It was nearly dawn before Carl quit the lab. He had been writing steadily for the entire time and had accumulated a rather large stack of papers. Van Helsing had been concerned that Carl was going to take his papers back to his room with him but instead Carl pulled open the casing of a large, unused piece of equipment and stashed the papers inside. Then looking around furtively, he left the lab. Van Helsing waited until he was quite sure that Carl wasn't coming back and then moved from his hiding place.
With his heart beating much faster then it did when he faced down a monster, he pulled open the hiding place and took out the papers. He then found a sheltered corner where his lantern wouldn't be seen and sat down. He couldn't believe how nervous he was to find out Carl's secret. He knew that he promised himself that nothing he read would change his relationship with Carl but now that he was facing it, he was afraid of what he would find. Carl's behavior had been pretty furtive and that was not like the man.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he picked up the pile of papers and began reading. What he saw stunned him enormously. He had imagined any number of possible contents but this had never crossed his mind!
He continued to read through the stack of papers, going faster and faster, hardly able to believe his eyes. It was only when he heard talking coming from the hallway that he realized that the day had come and that the lab would soon be full of monks. He quickly dashed across the room and stashed the papers in their hiding place and then fled the labs for his rooms.
Once there he threw himself on the bed and covered his eyes with his arm. But it didn't stop the images that floated through his mind, conjured up by what Carl had written. Groaning, he rolled on his stomach and tried to think of something else… anything else. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept returning to what he had read.
How could Carl have written it? He was a friar. How does a friar know of such things? He's suppose to be chaste, and holy and… Van Helsing moaned and buried his head in his pillow as a particularly lurid image floated through his head. He was beginning to wish he had never read the papers, never unearthed Carl's secret.
He tried to burrow further into his pillows but it didn't stop the flow of images that filled his mind. Nor did it stop his body's response to them. Why hadn't he just left well enough alone!
To Be Continued...