Chapter Four: In Memoriam

Vladislaus pulled the linen curtain aside gingerly at first as if he feared for a moment the sun would do him bodily harm. In truth, Karl was nervous about that too, but as the thin rays of sunlight touched Vlad's face, nothing happened and the man was brave enough to unlatch the door and push open the window to let the evening breeze waft through the room. The air caught his hair and whipped it around his face, and the once feared Count laughed at the sensation as if it was the breath of God Himself. He turned his head, letting the air caress his cheeks, and play his earring. Again, his tenor laughter filled the small hotel room and made Karl laugh too.

"Be careful," Karl warned, as he poured the cheap table wine. "It's going to get cold soon and you shouldn't get sick."

"Yes, father." Vlad returned teasingly, as he stared at the ocean beating against the shore only a few feet from his window. He had a childlike longing in his eyes; his attention darting from the purple sky once, and now to the red sun, and now to the sands that burned gold or the chocolate colored dogs that chased birds through the surf.

There was a small sampling of meats, cheese and breads left by the innkeeper for a late dinner and Karl was busy at work dividing them up. Vladislaus had begun to hum in Spanish, a small upbeat ditty that reminded Karl of seafaring songs used to keep the oarsman in sync and at their duty.

"Where did you learn that tune?" He asked.

Vlad paused, "My mother's family." He said and the quiet, pained respect in his voice struck Karl. "They were merchants, in Grenada. Before the wars, I would take a small clipper to Africa on supply runs. I'd bring chocolate and spices brought from the trade routes to the Tripoli or Casablanca." He looked over. "I met Intessar there."

"Intessar?" Karl asked quietly. "Was she your wife?"

"No, she was a Saracen, we couldn't marry." His eyes fell for a moment. "She died in Vaseria…burned as a witch." Another long moment passed between them. "Because of me."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be." Gabriel murmured as he walked into the room, and looked over at Karl, refusing to acknowledge Vladislaus at all. "They used young wood."

"What does that mean?" Karl demanded meekly.

There was a small voice that answered him. Vlad looked sick, "It means the wood smoked first…Intessar was unconscious when she was burned alive."

"Aren't we merciful?"

Vladislaus turned away, to focus his attention back to the waves as they beat upon one another. He looked for a moment as if he wanted to be lost in the chaos before him. Karl glared at Gabriel for a long time but the Knight kept silent. Van Helsing was staring at Vlad; he had meant to provoke the Count into action; to see something of the demon that had caused so much evil.

All he found was a man lost in memory.

"Why don't you take a swim," Gabriel offered, tugging his coat on. "Karl, go ahead. Maybe the sun will…"

"That's enough." Karl chided. "Go and do whatever business brought you here. We'll be fine."

"Watch him." Gabriel hissed before disappearing through the door. There was a long silence as Karl searched for some way to alleviate the darkness Van Helsing's cruelty had called on.

"Why does he hate me so?" Vlad asked.

"He has his reasons."

"Reasons you won't tell me."

"Not yet. Soon."

"When?"

"…soon." Karl pushed open the door and smiled. "Come on, let's go for a swim."

Dracula stood up, meeting the Friar's gaze for a moment. Karl worried for a second that he would press the matter; instead, Dracula shrugged out of his coat and motioned Karl to take the lead.

The Synagogue was old and menacing. A few parishioners sat at intermitted spaces between one another to mumble through prayers or attempt to feel holy. An old Rabbi sat near the front, rocking slightly to keep pace with his mumbling. Apart from his black dress, wide brim hat, and curls he was no more memorable then any other person there (and indeed there were several men dressed similar) but Gabriel Van Helsing spotted him instantly. The Rabbi had the typical appearance of a Jew, and it was almost comical, as if someone had drawn this man specifically to play a villain. From his hooked nose, to his wide forehead and small hands clasp together in prayer. Without ever meeting him, Gabriel instantly took a dislike.

But, it was not his interest in the Rabbi that drew Gabriel's attention to him. Taking a seat near the end, Gabriel waited patiently as he finished his prayers. Eventually, the robust man rose, gathered his robes around him and exited the temple. Gabriel bowed his head, and waited.

A shadow stirred near the doorway, and fell into step behind the Rabbi. Young, Aryan by appearance, the shadow became a woman who appeared to have no awareness of Gabriel who had fallen into step behind her. With blond hair cut short and slicked back like a man's, the woman walked with all the purpose of a hunter behind the man and when her gait quickened, Gabriel retreated to a corner to watch.

She worked so quickly that a blink would have caused him to miss the attack. She drew back her cape, and sprung forward, making no sound and allowing the Rabbi no chance to scream. The moonlight caught her eyes for one brief moment and they reflected the light back, like a cat's, before white fangs caught Gabriel's attention, followed by the twin trails of blood that began to drip down the Rabbi's neck, only to disappear into his black robes. For a long time the Rabbi struggled wordlessly against his attacker until finally his body succumbed to death.

The woman dropped the weight disdainfully, and stood quiet for a moment, basking in the new blood.

"You could have stopped me." She spoke, leveling her eyes to the corner Gabriel was hiding.

"You seemed hungry."

"He was a thief." She continued as if he had not spoken at all. She looked down at the body and kicked it, before stepping over it and crossing the distance between them. "He stole money from his own congregation to finance homes for him…and his Christian mistresses."

"We all need our hobbies."

Moshe Sayar a rebuking noise. Her hands appear again from under her cloak, and they clasped Gabriel's in a firm grip- both her hands encompass one of his. Her grip was still as firm and callous as he remembered it, but now there was a deathly chill to her fingers- as the night had struck her with a cold she could never shake. That much was true.

Hers was a tragic story, if put into romantic terms, but one all too common if viewed for what it truly was. She had been a Knight of the Holy Order, feared and talented if known for being somewhat brutal. Rough, unpolished but not cold, Moshe had undertaken her mission with the same type of zeal most young Knights did: with the firm complete belief that hers was a mission from God and as such, no harm could come to her. She was young, brash and naïve.

And she had loved Gabriel very much.

There had never been words passed between them concerning this, nor betraying looks or actions. No one dared caused rumors for fear of the two, and so hers became a great unreturned love. Gabriel was still in love with his immortal Anna at this time, and Moshe never dared to replace a woman she had never known. To do so was to alter Gabriel in her mind and she could not allow that. She merely existed somewhere in between; always in the shadows watching her great love or on his arm teasing him while never betraying the truth. She existed somewhere behind Anna's memory, somewhere in between the nightmares and dreams.

And she had died there.

It was a mission no different then hundreds before. The place was Vienna, the evil, an ancient Vampire; the rest were merely details. She was to hunt down the villain and destroy it. She was ambushed. Gabriel avenged but unable to complete the mission by tying up all lose ends (and in truth, no Knight would have dared touched Moshe- it would have been beyond comprehension to hurt a comrade in arms.) This left Moshe in a state of vertigo. She had had no life beyond the Knights of the Holy Order and there was no way she could have continued in her vocation. So she was left, alone, to mete out some semblance of a life.

As it turned out, Moshe had a taste for vigilantism.

And bringing attention back to the corrupt dead Rabbi at her feet, Gabriel adjusted his coat over his frame as he pulled away from Moshe's touch. He looked skyward in an attempt to hide the truth from his eyes. "Have you heard?"

"Rumors and conjecture." Moshe whispered. "There's talk the Knights are scared, collecting for a final stand."

"We are." He answered. There was no time to lie. "He has the means to undo us…"

"Who?"

"They call him Lazarus."

Moshe folded her arms around her, eyes looking downward. "And there is no hope? No way out?"

"There is always a way out." Gabriel swallowed, glancing at her. "If we are strong enough to take it."

Sayar met his eyes defiantly. There was blackness behind the words that troubled her, callousness to his voice that had no place there; this made Moshe frightened. Still, the Vampire narrowed her eyes to appear interested. "And where does your final chance come from?"

Gabriel shrunk from her gaze. "From the Devil, or at the very least his child."

"We have seen much, you and I, Gabriel…but never enough to prove a Devil."

"That's alright. We didn't find him here. We went to hell to bring him back."

"You used Malik, did you?" Moshe asked, stepping away from Gabriel and folding her hands over herself as if she were cold. Gabriel walked behind her, putting his hands over her shoulders and stroking them gently.

"We did what we had to do." He told her, leaning down and touching his lips to her skin. Like he knew she would, Moshe never pulled away. "And now we come to you to help us."

"What would you desire of me?"

"To give our last hope a fighting chance."

"You mean damn him to my fate."

"He was already once before."

Moshe turned at his words to face him. Her eyes widen. "Dracula? You brought back Dracula?" She shook her head, vigorously. "You don't know what you did…"

"I do. Pacelli thought it was worth the risk."

"Then do you know what you ask of me?" Moshe demanded. "To give Dracula back his Vampirism is to welcome a new war. Do you think he'd help you after murdering him?"

"He doesn't remember that."

"And do you think, as a Vampire, this amnesia would continue?"

"I don't know."

"You could be committing suicide."

Gabriel grunted angrily. "Stop telling me things I already know!" He stared at her. "Will you help me or not?"

Moshe stared into his eyes for a long time, disbelieving. Finally, she stepped away from him once more. "I will help you, in memory of the Knight I once was." Then, bowing her head, she added. "And in memory of the one you were once as well."