Count Rothchild Page 12

  In the dark shadows, illuminated by the fire and the pale moonlight, Tatijana stared at Paublo. “There are many weird occurrences in this world, but I am not necessarily one of them.”

  Paublo was not so convinced. “I’m starting to think you’re a monster, much like the one we seek.” He, too, now stared at her in the firelight.

  “Call me a monster if you will,” replied the woman across from him, “yet I probably just saved your life.”

  Pablo took a deep breath. Perhaps she had a point, but he would definitely have to keep a close eye on her, not that he wasn’t already. Here he was, smack in the middle of some great, mysterious Gothic adventure.

  He suddenly doubted he had the stomach for it.

  There was no way he could sleep more tonight; he also had to ensure he got the letter back in Tatijana’s pack before she noticed it was missing. It would not be easy.

  The two of them now sat awake by the fire looking at one another, though eventually Tatijana lay back down.

  Pablo found himself gazing out into the woods, following the light and shadows with the idea that perhaps more of those monsters could be about scavenging for food, prisoners, or whatever else they were doing attacking his group.

  He then turned back and realized that the fangs the huntress recently had were gone. He supposed it was to his advantage to be with such a strong ally; he only hoped she would remain an ally throughout the rest of the adventure.

  Chapter 13

  The sun was up and Paublo had slipped the letter back to its rightful place. Sleight of hand tricks and the darkness mixed with Tatijana finally sleeping some had made it possible.

  However, he was caught in a web that had woven about him now. This was the very man his mother Gaylen had met and written about; the one responsible for the death of his father’s friends as well. Those being Doctor Emin Stewart, Alfredo, his mother’s best friend Lucy’s companion, and Professor Oscar Van Helsing, whom she spoke so highly of in her story.

  He would definitely have to read that story again one day, yet now this; the woman he traveled with, his employer, was this man’s daughter, holy hell.

  The rest of their travel was uneventful, aside from a flock of goats that would not leave the road for several minutes, until they reached the monastery.

  Father Armas showed them around the temple and library within. He took them to the dining area and offered fresh bread and steamed fiddleheads. The entire place, be it a temple, was not overly large.

  He was laidback and asked few questions and was most welcoming, though he sensed what the tall dark-haired woman truly was. She was a hunter, a half vampire, and her presence in seeking him out meant only one thing.

  He told his guests, “If you must pray, the central chapel is always open.”

  These were his only words up until Tatijana began asking questions. An acolyte entered and offered them spring water just as she spoke.

  “First off, thank you for being so accommodating, but the reason we are here is in fact for information as to where we may locate one known as Count Drakko Del Rothchild.”

  The priest looked to her, nodding. “I know, my dear; I see it in your eyes,” he replied, touching his rosary’s cross.

  Tatijana was surprised at his answer, but asked him to tell all.

  “He is not a compassionate man; he is evil personified.” He then ran a hand through his short bowl cut brown hair and went on. “It is he that is like no other. The age of such an immortal makes him rare indeed. The older a vampyr becomes, the more his powers increase. The man you see is a patriarch of his kind. It is wherever he goes, he rules the land. Beware; he has eyes everywhere in such a region.”

  Margo and Oliver sat quietly hearing this; each seemed to be enjoying the strange fiddleheads. Paublo was uneasy. Marco at least made him laugh when he announced, “In the southern desert we don’t get many of these delicious weeds to eat.”

  Tatijana shook her head, wanting to hear more from Father Armas. She herself was not all that fond of such weeds; the huntress preferred meat; a good steak was always her first choice.

  “I shall not ask why you seek to find this prince of the undead,” Father Armas then said. “I only bless you with the hope your seeking is successful. You do realize such a creature will drain the life force of your very souls. The odds are none of you will live to speak of such.”

  Paublo nearly threw up in his mouth.

  Tatijana became upset at his last words. The huntress explained, “I have not stated my purpose; do not assume our ends will be met. What else do you know of Drakko?”

  “Oh, he was once here, took over the entire village of Gluttenbury a century or two ago; be it with just the sound of his voice and by another name; that of Krons. All lost faith in God, and he enjoyed the spoils firsthand. Yet this was long ago, young lady. Do not think he is easy prey. The man can control the beasts about, change into one as well, and undeniably will know you seek him out if you were ever to find or come close to his lair.”

  Paublo knew this scare tactic now. The priest was overly dramatic and simply trying to make them feel such a search was futile. He felt it necessary to cut into such a talk.

  “We’re not interested in opinions; we’ve come to find answers to where we may locate this man.”

  Father Armas nodded at Paublo and took a sip of water. “There are those who know even more than I,” he then announced.

  Tatijana rolled her eyes. “Who? We were informed that you knew.”

  The cleric appeared as though he was thinking hard. He stood up, adjusting his brown robe. “I was about to attend a children’s choir show this evening. Will you not join me?”

  It was a random invite and none sitting before him was expecting such.

  “It will be after the performance that I will speak with a few people there as well. I hope to have more answers after such for you.”

  There was a brief discussion amongst the four of them after his explanation. They decided to take him up on his offer. What else could they do?

  The twins then went to the alter room and made prayer. The dark-haired and dark-skinned duo was religious and spent some time in there.

  Oliver asked his brother, “If I were to fall, would you say a prayer over my body? Would you please send my soul to Allah, brother? Will you do that for me?”

  Marco shook his head side to side. “Yes, brother, but do not fear, it is not our destiny to fall on this mission.”

  Oliver gave his twin an embrace, stating, “Well, then Allah watch over us day and night.”

  That evening at the choir they watched inside a schoolhouse theater a haunting show of music and poetic dance. It was all too close to that which Paublo and Tatijana as well as their companions were experiencing now.

  The children acted as if someone was coming for them. They sang about the darkness and called forth the sun. Some held up wooden stakes and others mallets. One kid came across the stage all in black with a red wide-brimmed hat on. The children chased him away and sang a song of victory.

  It was by far an enchanting play, yet struck home with all watching. It lasted nearly an hour before finally coming to an end.

  “That was quite weird,” said Paublo to Tatijana. “It was almost as if they knew we were watching. I mean, how can that be?”

  They all discussed it more, but none knew how. Paublo was glad she was at least talking to him again.

  Tatijana then added as they left the school, “When chasing the Nosferatu, nothing is ordinary. I ask you all to be extra alert now; I sense we are getting closer.”

  The following morning, one where the group awoke in the temple after being offered lodging, each met with Father Armas once more.

  He smiled at his guests. “I trust you enjoyed the show last night? Let me be the first to say, it was under odd circumstance such a play was in close proximity to what you are currently involved in.”

  Marco said, “We found it rather peculiar, father, yet the children did an excellent
job.”

  Father Armas had more to say; he had spoken with others at the show the night before. “There is a small free town on the coast across from the Kingdom of Quester. It is there a man resides, one that has taken up the mantle of that which you are partaking in. His is one of the well-known Van Helsing clan.”

  Tatijana knew the name well, and Paublo, too. It seemed their travels and seeking was never-ending. It was also now evident that more than one Van Helsing existed in the realm.

  They were given directions to his residence and soon thanked the father for all he had told them. He was also kind enough to offer them several vials of holy water as they were leaving.

  On the road, as they went through the village, a group of children ran alongside them. One passed Tatijana a note and ran off. The boy, she thought, she recognized from the play. She was about to follow the lad, yet she caught her senses veering her horse back on to the main road.

  Paublo then mentioned, “It’s probably not a good idea for you to ride off without us at this point, madam.”

  The dark-haired hunter merely looked at him and rode on, soon exiting the small town.

  Once they took a break outside the populated sector, she read the parchment. It appeared to be written akin to an old nursery rhyme and had come from the local school where a stamp and sigil of such was marked at its very top.

  Krons be nimble and Krons be quick. Krons be quick, Krons be clever, and Krons shall be visible forever. See his sad face not in the glass, hear his eternal voice and never pass. Krons be nimble and Krons be quick, that we know. Krons, please don’t bite me, let me go.

  “What does it say?” asked Oliver as they allowed their horses to graze about off the dirt road.

  Tatijana nonchalantly stated, “It’s a nursery rhyme, nothing important.”

  She knew it meant something, perhaps a warning, but it did not deter her from the mission at hand. She had to speak to him, to figure matters out once and for all. If she had to kill him, so be it.

  Later they came along the rocky shoreline passing by a series of flat sandy beach areas to their right. The directions to Van Helsing’s noted such. Children again were seen rope jumping and playing near the water and along the rocks.

  As a little girl, no more than seven, jumped a rope held by two others, the boy and girl holding such sang a song, be it a rhyme for her to get a rhythm to her leaps.

  “Here he comes, fleet of foot, run away, run away, dare not look. Here he comes; fleet of foot, run away, run away, dare not look.

  Put on your garlic and make your stink, if not he drowns you in his dark drink. Here he comes, fleet of foot, run away, run away, dare not look.”

  They listened and watched the kids play. Each looked to another at such words. Everything felt strange. It was like to destiny. Did he already know they were seeking him?

  More travel followed for a good day’s worth.

  They at one point had to slow their horses as out front of them on the dirt road crossed an old crone-like woman. She carried a leather sack over her shoulder and moved rather slowly across the way.

  Oddly enough, she stopped at three-quarters into the road and looked up to the travelers. Her hair was long and gray and rather shaggy; her nose a tad pointed and her weathered eyes had no doubt seen many years in this realm.

  She glared towards the four horsemen and announced, “Oh, dear, I am sorry to have blocked your passage. An old woman like myself can only move so fast.” She giggled hoarsely.

  Paublo urged his mount more ahead. “Tell me what you carry in your sack that you so importantly clutch to your side?”

  “Oh, this thing,” the elder grinned. “I’m on my way to my granddaughter’s home, for I have baked fresh loaves of banana bread.”

  Paublo turned and looked back at his companions.

  Perhaps this was a setup for an ambush, yet to their surprise he dismounted and went to the old lady and started chatting with her even more. He then passed her three silver pieces in what appeared to be an exchange for one of her loaves. The crone seemed happy with such a deal, nodding to all, and then went on her way, walking into the woods on what appeared to be an old game trail.

  Paublo then cheerfully returned to his horse and hopped back on. He sat there looking at his companions.

  He grinned. “Fine, go ahead; I know you two want to say something.” However, nobody said a word. “I'm going to assume that you will want to share this wonderful loaf of what appears to be delicious banana bread with me at our next rest stop. Can I at least get you to admit that?”

  None could deny the interest was there.

  “Ah,” said Paublo, “better to hold one’s tongue as to later feast on such a tasty treat.”

  The four of them rode on down the road thereafter.

  They soon came to another stop, resting some. The bread was cut up and each dove right into such. Marco tossed a piece at Paublo with a smile and Paublo retaliated by tossing a chunk at Marco.

  Oliver was not pleased. “Stop it, you idiots; you’re wasting this good bread.”

  Eventually the group reached the mapped out area of Van Helsing’s log cabin. It was set on a rise, nestled amongst many high trees. He himself was out walking up a trail when each spotted the other.

  He was a rather average heighted man, dressed mostly in brown leathers and wearing a wide hat made of a darkish maroon color. He had a somewhat long mustache that curled up almost to his ears. He smiled at the new arrivals and offered them into his residence.

  “I was made aware prior,” he then announced, “as to the aspect of you coming to see me. It is amazing the advancements in bird messages these days. I am Antione Van Helsing, and it is a pleasure to meet you all.”

  His home was filled with replicas of hunting tools. A full array of weapons, crossbows, potions, holy items, torture devices, garlic strings, crosses, and everything else in between was strewn about or hanging on the wall. The spoils of his animal hunting were on display as well. There were heads of bears, wolves, deer, and an array of stuffed giant fish about.

  Van Helsing himself brewed them tea.

  “Let me ask,” he then spoke out, “if you are seeking answers, or truly wishing to put an end to the life of the unhuman man you seek?”

  How did he already know this? Tatijana wondered.

  Van Helsing then asked her, “Do you know him personally?”

  There was hesitation in Tatijana’s voice; she began to answer, but paused.

  Paublo did not wait. “Yes, she knows him personally; he claims to be her father.”

  Tatijana was not happy with Paublo’s sudden answer. She shoved him backwards up against a nearby wall. “You better watch your tongue, young man; you are working in the service of me and my husband, Count DeAbleau, and it won’t faze me a bit to send you on your way, if not remove your head from your shoulders.”

  Tatijana had taken on a new look; her eyes were reddish and her teeth larger. Paublo was nervous, but she backed off, turning to her two minions and then back to Van Helsing.

  Oliver put a hand on her trying to get her to calm down.

  Van Helsing then raised his hands in a kind of what-the-heck gesture. “Listen, you have to stand together if this is all true. I have lost countless family members hunting for such a monster. If you fight among yourselves, all hope is lost. You will be buried in pine coffins by week’s end.”

  Tatijana took in a deep breath; the entire goose chase and clues and tales were getting the best of her. She needed to remain focused.

  “All of this is more than meets the eye,” she explained somewhat more calmly. “The relationship between him and I, shall I say, is complicated.”

  Much discussion followed.

  Van Helsing came to the conclusion that the four would never find this man unless they baited him to find her. She was the key.

  “If he came looking for you once, as you mentioned, on the ship one night, you’ll need to find a way to draw him to you again.”

 
; This was dangerous, thought Paublo. Fresh bait was not anything he wanted to be.

  Van Helsing then rambled on about an old church not too far down the coast. “The place was once known for the creatures who roam the night. No one in their right mind would ever go there now,” he chuckled.

  His laugh did not sit well with the huntress. ‘I don’t find any of such a tale amusing,” Tatijana announced in a scolding tone.

  “Pardon me,” spoke Van Helsing, “neither do I. It’s a mechanism, a giggle as to keep my own wits about me. I apologize if you took such wrongly.” He cleared his throat some. “I know it’s nothing to be happy and excited about. However, as of late I have been scouting the area, and there’s a presence inside and it is of his kin.”

  “So you think he might be there with them?” asked Marco.

  Van Helsing shrugged. “That I am not certain of. But if Tatijana believes he cares for her still, perhaps if she was in trouble in such a place, he may come to your aid.”

  This plan was a bit risky, thought Paublo.

  Van Helsing, after hearing the tall woman say she was willing, packed up some of his gear, and the five of them were set to go. He would now join the hunt.

  There was no time to waste.

  There was no concern in Tatijana’s voice about others of Drakko’s kin. The woman and her giant scimitar had a purpose and it was obvious. She wanted to wield death to any who got in her way; this was a thought she kept herself; to hunt and slay any of such was her prerogative. It was her life goal. She hated what happened to her mother, she hated what she was. The only peace she found was seeking those of such a making, killing them all.

  Chapter 14

  Antione Van Helsing was different from his cousin Oscar. The latter was out of shape and it perhaps cost him his life. Antione was more a physical specimen, not large, so to speak, but fit, younger, and more agile.