The next day was spent much as the first, searching the village for any signs of a Werewolf. This search however turned up dry, no one else from this village was as careless as Miss Calcavanti had been with her identity, apparently.
Van Helsing was left to wait tonight, and merely see if the Werewolf was going to show up. It was difficult to hide such a secret from such a small town; comparatively Calcavanti had done a fairly adequate job. He was fairly certain this Werewolf wasn't living in the town, which made him an even more dangerous enemy. There were no towns nearby which meant this Were was not here on accident or of a lack of options. It was here on purpose.
Daylight found Van Helsing purchasing silver bullets, knives, and anything he thought could aide him against a Werewolf, night found him waiting patiently like a hawk from the bell tower of the clock in the town square. He had slept in and was well rested for an all-nighter. Clouds dotted the sky sparsely tonight, he smelled rain. This was his last chance to catch the Werewolf without having to wait another month.
Part of him wanted to return home and leave this little town. He was weary from the recent spurs of travel, he wanted to rest. Another part of him knew to return home would be to be sent on another mission. It was conflicting but the deepest side of him wanted to remain. It would be like a miniature vacation, he thought with a satirical smile.
He had to wait only two hours after the moon reached its peak, before a howl was loosed from the depths of the forest. Van Helsing was read in an instant, he swung the crossbow over his shoulder and aimed his gun at the forest's edge, waiting for the Were to enter the city.
At length it did. It wove its way slowly around the edge of the town. It was clearly trying to pick up a straggler; but the people of the town were all safely tucked away. The creature wasn't going to enter any closer towards the center of the town then it had to. Van Helsing descended the stairs to the clock tower and reached the opposite edge of the town, where he lay in wait, until the Were would come meandering along, and would hunt no more.
Rossalyn sat at the edge of her bed. She hadn't the heart or the strength to go into the surrounding forest tonight. She wanted nothing more than for Van Helsing to kill the creature and leave, so things could go back to normal. Ever since relating her story to him she had felt more like a freak than ever. It had sent her back into her past, a sad and challenging time for her. Every time she had tried to sleep she'd had the old nightmares she'd gotten after she'd killed the group of people so many years ago. She was tired, and weak, and confused.
Her ears perked up a bit at about two in the morning. She lifted her head and crossed to a window. A howl was let loose, not far away. She wanted to respond; but after much practice restrained herself. She opened the door and stood on the porch of her home. A light breeze brought a strange scent to her. When she smelled again, sure she was mistaken, the whiff was gone. She could feel the presence of another Were at the edge of her consciousness.
The Were in her wanted to call out to her brother, for she was sure it was a male; but she restrained herself. She could hear the sound of his breath, and the gentle pad of his feet on the ground, despite the fact he was more than a mile away. There was something so familiar about that presence. She grabbed a black cloak from beside the door and set out down the street. Something wasn't right.
After about thirty minutes after arriving he could hear the Were approaching. He was downwind of the thing so he was free to wait until its back was turned to him, before shooting. He'd concealed himself behind some trash bins, and had the gun propped up on a bin, his head turned toward the threat. He had a six shooter with a silver bullet in each chamber. He was ready.
When the Were came into view it paused for a moment. Van Helsing appraised it. It was about eight feet on its back legs, six on all fours. It was definitely a male, jet black fur, which was ruffled and coarse. It had several scars all over its body, which meant it was a pack animal, or had been at some point.
It was covered in thick corded muscle, mostly on the torso and thighs. The eyes were shinning blue in the moonlight, and the teeth weren't yet stained with red.
The Were seemed to sense something was amiss and was hesitating. 'Come on' Van Helsing mouthed, hardly daring to breathe. In an instant the wind shifted. The Were launched itself at the pile of bins; and Van Helsing cursed their animal instincts.
He launched a shot in the scuffle at what he hoped was the Werewolf which instantly turned away, and ran. It turned a corner headed into the middle of the city before Van Helsing disentangled himself. A stupid move to head into the city, but with plenty of turns, it would give it plenty of cover.
Van Helsing sprinted forward, listening for the creatures heaving breath. He followed a set of tracks from a puddle until he caught sight of it as it whipped around another corner. Ahead was a straightaway, Van Helsing fired another shot; but missed. Two down four to go.
The race through the catacomb like city went on for almost fifteen minutes. Van Helsing had loosed a fourth shot, and hit the creature on the arm, a graze really, not deadly, but the stupid creature turned for revenge.
Van Helsing loosed a fifth shot which the creature swerved to miss but caught in the leg. Van Helsing leapt to avoid the creature which ran headlong into a building. Van Helsing couldn't help wincing.
The creature turned to face him, "laugh all you want, I can miss several times, I only have to hit you once." The creature's voice was low and guttural, much like a wolf's growl. Van Helsing had never heard of a Were that could speak, this was not the simple standard mission he had assumed it would be.
Van Helsing raised the barrel of the gun, not letting his surprise show, "I know what you mean." The creature turned to run; but was hit by a bullet to the shoulder. Van Helsing waited a moment, if all of the wounds he had given the creature were lethal it was going to show in the next moment, or it wouldn't have been enough.
Slowly the Were turned to face him. "Six down, one," his eyes gleamed at Van Helsing, "to go."
Van Helsing shrugged noncommittally, "Damn it." He pulled out the six inch hunting knife, and put it into his hand. "Looks like we do this the old fashioned way."
What could only be taken as a laugh issued from the creature's throat; but the creature hadn't spotted the cloud that would shortly veil the moon. Van Helsing hoped he could hold him off until then.
As the creature was about to launch himself at Van Helsing a woman's voice issued from an alleyway.
"Everard no!!" the voice was hoarse and high pitched; Rossalyn Calcavanti came out from the darkness, from in between the two. "Everard what are you doing here?!" she snapped threateningly.
"Cavanti get back inside," Rossalyn was too personal, her full last name was too long so he settled on Cavanti.
"Oh shut up!" she snapped throwing a hateful glare at him. "Everard what are you doing here?"
Another laugh, she held her ground with a look of pure venom at the Werewolf, "Oh look my little sister the infidel."
"I am not your sister and I am not an infidel!!" she yelled at him, throwing off her cloak in anger.
Another laugh and the Werewolf turned into its human form. Van Helsing looked up, the moon was still shinning. Werewolves were learning new tricks apparently.
The man that stood before them was strong and fit. He had a broad chest, and similar features to Calcavanti. His hair was short and black; his face was thin and harsh. His eyes were like pale sapphires and terrifying. His face was shinning with hatred. When he spoke his voice was much the human parallel to its Werewolf voice.
"But you are a coward and a deserter!" he accused.
"No! I refused to hurt more innocent people, Everard! I am neither of what you've said! What are you doing here?" she asked again, clear hatred in her own eyes.
"I am here to frame the Werewolf who should have been killed years ago! If not by me than by humans and I will be satisfied. his voice was the ultimate furry. Van Helsing couldn't help watching the drama between these two.
"So that's it!? You can't kill me, so you will load the gun and leave it where others can find it?"
"And I hope you get a bullet to the heart Rossalyn!" he started trying to turn and got about halfway through the process, before the moon was totally covered by clouds.
"Yes, but you're on my playing field now," Van Helsing said before throwing himself at Everard. The struggle was difficult; Van Helsing and Everard were both strong. Everard had a hand on the dagger and the two were rolling on the ground both trying to get on top of the struggle.
Calcavanti was silent, watching the transpirings with a look of cold anger on her face. When Van Helsing finally freed his arm from Everard's grip, he lifted the dagger ready to plunge it when the moonlight seeped back into the scene. The man smiled and started to turn, and with the strength of his turned form he threw Van Helsing off of him, right into a wall.
Van Helsing dropped the dagger and saw lights popping in front of his face. The impact probably would have put other men out cold. He tried to grab the knife; but he could barely stay conscious.
The fully turned Were laughed, "Is this the human you left your pack for? I hope it was worth it Rossalyn."
Everard started at Van Helsing. The next moment was utter confusion as Calcavanti cried out, "Everard NO!" The confusion started with her voice, while it began out as her usual voice, it changed halfway through, a much higher pitch, which reminded Van Helsing of a wolf's howl.
The next moments he heard a struggle. He turned his head fighting to stay awake. The black Werewolf now had a sable female on top of him and he was trying to throw her off.
Van Helsing quickly realized it was Calcavanti. The Werewolf was sable and silvery, it was clearly a female. The females were slightly taller and longer; but slimmer and less muscled. He recognized the green eyes on its face, and the look of stubborn pride.
The black Werewolf lashed violently trying to throw off the female, which was digging her claws and teeth into his back. Finally he twisted fiercely and she was thrown off into a wall. A quick shake of her head and she was on her feet, a warning growl growing on her face.
Everard gave the look right back. The two started at each other at the same time and collided in a moment of clawing and snarling, balancing delicately on their hind legs. It was all Van Helsing could do to look on. Both were severely scratched and bitten, when Calcavanti pushed him over and landed on top. Her jaw went instantly for his throat, the final killing stroke, when he twisted from under her with a yelp and started running through the city towards the forest.
The Werewolf that was Calcavanti tottered dangerously her breath heaving. The Were's legs were trembling, and she was bleeding in many places, deep wounds from Everard's teeth, more shallow and longer cuts from claws. The beautiful silver fur was stained with crimson; but despite it all the creature lifted its head triumphantly and howled a victory through the skies.
Van Helsing tried to rise to his feet and grunted with the effort. The Were's eyes turned to him, for a moment Van Helsing wanted to dive for the blade. But with a look of hurt, as though it had guessed his intentions she lowered her head shamefully and started running the same way as Everard.
After a moment the moon's light was shadowed again, by a cloud, one big enough to ensure that he would see no more Weres that night.
Van Helsing's hard expression slackened. A Werewolf might be able to stand the cuts and bruises from the fight, but if they transferred to her human form, Calcavanti wouldn't last the hour. He was torn for a moment, all the logic in him screamed out, she's a Were, she could have killed someone; she said she didn't even turn. But all of it was drown out as a small guilty voice that whispered, but she turned to save me.
Something was owed so shrugging off the pain reminding himself of more serious injuries he had acquired he grabbed the silver dagger and tromped off through the city.
She had barely made it past the forest's edge when she had turned back. She was barely conscious, her back against a tree. Her head was buried in her lap again, her arms wrapping her knees against her chest. This time the sobs were loud and wet, as the rain started to pour down.
He stepped toward her beaten and bloodied form and unlike usual she didn't seem to hear him. He got right up next to her and bent to his knees, setting a surprisingly gentle hand to her shoulder. Her head shot up, and she didn't have to squint in the near darkness to see his face.
The tear tracks running down her cheeks melted his heart a little. Her eyes were overrun with sadness, but her skin tone wasn't blotchy and red it remained as pale as ever. Even upon recognizing him she buried her head back into her lap sobbing hard.
"Hey, things aren't as bad as they seem now," Van Helsing tried to comfort her.
"Van Helsing you have no idea, what's just happened," her voice was hoarse and rough.
"If it's about what's-his-name-"
"It's not!" she snapped. "Don't you understand? It took me almost six years before I could stop myself from turning! Another three before I could do it without injuring myself! Nine years Helsing! And now, I've just broken nine years worth of effort, and crying, and screaming, and wanting to kill myself, nine years!" She yelled the last part like she could change it if she screamed loud enough.
Van Helsing couldn't describe the pity that welled up inside him, tied partially to the guilt, that she had done it and saved his life.
"Van Helsing I need you to do something for me," she stopped sobbing and sounded resolute and finite. "I want you to take that dagger and put it through my heart." Her face was clear and determined, not afraid or anything to that effect.
Van Helsing reacted on instinct, "no!" He was incredulous, though part of what she asked made sense.
"Van Helsing, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from turning, I'd rather die then kill innocent people again."
"I'm not going to kill you!" he promised.
Now she looked fearful, "don't you understand?! I can't do it!" Her face was filled with fear, "I can't do that again I'm not strong enough! Gabriel do this thing for me, I beg of you!"
He flinched at the sound of the name, "no." It was his final response.
She buried her head in her lap. "If you won't do it then I will!" she yelled, she tried to grab the dagger from Van Helsing but he held it out of her reach.
"Calcavanti!" she continued to grab for it, "Rossalyn!!!" he snapped. She stopped, sobbing into her knees. "Look at me Rossalyn!" he ordered. She glanced up, "in thirty days to this hour if you still want me to do what you ask I will! But you have to swear to me that before then you won't try and take your own life."
She looked at him afraid and confused. "I-" she stuttered.
"Rossalyn, what you did back then you did so you could save people. What you did tonight you did for the same reason I'm willing to bet that's enough. I don't think you'll turn." She shivered, the whole time they'd spoken rain had been falling unobserved by either of them, and she was soaked. While Van Helsing was wearing a leather jacket and was reasonably dry.
"Swear to me you won't take your own life and in thirty days if you still want it, I'll do what you ask," it was a flat out lie. No matter what she did, Van Helsing knew a good person from an evil one.
"You promise me?" she asked.
NO! "If you will me," he answered.
"Fine," she resigned after a moment. He nodded only hoping she was being more sincere than he was.