Iniquity

Chapter Four: The Second Leg of Our Journey and an Unusual Meeting

Romania, as I have said, is a beautiful little country, despite what I had heard from the others. Of course, in the dead of winter, I'm sure the land had looked barren and sickly to Van Helsing, compared to how lively it was now in the height of summer. It was very enjoyable- the sunny days and warm winds were not something I got to experience all too often, so I cherished every moment I had with them.

However, as we drew nearer and nearer to our destination, the land began to wither and wilt away. It was at its worst in the shadow of the Carpathians- absolutely nothing grew there, as if some sort of toxic curse had been cast upon the earth, spoiling it as well as our moods.

Elvric was grim and quiet, something that was not unusual for his character. I didn't bother him about it as I ordinarily did, for I was feeling quite the same myself. This place had that aura- something evil had made the land ill, and it made my spine turn to ice.

"What happened to this place?" I whispered, eyeing the rocky wall of the mountain.

"What makes you think it hasn't always been this way?" he returned, keeping his eyes on the road. "Perhaps the soil is just bad here."

My horse gave a disapproving snort, and I couldn't help but agree. "Don't pretend to be optimistic. It doesn't suit you. Besides, there aren't any animals here, either. Not even a bird…"

"That's because there are no plants growing in this area. Without plants, lower animals like rabbits will not come to feed, and thus cannot be hunted by larger animals," he told me. "Food cycle."

Know-it-all.

We lapsed into silence then, and both of us were wary of our surroundings. Elvric's eyes swept over the barren plains now and then, and I made a point of knowing where my pistol was at all times. It was a small, pathetic looking thing that I carried around in case I couldn't reach my more powerful weapons. I hated using it, but oh well. A bullet's a bullet, after all.

We arrived in Vaseria shortly after noon. The air here was thick with all kinds of disgusting smells, some stale, others new. It was also muggy, and I could feel my bangs sticking to my dampened brow. I was quick to relieve myself of my trench coat, as did Elvric.

I don't know if it was the heat, or what, but the towns folk were not friendly. The glares they sent our way were like poison-tipped daggers, but one look from Mr. Doom-N-Gloom and they were sent a-skittering back into their holes. It helped to have someone like him around, I'll admit, no matter how annoying he can be.

So we marched through the town, unhindered by our not-so-happy hosts until we reached the fountain in the center of the square. It was a pretty piece of work, carved from bleached stone to look like the white marble ones back in Rome. Though it was a cheap imitation at best, it was a nice reprieve from the horrors of the village. However, it did not fit in, surrounded by the dark, sloping, and deteriorating buildings and homes. This little piece of what some would call art, I surmised, was better taken care of than the rest of the sorry village we now stood in. The water that flowed from it was clear as day, and I could see that in certain places on the structure were silver crosses engraved into the stone. It was a fountain of holy water, I guessed, blessed by the village priest in an effort to keep demonic creatures at bay.

It was at this fountain that we stopped and turned to face the growing crowd of grubby faces and cold eyes. As my gaze traveled from face to face, I also took further note of my surroundings. The town, as I have previously stated, was absolutely filthy. The houses could not be called houses but shacks, made from black, damp, and no doubt rotting planks of pine, as was every other building that made up the tiny village of Vaseria. The place smelled of cow and goat droppings mixed with soured hay and unchecked body odor, which was quite enough to remind my stomach of its little trip on the Hellion not three days ago. Next to the fountain was a deep, dark hole in the ground framed by wood nailed into the brown earth. This could be no less than the well, as humble as it was, where the people drew their water for their daily lives. I could also see the tops of market stands over the heads of people in the crowd.

"This place," I muttered under my breath, "is positively medieval."

Elvric ignored my less-than-kind comment and addressed the Vaserians in his deep, commanding voice. "We are the Werewolf Hunters of the Holy Order. We have come to aid you with your pack problem."

A man with graying hair and a rather disturbing countenance stepped forward. He had very pointed, gnarled features and was garbed in earthy tones with black lining. He looked like nothing short of a con-man, and could be no younger than his late-fifties. "You look sturdy enough," he rasped, nodding to my raven-haired companion. Then his eyes turned onto me, a sadistic light glimmering dully in the black of them. I stiffened, knowing what was to come next. "But a pretty girl as dainty as she shouldn't be out on the battlefield. She could be put to… better use here."

Bristling, I prepared to lunge for him, but Elvric stopped me, holding me back with a strong arm. I snarled at him first before noticing the dangerous gleam in his eyes as he glowered cruelly down at the frail, perverted man.

"How… considerate of you to show concern for her safety, kind sir," he growled, his voice lined with the whisper of a threat. "But I can assure you that she has no problem on the battlefield, as you call it. And I would appreciate it if you did not make such degrading comments about my companion."

Perhaps realizing that his life was in danger, the pervert quickly bowed out and dissolved into the crowd from whence he came. Every face was consumed with a mixture of fear, awe, and irritation.

Elvric's words had a knack for being polite and giving off an aura that held a dangerous promise for all who heard it at the same time. It was an amazing trick that to this day I cannot figure out how to perform, and after this little event, the villagers did not give us any more problems. I was exceedingly thankful for this, for there had been many a time when we had been chased out of the very city or town we'd been trying to protect by an angry mob. The fact that we only had a pack of werewolves to worry about was a great relief.

Since the Valerious family had died out ten years ago, a rich man from the west had bought and moved into their old castle. Because he was the richest person in the village, he was seen as the man in charge, so he was the one we were instructed to meet with.

I did not know why a man with class and money would move from busy, beautiful London to a dump like Vaseria, but the villagers sure didn't mind having him around. They spoke highly of him, saying that at first, they had not taken kindly to a foreigner controlling the town, but he had been so good to them during the three years he had lived there that they could not help but to grow to love him. There had been fewer and fewer deaths by monsters and crime, thanks to him strengthening their small militia, and the villagers were no longer starving. He had been so generous that he had purchased enough food and preservations from the nearest privileged town to feed the people of Vaseria for an entire six months with his own money. And he was working on fixing up the town so that it was livable- the fountain we saw earlier was the first of these renovations.

Sounded like a superman to me.

The old pervert led us up to Castle Valerious, which was high up on a hill on the outskirts of the town. We paused a moment to survey the roofs of the community below. It looked even more abandoned and unkempt than before, with the dark mountains surrounding it like a freezing cloak even in this hot weather. Just beyond Vaseria, at the base of the mountain across from us stood another castle, its windows dark and void of life. Beside it was an odd little clump of what looked like wood- a fallen building, perhaps?

"Enjoying the view?" The pervert grinned at me, his voice grating on my nerves. "That's Castle Frankenstein, that is. Used to be the home of a scientist-" he paused dramatically for the effect. Was he trying to scare me? It wasn't working, "-and a grave robber. He created a monster in that there chateau, and it killed him soon as it laid eyes on him. And it was said that the good ol' doc was in cahoots with Count Dracula the whole time! Imagine that!" Then he straightened, having leaned towards me in his excitement, and puffed out his chest with pride. "The town ran the monster the doc created out of the castle and into the mill. Then we burned it down with it inside! Was a great night, that was!"

"Sounds more like a nightmare," I morosely replied before I could stop myself.

The pervert gave me a strange look, and he was about to say something when someone said, "Telling local folktales again, Dai? You're not trying to scare the poor girl, are you?"

We all turned to look upon the approaching figure. El and I were prepared for a fight, as always, but upon glancing at the man and his words registered in our brains, we cooled down. This guy didn't seem hostile in the least.

In fact, he looked like an angel sent by God. He was ruggedly handsome, and though one of his unusual violet eyes had been viciously torn from him years ago and the spot was covered with scars, it did not distract from his beauty. He had long blonde hair that reached the small of his back even in its ponytail, and his golden bangs hid the scars almost completely. He was tall and lean, garbed in clothes fit for a prince with their whites and golds and crimsons. The coat was long and his boots knee-high, his pants tucked into the black leather. He wore a white vest with gold buttons and red lining, as well as a cravat with a ruby pin at the base of his strong throat. I had to force myself to look away and fought not to blush at his angelic looks.

He smiled at us, and I about melted right then and there. It was a smile that was so beautiful, it was criminal- something like that is just too magnificent to exist on this earth. His teeth were pearly white, not too large, not too small, all in a straight row of perfection. His one eye glittered with something akin to mirth, and I got the feeling that he was silently laughing at some inside joke that I hadn't caught. My heart felt like a tiny thunderstorm inside my chest.

"They're not folktales," Dai the pervert protested weakly. "It really happened- I was there."

The handsome newcomer made a small noise and turned his heavenly gaze onto me. He didn't bother looking at Elvric, though he addressed both of us. "Ah! You must be the Werewolf Hunters I sent for. I am very glad the Knights of the Holy Order agreed to help; the situation here has been most distressing." He shook both of our hands in turn- mine first, then Elvric's. His handshake was warm and firm, commanding but not unfriendly. "I am Paris Moriarti."

"I'm Mina King, and this," I pointed to Mr. Doom-N-Gloom (who was very much in the gloom mood at that moment) over my shoulder, "is Elvric Sallow."

"It is a pleasure to meet you both. Shall we go inside? It's dreadfully hot out here."

I couldn't help but agree, and the castle looked like it would be nice and cool on the inside. I cast a side-ways glance over at Elvric, who gave an affirmative grunt, and we were off.

The castle was large, but not overwhelmingly so. The stones were a whitish gray color and the whole place was well taken care of. It felt more like a palace than anything else, especially when we stepped inside. The rooms were all richly decorated and warmly lit, and it looked friendly, as if someone really lived there, though nothing seemed to be out of place. Paris fit well in this house, like the final piece to a very elaborate puzzle. The reds and golds and browns swirled about his snow-white form as he stood in the center of the room, his strong, yet gentle-looking hands clasped loosely behind his back. The whole scene looked like something out of a fairytale, complete with a prince and castle to boot. The magic spell he had placed over me was broken when he smoothly sank into one of the brown leather chairs and offered us a seat.

"I'll stand, thanks," Elvric growled as I took the chair nearest to the golden idol of a man.

I scowled, angry and taken aback by his bitter, distrustful tone. I was about to rebuke him for his hostility when Paris held up a hand and flashed me an understanding smile.

"It's quite alright," he said serenely. "He has no reason to trust me as of yet. He has a right to be on his guard, especially in this country. I, however, mean you no harm, I assure you."

"I suppose, but even so…" My eyes flicked to Elvric in order to see his reaction to Paris's kind pardon, but he still looked upon him with both disdain and suspicion. I sighed. "Never mind. I guess there's no changing him." That last part I muttered under my breath so that Elvric wouldn't hear, but he must have caught it anyway, because he immediately threw an icy glare at me.

Perhaps realizing that the path we were on would lead to an argument, Paris gracefully turned it on its head. "Now, now, we're all friends here. I'll have no petty arguments- not in my house. Besides, we have business to attend to, yes?"

We were silent, so he took this as an answer to his question and clapped his gloved hands once. A young man with caramel-colored hair and emerald eyes as well as a cross-shaped scar on his cheek entered immediately from the hallway adjacent to the room, as if he'd been waiting there all along. Giving the boy a bored look, Paris ordered, "Caine, tea. And tell your sister to make enough of lunch for three- we have guests."

"Yes, sir… Shall I prepare a couple of rooms as well?"

"See that you do."

"Yes, sir." And, without bowing, the boy walked briskly from the room, as if he were trying to escape a fire.

"He's awful young to be a butler, ain't he?" Elvric asked, nodding to where the kid had disappeared.

"Oh, him?" Paris returned as if he had already forgotten Caine had been there. "No, no, no- he's just turned thirty."

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped. "Thirty?! I… I thought… I could have sworn that he was younger than me!"

"No, he's quite a bit older, actually. I take it you're twenty?"

"Nineteen."

"Yes, he looks a lot younger than he really is- it runs in their family. Odd, really. Never could figure it out." He shifted uncomfortably, and judging by the look on his face, he didn't like to talk about this Caine fellow. It seemed to agitate him very much, and he changed the subject again, "But that's a story for another time. Enough distractions; I have yet to tell you of your mission." Again, he paused to shift in his seat, his brow furrowing slightly. We watched him expectantly, waiting in silence for him to continue.

"Of course you are dealing with werewolves," he went on, "but this, I'm sure, is very different from your usual missions. Over the course of only a month, we have gone from dealing with only a sparse few of these beasts to a whole pack of sixty-some-odd wolves. Of course, we have our own ways of getting rid of them- the people of Vaseria have been fighting these creatures for centuries- but we cannot hope to destroy so many; we have already lost a number of our villagers to the pack. That's where you two come in." He paused once more when Caine returned, carrying a tray with three delicate cups of tea. Paris did not bother thanking him, and the boy- no… man- turned and left without a word. The only one of us three who did not pick up their cup and start drinking was Elvric. There really was no changing him, was there?

"I know it seems impossible, but you won't be fighting alone," Paris said after he'd gulped down a mouthful of Oolong. "If you can train the villagers in your ways, even just a little bit, we will be able to help you fight these monsters."

The idea sounded like a good one; the more help we had, the better. And since the villagers would be trained, they would not get in the way of things. So we agreed, naturally. We'd do anything thing that'd make our job easier.

And so, with that matter settled, Elvric and I were shown to our rooms by Caine. This gave me a chance to observe him a bit more, for he had interested me greatly. His blatant disregard for manners and the feelings of others had caused me to take a great dislike to him, but once we were away from Paris, I noticed a change in him. Though he was still edgy and far from relaxed, he was quite a bit more cordial to Elvric and I. I thought him to be a nervous fellow, and Paris was someone who caused him both worry and grief, for whatever reason that may have been. Surely it could not have been Mr. Moriarti's fault, for he was the most agreeable person I had ever met. No, this nervousness was conceived by Caine, and him alone; he must have done something to cause a quarrel between the two of them, for I could think of nothing else happening to cause such a disturbance.

But after Elvric had been delivered to his room and Caine and I had reached my quarters, he took me aside and looked me dead in the eye. The gravity that was etched into his face like stone made my blood run cold as he spoke.

"You shouldn't have come here."

I stared at him, bewildered and silent. What had he meant by that?

"You don't understand the danger you have put yourself in by coming to Vaseria."

I bristled. "Look, if this is about my being female doing a man's job, forget it! I'm far more qualified for hunting than you realize-"

"It's not about that," he broke in calmly. "Your friend is in danger, too. Just as much as you are."

"Then why aren't you telling him?"

"Because he already knows."

Again, I was caught in confusion's grasp, trapped by his words.

We stood there in the quiet, richly furnished hall, simply staring at each other, saying everything and nothing at all, for what felt like ages. Then Paris's angelic voice sounded and Caine disappeared from sight to answer his master's call, leaving me alone in my growing pool of puzzlement.