Van Helsing

"I see," Van Helsing said, an idea coming to his mind. "Excuse me, dear," he said, jumping swiftly around Jinx to hit the ground and walk over to Carl carriage. The man seemed surprised to see him instead of just hearing his voice. Van Helsing smirked at the friar and saw what he was looking for; a sword hilt stuck out of one of Carl's many bags and he pulled the blade out, turning to face Beatrice.

"Consider this a 'real' fight," he began, supressing a laugh at the terrified look on her face. "Go on, then! Pratice makes perfect! Tuche, Beatrice! Draw! Stance! I'm waiting!"

 

Edward grabbed either side of her face rather roughly and glared at her. "Do not say that," he hissed, trying his best to decide anger was better to show than fear. "Please, dear. If you care about me at all you will not say that."

 

Lestat smiled to the city. "I knew someone very similar to her once," he reminised quietly. "He broke, though, just as you want her to. And," he added, turning to pierce John with his eyes, which now shone molten gold instead of bright, clear, perfect blue, "I know how to do it."

 

Beatrice carefully got down from the carriage. "I don't know...." Her hand faltered on her sword hilt. "You'll probably run me through."

"I've tried." John said, a bit unnerved by Lestat's eyes. "She is stubborn."

Hannah closed her eyes. "Okay, I won't say it. But I can't help but think it." She sighed, opening her eyes. "I can't see a way around it."

 

"I will think of something," Edward promised, hugging her tighter to him. "I don't know how or when, but I will. Don't give up on me yet... both John and Dracula haven't seen a tenth of what I can really do." He felt a growl rise in his chest at actually saying the statement aloud, his anger mounting, but he sighed, focusing on holding Hannah instead of the images that were glancing through his head.

 

"As I said," Lestat began. "I don't share. I've tried partners, companions, lovers, in a vampire-sense, of course... but they don't work. If you really think this girl that hates what she is so much..."

But he faded off, chuckling in his mind, Louis, Louis... merciful death! How your love your precious kills!

He cleared his throat, shaking a beautiful, curly strand of hair from his molten eyes. "If you think this girl that hates what she is so much needs to be bound to you, so be it. And I... seriously, seriously doubt you will find anyone else that knows like me how to get her to do what you want... whenever you want... under any circumstance."

 

"Well tell me then." John said, growing both impatient and intrigued. "I've already some control over her."

Hannah tried to push back the fear, but it built to a shudder. "Edward...," She started cautiously. "If I have to... die with him... to be rid of him, then I'll take it. I can't stand it...."

Beatrice drew her sword. He's too good. I'll never get one parry against him.

 

"Hannah," Edward sighed, swallowing his rage once more. "Shut up," he snapped, and then laughed at the look on her face. "Please!" he tried again. "You've got to stop talking about it... I dont care what I have to do; I will find a way. Have just a little faith in me, dear. Can... can you do that?"

 

Van Helsing grinned. "Good!" he said, admiring her stance and ignoring Carl's worried look. "And I won't hurt you," he added, raising his own blade. "I just want you to have an advantage because, if you're insisting on coming, which I don't mind, then you must be prepared! Everyone else, including me, have battle talents to a certain extent. Practice and no experience isn't enough for the son of the devil!"

He swung his blade hard a Beatrice's.

 

"You expect me to give you information out of my mind for no price!" Lestat cried, his eyes flashing from molten gold to black and back in an instant. "John, John," he muttered, and then stopped, his nostalgia taking over his mind again.

My martyr! he had shouted while laughing hysterically. My philospher! My God, this causes for a celebration!

"I will tell you," he began aloud now, not aware if he had stood there thinking for a second or a minute. "But not now. I want to know more about this boy she's with... who's with him... the story must be told! Watch the sun! Half an hour!" He predicted, sighing once more.

 

Beatrice blocked Van Helsing's blade at position one. His strength made her own sword waver, but she held it firm, her other arm curved in front of her.

"The dog's name is Edward. They travel with four others. Beatrice, a young, delicate, girl. Jinx, a vampire not much younger than myself. Carl, a clumsy friar. And Van Hesling, the famous murderer that all our kind knows. Quite a group."

Hannah was quite for a moment. "I can try."

 

Van Helsing could tell she was trembling under his blade and swung lighter this time, moving his feet toward her. "Too tough for you?" he sneered, trying to provoke her.

 

"Thank you," Edward murmured, kissing her once more before sitting up. "Do you think they left without us by now?"

 

"That's lovely," Lestat brushed off. "Now why are she and Edward close? Where are they going?"

He thought of other times he'd tried to push a fellow vampire, to get what he wanted, to help ruin others, to make himself happy, or just for the hell of the thrill, and it never seemed to turn out.

Perfect! he remembered screaming. Just perfect! Burn everything we own! Shut UP, Louis!

He shook his head and waited for John's response.

 

"I don't think so." Hannah said. "They're probably talking about what we're doing."

Beatrice took a step back, keeping her weight even on her feet. She blocked Van Helsing's strike at second position and swung down at fourth.

"He protects her. He seems to have a different kind of control over her." John answered simply, noticing Lestat seemed to be thinking of something else. "They are heading to Transylvania to dispose of another mutt and then they're going to try to find Dracula."

 

Lestat thought to himself. I don't know the name Van Helsing or Dracula... wait, the Dracula! The legend... the myth... Louis spoke of? Impossible!

"It's called love, John," Lestat spat back at the man. "It strikes between the most unlikely, that is it's trademark, and, yet again, it is thwarting those that cannot feel it. But you must understand something..."

He walked back over to John, focusing to change his eyes to pitch black. He smiled his still slightly stained teeth when he saw the other man shiver. "Love changes when you've had all your blood sucked dry and then replenished through the hypocritical act of drinking from the attacker... or if you're a... what did you phrase it? 'Dog?' Well, yes. The point is it, changes. Do you understand?" He paused, letting it sink in. "When a person becomes as they are...as we are, love is different. It isn't the same as mortal love even though it can exist."

Like Louis and Claudia, he thought. Not his lover, but his beloved was how he phrased it.

"Therefore, immortal 'love' can be broken, John. It only takes detroying one of them, physically or mentally, and then she's yours. But that is something I don't think you understand or are capable of, and that's why... I need to show you how."

 

Edward smirked. "Yes, that's proabably true. Imagine what they think is going on up here!" he exclaimed, playfully pushing her shoulder.

Van Helsing will not be happy if he makes a bad joke, Edward thought menacingly.

 

"Good!" Van Helsing said again. "But keep up your guard!"

He swung hard, twisting his blade around Beatrice's, sending off balance and back several feet as he beat her blade nonstop. "It's not a fake fencing match, Beatrice!" he insisted, not letting up on his attack. "You want to kill me, stab me, make me bleed out, not poke me in the chest and walk away!"

 

Beatrice had trouble wrapping her mind around the concept. Van Hesling wasn't someone she wanted to hurt. She parried his attacks, sending in a few of her own in between.

"Please do." John said with mock politeness. "I'm dying to see how it's done."

Hannah could think of two things, but would rather not voice either. "Then maybe we should join them...." She put a hand under her shirt on her back, feeling for the top of the bandages and tearing them with ease. She unwound them, making sure not to look at the blood that stained them, and then put her hand back to the wound. "Lovely... another scar...."

 

"Better," Van Helsing sighed, still not breaking a sweat and, he noticed, would have been able to block her attacks with one hand.

Dracula better not get closer to her than I'd let him to Carl, he thought. That would mean death for her, no doubt.