Carl's French confession quietly lifted from "Molokai: The Story of Father Damien."

Agrajag stolen from Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Trilogy.

And random jitterings: Phantom of the Opera comes out Friday! Woo-hoo!

Chapter Thirty-One: Reminisces

I realize I am doomed to sow

The seeds that founder evermore

It was early morning, well before eight, with a disconsolate sun struggling to make itself felt. It was a long ride to Wales, taking the better part of the day— knowing they would have to make camp somewhere along the way, Carl had thought to pack blankets. Unfortunately he hadn't thought of bringing a canvas, and naturally, just after noon it began to rain.

Tamerlaine looked at him and laughed.

They rode through the rain.

They made camp for the night in a copse of trees, rolling themselves in blankets. Tamerlaine, as if out of nowhere, procured an enormous black umbrella— wordlessly, and regardless of propriety, the three huddled underneath it, leaning against a large tree trunk.

"I should have known," said Carl. "I always get rained on. Rain follows me. I got rained on on the way here— I got rained on in Transylvania—"

"When was that?" asked Van Helsing.

"On the boat, don't you remember?"

"You mean the ship?"

"Lets not quibble over terms. Yes."

"Oh." Van Helsing thought. "I thought that was just you getting seasick."

"It was partly me getting seasick, and partly precipitation."

Tamerlaine was giggling. "You two must be the most fantastic friends."

They were both absolutely silent and that made her laugh harder. "What went on in Transylvania?"

"Nothing good," said Carl and Van Helsing simultaneously.

"For starters, I didn't even want to go. I tried to explain this in a calm and reasonable manner to Jinette, firstly, and Van Helsing, secondly."

"Wait!" said Van Helsing, lifting his pitch into a credible imitation of Carl's voice, albeit amplified for comic effect. "Van Helsing! I don't want to go to Transylvania!"

Tamerlaine stuffed her hand in her mouth to quiet her laughter.

Carl was silent for a moment. Then he said, "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"He was griping and complaining the whole way," Van Helsing told Tamerlaine, grinning sharply. "But I'm not a field man—"

"Well, I'm not!" said Carl.

"You are now," said Tamerlaine.

Van Helsing said, "Incidentally, I've been meaning to talk to you about your childhood problem, Carl—"

"My what?"

"Cook tells me you were a little— how shall I put this— prone to overindulgence?"

"It was baby fat," said Carl immediately, setting Tamerlaine off again.

"At least," she finally managed, "he's not got that problem anymore. Admittedly he's just traded it in for a different one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Tamerlaine exchanged glances with Van Helsing.

"You hunch," said Van Helsing.

"I don't!"

"You do."

"I don't."

"You most certainly do."

Carl looked at Tamerlaine, who said mildly, "You do, you know. It's not a bad hunch—"

"Look, what is this, Carl-bashing day? Lets talk about Van Helsing for a while. Did you know he steals wine and other spirits from the Cardinal's personal stock?"

Tamerlaine shrieked with laughter and Van Helsing said warningly, "Carl—"

"And drinks it Saturday night. Every Saturday night," said Carl triumphantly. "So, Sunday morning at services, we hear a disturbance amongst the distant pews— we know exactly where to look."

"Tamerlaine's next," said Van Helsing, scowling at both of them.

"No," said Carl.

"Its alright," said Tamerlaine. "If you can find anything glee-worthy about me at all I'd be immensely pleased to have you bring it up."

There was a very, very long pause.

Then Carl said, "When you were younger you used to let me sit on you."

"Carl," said Tamerlaine with a grin, "you weighed at least twenty pounds more than I. It wasn't as though I had a choice."

"Incidentally," said Van Helsing, "I'm very upset at the heedless destruction of my stolen trousers."

"Borrowed."

"Borrowed without permission."

"But still borrowed."

"Borrowing something without permission is stealing, Carl."

"Bugger your trousers. Its freezing," Carl complained.

"There, there," said Tamerlaine. She put an arm about Carl's shoulders and pulled him closer. Van Helsing observed this with marked approval and Carl stuck his tongue out at him.

"One of these days, the Cardinal's going to find out about your girlfriends, Carl—"

"Girlfriends plural?" said Tamerlaine innocently.

"He already knows," said Carl.

Van Helsing's superior smirk died away abruptly. "What?"

"I told him."

"Voluntarily?"

"In confession, was it?" prompted Tamerlaine.

"No, in conversation. If I had told him in confession he'd still not know."

"How so?"

"Because I make it a point always to confess in French." This led to extreme merriment on the part of both Tamerlaine and Van Helsing. Carl carried on unperturbed. "Jinette doesn't speak French, you see. Italian, yes, Latin, somewhat, French, not at all. And so I confess in French and he just sits there looking wise, nodding his head, and saying 'God will forgive you, my son.'" A fierce, extremely unrepentant grin appeared on Carl's face. "Bit of an idiot, really, our Jinette."

"You don't say," wheezed Tamerlaine.

"Anyway I just out and told him about the Transylvanian barmaid."

"Why?"

"Because he wouldn't shut up, and I knew that would do the trick."

"And you didn't ask me in to watch?" demanded Van Helsing irritably.

"You saw the results anyway."

"Did I?"

"Do you remember the crack in the statue of Saint Agrajag?" Carl turned his wolfish grin on Van Helsing.

"Made by a slight earthquake, the Cardinal said."

"It was made," said Carl clearly, "by a paper-weight carefully aimed at my head. Fortunately Jinette doesn't move as quickly as once he did, and I had the great presence of mind to duck. Anyway it does you no credit to try and blackmail me with such things, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. Hence my letting Jinette in on my adventures."

"Aha," said Van Helsing. "Adventures. Such an appropriate and yet— sterile word for things."

"Do you intend to tell him about me?" inquired Tamerlaine softly.

"Dearest, I intend to show him about you."

"What, right in the office?" said Van Helsing, and received pinches, pokes, and punches for his trouble. "I only asked a question!" he protested from under the barrage.

"What time is it?" asked Tamerlaine.

Carl consulted with his pocketwatch. "Half past nine. Or," he added, upon further consideration, "five forty-five."

"Tomorrow we will find my uncle," said Tamerlaine dreamily. "Do you think we can reach him in time?"

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," said Van Helsing. "What's he going to do with the weapon, anyway? Hold England hostage?"

"You never know," said Carl. "And that's what worries me."

"Shouldn't we have some sort of plan in mind?" asked Tamerlaine. "I'm all for improvisation under the right circumstances, but some plan would be nice."

"Oh dear," said Carl, "you're beginning to sound like me."

"The plan is this," said Van Helsing. "We go to the Manor tomorrow, break in, overpower your uncle, disable the weapon, and turn Edward and Simon over to the police."

"Oh dear," said Carl to him. "You're beginning to sound like Van Helsing."

"I am Van Helsing," Van Helsing growled.

Carl put a hand on his arm. "I'm very sorry," he said sincerely.

"Shut up and go to sleep, Carl."

"It'll work?" asked Tamerlaine.

"I've fought worse monsters than the man your uncle is," Van Helsing assured her. "No need to worry. Go to sleep."

"But it might only be a quarter to six," protested Carl.

"Go to sleep, Carl."

"But—"

"Sleep."

Carl folded his arms. "I regard this as a major violation of my free will."

"Sleep, Carl. Now."

He was, for a time, quiet. Then, "Van Helsing."

"Whaa?"

"You're snoring. Please stop."

"Grr."

"All I said was— ow! How dare you— ow! Well, this is fine behavior I must s— ow!"

And the rest, after some ferocious but subdued muttering, was silence.