Blix Howlett: I figured it would be rather uncomfortable for Van Helsing to touch the silver bullets since his werewolf curse is still active. Lucky he didn't touch them for too long!

Toto3: Thank you very much; this is a long and wonderful review. There are trains at the time, and yes he has been to London before but not in the film (the bit where he looks at a cigar was in Paris wasn't it?) I'm not completely clued up on Rome to London travel, basically I am making it up (have done a small spot of revision though.) and yes, the hint was quite strong, because I didn't want anyone to miss it and start flaming me! Again, thanks so much. Hope you review this chapter; it was a pleasure to read such an in-depth review.

Blood-Fangs: Well, there was a strong hint previously, so you should have a hunch of what is going to happen next!

Chapter 10

They had been journeying for a while and the landscape had already vastly changed from the hills of lush green to the busy active towns as they passed through Paris. The sky had since darkened and a lip of scarlet rested on the horizon, which spread out to cast a deep lavender canvas over the star sprinkled sky. However, most importantly, the circle of the ivory moon drifted gently behind passing sparse clouds. Inside one of the small compartments of the train was a small layout consisting of two beds. A figure lay with either bed; one snuggled tightly inside the covers whilst the other lay still fully dressed on top of the covers. He had not even bothered to move his hat since it fell off his head so many hours ago.

Carl mumbled something vague about not wanting to have a tea party with the rabbits before he rolled over and continued to sleep. Van Helsing moved slightly in his sleep, his arm lifting off his face since it rested there so long ago. A hand idly rubbed at his eyes before they blinked open and he peered around the rumbling carriage. He sat up slightly, looking out the window at the dark scenery, watching silhouettes of passing features blur hurriedly past as the train rattled and shook onwards. Feeling his head ache a little, he stood up off the bed, motioning towards where a jug of water sat on a small table. He shakily poured himself a drink, wondering if the unsteadiness was his hands or just the moving train. He raised the cup to his lips, which felt oddly dry, and he drunk back the full contents.

Before he realised what he was doing, his hand had clamped tightly around the lowering mug and he crushed it in his palm as if it were paper. The sound of cracking metal alerted Carl, who moved slightly and murmured something incomprehensive. But he did not wake.

Van Helsing's hand parted suddenly, shaking the remains from his hand with a surprised expression on his face. Worriedly, his eyes darted upwards to look out of the window, staring at the large orb of the moon in the clear sky. He felt an unearthly surge of anger burn and rage through his veins that made his eyes cloud over with a glazed expression, as he felt suddenly faint. But, just as suddenly, his stance tensed and he felt his fists coiling again. There was such a rush of feral yearning inside him he felt disorientated and was succumbing to the wishes of the curse.

Van Helsing's eyes hardened upon the figure in the bed, and before he knew what was happening, his hands had grabbed the table supporting the jug of water. With an almighty crash, it was ripped from it's fasten against the wall as it was hoisted over his head - ready to be thrown. The sound jolted Carl awake who frantically pushed the rough covers from his face as he peered blearily over the top, "Are we there yet?" he mumbled sleepily before his eyes settled on readied position of the figure in front of him. His eyes widened and he let out a frightened yell, "Holy Father in Heaven!" he babbled, "I'm too young to die! I'm too YOUNG!" His voice screeched into a higher pitch as the table was thrown at him whilst an enraged howl escaped from Van Helsing. Carl dived under his bed covers in desperation, the table smashing against the wall where his head had been moments before.

From the top of the covers, Carl's eyes peeked out sheepishly, "Van Helsing? Are you .. er.. alright?" But to his surprise, the room was empty. The door appeared to have been roughly yanked open. In the distance he could hear heavy footsteps, "Oh no," moaned Carl pitifully as he scrambled out of bed, "No, no.. please don't transform. Not tonight. I can handle mood swings, but not werewolves." He grabbed his sack from under his bed, his hands scrabbling inside. His motions were only hurried further as he heard a terrified shriek from a passenger further down the corridor. "I don't want to do this, oh God," mumbled Carl as his hands slipped and fumbled around a gun he pulled out of the sack. "Stay calm Carl. You must do this. You must." His trembling hands struggled to hold the gun still as he loaded several shining bullets into the gun. As the gun clicked shut, Carl stood, hoisting their bags onto his shoulders. He sighed quietly, glancing nervously to the door before he walked to it, peering down the corridor.

Many heads were sticking out of their doors, looking alarmed. A few hints of destruction could be seen as some lamps were smashed and ornaments lying broken on the floor. Carl heard a woman scream heartily, and with a jolt of worry in his gut, he broke into a run out of the compartment and hurried down the corridor, pushing past those who had begun to spill out of their own compartments looking worried as they grouped in their nightwear. Above his head, the small chandeliers swung serenely as the train trundled on. Distorted shapes flickered over the walls as Carl ran down the narrow walkway. His sweating palm gripped the gun tighter. He saw a compartment door open a short way down, the window smashed as one of the hinges snapped, making the door hang sadly on it's one hinge, creaking painfully as it swayed with the motions of the train.

"Van Helsing?" called Carl tentatively as he stepped in front of the door. He heard a low growling inside. A scream sounded from within.

"Get back! Get away from me! Somebody help me!"

Carl pushed back the door to see Van Helsing stood before a cornered woman whose face had paled with fear as she scrambled against the walls in a desperate bid to put as much distance between herself and the angry looking man. Van Helsing's face was unrecognisable. It was fixed with a look of purest anger, with hatred burning from his eyes. There was a wild glint inside the dark glare as the curse inside reared it's ugly head and called for freedom.

As Carl entered, the woman shrieked to him for assistance whilst Van Helsing spun around to fix that wild glare upon Carl who shrunk back slightly at the formidable face. His hands shook on the gun. Whilst Van Helsing had not transformed into a werewolf, the curse was beginning to consume him. The curse wanted out, and was taking over. It wanted to kill.

"Van Helsing?" asked Carl again, needing full confirmation that his friend was no longer in control.

But Van Helsing staggered around with a seething glare, a feral growl spurring from his throat as he narrowed his eyes darkly. There was the prey from before. It survived.

"I'm sorry," murmured Carl quietly, "But you know why I'm doing this." He raised the gun, pointing it shakily at Van Helsing's chest before he fired with a shot that echoed eerily in the air. The bullet whizzed forth, and struck in almost slow motion as it spurted blood from Van Helsing's chest. The woman shrieked, and a chilling scream bellowed from Van Helsing as his legs crumpled and he slumped on the floor heavily into a heap. As he lay, the moonlight serenely cast a glow into the compartment, causing the shine of the silver to gleam.


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