Chapter 2
"So let me get this straight." Van Helsing sat back in their train carriage, pushing the tip of his hat up with the sharp point of his crossbow. "We are here because there are reports of a werewolf."
"Yes." Carl didn't even look up from his books.
"And I get to kill it, right?"
"Yes, I fear so."
"And you get to watch, while your little 'apprentice' takes notes, right?" He smirked as the friar groaned.
"Izzy will do more than simply 'take notes'."
"No, he will be another person for me to look out for, and get in my way."
"I hardly think that's fair. Izzy might prove useful. I am not a medic, no matter how many times you've made me wrap up a limb or two over these years." He then looked up from his ancient scribes, and blinked at him. "What?"
"You have yet to tell me about this apprentice of yours. What's he look like?" there was something about this new apprentice that Carl didn't want to tell him, he could smell it. He didn't have to be a werewolf anymore to know something smelt like fish. Very fishy indeed.
"Oh, Izzy has been in the order since birth, related to the cardinal actually. Very good with medicines, but not much 'hands on' practise so far."
"I didn't ask what he could or could not do, Carl." Carl gulped. "I asked what he looked like."
"Oh, about my height, red hair, green eyes, good looking I suppose." His face was very conveniently hidden behind his book now. "You will see soon enough."
"Strong shoulders?" He pulled the book down, and had a knowing look in his eyes. Carl could tell that Gabriel knew he was hiding something, and chuckled weakly.
"Broad in a sense I suppose." He tried to take refuge behind the book once more, but Gabriel held it down on his lap.
"Is he strong?"
"Wouldn't know."
"Like to drink?"
"Again, wouldn't know."
"Strong arms?"
"I saw Izzy lift up a full grown man once, but other than that…"
"Strong chin?"
"Erm…"
"Smoker?"
"Heavens no."
"Arrogant?"
"I don't think so…"
"A werewolf or any other kind of monster? Including half breeds."
"No."
"Then why don't you think I'll like him?" Carl didn't say anything at first. "Carl?" he asked a little more sternly."
"Well."
"The train as arrived at its destination!" a low voice bellowed through the door, and Carl jumped up, revealed to get out from under Van Helsing's scrutinising gaze.
"Oh, would you look at that. I'll just get the bags, you can wait off the train for me."
"Carl." But he had quickly gone. "If I don't like him…" he growled. It had been like this for a while now. especially in the more recent months. Carl would get an 'apprentice' who would happen to be trained to do the same things as Van Helsing. They would not pay any attention to Carl, and instead watch him. He knew the order were trying to give him an apprentice, but he refused to train a punk kid who thought he could take on the world.
He had better things to do with his time than baby-sit, as he called it. But after a few days, he would send them packing or crying, someway or another. He just had to find their weakness, and the poor lad would be running off to his mother in Rome.
And it hap always gone like this, Carl not saying much about them, not knowing (or just not telling) much about them.
What worried him though, was how on edge Carl had been about this one. He had never ran as fast in all his life as he did a few moments ago.
Other than two years ago.
Gabriel stood on the platform, waiting for Carl. He would no doubt resemble a pack mule from all the equipment he called 'bare essentials'.
He was like that.
"Well?" Carl looked slightly sheepish as he asked. "Met Izzy yet?"
"Was I supposed to?" At that, Carl dropped his bags and looked around worriedly.
"Well, yes. Yes you were. I told that air head to be here about 15 minutes ago, and I think you are what could be described as, 'a distinguishable character'. And you are very noticeable from your file report too. Where could…" he thought hard, and Van Helsing sighed.
Great.
This meant they wouldn't be hunting tonight.
They would have to hunt down this pimpled little punk kid instead.
"I am sure if he is as eager to meet me as the other order churned up chosen ones, they will find me." He picked up a bag, and pushed the door of a horse drawn carriage open. It was a shabby wooden framed thing, with very young horses pulling it. Two brown mottled ones, with a fat man at the reins. "So, hurry up." He threw the bag inside, and something crashed.
"Gentle! Be gentle!"
"That was gentle." He growled, and pulled the holy man inside.
"So, where are we now?"
"Almost into the village."
"Oh, just checking." Carl chuckled weakly, and pulled his book up. He blocked his face from Van Helsing again, and made him sigh.
"You are dreading me meeting him, I can tell. So spit out his flaw, so I can have my bite out of him, and send him home quicker." Silence. "Carl." He said a little sterner.
"Well…I think he doesn't have the balls for you." He was still hidden behind the brown leather book cover, with golden Latin writing on the binder.
"So he is a little yellow, that doesn't explain your jittery behaviour."
"I am not jittery." He looked over the book, to see Van Helsing was just smirking with a brow raised at him. "I'm not."
"Besides, if he is yellow." He continued, as if he hadn't heard him. "It will be easier for me to send him home. I hate these kids the order try to thrust upon me."
"Thrust!" he squeaked, and hid behind his book.
"And why would that raise alarm? You know I didn't mean literally, right?"
"What? Oh, oh of course. Ahem." He tried to shrink into the book, but Van Helsing just pulled it away again. "Wait! That's 200 years old!"
"Then tell me why you are acting so strange about this Izzy, and I will let it last for another 200 years. Deal?" he chuckled. It was always fin to see Carl squirm when his precious books or inventions were at risk. Amusing really. Then the horses stopped.
"We are here! So give it back and find out! Izzy is outside!" Gabriel put the book down, and rolled his eyes as Carl dusted it off and held it tight to his chest.
"Fine." Van Helsing stepped out of the carriage, trying to picture the person he would have to glare to death, or at least panic enough to leave with his don't-fuck-with-me face.
He imagined a twin of Carl in height, with short dirty ginger hair, dull green eyes and a lanky build, with broad shoulders. He instantly didn't like the image he made of him, and imagined he would dress in frilly pirate clothes, as they all did, and tiptoe around in the dirt to keep their new boots clean.
Pah, I will be rid of him in a week.
He jumped down from the carriage, his long leather coat billowed at his feet with the breeze, and he held his hat to his head, as he stepped forward. He then took his hat off, still hiding his face. He then lowered it…
…and all he could think was what he said. "Oh my God…"
Before him was no boy, no punk brat from the cloth, and no man.
She was tall, had a shapely figure eight outline, soft peach skin, rosy full lips, and they were curled in a heavenly smile.
He looked down.
Flat black slip on shoes, a layered cream brown skirt that looked like of gypsy design, and did she have hips, or did she have hips! They dipped into her waist, with her soft cream brown corset. This had crisscross linen ties across her ample bust…and hr cleavage was huge, and yet she had it modestly hidden with her white peasant shirt under the corset. It had a heart opening just above the corset rim, and her sleeves were large and baggy, but drawn with a frilly pattern around her wrists. Her hands were dainty, and her arms slender. She had an elegant neck, to a perfect face. Her cheeks were slightly red from the bitter winter breeze, and her deep oceans of emerald eyes drowned him on the spot. They dazzled, even in the miserable weather, and her black jade pupils were focused on him. She had long wildly wavy golden hair, which fanned down to her mid back, and curled at the ends slightly. Her sunlight fringe spilt into two, long curved prongs. They framed each side of her face, and their pointed ends came down her chin slightly, and he was still speechless.
Slowly, he put his hat back on, and watched as she approached him with such grace, he thought her royalty.
"Hello." She had the same Romanian accent as Anna, but her voice was higher, and her smile was greater. She had obviously not see travesty in her life, like Anna had. "Are you Van 'elsing?"
"That I am." He bowed his head to her slightly, and gave a bad ass smile. "Why? Who's asking?" When she didn't answer for a good five minutes, another voice with a chirper, less mature spring came to her rescue.
"My sister seems to have lost her voice." Van Helsing looked to the left, and had to think back to the last time he drank. Because he was seeing double. "I am the one looking for you, Gabriel." At that, he forced his eyes away from the first beauty, to the next. This woman was identical to the first in every way, except her hair was a dark, blood red. To ginger, but literally like blood. They shared the defining pronged fringe feature, and the breath taking emerald eyes. This new woman had the same goddess body as the first, but she had more of a mischievous smile than the first.
"You were looking for me?" he just about managed. This woman had the same clothes on, but her corset and skirt was a maroon red, and she had thick red gloves over her hands. She shivered, and smiled.
"Yes I was." She had a Romanian accent too, but softer. Like she hadn't been here for a while, like the first obviously had. "It is very cold. Perhaps we can venture inside?" She shivered, and held her arms.
"If you tell me who you are, why you know of me, and what you ant with me…I might just do that." He was polite, surprisingly, and Carl stood next to him, amazed.
"So…met at last have you?" he was half expecting an outrage, or a least a minor uproar. But nothing, just a polite smile from all parties. Except the red head, who was smiling with chatter of her teeth.
"You know these women?" Van Helsing spoke to Carl, not taking his eyes away from the lovely angel with golden hair. She blushed as he stared at her, and smiled just that little bit more.
"Well…yes…"
"Then who are they?"
"Excuse me, can we have a horse please? I have a lot of equipment I need to transfer to the local lodging inn." He turned and spoke to the side, grabbing a random person.
"Carl…" he was acting strange again.
"That is alright Book boy." The fiery red head, placed a ahnd on Carl's arm, and chuckled. "We can carry your bags. We may be women, but we are strong. Remember when Demetri fainted in the main hall? After you tried out your stunning darts on him 'accidentally'."
"He bloody deserved it! He called my new knock out darts child's play! Toys! He had to find out that the there was nothing childish about the splitting headache after just one dart."
"But Carl." She chuckled. "You shot him with four." Her impish grin grew with amusement, and the two continued to banter, as they both picked up bags.
Van Helsing observed the two, talking like old friends, and felt a gentle hand on his arm.
"While they catch up, shall we get the heavy loads?" her smile was warm, and he found himself smirking.
"But Carl can walk." She chuckled, and it warmed his heart. He didn't know why.
"My sister talks too much." She chuckled softly, and lifted a satchel close to her own body mass in weight, and held it over her shoulder, like it was as light as a feather.
Not wanting to be outdone, Van Helsing lifted both the remaining two, and walked next to her. One over one shoulder, and the other under his other arm, so he could still see her.
They walked silently to the inn (not including Carl and the red head, who chatted constantly) and checked Van Helsing and Carl into their rooms.
"So, are you staying here to?" he asked, making sure not to sound too hopeful.
"I live here." She nodded to the innkeeper, and walked with the left hand of God, behind the chatting pair. They heard something about the potential of time released potassium capsules with hydrogen release valves. But couldn't understand anything else. Good thing they didn't expect them to, or they'd be buggered.
"You do?"
"Yes, my sister and I. Our Uncle, Razvan Ionache, owns this rest house and has done so since he was a young man. He has no sons, or daughters, and our parents left us unfortunately many years ago. My mother in child birth to my sister and myself, and my father in unclear circumstances."
"I am sorry."
"Worry not Van 'elsing. My father walked out on his motherless children, and made us bastards. I spare no second thought upon him. And so, neither should you." She is so strong. Van Helsing followed them up at least 3 flights of staircases, grand they were, and to the top floor. He soon saw a man in his late 40s, possibly even his 50s, with grey wispy hair back in a braid, and a long beard. He wore familiar red robes, and had a silver cross hanging from his neck, with the crucifix of Christ on it.
"No wonder your Uncle never had any children. He's a man of the cloth."
"Indeed I am Gabriel." He had a jolly voice, and a jollier smile. His front was a double D shape, showing his love for mass and the red wine. "I am Priest Razvan Ionache, and these are my beautiful nieces that I had the pleasure to raise and call my own for so may years. 18 to be exact." Van Helsing looked to the golden siren by his side. Surely she was older than that? That was so young… "Have you been properly introduced my boy? No?"
"We have only just met Father." Remembering he was a man of the cloth, he remembered that he was to be addressed as father, not uncle. Carl would be proud, he remembered. "Shall you do the honour father, or shall we?"
"I think I need to go unpack…anything." Carl suddenly squeaked slightly, and dragged his things off.
"Don't even think about it." Van Helsing shouted, and he stopped solid. "I think you can wait, right?" he chuckled weakly, and had his eyes closed.
"Well." Razvan continued. "By your side, is the eldest of the two twins. She is Gabriela Ionache."
"Gabriela…the female version of Gabriel, I assume?"
"I am not the left hand, nor the hero of God." she smiled. "But my name means God is my strength, the heroine of God." she smiled with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "It depends on my day on which I feel my name means."
"And Ionache, that means something also?"
"Gift from God." Razvan chirped, and grinned with pride. "And this rather sly rascal is her younger sister, Izabella Ionache."
"Izabella means devoted to God." Gabriela whispered to him. "She is too, heals all she can. She is very good at healing."
"A doctor." He said, and then something clicked. "Carl." He caught him trying to tiptoe away. "Just how well do you know Lady Izabella Ionache?" he didn't need to ask. He already knew the answer.
"If I said we were more than strangers…"
"If you told the truth?"
"I might have met her before…" Izabella chuckled.
"No wonder he didn't know who I was. You didn't tell him."
"Red hair, green eyes, broad shoulders? She!" he pointed to Izabella. "Is not a man. You said-"
"I never made any reference to her being a he." He interrupted quickly. "You assumed." He smiled very weakly, and gulped.
"And Izzy?"
"Aw how sweet. You told him my nick name." Izabella elbowed Carl. "You are in trouble, are you not?"
"I most certainly am…" he stood behind her, and watched as Van Helsing struggled to restrain his anger.
She was an on the field medic.
She had said she lifted a man in Carl's presence, which Carl inadvertently admitted was true before hand.
The vague but good enough description.
The reason he spoke without saying a gender, but 'Izzy'.
It all made sense now, and he was furious.
"No."
"What?"
"No, you can forget it."
"Come on Van Helsing." Carl begged. "It isn't my fault, I know you are against having anyone else with us, but it is the orders of the order!"
"I don't care! I will not put her neck on the line!" they argued (or Van Helsing shouted at the quieter Friar) by the wall, while the girls stood with their uncle.
"By the lord they argue so." He didn't have an accent, but the girls did.
"They are friends, I can tell." Gabriela smiled, and sighed. "I should clear things up, I think." She walked forward, and stepped between Van Helsing and the verbally slaughtered Holy man. "You will not have to worry about the wellbeing of my sister, Van 'elsing." She then raised her leg and pressed her foot against the wall, level to her hip. She pulled her skirt up, and showed a very special garter. It was black leather, and had a sheathed machete on the outside of her cream peach thigh. She pulled it out with ease, making a soft whoosh sound in the air. It was a shining silver, with incantations running down the centre of the blade. "I will be watching her back. I am her guardian and protector, and have been since birth." She then sheathed her weapon back into her garter on her still outstretched leg, and covered it back up with her brown skirt. "I would put the well being of my sister, in the hands of no one else but myself." She said very protectively, and then smiled. "My sister is no warrior."
"No I am not. That's where you come in." Izabella leaned on her sister's shoulder, and grinned at Van Helsing. "I am the safest person in the world with my sister. No offence, but I wouldn't go into danger without her."
"Then you don't go at all." He stated, not requested. "As I will not put either of you in harm's way."
"I fear, that is not your call, Van 'elsing." She smiled shyly. "It iz above your head."
"From the top." Izabella chirped. "So, rooms anyone?" she looked around, and wanted a knife. That way, she could cut the tension. "I take that as a silent yes. Right, this way. Carl!" She quickly got out of the way, and walked with Carl and her uncle, with the bags.
Gabriela and Van Helsing held a bank stare, neither refusing to yield to the other.
"This business, monster hunting. It is no place for a Lady."
"Then I can go." She bowed her head. "As I am no Lady." She then sashayed off, and followed her sister. "Coming Van 'elsing?" she waited, and finally he followed her.
"Are you always as insisting?"
"Only with those I like." They shared a smirk, telling already they were going to like each other's company.
"You can come."
"So glad to av your permission." She said with a smirk. He chuckled, and they walked, eyes locked.
"But there will be rules."
"Enlighten me."
"Do as I say, at all times."
"Really?" she chuckled to herself. That is one rule, he will not be able to uphold.
"You will not touch my toys." He indicated his crossbow, and his gun. "Not ever, under any circumstances."
"I don't want to 'touch your toys', Van 'elsing." Her Romanian accent was rich, and seductive. She then pushed open a door, and he gaped. It was a master bedroom, with dark satin sheets and drapes. But he was not drawn to the large four poster bed, but the wall opposite to the window, covered in every type of weapon you could ever think of. From guns, to medieval maces. "I have my own."
"I see you do…" he saw a large hand held gun he wouldn't mind trying out, but she stood in the doorway, and started to close it.
"And I see it is dark. I will leave you to your room, and rest." He looked to her emerald eyes, and they smiled to each other.
"I will see you tomorrow." He bowed slightly, and she did the same. No courtesy. He noted.
"Indeed you shall."
"Gabriella."
"Gabriel." The doors closed, and he waited for as long as he could before her emerald orbs of beauty were replaced with mahogany doors.
He followed the voices of Carl and Izabella, AKA Izzy, and was given his room.
Tomorrow, would be an eventful day. They had a werewolf investigation to carry out, and a new woman to 'break'. He was not about to let that woman out do him, or get in the way of his mission.
Although…he didn't mind her getting in his way with that ass…
Usually, his dreams were filled with the sight of holding Anna's cold, lifeless body in his arms, weeping for her to come back.
But that night, was different for the first time in two years.
It consisted of walking up those stairs, undressing her with his mind (and hands at one point), and talking outside her room. (and doing other things…)
In the distance, there was a scream heard as it echoed over the alleys and trees of the village. It was at first a sorrowful cry of pain, from a boy no less.
From the same house, if you were nearby, was a crack of a whip, and the boy cried out again.
But towards the end, the sound twisted into a deep, feral, guttural snarl, low and roared with rage.
That sound, was not human….
