Friar Carl had cold, or, as he liked to mutter, 'those damned sniffles'. This cold winter's morning saw him lying in his bed, his head deep in a thick volume about Pagans. He shifted restlessly, filled with a nagging desire to run down to his lab and do something, anything, to keep him occupied.

There was a knock at the door. It was opened to reveal Gabriel Van Helsing, who was leaning casually in the doorway. Carl saw that he was armed, dressed, and wearing his hat- signs that he was prepared to leave.

"Haven't you ever heard of waiting to be invited inside?" Carl asked.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "I'm a monster hunter, Carl. I don't have time for petty insignificances such as manners."

"Don't flatter yourself. As much as you like to give the impression of a mindless, murdering beast, you know full well you're the perfect gentleman. One might even go as far as to say a pussycat."

Gabriel gave a low purr, and Carl rolled his eyes. Gabriel crossed to the bed, and surveyed his friend carefully. He tugged the book from his hands.

"You're supposed to be resting," he scolded, trying to look firm.

"I am, but I'm so bored," fidgeted Carl.

Gabriel frowned. "Sleep. It'll be good for you. I'm leaving later, and I don't want to find out you've been in the lab when I get back."

Carl scowled. "Where are you going?"

"France. Paris. There's a siren on the loose."

"Good luck."

"Let's hope I don't need it," Gabriel sighed, ruffling his friend's hair affectionately. "Remember: no lab work for you. Bye, Carl."

"Bye, Gabriel," Carl replied, watching his friend leave.

He picked up his book from the chair where Gabriel had left it, and thumbed through to his place, trying unsuccessfully to settle into reading. He was incredibly bored. He closed the book and climbed out of bed, scrabbling over to the window and peering out into the snow. He had a good view of the entrance to the Vatican church from up here, and the beautiful picture made him smile.

His smile faded slightly as he noticed what appeared to be a very small figure lying still, sprawled across the stairs. No, it couldn't be. But what else could it be? He chewed his lip, realising that Van Helsing would leave out of the back exit, and nobody would find the person.

How could he leave them out there? Sick or not, promises made to Van Helsing or not, he needed to save them. They would die out there.

Carl grabbed his robes, dressing quickly, taking an extra robe. He ran from his room, down the corridors, and down the spiralling, draughty staircases. Nobody stopped him as he ran across the almost deserted entrance. He unlatched the main door and heaved it open, gasping as a wave of coldness and snow hit him.

It was almost impossible to see through the thick clouds of snow, but Carl could just see the figure a little way down the steps. He ran down.

The snow seemed to stop for just a second as he stared at the figure- a very slim young woman, short even by Carl's standards. She was clothed in a very raggy brown dress which barely kept her dignified, so a lot of her white skin was visible. She had a beautiful face, with well-defined cheekbones. It was deathly pale, apart from her lips, which were blood red. The hair spilling to her shoulders was thick, curly and a gorgeous shade of golden brown, lightly sprinkled with snow. Carl wondered for a moment if she could be a vampire, but the expression of sheer innocence on her face quickly extinguished that possibility. He wrapped the robe around her, gathered her up in his arms, and carried her inside.