(Chapter 12: Shore leave)
(Five days later)
The evening sky cast beautiful colors over the Whitby Harbor, various shades of orange and red with the clouds having nice shades of purples. Five days ago, the rest of the alliance figured out Gabriel's plan of burying the Blood Whistle somewhere within the United States although most of them felt as if he was holding something back. No matter how many times they had asked Van Helsing about the matter, he wouldn't reveal it for some reason…
Van Helsing led the group, Aidan Cain and Friar Carl followed close behind. The normal steely gaze that accompanied the monster-slayer was now clouded with unease as he gazed beyond the harbor towards the open sea.
What sort of chaos would they undergo once they were out there on the water?
His chest was heavy with anxiety as the throbbing aches on his forearm returned, now more prominent than ever. The leader bared his teeth as his hand unconsciously brushed over the aching spot, it wouldn't be long before the full moon would rise. The thoughts of transforming into a beast out here in public made Gabriel hasten his steps towards the Demeter.
"This doesn't feel right, Van Helsing," Carl murmured as he hurried behind his partner in crime as they grew closer towards their ship, "Your condition, the coming night, no cloud coverage to block the moon…" The monk wouldn't be able to finish.
"You would be right to feel that way, Carl." Van Helsing cut in.
"Can't we just wait 'till the morning, and board another ship?" Carl requested sheepishly.
" No," Gabriel spoke sternly, "I've made plans, and I don't feel like changing them. Time is of the essence right now, and we cannot hang around here for much longer."
"What are you hiding, Van Helsing!?" Carl begged to know.
The monster killer stopped and turned around in place rather quickly, catching the monk off guard while Aidan remained stoic.
"They are somewhere in this country right as we speak, that's what I'm hiding." Gabriel finally revealed, catching the monk off guard.
"Lord Ruthve—"
"Yes! Lord Ruthven and Birsha are somewhere in this country right now. A ship crashed at the Exe Estuary not too long ago and all the passengers on board either had puncture holes in their carotid artery or every bone in their body broken. Who else could possibly do that!?"
"Literally everyone we've allied ourselves with…" Friar Carl spoke nervously.
"Well, except you, of course." The monster hunter taunted, a smirk finally appearing on his face.
"Oh…" Carl sighed before he was playfully tapped on the lower back by his partner in crime.
"I'm joking, now come on. We've got places to be."
Ahead of them, at the bottom of the gangplank, stood Count Dracula, reclining against the railing; his Brides stood patiently on deck behind him, their mischievous eyes glaring and scrutinizing their surroundings.
"You're late, Gabriel…" The Count scoffed.
"We thank you for your patience." Van Helsing replied, demonstrating his wit with a wink as he ascended the gangplank with the rest of his allies.
The ache on his forearm was returning now. The more the evening progressed into night, the intensity of the pain seemed to double.
"Try not to kill everyone on board if the worst comes." Dracula taunted with a sneer on his face; Van Helsing looked over his shoulder, glowering upon a person he had called his nemesis two years ago.
"Are you Mr. Van Helsing?" A gruff voice with a strong Russian accent questioned; Gabriel turned around to face a rather burly —but aged— man. The man was dressed in mostly black with a fancy hat worn over his head, he had milky blue eyes with a salt and pepper grey beard, his head hair was as white as snow.
"In the flesh, Mr…"
"Sergei, Captain Sergei…" The old man finished for the monster hunter as the two grasped hands and shook. "You've quite the gathering here… I must say: I never thought I'd meet you here of all places."
Then Captain Sergei paused and glanced towards Dracula and his Brides, the expression on his elderly face darkening.
"I can say the same for him and those women as well…" The captain returned his worried glare towards Van Helsing, "I thought you killed him; I thought you killed all of them…"
"I did, but now they're back."
"No shit."
"It's…complicated, but they shouldn't hurt anyone. We made a deal." Van Helsing replied, trying to make details as vague as possible.
"Ah, the redheaded lady and my first mate Ivan almost came to blows. I trust that you'll keep them under control from here on."
Van Helsing leaned forward with a mischievous sort of smile and said:
"I'll try, but I can't make any guarantees…"
"As long as we have a safe trip across the Atlantic, then it's all that matters." Captain Sergei replied before giving the monster killer a firm but hearty smack on the side of his body before returning to the wheel of the ship.
Once everyone was on board, the gangplank was removed and the Demeter began its journey away from Whitby Harbor, its large wooden form slicing through the water as it made its way up the River Esk and out to the North Sea.
The alliance watched the busy bustling port of Whitby as their ship traveled up the river, all except for Van Helsing, whose watchful eyes scrutinized the sky to make sure the moon wasn't rising yet.
Everything seemed normal at first, all except for the tremendous, nagging ache on his forearm that he continued to clutch tightly as he leaned against the railing. The monster killer could feel the warmth through his layers of clothing that shielded his skin from the elements, like the worst infection he'd ever received in all his years.
Then something strange began to happen.
The sound of the water beating against the ship as it advanced up the river, it seemed twice as loud. The sound of the sails flapping and whipping around by the gusts of wind, soft as they were, were now akin to thunderclaps.
Van Helsing felt his stomach churn as a foul odor from the myriads of odors and scents that rushed upon him all at once. The sweat of the hard-working crew, the salty sea air, the musky odor of wet wood.
His heart rate began to rocket to insane levels, and he groaned with heavy discomfort, falling forward against the railing. Gabriel's hands began to tremble, and he had to grasp the railing to keep himself standing.
The sensory overload didn't stop.
Footsteps echoed obscenely loud in his ears, non-stop pounding as loud as gunfire if it was fired right next to one's ear.
Van Helsing clasped his ears and yowled in agony, his voice carried a subtle change; now it sounded more guttural than before, like that of a snarling wolf defending a kill from another predator. The leader of the alliance turned, his eyes frantically facing the sky before they ultimately settled on Dracula in the distance.
The Count, who had been an ally now for a good while, infuriated him beyond belief. Just the sight of him gazing out into Whitby standing still filled him with such a primal, beastly rage that he struggled to contain.
Then his face shifted. For a fraction of a second, it morphed into an uncanny cross between wolf and man. The brown eyes of the monster killer gleamed a cat-like yellow as a deep rumbling was heard in the back of his throat.
The sound of livestock below deck managed to bore through the wood of the ship, ducks quacking, pigs squealing, and goats squawking and bleating, it all assaulted his senses as he began to stumble towards the stairs leading to the lower deck.
"No!" Van Helsing cried, the pitch of his voice changed rapidly, starting from a deep level unheard of to man before gradually raising to his normal tone of voice.
I can't change…dammit not now! The words screamed in the back of his mind as he finally entered a doorway leading to a staircase leading down below deck. The torment didn't stop, each creak of his descent down the old wooden steps —loud as they were already— were like that of a door with terrible hinges that were parched with no oil.
"Dammit!" Van Helsing felt himself losing control; smashing his fist against the wall as he lost his footing and tumbled down the steps, smashing into the mess room where a group of the regular crew had to part ways to avoid being swept down by his falling body!
"The carg—Rghhhh!" Van Helsing growled, getting his hands under him on all fours. His face underwent that change again, he was acutely aware of the hairs on his arms standing up, even though he couldn't see them under his clothing.
"What!?" One of the crewmembers asked, his voice shaky with fear at the sight of the monster killer seconds away from giving into the transformation process.
" THE CARGO HOLD!" Van Helsing cried at the top of his lungs, he tried to power himself to his feet but instantly collapsed, face planting into the wet floor. "I need to get to the… to the cuh-cargo huh-hhold…"
"We need to help him!" A crewmate screamed as he hurried towards Gabriel's downed body; Aidan and Carl burst into the room after hurrying down the steps.
"Get him away from any window, the moon cannot touch him!" Aidan instructed; heart feeling as if it was going to rupture through his sternum.
"Bloody hell, we've haven't even reached the ocean yet!" Carl panicked as he followed behind the men carrying the downed Van Helsing to the cargo hold.
As for Van Helsing, the torment didn't stop…his vision dimmed, but he couldn't tell if it was due to the dim lights of the lanterns or if he was about to pass out. His vision grew darker and darker until all that encompassed him was blackness, his hearing fading away just like the rest of his senses…
When Gabriel came to, he found himself seated between two large boxes that were carefully stacked on top of each other and held down to prevent them from sliding off each other and crushing him. An orange-yellow light flooded his vision, causing him to groan and shield his eyes.
"Van Helsing…?" A concerned voice asked; Van Helsing blinked and discovered that it was coming from Friar Carl.
"You didn't tell us you were bringing a werewolf onboard, how many of your friends are monsters here!?" One of the crewmates who carried the monster killer down the stairs demanded to know from the monk and the warlock.
"The-they're all good people, I assure you!" Friar Carl stumbled over his words as he quickly tried to spill them out as fast as his lips could afford.
"That needs to be seen to be believed."
"Well…you'd best start believing then…" Van Helsing groaned, his voice was gruff, but it pleased both Carl and Aidan to see that he still had his wits about him despite being in a sticky situation.
"There's a celebratory feast being held soon; would you like to join u—" Carl was cut off by a dismissive wave of Van Helsing's left hand.
"No, I can't let any moon light strike me. It's too early for something like this to happen."
"So you want to stay down here with all the smelly cargo and animals?" Carl asked, a half-grin on his face.
"I'll be fine, we've all been through much worse than foul odors…"
"Van Helsing are you su—"
"Yes, I'm sure, Carl! Just…bring me a tea or something when you get time."
"He'll be alright, Carl. Let's go eat and we'll come back down here in a little bit to check on 'em." Aidan encouraged the monk with a pat on the back before heading up the stairs with the two crewmates.
Carl stayed for a moment and cast a concerned look down towards his good friend who gave him an encouraging nod to go on with the rest.
"He's right, I'll be okay, just as long as I don't go up deck tonight."
Carl conceded with an understanding nod of his head and followed the others up deck; Gabriel watched as the light from their lanterns slowly faded away into darkness, shrouding the monster killer in near total blackness, the only light being a faint orange glow coming from the livestock section of the cargo hold.
Thankfully, the beast's influence within him had waned. The heightened senses remained but not at an overwhelming level; the sound of the sea's water sloshing against the ship was now calming rather than nauseating. Gabriel rasped out a shaky deep breath and shook his head incredulously to himself, brushing a hand through his face.
Two years ago, he went on a campaign that cut across Europe from country to country. Back-to-back campaigns, the first was the hunt for Mr. Hyde and then right after was the mission to take down Dracula.
This campaign was more physically taxing than any of those two. Sure, the mission against Dracula took a toll on him, but he had never seen this much physical confrontation before in any of his previous campaigns.
Battle after battle, close call after close call, it wasn't like this with Dracula. Part of Gabriel started to ponder why in the world the Knights of the Holy Order didn't execute Lord Ruthven when he betrayed the church, why let him live? The vampire had sold his soul, killed a knight, and vowed to serve Empress Thalaba for his eternal life, there was no point in trying to save him anymore, and there was no changing his mind.
Why the goose chase for the stupid Blood Whistle? They could destroy it if they wanted to thwart Ruthven's plans, but no! It would be a major sin apparently, according to Father Gabrielle Valentino…
We've got a long road ahead of us, the monster killer thought to himself as he tried to relax, leaning against the wall and shutting his eyes, hoping to hush his mind for once in this entire campaign…