Van Helsing perfectly remembered what had happened two years ago. It was as clear as though it happened yesterday. He had been in France then, in Paris, to kill Barquest - the evil dog haunting a cemetery in one of the city's districts. It had been extremely aggressive towards humans and had been killing them.

This winter night was very frosty. The ground was covered with plenty of white, soft snow. The icy air was like glass and the moon was pouring a bright, silvery glow over the cemetery. Van Helsing had hid himself in the vestibule of a large tomb and waited in darkness for the monster appearance. He had an excellent view to the gate of the graveyard and to the main boulevard from there. It was perfect positioning as he had heard that Barquest had been attacking there.

The hours had been passing by, but there was still nothing to see except a few snowflakes, which were falling from gently from the sky. The frost was biting, pricking the skin like needles. Van Helsing's gloves, although thick and warm, had given up and his fingers were completely numb with cold.

Van Helsing's patience finally ended. He ceased watching for the monster and sat down on the stone threshold of the tomb. He put his gun away and started rubbing his hands together for a little warmth. He was getting nervous and doubted the success in killing the monster that night.

Suddenly, he heard a loud bump somewhere close by. In a second he reached for his weapon and raised his head, but he saw nothing. Everything was just as it had been a few hours ago.

He leaned out behind the wall of the tomb slightly, keeping his gun ready for a shot. He ran his eyes over the cemetery slowly and... laid eyes upon a slumped, dark profile, neither human, nor canine, slipping noiselessly among the graves.

He pointed the weapon to the shape as always. The roar of the bang penetrated the silence of the night.

The figure stopped, rolled and fell down behind a high gravestone. Van Helsing wasn't exactly sure if he killed the creature or if it is still alive. He started to creep quiet and carefully to the place where his silver bullet reached Barquest, still holding his postal should the monster attack again. All of a sudden, a mighty blow to the back of his head bowled him over, just before he saw red stains of blood on the snow. A sharp pain exploded in the centre of his skull, blinding his eyes and overpowering his body. A second after he was hit again, this time in his jaw. His gun seemed to be like a huge piece of lead as it fell down from his hand.

In spite of the force of the blow that shook his balance, the blood in his mouth and the pain deafening his mind, he knew that he had to defend himself. His befuddled eyes couldn't entirely see anything at all; they hardly appointed the dark figure from the darkness. He rushed for his gun lying on the snow, as fast as he could.

"Forget it." A quite and quivering, but resolute voice spoke.

When the pulsing pain in his head eased off, he saw who had attacked him. A tall woman stood about two meters from him, keeping a revolver pointing straight at his forehead. She pressed her shoulder with her free hand. Her fingers were covered in blood, heavy red drops were falling down on the white snow. The bright glow of the moon created a ghostly impression on her deathly pale face.

But Van Helsing didn't move his hand away from his pistol.

"Throw it away. Now." she said, stressing the last word. Van Helsing could see the bright red blood leaking out of her shoulder. It made him sure that he shot her through the artery.

"Didn't you hear me? Throw it!" she cried with a nervous voice.

"Will you shoot me, if I won't?" Van Helsing asked, looking into her dark eyes.

"Yes, I will." something in her voice and a clang of her gun told him she wasn't joking. He threw his weapon away.

Suddenly, a strange shape came out from the darkness behind the woman. Van Helsing felt a thrill going through his back. He had already knew what is this.

The first thing he saw was a pair of red eyes and white fangs. An atrocious whirr sounded in the air. Barquest, the evil dog, strained for an attack.

Everything happened in a few seconds.

"What the he..." started the woman when she turned back, but she didn't end. Barquest jumped on her, pushing her to the closest tomb.

Van Helsing reacted in a flash. He reached for his gun, turned to the dog and shot.

The bullet hit the beast right under the ear. It whined shortly, staggered and fell down to the ground. It shimmered convulsively for a moment, groaning quietly, but soon it lay dead.

Van Helsing fired three bullets more into the creature's head to make sure it is dead.
Then he looked at the woman.

She lied unconscious on the ground. Bright streaks of blood were shining on the tomb. She had to have hit the tomb with her head; the snow around it was saturated with scarlet blood, which looked like a grotesque saint's halo. Her eyes were half-opened and her face was paler than the snow, so for a short moment Van Helsing thought she is dead.

He took his black scarf out of his pocket and he tied it around her wound.

"Well, that's all I needed." he thought.

He knew that he couldn't leave her there. He took her in his arms and took her to the room he had rented at a nearby inn. He put her on his bed and dressed both of her wounds. He always carried some medicine in his baggage. He bandaged her hurt head tightly and took the bullet out of her shoulder with a long tweezers.

When her body began to warm up and she started to breathe regularly, Van Helsing breathed a sight of release. He reached for a bottle of French wine standing on a table nearby and took a sip, not paying any attention to the fact that he didn't have a cup. He looked at the woman. She had short, red hair and a little dark mole on her left cheek. She also wore a red band around her head.

Van Helsing started to wonder what he should do with her.

"Well, it will be good for her to recover a bit. I can let her stay here for a few days," he decided.

Who the heck was she? What was she doing in that cemetery in the middle of the night and armed as well? Why was she creeping quietly among the graves? He didn't know. He didn't even have any idea what to think about the whole event. He desided he would ask her about that when she woke up.

Therefore, he sat down on a chair near the bed and started to clean his gun. He couldn't think of a better thing to do.

After more or less an hour he heard a quiet moan. The red-haired woman turned her head and ran her eyes over the room. When she saw Van Helsing, twitched and tried to get up, but she was too weak and after a moment she sank down to the pillow with a sigh.

"You shouldn't try that. You need to lie down," he said.

"You..." she replied with a hoarse voice "Why did you try to kill me?"

Van Helsing stood up from the chair.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would just do that."

She moved her hand slowly and touched the bandage on her head.

"Right" she said quietly "So why did you shoot me?"

"It wasn't you I wanted to shoot" he replied while pouring some wine to two cups he had received from the inn keeper downstairs.

"So to whom did you want to shoot?!" anger filled her weak voice.

"Maybe you have heard people complaining about a beast haunting local cemetery." he answered patiently.

A barely discernible shade went thought the woman's face. She was silent.

"Here," he said giving her a cup, "A sip of good wine will make you feel better."

She took the cup from his hand, not looking into his eyes.

"Would you mind telling me your name?" he asked.

A moment passed by before she answered:

"I'm Katharsis Ironheart. And you?"

"Gabriel Van Helsing."

"Van Helsing..." she drank some wine "I guess you're that Van Hel-"

"Yes, I am," he cut her "Well, Katharsis, I have a question to you. I was wondering, what were you doing on the graveyard tonight? Why did you have a gun?"

She looked at him.

"I have heard people complaining about a beast haunting local cemetery." she answered.

Van Helsing raised his eyebrows.

"You mean-"

"I mean," she gasped and gave him the cup back "That I feel too bad to talk even a few seconds. My head hurts and I would like to have some sleep now."

Van Helsing gazed at her for a moment.

"Of course" he said finally "Goodnight".

Katharsis Ironheart closed her eyes and sighed. Her breath became regular soon. Van Helsing, deprived of his bed, took his coat and put it on the floor. He lied down on it and he fell asleep soon.

Severe bright rays of winter sun flowing out of the window woke him up. The sun stood in the zenith, so it had to be about the noon. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He directed his still sleepy look to the bed, which Ironheart lay on. He had already opened his mouth to say "good morning" to her, but... he saw the bed was empty. He immediately stood up and ran his eyesight over the whole room. Ironheart's coat and shoes disappeared. The key was in the doorlock, but Van Helsing remembered he had left it on the table before he went to sleep.

She was gone.

Katharsis Ironheart entered her room in the basements of the St. Peter's Basilica, and closed the door carefully. Her chamber was really small, but she needn't anything bigger. She liked it the way it was - a bed in the corner, a bookshelf with a lot of books nearby, a wardrobe, in which Katharsis never kept anything, a table, a mirror, a purple patterned carpet, a masterfully carved armchair with a satin upholstery and, of course, a large fireplace, where the bright, warm fire was blowing.

Katharsis liked this room a lot, although she stayed in it so rarely. She arrived today and she had to leave tomorrow.

She frowned. Leave. This time to Norway. This time with Van Helsing. She didn't want to go with him.

She came to the mirror and took of her leather corselet. She touched the naked skin of her right arm. She sensed a big, stringy scar after a wound under her fingers.

She remembered this night perfectly, the moment, when the bullet hit her arm, the horrible pain and blood going through her fingers. Cold butt of her gun, hitting Van Helsing's jaw. Barquest jumping on her.

Van Helsing's captured, mysterious face when she woke up in his bed. The taste of the wine he gave her.

She wondered, what would he say if he knew that she had a room rented in the same inn? That she watched him leaving the inn through the window.

He couldn't know, but she guessed, why Cardinal Jinette sent them both to that cemetery. The cardinal just didn't know what exactly Barquest was.

And she also knew, why Jinette wanted them both to kill the lich. But she hadn't abandoned the hope she would take this mission alone. She brought some books about necromancy into her room because she wanted to read something about lichens. She was going to prove Cardinal Jinette that she did have skills to kill this creature by herself.

She didn't wanted to go with Van Helsing not because she didn't like him or something like that. No, it all was about her secret, the dark side of her personality that was known only by her and Cardinal Jinette. If she went to fight the lich with Van Helsing, she would have to tell him about it.

Katharsis took off the silver cross from her neck and the band from her head. Red locks of hair feel on her forehead, covering her dark brown eyes. She undressed herself completely before taking a long, silk nightdress out of the wardrobe and put it on.

She was just about going to the bed, but suddenly she turned back. She opened the wardrobe and reached to one of the pockets of her coat. She got a small, round medallion made of gold out.

Katharsis sighed and opened it. There was a small, indistinct photograph of five smiling people. A woman with long, wavy hair was carrying a baby; a man standing next to her was tall and bald on the top of his head. There were also two children - an about four-year-old boy and a girl with the same hair as her mother, dressed in a pretty white dress.

Katharsis was this girl. She was seven when this photo was taken. Sorrow clenched her heart, as always, when she looked at her family, dead long time ago. She had not forgotten that night, that heat if flames, that awful smell of smoke, their horrified, desperate screams.
On the golden surface of the medallion was engraved an inscription; "For Katharsis for the seventh anniversary of her birthday - Mother and Father. 24 VII 1866".

She ran her eyesight full of grief through her parents' and siblings' faces. "I miss you so much" she thought when she closed the medallion.

She put it back. She always had it in the pocket above her heart, wherever she was.