Updates for you! I know where I'm going with the story now (unlike with my Phantom of the Opera fic with which I am completely flummoxed...)! Horray!

Pax
The snow was startlingly white in the moonshine. Pure. Untouched. As clean and fresh as a serving dish, straight from the wash, yet unfilled with food. It felt almost painful to march my horse through it, creating deep hoof prints. Ruining the purity. Destroying the innocence.

"Van Helsing! Can we please call it a night?"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the comment.

"Van Helsing!"

My eyes sought a distraction.

"VAN HELSING!"

"Alright!" I bellowed, "There's a village just past these trees!" turning to look at him, I continued, "In the name of all that is Holy, why did you decide to be a monk if you can't deal with any amount of difficulty?"

Carl opened his mouth to retort, then paused, appearing thoughtful and perplexed. His mouth shut and he sat back in his saddle, brow furrowed in contemplation. Ah well, at least he'll be quiet.

The town was a small one nestled in the hollow of a valley. Even I had to admit that the warm, orange light pouring from the windows looked appealing after many days of trudging over ice. There was one building, much larger than the others. From the front hung a sign "The Moldavian's Ewe". It was an inn, although a small one. Around the back was a rickety old stable. Good enough.

Carl sighed with relief when we entered the bustling inn, shuffling immediately to the drink counter. I brushed the snow off my shoulders, taking the moment to glance around at the inhabitants; we were on a mission, after all. A few people had turned to see who came through the door, but the rest had remained unfazed.

Something was thrust into my hand. I looked down; a tankard of amber liquid.

"Thanks." I said. Carl sniffed; apparently he was still exasperated with the long days march. I decided to let him stew, following him to the counter and sitting.

"And where do ye' gentlemen be coming from?" It was the portly bartender who spoke, rubbing a glass with a cloth.

"Rome." I answered, taking a sip of my drink. Whiskey.

He seemed surprised.

"All the way from the Holy City?" he said, astounded, "Are ye' priests?"

I jerked my head at Carl.

"He is."

"Actually I'm only a friar." He said quickly, as the bartender's eyes had drifted down to stare at the large tankard with raised eyebrows.

"Listen," I said, leaning forward. The older man bent in, curious, "We've an assignment. We were sent out to look for anything…" I sought for a good word, "strange, around these towns."

His eyes widened.

"Ye' mean ye've come to stop the attacks?" He asked in a hushed voice. I nodded. Glancing quickly around himself, he continued in a hurried whisper.

"Now see, there haven't been a whole lot of 'em, not as much as before the…the…" He choked on the word, "Well, the You-Know-Whats were killed."

"You-Know-Whats?" Carl lifted his head from the drink, foam clinging to his beard. The bartender winced, lowering his voice to nothing more than a hiss.

"Vampires."

"Oh, those."

"But we digress," I said, giving Carl a look that clearly expressed my desire for him to keep his mouth shut and let me talk, "Please continue."

After quickly daubing his forehead with a handkerchief, he pressed on.

"They haven't been too bad, as I said. But… but the thing is…"

I nodded, urging him on.

"The thing is… they look like wolf attacks. And not just any wolf," he raised his eyebrows for emphasis, "I mean big wolves."

"Like a werewolf?" asked Carl, once again oblivious to the subtle wording. The man cringed.

"Y-yes."

I frowned. First vampires, now werewolves? Something evil was formulating in these mountains. I tilted back the brim of my hat, meeting the bartender's eyes.

"Has anyone or anything suspicious come to this town?"

He looked perplexed.

"Not that I know of, sir."

"What about newcomers?"

"Newcomers? Since the attacks started?"

I nodded again.

"Well now… not that I can think of." His moustache bristled as the mouth it roofed suddenly opened. "Wait just a moment! There is one person." He jerked his head over my shoulder, "Just there."

I looked in the said direction, and saw a solitary figure sitting in the corner. A young woman, no more than twenty, pale and dark haired. She looked oddly serene and out of place in a bar full of bumbling peasants.

"Not that I think she has anything to do with the attacks." The bartender chuckled, "It's only that she's recently come to town that I mention her."

I glanced at Carl.

"May I ask why?"

"Why she's come?"

I shook my head.

"Why you think she hasn't anything to do with the wolf attacks?"

He laughed again, picking up a dirty glass to clean.

"She's a kindly, well-mannered lass. Works up the mountain at the old log farm. She's been coming down here in the evenings, when her work's done, you see. Sits right other there, quiet and thoughtful-like." His chest swelled and his smile widened, "Says my inn's got the best coffee she's ever had."

Flattery. That was rarely genuine these days. I was beginning to have some misgivings about this girl.

"Did she give you her name?"

The bartender opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. He looked bemused, then shrugged.

"Now that ye' mention it," his eyebrows furrowed, "I can't say I rightly know her name!" he chortled, "My age must be slowing me down a bit."

Carl looked at me timidly. I continued to frown. Several grisly murders in an isolated mountain town (A/N: This sounds like The Legend of Sleepy Hollow!). A pale stranger who sits quietly in the dark corner of an inn each night. How was it no one had thought to be suspicious? I rose.

"Thank you for your information." I said curtly, nodding. The man smiled.

"Anything to help, good sir."

Another chapter is three quarters done, and should be up really soon! Much love to the faithful readers! Reviews and thoughts welcome!