(Chapter 16: A Hero's Hero)
Gabriel had his eyes shut tight, letting go of everything he held dear to him. His part in the mission had come to an end, too weak to fight, and far enough away where the werewolf curse wouldn't hit him as hard as it had been; all his efforts were in vain for fighting Birsha.
Death never came.
What did come was a deafening roar of equipment the likes of which Van Helsing hadn't heard of in a long time, almost as loud as a cannon! The eyes of the monster-hunter snapped open as he fell to the rocky surface of the stony beach, mouth agape with a look of incredulity.
Birsha towered over him, but a monstrous chunk had been blown into his left flank, the glowing emerald eyes were open wide with immense pain and shock. The golem groaned in agony and clutched his bloodless wound with the one good arm before reeling back, and finally collapsing.
Van Helsing was still overwhelmed by a universe of pain from the wreckage of the Demeter, he could only watch as Birsha's large body sent a column of sand into the air that fell upon the two of them like yellow snow.
Gabriel inched backwards, unable to make of what just happened and where the hell the blast came from.
Pounding footsteps echoed off the stones, catching Van Helsing's attention as he snapped his head to the right to face the source of the sound.
A man strolled forward with a large gun with a thick barrel, it looked more like some sort of brass sewer pipe in comparison to more traditional gun barrels that Gabriel had seen in his lengthy lifetime on Earth.
Atop the man's head was a wide-brimmed black Stetson hat. A silver band was worn around it, which gleamed bright when lightning struck in the raging skies in the distance. A long weathered black duster coat danced and flew behind him as he ran, the coat was adorned with silver accents that also shimmered in the night. Underneath the coat, the man sported a dark red waistcoat over a black shirt. On his legs were black trousers, and his cowboy boots pounded the rocks as he drew nearer.
When the cowboy stood near Van Helsing, it allowed the monster-killer to get a better look at his facial features, as they were mostly obscured by the combination of the night and the dark color of his clothing.
The man's face was rough with a distinct five o'clock shadow, a well-trimmed mustache curled under the nose and a goatee jetted out from the front of his chin, as well as a nice stubble beard.
The man looked concerned as he knelt over Van Helsing, who groaned in pain and writhed on the ground as another surge of agony overtook him.
"Man alive, you took quite a lickin'" The cowboy proclaimed as he looked up, Van Helsing judged a distinct Southern drawl to his young but gravelly voice.
"Who…who…" Before Van Helsing could continue his question, the cowboy interrupted him.
"This location ain't no place for a feller like you to die, let's get outta he—"
A furious groan came from Birsha nearby, who rolled over and smashed his large fist into the sand!
"That blame thing is tougher than I thought…" The cowboy scoffed as he leaned down and hoisted Van Helsing on his shoulders, carrying him down the beach towards an undisclosed location.
Gabriel felt his body bumping up and down as this stranger hauled him away, he managed to get a good view of Birsha as he climbed back to his feet, taking the golem a monumental effort just to get standing again.
The monster-hunter's vision faded in and out as he and the stranger put a couple miles between them and the damaged golem.
"Hang in there, partner. We're gonna get you outta here…" The cowboy spoke, his voice low and soft as he made sure to be as gentle as possible as he placed Van Helsing over the rump of his black stallion.
That was when Van Helsing's vision faded to black again.
"Take us home, boy!" The cowboy called to his horse as he snapped the reins mercilessly, digging his heels into the splendid black stallion's sides. The horse whinnied with great power before speeding into a full gallop, tearing away from the rocky coastline and into the wooded area onto a dirt road….
A pleasant smell satisfied Van Helsing's nostrils, and it is what lulled him out of his sleep. The eyes of the monster-hunter fluttered open, and beams of intense light gave him a momentary blindness, causing him to groan softly and shield his eyes with his arms.
Gabriel's body was sore, his mind foggy. The scent of wood smoke and a savory flavor intensified as he stirred awake. The soft golden light of the early morning sun casting a beautiful hue over this kitchen/living room he found himself in.
He let out a groan as he stirred, something beneath him creaked, and that's when he found himself laying on an old bed, heavy woolen blankets covered him, and a crackling fire from within a fireplace added a cozy warmth to the already peaceful environment he found himself in.
"Rise and shine!" A voice called out; it was the voice of that cowboy stranger from the night before. Van Helsing saw the man standing in the corner of the room where the fireplace was located, holding a pot over the flaming logs. The man had stripped down to a simpler attire, clad in an old white long-sleeved ranch shirt, dark trousers, and brown boots.
"Wh-who are yuh-you…?" Gabriel groaned, rubbing some crust from his eyes as he sat up, pulling the blankets down to allow some of the sun to beat against his sore muscles.
"Forgive me partner, I shoulda introduced myself last night. Things got a little hectic as you 'prolly understand," The cowboy apologized as he placed the pot down on a nearby stool, approaching Van Helsing with an outstretched hand, "Quincey Morris, and you?"
"Van Helsing…" Gabriel said as he shook Quincey's hand, "a pleasure to meet you, Quincey…"
"Well, I'll be damned!" Quincey exclaimed, his voice bubbling with pride, "Never thought I'd see the day where I saved the Van Helsing of all people!"
"You…know me?" Gabriel questioned with a raised brow and a slight tilt of his head.
"'Course I know ya, why wouldn't I?"
Van Helsing didn't answer the cowboy as he watched him approach the stool again, grabbing the wooden bowl before he approached the monster-killer offering him the bowl and a wooden spoon.
"Eat up, bud, you're gonna need some strength in ya after what happened last night."
"Where are we?"
Van Helsing looked around, scanning his surroundings.
The walls in the room were made of rough-hewn timber logs. Soft golden rays of sunlight filtered through the square windows framed with wooden shutters. Flames danced in the corner of the room where the fireplace was situated. Above the fireplace hung some tools, an old Winchester Repeater, a coiled length of rope, and a picture of what Van Helsing judged to be Quincey's family.
Just above his bed, mounted on the wall, was a deer head. If he looked straight towards his feet, he would be facing a wooden door with some iron bars forming a windowsill in the upper half of the door. Hung around the nob was a silver crucifix attached to a tiny silver chain.
"My place." Quincey answered Van Helsing's query as he took a seat at a table seated in the middle of the room. On the table was the remnants of the breakfast Quincey had prepared for him and Van Helsing. A loaf of bread which was half gone at this point, a steaming pot of stew, and a carafe of water with small cups included.
"Yeah…you were pretty banged up when I found ya, that thing had ya by the neck. A couple more seconds and you woulda been as good as roadkill." The cowboy continued as he took a spoonful of stew and brought it to his lips, exhaling gently to ease away some of the heat before taking a mouthful.
"Birsha…" Van Helsing rasped as he himself took a bite from the stew.
"That's what that thing is? A Birsha?"
"No… he's a golem, created by a—"
Everything started to come back to Gabriel now, the mission at hand, the wreckage of the Demeter, the werewolf transformation, his allies which were scattered elsewhere around the coastline undeniably so.
"What's wrong? Afraid I won't understand ya?" The cowboy asked with a raised brow and a friendly smile.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Oh, I'm keen to believe I will. I myself have dealt with creatures of the night, 'prolly nothin' quite like you've dealt with, but close enough in my honest opinion."
"I've come to this country to hide something from Birsha and Lord Ruthven, it's an unholy artifact that must not fall into the wrong hands. It's somewhere on that beach where you found me…"
Quincey leaned forward now, the wooden chair creaking under him as he grew serious.
"You think that thing you're talkin' 'bout is still out there?"
"I know it's out there, and we need to get there as soon as possible."
"Well let's get movin', then."
It didn't take long for the two men to head out, the two rode the same horse as they rushed through the trees, the scent of pine and damp earth heavy in the air.
Even though Birsha may have moved away since the confrontation from the night before, the two men were still ready. Quincey gave Van Helsing the honor of carrying the weapon that could deal serious damage to the golem, the monster-killer found out that the weapon was known as a Blunderbuss. Quincey's Winchester was strapped to his back, but he also holstered a colt revolver.
"I still can't believe you survived that wreck, Van Helsing," Quincey said, breaking the silence between the two. His tone was light, but his voice carried a seriousness to it that wouldn't be denied.
"I surprise even myself." Van Helsing replied, getting a chuckle out of both men. There was a pause for a moment as Gabriel recollected everything that he had survived in the last couple months alone.
"You said there was another person, Lord Ruthven? What's that guy all about?" Quincey questioned, breaking the pause again.
"For a guy who has fought vampires before, I'm surprised you've never heard of him."
"I engage in domestic affairs; I've ain't ever been to Europe before."
"Lord Ruthven is one of the worst vampires to ever exist, and if he gets his hands on the Blood Whistle, then we could all be in trouble."
"Looks like we made the right decision in goin' lookin' for that thing."
The two emerged from the dense woods onto the stretch of the rocky shoreline, the unmistakable ruins of the Demeter lay scattered on the beach, most of the ship having smashed into a cliffside.
The two dismounted their horse, their boots crunching against the sand and gravel as they approached the wreckage, lots of it having been tugged out into the depths by the current lapping against the shoreline, having been claimed by the sea.
Quincey watched Van Helsing scanning the debris with confusion, having no idea of where he should look, judging the reaction of the monster-killer to the bearer of either good or bad news.
"Did you know the guy who had it last?" Quincey asked as he watched Van Helsing pick up a large board and toss it aside, no luck.
"I gave it to a man named Aidan, the last I saw him, he was…knocked off the ship."
"There's your answer right there, partner!" Quincey exclaimed, a smug tone in his rough voice.
Van Helsing turned to the cowboy with a faint look of worry. "At the bottom of the sea…"
"I'd say that's good news, a shark can't perform some ritual, can't they?"
"You underestimate human curiosity…" Van Helsing scolded as he stood up, placing his hands on his hips, beginning to pace around while Quincey removed a cigarette from his pocket, striking it against the rowel to ignite it.
"What? People 'gon search for shit at the bottom of the ocean?"
"That's a possibility and you can't deny it, Quincey."
Quincey shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag of the cigarette before exhaling a puff of smoke, the wind carrying the scent of burning tobacco towards Van Helsing.
"I 'reckon so, but that'll 'prolly be years from now…"
"That may be the case, but all it takes is one juvenile delinquent and the gates of Hell are opened up because he or she doesn't know the consequences of blowing it."
The cowboy struggled to hold back a laugh, looking upon Gabriel with a conspiratorial gaze.
"I'm sorry… but that thing can open the gates of Hell themselves!?"
"… Close enough…" Van Helsing conceded after an awkward pause.
"So… if it's at the bottom of the ocean… what's the point in us bein' here then?"
"The others have to be somewhere, Quincey."
"And here I was thinkin' you were the only survivor of the wreck…"
That was the only problem, Van Helsing didn't know for sure if the others survived.
