He made no sound as the Ghouls lifted him up; instead, he focused his stricken stare on Leah's face.
Slowly, she shook her head. It was not supposed to happen this way. Now she knew; it was a trap, and they had been led straight into it. She thought of Padraig; had he done it on purpose? Had he known all along what would lie in wait for them as they entered the graveyard? Had he betrayed them?
She felt strong hands grab her from behind, and for a moment, ground escaped her feet. A Ghoul carried her short ways to where his fellow servants were fixing tight bonds around Gabriel's ankles and wrists. They needed no command, everything happened as though it had been carefully planned, and each of them now acted on their master's plan. She thought bitterly that the possessed men were not the only ones that played their parts exactly as Liam had wanted. Van Helsing and Leah herself, they too were a part of his plan, and unwittingly they did his bidding.
Liam strode toward Gabriel, his steps light as though he danced, floated just above the ground. He came near, so near that the two men were just inches away. The vampire studied Van Helsing's face; Leah could not see his expression, but she suspected that the fire of sheer victory glowed in his evil eyes. Then he did something Leah had all but expected - he lifted his hand, and wiped the blood from Gabriel's eyes. The gesture was almost like a caress - slow, gentle, caring. Leah shuddered violently, straining against the iron grip, but the Ghoul guard held her firmly in place.
"Look what you have made me do," said Liam in a quiet, almost regretful voice. "So long have I been waiting for this day to come. Yet when at last it came, you stand before me as my foe, not friend."
Van Helsing did not respond; Leah saw he was struggling for consciousness, but his head kept dropping onto his chest, his eyes still open, but barely. She knew that now it was only a matter of time before she would come to watch him die.
The vampire stepped aside, taking in the whole of Van Helsing's limp form. Just as he did so, Gabriel seemed to have returned to his senses a little, as though it was such closeness of evil that pushed him onto the brink of unconsciousness. He opened his bleeding mouth to speak, but Liam hushed him with a wave of his hand.
"Do not bother, my friend, save your strength," he said. The tone of his voice was a sheer mockery of the meaning of his words. "You shall need it, when the time comes for us to have the conversation I have anticipated for so long." He turned to Leah, a smile twisting his handsome face. "But that time is not yet come. For even in chaos there must be some order."
With those words, Liam approached her, and Leah felt her strength leaving her again. She knew that if the Ghoul released her now, she would slump onto the ground, even though physically, her body suffered from no wound. Liam waltzed toward her, and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. Leah spat at him in anger; the only resistance she could still will herself to manage.
The vampire seemed unaffected; where Leah had been expecting a wild outburst of anger, came only a brilliant, reverberating laughter. "You prove my judgment of you right, mo mhuirnín," he spoke with passion, tracing the line of her cheek with his long, slender finger. He was, however, turned to face Gabriel and she knew he was watching as the cruel game continued uninterrupted.
"I truly hoped to win you both for my ranks," Liam continued, "Yet I see that you, my dear friend, have not changed at all. But there is still hope," he added lightly after a pause. "Time will break you, Gabriel called Van Helsing, for this time, there is none to come between you and me."
Leah caught a glimpse of Gabriel's eyes. She willed her mind to cling to him and to the hope that not all was yet lost. But in his blood-covered face she found no consolation, no reassurance. He would not die defeated, that much she could read in the whole of his posture, but try as she might, she could not move under Liam's charm so that in death she could keep her dignity. If she were to die like this, her body defeated by the power of the vampire's mind, she would be once more what she had sworn to be never again - weak and useless. She swallowed audibly as Liam's cold palm brushed against her neck, and his eyes searched hers, forcing her to meet his gaze. Against her will she obeyed; in her mind she tried to summon the image of Van Helsing, of her family, of Padraig, whom she silently blamed for all that had come to pass, if only that would help her keep Liam from invading her thoughts again.
Suddenly his hand brushed across Leah's face, forcing her eyes shut, and she saw a flash of bright light. She struggled to regain her focus, only narrowly avoiding succumbing to panic. Slowly she managed to redraw Gabriel's face from the shreds of her thoughts, although Liam's cold touch seemed to have the power to wipe her memory clean. She felt a wave of relief come over her at that small victory. She managed to resist the vampire's charm this time, if only for a while.
Intent upon keeping Van Helsing in the center of her thoughts, at first she failed to realize that what she was seeing was not what she had looked upon before she closed her eyes. The contours of Gabriel's face were clear in her mind, but no blood stained him, and his eyes looked warm and shone with glee. He spoke words she could not hear; a cage of silence kept her locked away. She wanted to cry out, but her voice caught in her throat as she saw, in her mind's eye, a young woman in a long, white gown. Held gently in the arms of a tall man; Leah almost felt his touch as though it were real. The two laughed, and this time the silence was gone - the sound filled her completely, in an instant making her forget the pain and fear. It echoed long after she saw them come to a halt, breathing deeply from exhilaration, and looked into each other's eyes.
In the woman's face Leah recognized herself.
She was calm now, taking in the vision as it played before her eyes, for it gave her hope. She looked around with the woman's - her own? - eyes, and she heard her own voice as it whispered one name, time after time.
Liam's hand slid down her cheek, down her neck and arms. The vision blurred and dissolved into pitch black darkness, yet Leah felt her lips moving still, subconsciously, but never against her will. She knew that all she could think of now was that man, and his name it was that found its way through her lips so that the world would also know. Gabriel, she whispered deliriously, again and again. The battle between wrath at the courses of fate, fear of the unknown, and love she understood only now, had come to an end. She barely felt the cold of the world around.
She did not see the triumphant look on Liam's face, as he released her from his grasp but she had not moved at all. She did not see the look of terror and pain in Gabriel's eyes, his lips parted as though he wanted to speak, but time had stopped before he made a sound. She did not see him look away, his eyes shut tight, as the vampire raised a silver dagger above her head and, smiling ever so slightly, he drove the blade into her chest.
Slumping onto the ground, Leah knew only that she had failed.
Mo mhuirnín (Irish Gaelic) - My dear
Author's Notes:
First of all, I'm really, really sorry that it's taken me a whole month to update. Not really my fault, though. First week after posting chapter seven I was away from home, and then computerless for the next two weeks. But, finally it's arrived. It's also damn long, as you had a chance to find out, but I hope you're still with me. Note: This is really, really far from being the end of the story ;) So don't panic, and keep your eyes open - you never know who is who in Hunter's Game ;)
Blood Cresant: Suspense is what keeps my readers coming back to this story whenever I update ;) It's also one of my favorite tools in writing. Suspense and deceit ;)
Artemis1860 : There you go, now you know what comes next ;) Luckily, I still have a couple of susprises up my sleeve ;)
Verona Dracula: Wahhh, I never get around to keeping promises much, eh? I did leave you a review a couple of days ago, though. Sorry. As an excuse I have the explanation provided at the beginning of my A/N =P Anyway, next chapter is up. Hope you like it =)
ElvenPirate41: How about now, eh? Sorry it took so long. Can't wait to find out what you think of my evil ideas ;)
