Later, in the evening he returned. He walked with her to the clearing, where she waited until he had left to put the chains around the tree and shackle her arms and legs.
Her face was set, and he recognized the determination in her.
"Are you going to be alright?" he asked.
"Yes," she nodded determinedly. "Gabriel?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"What happened to you? How were you scratched by a Werewolf, and turned then," she struggled for a phrase, "and then left unchanged?"
Van Helsing looked out across the sky. "It's a long story."
"I'd like to hear it someday," she said compassionately.
"You will," he promised, "someday," he whispered.
Van Helsing walked back through the forest, unwanted thoughts going through his mind. Then he took his place in the clock tower and sat down to wait, and wait, and wait. For almost six hours after the moon rose, no sound was made. Van Helsing sat in deep thought trying to think of where Everard might be.
Rossalyn was fighting against the full moon with a fury she hadn't known she had possessed. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been; but it was still bad. When she heard footsteps coming through the woods, she was slightly relieved.
"Van Helsing what are you doing here?" she asked, through bouts of pain.
"So that's your little friend," the voice was low pitched and cold.
"Everard," she hissed.
"Glad to see you haven't forgotten me, again." He stepped from the shadows, even in the light of the full moon in his human form.
"How are you doing that?" she cried, her envy overshadowing everything else.
He laughed coldly, and approached her. He bent down to where she was writhing on the ground and grabbed her chin in between his fingers. "Rossa, Rossa, Rossa," he chided. "I've always told you; as soon as you accept what you are the possibilities are limitless."
She couldn't repress the shudder that wracked through her frame at his touch. She jerked her face away and tried not to wretch. "I will never accept that I am a monster!"
"That's your problem," he whispered seductively. "You think we're monsters, when in reality we have a gift. You and I can't possibly be the only Half Weres alive. You remember what we used to say as children. That we were going to grow up and show the people like us what we learned?"
"Until you started trying to kill me!" she snapped.
He stood quickly and kicked her in the stomach with his hunting boots. Lights burst in front of her face as a new wave of pain washed over her.
"Until you abandoned our pack, our hopes, our dreams! You left it all! Turn Rossalyn! Become what you were meant to be, save yourself, you know you can!"
She blinked her eyes over and over again, and looked up at him from her position on the floor. "I would turn to save someone in an instant. If you think I'm weak enough to do it to satisfy myself, or you, you are mistaken." She grabbed her knees and pulled them to her chest.
"That's the way the dice fall I guess," he whispered, as he let himself turn into his Were form.
Near morning Van Helsing abandoned his wait at the tower, something wasn't right. If Everard wasn't going to come, he wanted to go make sure Rossalyn was okay. Maybe she had injured him worse than she thought.
By morning Rossalyn was barely alive. Because she had spared his life so many years ago, he couldn't kill her. However he could still inflict wounds on her that weren't deadly. The pain of stopping herself turning and the pain of Everard's torture were combining to destroy her.
"Turn! Why do you insist on holding onto foolish ideas that people are divided into good and evil, into monsters and humans?!"
"I will never turn Everard!" she screamed. He reached down and with a paw drew his claw across her arm. Fresh blood bloomed out of the cut and Rossalyn could barely scream, black was seeping into her vision, for a moment she feared death had come to take her at last; but as the pain became a distant memory, she didn't mind so much.
As the wind blew a breeze into the clearing Everard lifted his head, Van Helsing was coming. As much as he wanted to wait and watch Rossalyn suffer, he left the clearing.
Van Helsing approached cautiously; but quickly when he heard no sound coming from the clearing. He threw away the caution however when he spotted Rossalyn lying on the forest floor, covered with deadly slashes her blood staining the dirt.
"Rossalyn!!" he yelled as he rushed to her side. Even as he looked at her his hopes fell. No one could survive the wounds as severe that riddled her body. The logical part of his mind whispered that no one could still be alive with such injuries as hers.
It was happening again, another loved one. He realized he had loved Rossalyn just as much as Anna, and he couldn't save her either.
He stood and turned away from her body hissing the name with venom beyond pure hatred, "Everard."
Suddenly he heard shallow breathing; he turned and fell at once to Rossalyn's side. Her eyes flickered slowly open, but her breath was so faint.
"How?" was all Van Helsing could stammer. "No one could still be alive," he reasoned.
The corners of her lips rose into a pitifully weak smile, "no human could."
He laughed with relief. "We have to get you to a healer!"
"No healers!" she tried to speak with conviction; but was too limp to sound the least bit oppositional.
"I can't treat wounds this bad," he said as he gathered her gently into his arms, and started racing toward the village.
"Healers will know where these came from! I'll be a werewolf to them, a monster! Take me home, I'll be okay!"
He had to focus on where he was going, trying not to jostle what he was holding. "No, we're lucky your alive now, I'm taking you to a healer and that's the end of it!" he however, being able to walk and all, held the upper hand.
She took a few shallow breaths, and passed out of consciousness.
When he knocked on the healer's door an old matronly woman with a sweet face answered. She beckoned him in quickly when she saw what he was holding. The woman told Van Helsing to set her on a table with linens over it and she set to work immediately. She then called in a younger girl to assist her. With the younger girl's assistance Rossalyn was quickly bandaged up, and was being given concoctions, to help regenerate blood loss, every fifteen minutes.
The young girl gave frequent glances in Van Helsing's direction, turning away and blushing deeply if he ever saw her watching.
After half an hour and the sun rose in the sky the elder woman beckoned away the younger girl who left reluctantly. Then she went towards Van Helsing and spoke with a matronly voice, "she's fighting very hard; but it is a miracle that she is alive now, with wounds as grievous as those. You need to have realistic hopes. She will probably not survive the morning."
Van Helsing shook his head slowly, she was strong, she was going to live.
"It's really only a question of how long she has left," she said softly.
Van Helsing stared on and nodded brokenly; he reached inside a pocket and removed a pouch of money from the cardinal for his journey. "Take it all; for your silence," he handed it to her and went to Rossalyn's side.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to her all morning. Even though he hadn't slept in 24 hours he couldn't make himself fall asleep. Too many thoughts were racing through his mind: his hatred for Everard, and how he was going to make him suffer for this, his feelings for Rossalyn which had only become clearer, and his fear that she wasn't going to live.
He slipped his hand into her limp fingers and set his forehead on the table she was lying on. Whether moments or minutes after he couldn't tell; but there was a jostle of movement, his head shot up and he was a little disappointed when the younger girl looked shyly over at him. She quietly started putting more bandages on top of those that Rossalyn had already bled through, and administering a clear tonic.
"What happened to her?" the younger girl whispered softly.
"An animal, a wolf I think," Van Helsing lied.
The young girl nodded apprehensively. "Is she your wife?" she asked with trepidation. "I've seen her around town before; but I have never before seen you."
"No, she's not my wife," he laughed, there was something comical about it; the younger girl brightened up considerably at this. However a new string of thoughts entered his mind when she left.
He sat next to her bed all morning; both the younger and older woman coming in and out of the room, doing a variety of things to her. At length the elder woman gave him a cup of something bitter smelling and told him it would help him sleep. Soon after he took it he fell asleep, his head on the table.
He woke about noon; and stood stretching out his muscles. When the older woman saw him she laughed, "I was about to make sure you still had a pulse."
"How is she doing?" he asked.
"It's like nothing I've ever seen," the woman responded, with a tone that suggested he might already know that. "Some of the cuts are already gone without a scar," she peered at him from over her spectacles knowingly.
"It's a miracle," he said obviously, not breaking the eye contact.
She smiled, "it must be," she answered and nodded, "she's a real fighter."
"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah she is."
Neither of the two healers gave any notice that something strange was happening, despite the miraculous scene playing before them.
The bruises on Rossalyn's face and back were completely healed by that afternoon. All the cuts and slashes were healed over with new skin a few hours after that. She was riddled with scars; which slowly but surely were disappearing. The only thing the healer feared was some internal damage. She had a few broken ribs, a broken arm, and leg which had healed some but didn't seem to be making any progress.
Van Helsing had at once been uneasy; but she explained bones were the hardest thing in the body to mend and they simply took time. She wrapped them in splints to let them grow correctly and Rossalyn was awake by four o'clock.
Van Helsing had been dozing in his chair, when she'd started moving. His head snapped up so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. "Hey, hey, hey," he put an arm on her shoulder to keep her from sitting up. She turned toward him; but her face turned blank and her breathing went deep with pain as she clutched at the broken ribs.
"Take it easy," Van Helsing said, with a wide smile, happy to see her awake.
She groaned, "what happened?"
"You don't remember?" Van Helsing stood instantly with concerned terror.
"That's fairly normal," the head healer replied as she entered the room.
She stood next to her gently prodding some injuries, taking off bandages. "Do you remember your name?" the healer asked.
"Oh," Rossalyn winced as she fingered the broken ribs. "Rossalyn," she said apprehensively.
"Good," she said with a nod from Van Helsing.
"How much is 157 plus 233?" she asked.
"390," she responded quickly.
"When's your birthday?"
"June…" she squinted. "June… June thirtieth!"
She began to look a little worried, and she looked at Rossalyn, ignoring her injuries. "Do you know what the date is?" Rossalyn struggled for a moment.
"It's um, its April…. April…"
Van Helsing began to worry. "Do you remember who this is?" she asked gently brandishing a hand at Van Helsing.
Rossalyn looked over at him with a clear struggle, before looking away her cheeks tinged with red. "Yes!" she almost shouted with clear frustration. "I know who he is, I just…I just…!"
"Shush," the older woman comforted. "This might be temporary; you had a bruise on your head; but it looked like a minor injury. Give her fifteen minutes and ask again." She instructed Van Helsing, before leaving.
"Help me sit up," she asked after a moment. He gave her an arm and she gingerly raised herself up. "Gabriel!" she said excitedly after a moment. "Gabriel Van Helsing!"
Van Helsing smiled, "you remember what happened?" he asked.
She closed her eyes, "I remember walking with you towards the clearing. I remember you promising to tell me what had happened to you," she opened her eyes, "so don't think you can get out of it." Van Helsing smiled. "I remember you leaving," she sighed resignedly, scrunching up her face. "I remember Everard."
He sat on the edge of the table and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. She didn't seem sad or confused or angry, just doubtful. "I'm sorry I wasn't there," he whispered at length.
"Gabriel it wasn't your fault," she whispered back. "It was mine." Van Helsing let go of her instantly.
"Rossalyn it wasn't your fault!" he said almost angrily.
"Yes it was! I should have known this was coming!" she sighed angrily, and looked a bit calmer. "I've known Everard all my life. I always know exactly what he's thinking and how he will respond to everything; but lately I just didn't want to deal with him, so I didn't." Van Helsing wanted to shake her arms and tell her this was all Everard's fault and no one else's.
"I'm the reason Everard's here, and I should have been the one to do something about it a long time ago."
"Rossalyn it's not your job to be perfect, you can't stop all the evil in the world," Van Helsing tried to reason.
"Only you can?" she asked. "It sure as hell is Everard's fault for the death of those people; but their blood is on my hands too."
"You can't fight Everard and fight against turning."
"You're right," she looked at him suddenly with deep understanding. Van Helsing through for a moment this might be some sort of lingering damage from her injuries; but she looked over at him, and he recognized the same fire in her eyes. "A lot of things are clear to me now."
Van Helsing pulled her against his chest again. The two sat in contemplative silence for a while.
"You should go back to sleep," Van Helsing reasoned at length, loosening his grip.
She smiled, and nodded. "Gabriel thank you for caring," she smiled sadly and laid down again.