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To anticipate some people's reaction to this chapter: the italics halfway through are Van Helsing's thoughts. I'm starting to get into his head. Remember that everything is subjective, and put into words only through people's perceptions. What Van Helsing thinks or what he saw may not be true. Now that I've mystified you all, read on. And hit the little button that says "Review!"
Chapter Fifteen:Haunted
When around me danger waits with bloody claws
When around me life is no longer true
Van Helsing, having failed utterly to find a hansom cab, walked to the home of Doctor Kernock, expecting to find a slight, elderly man of the general "mad scientist" description. Instead he found, once he had located the house and was admitted inside, a brawny young man of about thirty, with a good-naturedly homely face and a winning smile.
He stared blankly though pleasantly at Van Helsing. "I'm sorry, sir, but do I know you?"
"I am Gabriel Van Helsing, a resident of the Vatican in Rome. I'm a friend of Carl Hampton's, whom I believe you know, and it is on his behalf that I am here."
"Ah yes." The man's face relaxed into a beaming smile. "How is our good friar these days? Blown anything up recently?"
"You know about his— mishaps?"
"Oh yes. Mr. Hampton and I have corresponded for a number of years, and he always tells me of his inventions— and their consequences. Rarely are they his fault of course."
"They were all his fault," said Van Helsing darkly. Carl's experiments and their results struck too closely for him to appreciate the gentle sarcasm of Dr. Kernock's statement.
"He told me about a rather amusing invention of his that—"
"I'd rather not talk about it," said Van Helsing abruptly.
"Ah, then you know the gadget to which I am referring?"
"I can guess," said Van Helsing, "but no. Its just that anything which Carl found amusing is guaranteed to have been dangerous and possibly fatal to at least four other people. And often, I was one of the four."
"Ah," said Dr. Kernock knowingly. Then, suddenly, "You must be the friend that Carl wrote about, in his letters."
"The friend?" Van Helsing repeated.
"Yes. He never named you, but you were mentioned occasionally, as coming or going on some quest, or other."
"Yes, that'd be me." It was a safe bet. It wasn't as if any of the other members of the Order left the Vatican. Especially not on "quests."
"He mentions you more frequently in the past year. He said he was worried about you."
Van Helsing had a retort to this firmly in mind, and then thought better of it. Instead he asked carefully, "Did he say why?"
"Yes, he said— you had suffered a— a bereavement, fairly recently?"
Bereavement, Van Helsing thought, was putting it diplomatically. He nodded wordlessly and fought against falling into his memories.
Life is fragile. You don't realize how fragile until you feel bones break beneath the weight of your own body.
Love isn't the dominating emotion. Oh yes, there was love still in Anna's eyes. But over and above that was the fear. Fear of him, Van Helsing. Fear of death. Fear of the death that he was bringing to her swiftly.
"Van Helsing—"
"Mr. Van Helsing?" The doctor's worried voice snapped him back to reality. He glanced up at Dr. Kernock and tried to shake the feel of the remembrance off him. Something still felt wrong.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Yes— fine. Er—" Van Helsing pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and closed his eyes, seeking to dispel the faint, confused voices in his head. "Doctor Kernock, I'm sorry to curtail our conversation, I don't mean to be rude, but I must get home. Carl is wating for my return. He sent me here to collect the axitonne and other materials which you had prepared for his project."
The blank look on the doctor's face gave Van Helsing a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"But—" stammered the doctor, "surely you would have it by now. The man said he was going directly to the Hampton home."
"What man?"
"The man who came to pick up the materials! Er— let me think—" Kernock closed his eyes and wrinkled his brow. "I can't remember his name— smallish chap, brown hair. A slightly crooked jaw."
The voices sharpened, became clearer, louder. Van Helsing gritted his teeth as they pounded at his head. Something is very wrong.
Suddenly the doctor's brow cleared. He opened his eyes and looked straight at Van Helsing.
"Gentle," he said. "The man's name was Gentle."
B.R.E.A.K
The hansom cabs were conspiring against Van Helsing still. He waved frantically at a few of them, but they passed on. Looking down the street, he percieved one of them pulling over for a much more nicely dressed man who began mincingly to ascend, slowly and regally.
Van Helsing ran. He didn't think he'd ever run that hard in his life.
As the man tottered on the step in thin, high-heeled boots, Van Helsing reached him. Without a moment's hesitation, Van Helsing shoved him aside, scrambled up into the cab, and slammed the door.
The cab driver said, "Hey, there! You can't—"
"I can," said Van Helsing shortly. "Drive on."
"Look, mister, I'm not going to—"
A pistol cocked, very close to his ear. "Drive on," said Van Helsing, with deceptive calmness, "and not slowly either."
Something's wrong.
When they reached Hannah's house, Van Helsing leapt out with the carriage still moving.
"Hey, mister—"
"Stay here, I will pay you in a minute."
"Look mister, that's against policy—"
Van Helsing pointed the pistol at him again. The driver looked at it.
"Not worth my time," he said distantly. "Consider it on the house." Then he clucked to the horses and moved on.
Van Helsing raced up the steps and into the house, slamming the door behind him and tracking mud on the floors.
"Carl!" he boomed. "Carl, where are you?"
No one answered him, and he rushed through the rooms, finally locating the frightened, trussed-up figure of Hannah.
He released the gag and began to undo the knots. "Where's Carl?" he demanded.
"He— he's—" Hannah spluttered, gulping for air. Van Helsing took her by the shoulders and shook her.
"Where?" he shouted.
"He's — ow— he's gone! Th— they took him! He's gone!"
The voices all crowded around in Van Helsing's head and shouted at him.
Something's wrong! Everything's wrong! Where'd he go? Something's missing! Why would anyone kidnap a friar? I'm so confused. What I need is a plan! I need a plan to get Carl, and in order to make a plan, I need Carl. Carl's the plan man. Something's missing! Something's wrong here, something's missing, something's wrong wrong wrong—
He didn't realize what it was till later, after several hours of fussing and worrying and plan-making and plan-abandoning and searching. When he did, he sat bolt upright and, quite out of the blue, said—
"Where's the tablecloth?"