Ragweed: Wheeee! Okay, I'm calm. But for some explainable reason, ecstacticly happy today. Don't you love it when you have days like that? Anyway, I finally realized what I forgot, the disclaimer! I don't know what the point to disclaimers are (given that the website is called "Fan"fiction.) But anyway, Carl, disclaim us.
Carl: (sigh)Ragweed does not own Van Helsing, Universal Pictures does,and she isn't being paid or making any money off of this fic.
Dracula: Actually, she's not making any money period. You're flat broke Ragweed.
Ragweed: Thank you for that Dracula…. Well, this is just more story. As always, I'd love to here what you think, so please review. I've got to go torture Carl and Gabriel. Excuse me.
Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory
Chapter 4: Grains of an Hourglass
'Blurring and stirring, the truth and the lies,
So I don't know what's real and what's not,
Always confusing the thoughts in my head,
So I can't trust myself anymore," -- 'Going Under' by Evanescence
.:I:.
At first, Carl was as hysterical as Gabriel was when he first told him what happened. After, he entered a state of absolute denial, then, soon-after, he rambled endlessly on topics that seemed to have nothing to do with what Gabriel had said. Gabriel sat on the thin cot, watching Carl move about franticly, pacing the room, rambling on end. Finally, after what seemed endless dragging on and hysteria, Carl slumped down onto the thin cot in the small room and said nothing.
They sat for a moment, staring off into space, saying nothing to one another. After what appeared to be several minutes of silence, Carl turned to Gabriel.
Gabriel didn't have to look at his friend to read the worry and complete disbelief on his face, "How can it be possible?" said Carl, his voice wavering.
Gabriel shook his head hopelessly, "I don't know." Was all he could muster.
More silence. Gabriel couldn't take it all. It couldn't be real, he refused to believe it. Dracula was dead, he'd killed him. But then…he placed a hand on the scars on his back, they still stung with the icy burning pain.
Carl saw Gabriel's movement. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," muttered Gabriel quickly, shoving Carl away.
The timid friar quickly backed away from his friend. Van Helsing was never one you should persist or nag; he was too headstrong to give-in. Unsure of what to do, Carl stood up once more and paced the small room agitatedly as before. Rarely was Carl in a situation where he didn't know what to make of it, and frankly, he didn't care for it one bit.
Gabriel held his head in his hands; he did know what to make of everything. But he could still feel Dracula's icy touch on his arm. His cold numbing claws on his forehead. His burning eyes that shimmered with every imaginable shade of green. Gabriel shuddered as he remembered what had happened. Dracula was so close to giving him his memories. Why? Why did he want Gabriel to remember so much? He seemed to almost want to…help Gabriel. But Gabriel didn't want to remember. Or did he? Gabriel tossed the thought around in his head quickly, checking it from every angle. Everything he had ever wanted to know. His family, his friends, everything he had searched for his entire life. It almost made his wish Dracula had given him his memories back.
Gabriel stood up, so suddenly he nearly scared Carl out of his skin. He grabbed his leather coat from the ground and swung it on to his shoulders. Going over to the cherry-wooden dresser, Gabriel pulled out his Tojo Blades, his two silver long-barrelled pistols, which he holstered on each hip, his shotgun which he slung across his back with a thin leather strap, and his grappling gun. After that, he slammed the drawers of the dresser shut and picked up the crossbow from the ground and slung it over his shoulder. As Carl stood dumbfounded by his friend's actions, Gabriel pushed the door of the room open and came into the limestone hallways.
When Gabriel came to the armoury, there was no one there. Was it night already? Had he meditated that long? The armoury was never completely deserted like this. But Gabriel didn't care right now. He darted over to where Carl's desk lay covered with a small portion of the Vatican's enormous library. The friar raced into the deserted armoury just in time to see Gabriel shove the piles of books and scrolls off his desk and stuff two cloth bags full of provisions. Without word, Gabriel stormed off up the stone stairway, leading up outside of the armoury.
Carl quickly followed him. "Van Helsing! Van Helsing, what are you doing? Where are you going? It's the middle of the night! Where are you going to go?!"
The friar followed Gabriel up out of the church past the Piazza San Pietro of into the city of Rome. The streets of the city were quiet with night, only the odd cat yowled at the passing stray dog. The cobble-stone roads clacked as Gabriel paced quickly through the streets. Gabriel had not gone far when he turned down a dirt road that lead into the stables.
The wooden barn doors had no lock and it was easy to slide open. No one was there; all the holsters had gone to sleep for the night. Darkness had already settled in the crevasses and creaks of the rafters and stalls for the night, making the sudden flood of moonlight spilling from the open door flush out shadows from every place the light dare reached. Hay and straw was scattered around the dirt floors. There were five rows of two stalls, each back-to-back of the other. Bridles and saddles were hooked on the frame of every stall, freshly oiled, making for quick and easy tacking-up. Behind the large barn, paddocks that sprawled for miles bordered with Vatican, for it was the abbey's stable.
The horses stood in the quiet shadows of their stalls. Horses from every culture were housed in this stable. There were at least eighty of Europe's finest breeds of horses in this one massive stable alone; Spanish war-stallions, English Clydesdales, Arab racing colts, horses from all corners of the East; including the stable's newest additions, two coal-black Transylvanian stallions.
Gabriel stood there for a moment, silhouetted by the moonlight. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the musty and somehow intoxicating smells of the stables deep into lungs and clear his mind…somewhat. He stopped in the sliding-door threshold to the stables, trapped in thought. Perhaps this wasn't the best thing to do, perhaps it wasn't wise to storm off like this while he was so angry and his fury was so tipped. But something, perhaps some suppressed memory trying to break free or perhaps it was some extra sense that he had inherited from years of battle and training, but something drove him to do this. He needed do this. He must do this. No matter how many painful memories it uncovered.
Gabriel opened the stall to a particularly tall and strong black horse with a long silver mane and a short cropped tail. One of the Transylvanian stallions of course, best for long distance. The sound of horse-hooves thudded on the dirt floor as Gabriel leads the horse calmly from its stall, stroking its neck soothingly, talking softly to calm it. Removing the halter from its head, Gabriel slipped on the leather bridle, fitting the metal bit into its mouth and tying the slender reins to one of the hooks on the frame of the stall. Hauling the leather saddle off the saddle rack, Gabriel swung it over the horse's back. He centred the well-oiled saddle on the stallion's back and tightened the girth-strap on the horse's belly. The horse's stamina would come into play now more than ever, if were going to make it to Transylvania in time.
In time for what? the long-lost Voice of Reason challenged in his head, What exactly do you plan to find. Dracula? He's not there, you know that. You're just running Gabriel. Running away.
Gabriel shut the voice out of his mind as he untied the slender leather reins and began to lead the horse out from the stable, the wide brim of his hat pulled down over his eyes.
Carl burst into the stable, clinging to the frame of the barn door, exhausted and clearly out of breath. The little friar clearly hadn't run anywhere in a great deal of time. By the time he had gotten there, Gabriel had already saddled one of the Transylvanian stallions, strapping the cloth bags to the saddle of the animal.
"Van Helsing," pleaded the friar as he stumbled in front of his friend, "what are you doing? Where are you going?"
Leading the horse out of the stables by the reins, Gabriel tried to push past the friar. But Carl, suddenly overcome with a newfound bravery, stepped in front of Gabriel, blocking his way out. Gabriel stared at his friend with deadly serious eyes.
"Move, Carl," he said firmly.
Carl looked as if he were about to turn and run, but he didn't move. Gabriel pushed past his friend again, this time, Carl didn't resist. He was at his wit's end and couldn't find it within himself to stop his friend. Gabriel led the horse out and down the dirt road, leading to the city. The horse's breath was like fog on the air as Gabriel lead the horse out into the streets of the city. With his foot in the stirrup, Gabriel mounted the horse, slinging the crossbow from a leather strap on the saddle. Again Gabriel paused, fighting with something in his mind. But he seemed to get over it quickly and he spurred the horse which roared to life and galloped down the stone streets. Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to look back as the shops and sandstone homes that lined the roads were replaced by flowing fields of crops and the odd dark farmhouse. By the time he had cleared the boarders of Rome, many hours later, Gabriel could still hear the echo of Carl's voice in his ear, calling after him, asking him where he was going.
.:I:.
Dracula awoke to the sound of his own scream. Whatever had jolted Gabriel from his sleep had somehow affected him as well. Dracula shook his head to clear away the sleepy mists that had swallowed his mind. As his body jolted to life, Dracula regained his whereabouts. He was still in the slate hallway, sitting against the wall, the candles that lit the hall had all been blow out by his own force. Now, just as suddenly, Dracula willed them to light. Tiny orange flames flickered as they suddenly rose to life on the tiny candelabras that lined the arced corridors. Dracula almost winced as a dim light filled the corridors, he loved the darkness, the darkness was more unemotional, numbing. You could get lost in the darkness, and never have to come out.
The vampire sat in the shadows for a moment as the flames threw orange light on the walls that danced on the walls and floors. Dracula decided one of the flames was burning too bright for his liking and with one sharp glance out of the corners of his green eyes, the flame snapped out. Even though there were no windows in the corridor, Dracula knew it was night. He always felt stronger at night, like whatever demonic power stirred within his hollow body peaked during the night. And besides, his sensitive bat-like ears could sense the vibrations of the far-off calling of wolves, howling up to the moon.
As the events of his sleep began to remake themselves in Dracula's mind, the vampire let out a soft snarl of anger and frustration. The Count dug his claws into the stone floor as his rage flared. He had come so close. So close! He had had Gabriel under his power--Gabriel was almost pathetically weak to him in his dreams--he could have crushed his mind with one flex of his force, and Dracula would have enjoyed the act greatly. But he had showed…mercy on the damned bastard! He had offered Gabriel his memories to him on a silver platter, and then sudden had been jolted awake.
Something must have woken Gabriel, Dracula thought to himself. Gabriel had been powerless to him; something must have found him asleep and woken him. Another surge of fury coursed though Dracula's body and he slashed out again. The Count sprang to his feet with rage and anger flowing through his emtpy viens. But suddenly, he was deprived of all strength and he fell against the wall. His claws dug into wall and his wrist strained to keep his balance. He felt slightly dizzy, like he had when he first awoke in the snow by the cart-trail. He felt hungry, yet he had feed not two nights ago.
A sound echoed in Dracula's mind. It was very vague and inaudible at first, then, slowly, grew into a pounding thud. A sharp clack rebounded in the Count's mind as the thudding sound became louder still. The sound came in rhythm, Thlack, thlack, thlack. The sound was unmistakable, horse hooves. Dracula shook his head to try and ride himself from slapping cracks of noise, but the sound remained bouncing off the walls of his skull, becoming louder with every pulse. Thlack, thlack, thlack, the thudding rang out in his mind. Louder, louder the pounding grew. Dracula clawed at his ears, but the thumping continued. What the hell was this? What was happening to him?
So you can hear it, Dracula. I knew it wouldn't take more then two times.
The voice was back, somehow stronger this time.
"What is it!?" Dracula gasped, the pounding clack of horse hooves was almost deafening and rising in decibels with every galloping pace.
It's Gabriel, said the voice simply, He's coming, he's riding a horse out of Rome as I speak.
"How…what…what do you mean!?" The vampire hissed, still clawing at his ears in a vain attempt to make the pounding sound of horse-hooves end.
The voice sighed and was silent for a moment, then said, Dracula, you've never been one to be so ignorant. You can't tell me you don't know. The voice paused for a moment. Almost as suddenly as they came, the horse-hooves dulled and eventually faded from hearing as if the source of the noise was moving further away. Confused for one of the first times in many, many, decades, Dracula stood up from the wall and waited for the voice to go on. You of all people should know the consequences of contacting a living being via their dreams, Dracula. I can see by looking into your mind that you are not lying, you truly don't know what was going on, though I must say even I am surprised you are so ignorant of this.
Dracula seethed with fury, not appreciating the voice's sarcasm.
Well then, Dracula, the voice carried on riddled with mockery, I guess I shall have to help you through this. You've been able to reach into the living's minds and control them, no? Like that pathetic Prince Velkan who proved so useless. Well, contacting a person in there dreams is similar. The only thing is, you aren't in control. Not something you're used to are you Dracula, being powerless, hmm? the voice taunted. But then, you have been rather powerless in this 'life' now haven't you. Anyway, in the subconscious level of dreams, you are equal with the living--Dracula snarled at the thought. The living were ridiculously blunt, weak and petty creatures--But once you make contact with a living being in their dreams, you become bound, connected. You're tied to Gabriel.
Dracula snarled again in anger, "I've always been connected to that damned man. Ever since that day! Yet I can't escape it, not even in death."
But now, the voice continued, undaunted by Dracula's outburst, both of you are entwined, on a greater level. Once you make contact with a living in dreams, you're subconscious minds meld into one another. You are part of him now, Dracula, the voice went on, your pain is his pain and his is yours. Sometimes, if the settings around you both are right, the currents connecting you will lock together and both of you will get sudden flash of each other's current environment. It will happen from time to time. This time you could hear what Gabriel heard, like the horse-hooves, since Gabriel is riding a horse. Another time you will be able to see what he sees or feel what he feels. But with each pacing episode, they will become more intense. The voice was suspiciously kind now, He's coming, he's coming vanquish you again. This will be your last chance Dracula. Your last chance to give him his memories, but after that...then we will be needing you for a greater purpose.
Dracula whirled around as if to face the voice, then remembered that the voice as only in his mind, "What purpose?" snapped the vampire who suddenly remembered that those were some of the last words that another pathetic human, Victor Frankenstein, had said to him before he put the waste of talent out of his misery.
The voice replied, You will see when the time comes. For now, I must leave you again. Though I'm sure you won't be lonely. A mirthless shrill laugh rang through Dracula's mind, something that reminded him of his bride's voices, and then, once more, the voice was gone.
The Count found himself almost upset the voice had left again, it had been someone to speak to, even if the voice wasn't the kindest of spirits. He couldn't care less. What did he care what some dead soul that had found his way into his mind-thought? But then again, who was this we the voice had mentioned. As Dracula recalled what he had said in the Fires, the vampire remembered something along the lines of 'I have more use for you.' What had he meant? Perhaps this voice was a minion of his. But Dracula didn't want to think about it right now, he found his aching muscles to be too tired . His body felt like it was dragging iron chains; every movement was fatiguing. Somehow, the young girl's blood which he had drunk a few days before had not sustained him very long. Maybe it was because he had lain still for so long. But whatever had caused the exhaustion, he needed to feed again.
Dracula hadn't even noticed as he had been walking aimlessly though the corridors, that he had come to a balcony window, overlooking the cliff face and the small town of Vaseria below. Small candle-lit streetlights lined the streets of the old town. Even from hear, Dracula's ears could pick out the drunken cheers of men in the many taverns the village housed. The vampire's lips formed a quiet smile, it would be easier to catch one if they were drunk.
Calling upon his true form, massive wings sprang from the Count's back and his limbs grew long and powerful. The features of his face rearranged themselves to resemble that a horrible hybrid bat. Dracula's jaw snapped with a clack and an animal-like bellow burst from his throat. With a powerful leap Dracula took flight, powerful bulking wings, cradling the night air, lifting him higher. His wings beating silently, the vampire swooped almost in a dive down the sheer side of the cliff, his thirst for heart's-life, intensifying with every beat of his wings.
.:I:.
The streets of Vaseria was quiet with night, savour the muffled laughs and cheers of the men who swarmed the many taverns by night. Thick snow draped the two-story buildings and steeply pitched roofs of the wood structures as well as a good foot of it on the ground dirt and hay-strewn ground. Warm yellow light flooded into the streets from a few open windows and doors. In the city square, the old church tower had finally been rebuilt after Van Helsing had oh, so kindly pinned Marishka to it with several arrows impaled through her chest. The stone well in the centre of the square echoed with the drips of melted snow. The odd call of a winter-raven spilled down from the mountains. From the shadows of an ally that lead into the square, two men walked together, laughing with drunken bliss. Both had been thrown out of the tavern for being too rowdy (something very hard to achieve in Vaseria) and had taken to wandering the streets aimlessly for the remainder of the night.
Dracula's heat-seeking eyes scoured the dark streets of the town for a blood-filled body of the living. But he could see nothing but rats, dogs and the odd horse. There was almost nothing out in the streets. And Dracula could not try to crawl up to one of the living in their sleep and take them then, for he could not enter a house unless invited in. Another problem with being un-dead. Dracula was snapped out of his thought as he realized that he was gliding too low to the town and beat his aching wings a few times to gain some height. He tired body was begging for blood and he was forced to glide to save energy. All he needed was one human, one living, and he could withstand the gnawing of the hunger for another month. Seeing nothing, the vampire circled back around over the core of the town, dropping lower this time. Still, the streets were empty of a living body.
Thump. A sound. The faint beating of a heart. Trimming his long wings Dracula made a sharp yet silent turn and twisted downward, landing silently on the steep roof of a house, claws clinging to the old wooden shingles. Crawling like a lizard would on a wall, Dracula scurried swiftly to the shadowed side of the gable, folding his wings against his back and pushing his body into the corner of the roof and gable, pausing for a moment. The massive bat strained its ears to listen. The pulsation of a human heart could be heard in the still night air. Just on the other side of the house. The slosh of blood pushing through the veins of living flesh. The sound was electrifying and it sparked a animal-like sensation somewhere within Dracula. For a moment, the animal instincts that Dracula normally kept barred up in his human form overwhelmed him. The mere sound of blood drove his senses mad and his fanged mouth snapped at the air with a wild, animal-like snarl. Then the Count quickly regained himself, and he froze, listening for anything that might have heard him in his brief beast-like fit.
Convinced that no one had spotted him, the Count darted over the pitch of the roof with one lightning fast movement and stopped head-first down the slope of the roof, regaining his energy. With his wings still folded tightly to his back, Dracula surveyed the centre square from his perch. The bodies of two men were visible in the town square that the house looked onto, it was obvious they were drunk, blindly drunk from the looks of it. Perfect, Dracula thought. One swoop over one of them and he could carry his victim off hopefully without his companion even realizing the other was missing.
He waited until both men had their backs to him. Dracula switched his eyesight to blood-seeking. The dark bodies of the two men were replaced with varicose skeletons that glowed with a soft warm red. One of the vein-entangled skeletons was slightly bigger than the other, Dracula decided that would he his target. The Count slunk down close down like a cat would before it pounced. His obsidian claws tightened around the wooden roof shingles in anticipation. Both men turned away. Now! screamed his mind. Springing from his down-facing perch, Dracula swooped through the air, his huge wings unfolding from his back. With silent flaps an owl couldn't match, the vampire beat his massive wings harder and quicker. Closer he came, sweeping over the stone water-well, closing in on the two men.
Twenty feet. One of the men had turned back around. His face pulled into a horrified gaze as the twisted bat figure came sweeping though the air.
Ten feet. The other one, Dracula's target, had seen him now. If Dracula could snag him on the shoulders, he could carry him off easy.
Five feet. The vampire threw his long back feet forward and flared his wings, obsidian claws flexed for the snatch.
His claws found their hold and Dracula screeched with delight. He flapped his wings once more and he lifted his victim from the ground. But suddenly, Dracula's sense began to swim and his field of vision was replaced with a scene from a forested mountainside. A horse was tied to a small sapling in a clearing on a hillside. Startled, Dracula tightened his grip on the man's shoulders. He could still feel his there, he could hear his scream, the air was cold with winter around him, but this scene of a forest had replaced his sight.
Then, suddenly, it was gone and both Dracula and the man fell the five feet to the ground. Dracula hadn't even come to a stop when his reflexes flipped himself upright and he snarled in fury and frustration. Just as suddenly as it had come, the strange vision was gone. The man Dracula had attacked screamed as he saw blood pour from his own shoulders. Dracula saw it too and his eyes blazed with demonic fury and hunger. By now, people had come rushing from their homes to see a massive hybrid bat crawling on feet and wing.
"Vampire! Nosferatu! Vampire! Run for your lives!" a woman screamed and more people flooded from their homes.
Dracula roared and the crowd shrank away. All hell broke loose as people screamed with panic. Chaos strangled the town and children and woman hollered in fear. The hybrid bat reared up and dove for the man that had been his original target. It's stay here and be killed or starve, his mind said and he wasn't about to let either happen. This time, Dracula snagged him with his front claws. Talons clenched tight and blood spewed from the man's shoulders. Wings flared Dracula rose into the moonlight, screams still rising from the square. From somewhere in the crowd, a gun was fired and the report shattered the air around Dracula as a bullet passed through his left wing membrane. But Dracula remained unaffected by the shot and wheeled around over the crowd, still carrying the screaming man pierced on his claws.
Fangs grew from the Count's jaw and they buried themselves deep in the man's neck, reaching farther then could be told with mere methods of human measurement, deep within the man's spirit itself. Blood oozed from the four wounds and Dracula retracted his fangs; there would be time to feed later. As the crowed watched in horror as the vampire rose with its victim up the side of the cliff to Castle Frankenstein. It returned. Their days of peace were over.
.:I:.
Dracula gorged himself on his newest victim, tearing at his flesh after every ounce of blood had been drained from his body. Dracula had returned to the same balcony window he had taken off from and had not bothered to take his victim anywhere. He simple kneeled on the marble floor, the dead man strune out beneath him. Kneeling over the dead man Dracula snarled with frenzy. His could feel the man's blood coming in to his own veins where they had once been hollow, surging though his body. The man's blood was still hot from his body and it filled Dracula with was probably the closest thing to life in four-hundred years. Soon however, the hot, sweet blood grew cold in Dracula's body, and the brief moment of bliss was gone. After what was perhaps hours the Count collapsed against the corridor wall, exhausted with he feed. His breath came slow, and Dracula felt something engulf him. A thick blackness poured into his body, pulling him under. Time slowed. The grains of the hourglass fell slower.
Time. It was a strange thing. A moment, gone, never to return and another comes to replace it. This things, we can never get back. Except in the memory, where they are preserved forever. Time is the one thing that the humans will never conquer, Dracula thought, no matter what they might think. They are not the superior race of the living, they are simply arrogant enough to declare themselves the superior race. They may build great things, invent new wonders, but they do not realize that if everything were come crashing down in one day, that life would go on. They are so caught up in what they have reduced life to, building this great system of life and work that truly means nothing. And what they don't grasp is that time will win out in the end, and they will never accept that, not until their 'world' comes crashing down. Pathetic creatures.
With panting breaths Dracula smiled through the blood that now stained his lips; he could feel it. Gabriel was coming nearer. He could feel it. The mountainside he saw earlier had been what Gabriel had seen. The name stung him somehow and Dracula repeated the name in his head. Gabriel. So many memories tied to that name, almost all had been ones that held good times and he held close to his heart, or had anyway. All except one. The last one he had.
But for now, Dracula could only wait, and the Count selected one of the these happier memories and allowed the new darkness to take him as he melted into the recollections of a more joyful and blissful time when cares were throw to the winds and camaraderie was a feeling that filled him until he felt his heart would burst with delight. But the only was, Dracula couldn't remember what that felt like.
Ragweed: Hehe, as you probably guessed, I know absolutely nothing about tacking a horse. I know only racehorses, (family business) so sorry if I got anything wrong. Well, besides that, I have nothing much else to say so, see ya in a week.
