A/N The final chapter written so far – after this, updates may be irregular. Thank you all for your comments on this story, and indeed on 'Possessions'! Hope you enjoy this chapter.
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Carl stopped speaking. He lifted his mug to his lips and drained it of the cold tea it contained, dropped it, ran his small, pale hands wearily through his already disordered hair.
"Well, that's it," he said, rather impatiently, when Van Helsing made no comments on his tale. "Don't just sit there like a stuffed badger – say something!"
The hunter was silent for another few moments, his face thoughtful, then he asked,
"You said you have no control over this power of yours – but you can consciously, deliberately cause things to happen. The picture, the spanner...the stove and mug, for that matter..."
Carl looked somewhat surprised, and offended, at the baldness of Van Helsing's tone.
"True," the friar said coldly, "I can instigate movement in objects, but I can't control them once it's started. Oh, and thank you for the sympathy, by the way."
Van Helsing winced. It hurt his heart to be so cold and callous when all he really wanted to do was embrace his friend and tell him that they would find a way to make this right, that Van Helsing would help him, that he needn't worry now the great demon hunter was here...but for Carl's own sake, he couldn't do that. Carl had lost all hope, and the only way to prevent him from falling to pieces was to lead him into solving the problem for himself – make him see that the ability Tallander had left him with really could be a gift. But it would do no good to insist on this – the friar was a stubborn man, and would have to understand it for himself.
"So you do have some conscious control, which might well improve with practise," the hunter continued.
"I daresay," was Carl's dry response. "And I'm sure we could set up some kind of training ground where I can throw heavy objects at multiple-headed monsters with my mind, while making appalling quips and broodingly stealing your thunder. But my failure to control objects isn't the issue – what I'm afraid of is the unconscious effects my – talent – seems to have. Like the stove and the mug; I never intended to do that, it happened by itself. Or rather, in response to signals from the lower levels of my brain. There's the danger, Van Helsing, don't you see? I could have killed you, had I been angry enough – and I still might, if you keep on looking at me that way. I could bring the walls crashing down on your head."
"You're powerful enough to do that?" Van Helsing tried to suppress the natural enthusiasm of a warrior for a new and unique kind of weapon, knew it was in his voice, and hoped Carl wasn't too upset by it. It was exactly the same tone the hunter used when Carl presented him with some particularly brilliant invention. He might as well have said, "This I like!"
"I think I will be; it's continuing to grow stronger," Carl said, ignoring Van Helsing's enthusiasm if he had noticed it.
"Perhaps greater control will come with it."
"Why does it matter?" the friar exploded, suddenly. "I know exactly what you're trying to do – you want to use me, don't you? You've gone through all the possibilities, all the wonderful things you could do with such a marvellous – gift. I make weapons, Van Helsing but I won't be one – not yours, not Jinette's, not anyone's!" Blood ran down Carl's chin as his teeth sank deeper and deeper into his lower lip, and his eyes brimmed with angry tears. "I won't use this to kill! I will not!" He sank back, huddling into himself. Van Helsing stared at him, shocked and stricken.
"Carl..." he reached out, gently pulled the friar's hands away from his face. "Listen to me, please. This gift you have could be used to save people, not hurt them. You make weapons for me to use against those creatures which seek to hurt the innocent; how is it any different to use your new skills against them as well?"
Carl rubbed his eyes.
"Because this power is unclean, Van Helsing. Demonic. I am one of those monsters you fight against..." he pulled away, withdrawing once more, the picture of absolute misery and self-hatred. Van Helsing looked on helplessly; it was like witnessing a man drowning from a cliff-top, knowing you can't make it down in time to save him but thinking that somehow, just by saying there, you can help.
He reached out and drew Carl against him. Carl, surprised out of his wretchedness by the unprecedented tenderness of the action, looked up for a moment, then shrugged and settled himself against the hunter. Van Helsing spoke, murmuring against Carl's hair like a lover,
"Carl, listen. When I was bitten by the werewolf, in Transylvania, we used my resulting gifts to destroy Dracula. The werewolf venom was monstrous, unclean, but we used it for good."
"But you were cured," mumbled Carl.
"Yes – but if I hadn't been, and I could have somehow kept control of my own mind, I would have gone on using the skills the werewolf venom gave me for the power of good. It doesn't matter where our talents come from, Carl – it's how we use them that matters."
He waited, anxious, as Carl took this in. Jinette would indeed want to use the friar's new power in the fight against evil if he could – but that was not Van Helsing's reason for trying to persuade Carl that he should use it. Van Helsing knew that employing the remarkable abilities positively was the only way Carl could come out of this alive and with his sanity intact.
He glanced down; Carl was looking at him, his face tired and thoughtful, but still without the glimmer of hopeful purpose Van Helsing had been hoping for.
"That's the problem," Carl said, quietly. "What if – what if I'm not myself? What if this thing does make me like – him?" his voice trembled, and he grabbed Van Helsing's hand suddenly gripping tight enough to hurt with his surprisingly strong fingers.
"That's what you're really afraid of," the hunter said, softly. "not hurting people accidentally, but deliberately."
Carl nodded, speechless with misery and fear.
"Is there any reason to think that might happen? Have you noticed any such change in yourself?"
Slowly, Carl shook his head.
"I don't believe that could happen, Carl. Tallander had tremendous difficulty in possessing your body, even before he was damaged, nearly destroyed, by Reicher. He said himself that he couldn't possess you again, and I think that's true – and he never for a moment controlled your mind."
Carl sat up, beginning to look more himself. His face lost its desperate expression and took on the abstracted, absorbed expression of a scientist exploring a complicated question.
"But – what if the power itself seduces me, corrupts me?"
Van Helsing barked laughter, partly in relief at seeing Carl looking better.
"I can't imagine a more unlikely person to be corrupted by power than you, Carl! And anyway, we could all claim to be at risk of that. Myself, Jinette..."
"Yes, you're right. Cocky, but right." Carl smiled faintly, and Van Helsing allowed himself to feel encouraged. He had responded successfully to the friar's arguments, stripped away his objections and fears...
"There's still the problem of my being unable to control it, though." Carl said, glumly.
"And I still believe you can learn. I have faith in you, Carl – faith that you'll master this ability and use it for good. You have the most extraordinary mind I've ever encountered."
Carl looked up at him, and there it was: that glimmer of hope Van Helsing had been waiting for.
"You...really think so?"
"I do. And what's more, I'll stay here with you while you practice – help if I can. And when you're ready, not before, we'll return to the Vatican – together." He gazed intently into Carl's uncertain face. "Well – do we have a deal?"
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A/N Do they? Find out in the next chapter!
