Hey, everybody, whats up? I'm just getting over being sick so it may be a while before I get the next chapter up, but in the meantime, let me know what you're still confused about. I'm trying to work it all out in my head and its good to have someone else's perspective. Also I started a blog, if you're at all interested in my ramblings, and the link is on my bio page. Its called... get this... "Running Into Nothing."

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Belief

You never asked what I thought of you

Mourning while the day is new

Carl, at long last, finished explaining to Van Helsing everything that had happened since his abduction, and his supposition of the reason for it.

Van Helsing rubbed his chin, casting a glance down at Tamerlaine, who, seated on the floor by Carl's feet, was cleaning and dressing the cut her uncle had given him. Hannah, who had been bundled out of the room without ceremony, banged weakly at the door and demanded petulantly to be let in.

"So Edward Gentle is behind all this, eh?"

"That would appear to be the case, yes," said Carl. "Ow," he added as Tamerlaine finished tying up the bandage.

Van Helsing looked down at her. Aware of his gaze, she moved cautiously, not looking up.

"Then I suppose we'd better find him," said Van Helsing. "Since he has the weaponry— only, he can't make it without you can he?"

Carl looked decidedly unhappy. "He can," he admitted. "Everything to make the weapon operable is there, in the blueprints."

"Then why did he take you?"

"The only thing that's still in my head is— the safety catch. The switch that makes sure it won't go off on its own once its assembled. Otherwise—" Carl shrugged helplessly. "It's like playing Russian roulette."

Van Helsing stared at him until the friar blushed. "This ought to be fun."

"I'm sorry, truly, I just—"

"Carl, stop apologizing for everything."

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?"

"We'd better find him," Van Helsing repeated grimly. "I need answers." His gaze returned to Tamerlaine, who still sat on the floor, apparently deeply engrossed in Carl's leg. He reached out and grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"How did your uncle know about the weapon?" he demanded harshly. Tamerlaine closed her eyes and shook her head. "How?"

"I can only guess that he heard Carl tell me about it," she said, her voice breaking, and tears seeping out from under her eyelids.

"You didn't tell him?"

"No!" The denial came from her like a shout. She opened amber eyes and stared at him. "I did not tell them anything."

Van Helsing let go of her physically but held her with his gaze. "Why had you been keeping your marriage to Simon a secret?"

She turned her head from him and wiped her eyes. "These are modern times," she said slowly. "Marrying the inmate of an asylum would be looked on as taking advantage of someone while they were not in their right mind. Especially when you consider that if my uncle dies I stand to inherit a great deal of money. Simon knew this, and rather than enter that mess we were married and then the records destroyed— I don't know how he managed it— when I emerged from the asylum he wasn't willing to wait and be properly married— he came with me as my brother."

"His story, if you didn't know, is that he's your half-brother, by your uncle."

She shrugged. "A tale rooted in truth, no doubt, and not without precedent. My uncle and my mother may have been—" She swallowed. "And my uncle and my father were only half-brothers themselves. It's a complicated issue. All the truths are half-buried in lies and obscure bloodlines." She sighed, and her hand crept up to take possession of Carl's. "But I'm telling you the truth— I swear, the only truth I know."

"What do you mean?" asked Van Helsing sharply. She turned tear-stained eyes on him.

"Mr. Van Helsing, I have spent most of my natural life in an asylum. The more sane you are going in, the more unstable when you come out. As far as I know I may very well be responsible for the deaths of those people, and all this is just fabrication, even as I may be responsible for the deaths of my parents so many years ago."

"You're not," said Carl suddenly, and stood up. "You're not!" He walked from the room, Tamerlaine watching him go. Once the door opened they heard the excited flutterings of Hannah— then Carl closed the door, quietly, leaving them alone.

Van Helsing joined Tamerlaine on the floor. She glanced at him quickly and wiped her eyes.

"Its incredible that, after all these years, he still stands up for me in this manner."

"Not really," said Van Helsing. "Carl's always been the sort that takes hold of belief with both hands. He loves you, and he's not about to let go for anything."

"I know."

They sat together in silence for a moment. Then Van Helsing said, hesitantly, "I'm not sure what Carl told you about me—"

"That you were a friend to him— he said you were a monster hunter."

Van Helsing nodded and Tamerlaine's tentative smile faded. "I don't understand that, I'm afraid."

"I'll explain it sometime. It's a—" Van Helsing sighed. "It's a long story."

"He said you'd lost the only woman you loved a year ago."

"That's— true, as far as that goes."

"What happened?" she asked quietly. "You needn't tell me, you know, but—"

Van Helsing stared into space. "I killed her."

Tamerlaine's eyes widened. "What? Carl said it was a— said it was a mistake, a, a tragedy—"

"It was both a mistake and a tragedy, and my fault. I'd become what I hunted for so long. I was a monster." He raised his hands and stared at them. "I may still be."

"If you are a monster," she said, taking his hands in her own and lowering them back into his lap, "then I am a demon."

"You're not."

She said, "I wish I knew—"

"You're not," Van Helsing repeated, squeezing her hands. She smiled faintly at him.

"No, I suppose I'm not, really. I am no demon— nor am I angel."

Van Helsing felt a tingle go down his spine at her choice of words. "What are you?"

Firelight sparked her eyes as she smiled while answering. "Complicated."

"Well, I knew that," Van Helsing snorted.

"You asked."

"You're a writer, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"You make your living as a writer?"

"No, I make my living as a gentlewoman."

"Meaning—"

"Meaning I get an allowance from my uncle, through his solicitor."

"The solicitor!" Van Helsing said, suddenly excited. "Surely he could tell us where your uncle is."

Her face closed suddenly, shuttered off. "No," she said shortly, and got up.

Van Helsing followed her. "But we have to find out where he lives—"

"I know where he lives. Carl and I were being held there. But with me loose, he won't dare remain. He'll have left by now, for sure."

"Then we must find where he's gone."

She shook her head, tightened her lips, and headed for the door.

"Mrs. Gen— Tamerlaine, you have to help me find him."

"I can't."

He reached out and caught her arm. "Why not?"

She looked him in the eyes for a moment. "If you truly believe," she said quietly, "that you killed your beloved, then you will understand how— how weak I feel. How nothing, empty. A shell."

Van Helsing stared at her; then he shook his head. "You and I— apart from our hardships we are nothing alike, we have nothing in common. It is my profession to kill. It is not in you."

She shook, and it looked like the tears were coming again, but she gritted her teeth and fought them back. Van Helsing pulled her into his arms, letting her rest her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, marveling at the delicacy of her bones, and she leant against him, but she did not relax and she did not hug him back.

It had been so long since he'd held a woman.

And this was the wrong one.

He forced his mind away from that and concentrated on being big-brotherly. Tamerlaine remained tense.

A light went off in Van Helsing's brain.

He let her go and pointed a finger at her.

"I'll prove it to you," he said. "I'll prove it. Come with me."