The woods outside of the small town of Misulae Valley were a place men feared to tread. The legends-which parents often told their misbehaving children to scare them straight-said that the woods were haunted by evil, vengeful spirits. And the children believed these stories. But the adults and village elders of Misulae Valley knew the woods weren’t really haunted by spirits.
They were haunted by something much, much worse
But while the villagers were afraid to enter the woods for fear of the evil lurking within, at long last came a brave few who weren’t afraid to enter the forest: The slayers, sent all the way from the Vatican by the Knights of the Holy Order, and led by none other than Catherine Van Helsing herself.
The sun had finally set, and the slayers grabbed their weaponry and headed into the forest. The villagers looked on in excitement, eager to be rid of the evil that had plagued them for so long. The Vatican warriors headed deep into the woods, towards a large manor that the village elders had told them of; it didn’t take them too long to find it. But unlike many manors that resided in the forests, this manor was not old and decrepit, left to fall to ruin. No…this manor was inhabited, well-kept, and a gothic masterpiece, with an imposing stone façade and tall towers with narrow lancet windows.
Inside the manor, a young woman stood at a large bay window, watching as the slayers entered the clearing before the manor, pointing weapons at the vampire guards watching the manor. She stood like a military general-feet shoulder-width apart and back ramrod straight-observing the standoff below with a mix of curious interest and mild annoyance. As she watched, she toyed with the deep purple stone dangling from the black cord around her neck.
She spotted Catherine Van Helsing at the front of the group, directly challenging the guards, and her demeanor changed completely. Anger flashed in her cold, dead, brown eyes, and a hiss passed through her fangs.
“I should have known…” she drawled in her thick Romanian accent, her voice tight with anger. As she kept watching and seething, she heard the door to her office open. Her eyes briefly flickered to the opening door before flickering back to the window.
“My mistress?” a male voice called. His voice was calm, but there was an underlying hint of anxiety. “My mistress, there are slayers-”
“-From the Vatican? So I’ve noticed, Matthias,” she responded coldly.
“Their leader…she’s a Van Helsing. Catherine Van Helsing, the last great huntress,” he said. “She demands the guards stand down. She and the rest of the slayers demand entrance…they demand to see you, my mistress…”
“Do they now?” she purred, contempt in her voice. “And do you know what it is these busybody slayers want, Matthias?”
“I know not, my mistress,” Matthias said. “But I believe they wish to capture you, else they wouldn’t be so adamant about gaining entrance.”
There was silence for a long, long moment. She continued to stare out the window at both the slayers, who were tensed for battle, and her guards, who were also tensed for battle. As she watched, an inkling of an idea came to her; it grew and blossomed into a full-blown idea that she believed to be downright brilliant. She turned away from the window, her deep rose lips curling into a wicked grin. She took slow, deliberate steps towards a large, cleared desk and sat down in the wingback chair behind the desk, smirking at Matthias.
“Let them come.”
“Beg pardon?”
“You heard me,” she said. “Let them come. Let Miss Van Helsing and the rest of her do-gooding posse come for me. Let them imprison me. They do not scare me with their hollow threats of imprisonment…”
She continued to gently, almost lovingly, stroke the stone that hung around her neck. In the gloom, the stone almost seemed to be glowing a faint shade of purple, reflecting amethyst tones in her eyes.
“Let them come. Their chains cannot hold me…”
Alexsei paused to take a grateful sip from the mug of mulled cider Gabrielle had given him. The hunter and the vampiress looked on, eager and concerned.
“So…what you’re saying is they had you apprehend this vampire…and take him back to the Vatican?” Van Helsing asked.
“Not him…her…” Alexsei said. “But that is not important, at least not right now.”
“But why are they having you bring vampires back to the Vatican? They never, in seven and a half years of living with the Knights of the Holy Order and being their metaphorical trash collector, had me bring a vampire back to the Vatican. And not just because I usually killed them first…”
Alexsei gave a heavy-hearted sigh and drained the cider in his mug, wishing whole-heartedly it was something stronger. “You see…Jinette has come up with some…some new plan. One inspired by Catherine and I, actually-”
“Catherine! Where’s Catherine?” Van Helsing suddenly asked, concern in his voice.
“What manner of plan is this?” Gabrielle asked simultaneously, her voice edged with curiosity.
“One at a time one at a time!” Alexsei said, holding up a hand to his questioning friends. “To answer Gabrielle’s question…well, as you can imagine, the fact that I was a werewolf and Catherine was a fallen…it didn’t stay secret for long. Jinette was quick to learn our secrets…and from that, I believe his idea was born. He began to send slayers after the most powerful vampires, werewolves, and the like, all across Europe. But the slayers weren’t to kill these creatures…no, they were to apprehend them and bring them back to the Vatican.”
“What point does that serve?” Van Helsing asked.
“Oh, that’s only half the plan!” Alexsei said. “There’s more…Gabriel, he’s trying to convert these creatures into slayers, like Catherine and I. Best as I can tell, he’s creating an army of better, faster, stronger slayers to eliminate all the ‘unholy creatures’ in Europe. The apprehended creatures are kept in cells, under some pretty shoddy conditions, and every day, they’re given the same choice: Join the Order…or stay incarcerated and eventually be killed.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair and his shoulders seem to slump slightly. “And that is where the trouble started…”
***
The heavy, iron-barred door creaked loudly when it was opened. Catherine poked her head in, then slipped through the door, closing it behind her, blocking off the rest of the world from the room.
The room itself was a typical dungeon-style type of room. The lights were low, the room lit only by large mounted torches. The room was not much of a room, but more of a hallway, each side lined with iron-barred doors. Behind the doors, prisoners lurked in their fetid little cells; many of them had saddened expressions and were moping about miserably, having lost all hope upon being put in the cells.
Catherine sighed-she hated this job, hated seeing the prisoners, the creatures, not so different from her, so disheartened-and started down the line, asking the same question over, and over, and over again, a tedious, mind-numbing task: “Will you join the Knights of the Holy Order, or no?”
Some creatures gave strong, vehement refusals at joining the Order. A few desperate souls agreed, their wills broken from imprisonment. But the majority of the creatures mostly stared off into space, dreaming of better days, and simply giving a small, vague shake of the head at Catherine’s question.
Finally, she stopped before a cell towards the back, where the most dangerous prisoners were kept. The cell she had stopped in front of was dark as midnight inside-no candles had been lit within; this prisoner preferred darkness. Catherine gave the bars a small shake. “Miss Tremarie, I know you’re in there,” she said. “Come on out. There’s no need for this to be unpleasant…”
There was a noise from within the cell, and a woman stepped forward. Unlike most of the prisoners, who were unkempt, with faces that reflected their overwhelming sorrow, she was tidy and well-kept, with a face that radiated bitter defiance, not grief. Her chestnut eyes narrowed upon seeing Catherine and turned bright, icy blue.
“What do you want, Catherine?” she spat.
“I would have thought you would have learned the drill by now-you’ve been here nearly a month,” Catherine remarked coolly. “I’m here to offer you a choice, Alana Tremarie: You can join the Knights of the Holy Order, or you can remain in this cell. What’s your decision?”
Not as though I don’t already know…she thought to herself.
“My decision?” Alana snarled. “Why ask? You already know my decision. I’d rather rot in the ninth circle of Hell than join the Order. It’s nothing more than a pathetic organization built on the lies of hypocrites. After all, that’s all you Christians are-hypocrites. Especially you and every other cursed creature that works and slays for the Order. You’re the worst kind of hypocrite. Striking down your brethren in the name of your God?! Pah! You make me want to vomit!”
She finished her passion-fueled statement and folded her arms across her chest in defiance. An incensed look had come over Catherine’s face during Alana’s outburst, but she held her temper.
“So be it, then,” she said, voice edged with venom. “Hope you’re comfortable in that cell. Looks as though you’ll be in there for a while to come.”
She turned and walked away, heading back the way she had come. Alana’s hands twisted around the bars; her narrowed eyes began to glow a faint shade of purple (as did the stone around her neck) as she watched Catherine’s retreating back.
With no warning, a burst of sharp, sudden pain exploded at the base of Catherine’s skull. She gave a loud gasp and clasped her hands to her head, tears of pain welling in the corners of her eyes. It was as though someone was cleaving her skull in two with an axe; the pain had her screaming, nearly bringing her to her knees.
The longer and louder she screamed and cried in agony, the more prisoners came to the front of their cells, drawn by curiosity. Beyond the door to the prisoners’ hall, the sounds of footsteps could be heard-Catherine was drawing the attention of the slayers as well…
By the time the large wooden door had swung open and four slayers-Alexsei included-had come charging in, the fiery pain in Catherine’s skull had reached a new level of agony. Darkness was beginning to close in on her mind, bringing her the promises of oblivion, of release from her pain. Catherine embraced this darkness, and, mid-scream, her blue eyes rolled back in her head, her eyelids fluttering to cover them; her knees gave out, and she collapsed face-first on the unforgiving stone floor.
***
Gabrielle’s thin, pale hands were visibly trembling in her lap. “W-Was C-Catherine…d-dead?”
Alexsei shook his head, scattering his messy black hair. “No, no, she wasn’t dead…Simply unconscious, and none of us can really blame her for that. But…” His face suddenly darkened, becoming far more serious than he usually acted. “But I think-and this may sound horrible of me to say, but I think it’s true-I think that Catherine would be better off having died than…than what actually happened to her…”
“Well, what actually happened?” Van Helsing asked. There was concern and anxiety in his tone, two things rarely heard in his voice.
Alexsei sighed. “We moved Catherine to the infirmary, waiting for her to come around…And that night was when everything went straight to Hell…”
***
The clock struck midnight.
The sounds of the bells tolling echoed out across the one square mile that the Vatican occupied. The moon shone high above in the sky, and a mild winter breeze blew. Another peaceful, serene night.
In the infirmary, all was quiet. The healer had retired for the night, leaving all the sick and injured under the watchful eye of a monk who offered to take the night watch.
Catherine lay in her bed, still unconscious- though, with her the covers pulled up to her chest and her hands folded atop the covers, she looked as though she were merely sleeping. Alexsei sat in a nearby chair, curled in a rather uncomfortable position; he had been adamant about staying by his wife’s side until she regained consciousness.
As the last bell of midnight tolled, Catherine’s eyes snapped open suddenly-but they were a strange, almost luminous purple instead of their usual sapphire. She sat up, looking around the slumbering infirmary, and a small wicked grin split her face.
“Perfect,” she murmured quietly, so as not to wake Alexsei. “Exactly where I wanted to be…” Her grin only widened when she spotted the weapons laid out on the bedside table: two daggers, a revolver, a small pouch of throwing stars, and two handheld, blade-edged fans. She slipped out the bed, silent as a shadow, and quickly-but silently-armed herself, keeping a dagger in one hand and a blade-fan in the other. She strode across the room to the door and yanked it open, startling the monk beside the door, the one on the night watch.
“Oh! Miss Van Helsing!” he cried out. “Good to see you up and about! You gave everyone quite a scare, passing out like that right in-”
He was cut off suddenly as she drew the blade-fan across his throat, not even blinking an eye. The startled monk clutched at his throat; blood oozed between his fingers, dripping on the floor.
“Sorry…Catherine is unavailable at the moment,” she chuckled, watching the man drop to the floor as his last bit of lifeblood trickled from his throat. “I shall inform you when she returns…”
And with that, she set off down the hallway, towards the dormitories, where Carl, Cardinal Jinette, and all the other holy men of the Order lay sleeping, blissfully unaware…
***
In his tiny, cramped cell of a room, Carl opened his eyes and lifted his head groggily. He could hear things…shouts, yells, and the faint sound of metal on metal. It almost sounded like a battle had begun in the halls of the Order.
Unexpectedly, there came a loud thud at the door, followed by the sounds of weak knocking. Carl climbed from the safety of his warm bed and took a quick look around his room, searching for any type of weapon, anything at all to protect him. Nothing but books and a few test tubes from experiments. He briefly considered breaking one of the test tubes and using it as a weapon, but decided against it and instead simply opened the door.
A friar, who Carl knew by face but not by name, lay on the threshold, face-down and seemingly dead. When Carl opened the door, the man looked up, his face marred and disfigured by numerous bleeding gashes. His breathing was shallow and uneven…Carl’s room was not the only threshold he was on.
“B-Brother C-Carl!” he panted. “Y-You m-m-must…m-must r-run…s-save…save y-yourself…C-Catherine…”
But whatever he was going to say about Catherine went unheard. A loud report echoed out, and the man gave one last groan before falling silent, his limp form flopping to the floor. Carl looked up, eyes wide in panic and fear, and found Catherine maybe twenty feet away, her still-smoking revolver pointed at the friar. Her clothes and hands were stained with blood, and the hand that wasn’t holding the revolver held a bloodied dagger. And the hall outside of Carl’s door was awash with blood, the scene of a massacre.
Carl looked up at his friend in shock. “Catherine! My God! Catherine, what are you doing-?”
She looked up at him, and that’s when he noticed it-the strange, luminous purple her eyes were, and the expression of pure malice on her usually-kind face. She gave him a grin that sent shivers down his spine.
“What am I doing?” she asked. “Tell me, my dearly ignorant friar…what does it look like I’m doing?!"
She lunged for him, her wings unfurling from her back when she did. Carl darted from his doorway and took off down the hallway, while she ended up flying headlong into the wall above Carl’s bed, tumbling onto the friar’s bed. Snarling and cursing angrily, she sat up, bounded off the bed and to the door, drawing her revolver, and she took aim and fired.
A bullet tore into Carl’s left forearm, burying itself deep in muscle, bone, and tissue. He stumbled, yelled in pain, and clutched his wounded arm, feeling warm blood seeping onto his robes. She made to come after him, until an attack from a brave, though terribly foolish, monk diverted her attention.
Carl hadn’t gone far when he ran headlong into Alexsei. Alexsei’s messy black hair was even more rumpled than it had been, and his dark hazel eyes were full of panic and concern. He grabbed Carl by his upper arms; the friar winced in pain at his not-so-gentle grip.
“Carl…where is my wife?!” he asked, a rising amount of panic in his voice. “Where’s Catherine?! I awoke and she was gone, all her weaponry was gone, and there was a dead monk outside the door!”
Carl gulped nervously. “She’s…she’s back that way, Alexsei-” He gestured over his shoulder, towards the way he had come. “But she’s…Alexsei, there’s something wrong with her…”
That was all he needed to hear. He pushed past Carl, running flat-out down the hall in the direction Carl had indicated. Bodies of slayers and members of the Order, both dead and wounded alike, littered the hallway, leaving a veritable blood trail for him to follow…one that would take him to exactly whom he sought…
He found her nearly all the way to the basilica’s main dome. She whirled around the instant he got within ten feet of her, dropping the man she had been tormenting as she did. He scurried away, a terrified look on his face. Her face, however, broke into a broad grin.
“Ah…you look like you would be some actual competition!” she cheered. “More enjoyable to fight!”
“Catherine, please…” he started. Her luminous amethyst eyes narrowed upon hearing the name “Catherine”.
“Sorry to disappoint you, pet…” she sneered mockingly. “But I’m not Catherine!” With no further ado, she lunged at Alexsei, colliding with him and sending him sprawling to the floor. Her fist collided with his face, leaving a mark that was sure to be a nasty bruise later. He managed to seize her tightly by her right wing, and, with a flick of his wrist, she went flying out into the main dome of the basilica. She looked up at him as he got to his feet, eyes burning in rage.
“You bastard!” she screeched. “You’ll pay for that!”
She scrambled up and charged at Alexsei again. He braced himself, not only for another attack, but also for what he had to do. He hated the thought of what he had to do, but it was for her own good. There was something wrong with her…
Just as she came at him, he feinted to the right, and grabbed her wing again. She fought him furiously to get free; his fist collided with the base of her skull, and he flicked his wrist again, releasing her wing. She soared back towards the dome, and came to rest on the slick marble floors with a bone-breaking thud. Upon impact, her eyes fluttered and began to close as she was swallowed by the darkness looming in the back of her mind.
Alexsei entered the dome, taking his wife’s unconscious form in his arms again. His eyes were filled with a deep remorse as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry, my love…I’m so sorry…”
***
Tears filled Alexsei’s eyes as he stared at the floor. Silence ruled the living room of Valerious Manor for several long moments. Nickelia didn’t even cry or coo as she often did in this deep, complete silence.
Van Helsing was in utter shock. His sister-his own flesh and blood-was responsible for the deaths of so many innocents, and the injury of so many more. He felt ashamed, that someone from his very same bloodline could be so cruel towards the innocent members of the church and the Order…but, at the same time, he knew it wasn’t exactly Catherine who committed this atrocity.
“Possession…she was being possessed. That’s why she did such a thing…”
Alexsei nodded mutely, trying to stop himself from bursting into tears.
“Wait…that name you mentioned earlier…” Gabrielle said. “Alana Tremarie…this wouldn’t happen to be the same Alana Tremarie who is also known as the Dark Vampire Sorceress of Transylvania…would it?”
Again, another nod from Alexsei. “The very same.”
That name…it seemed so familiar to Van Helsing. Alana Tremarie…he
could’ve sworn he had known her before, or heard of her. Was she another person who, like Dracula, knew him, and who he had known, but forgotten about? A person buried in the deep, unknown recesses of his memory?
Alexsei sighed, the breath coming out slightly shaky. “Please, Gabriel…please. We need you back at the Order. That’s why I came all the way out here…to ask you to come back. Please…the Vatican needs its avenger back.”
