Van Helsing Slash

[munnin]

Title: Pale Rider

Pairing: Van Helsing/Carl
Rating: Mature

Notes/Disclaimer: No money. No ownership. Just enjoyment.

Prelude

Carl threw himself off his horse and shot to his companion’s side. Realising too late that there was no way he could catch Van Helsing as his grip on the reins faltered, he had to be content to break the Hunter’s fall. He lowered Van Helsing to the ground; thanking God he hadn’t fallen badly.

 

“Van Helsing.” He called anxiously as he ran his hands over this friend’s limbs, checking for injuries. The fever had taken him again and the Hunter’s skin was on fire. Carl dashed to grab water from his saddlebag, dribbling into the Hunter’s mouth. Drop by drop he persisted till Van Helsing swallowed a little. It wasn’t nearly enough judging by the Hunter’s cracking lips but Carl hadn’t risked stopping while there was still a chance they’d make it to civilisation.

 

The Hunter moaned a reply. He tried to sit up but his strength failed him. “Carl?” he murmured.

 

“I’m here. It’s alright.” Carl replied stroking Van Helsing’s sweat soaked mane away from his face. “Just rest. We’ll stop here.” But he could already feel their pursuer watching them.

 

Tonight perhaps, he thought to himself, Tonight we end this dance.

 

***

Chapter 1

The harpy looked graceless and reptilian on the ground. Van Helsing lowered the heavy bronze sword he had used to slay it as Carl scuttled from his hiding spot.

 

“Ugly thing isn’t it? Oh well!” Carl exclaimed as he started to collect samples to take back to the lab. He was so preoccupied with his task; he failed to notice that Van Helsing was clutching his left arm till the Hunter fell to one knee. Carl rushed to his side, abandoning his specimen jars in a dash to catch Van Helsing. He caught the Hunter by the injured limb and Van Helsing yelped with pain. “Oh God! Van Helsing! What’s wrong?” He slung an arm around the Hunter’s waist to support him.

 

“It caught my arm. A little scratch that’s all.” He tried to reassure his friend but he could feel the harpy’s venom pumping through his veins, obscuring his vision.

 

Carl scrabbled to expose the wound, a shallow but long gash running down Van Helsing’s upper arm. “Not good.” He muttered as he yanked bandages out of his scrip. “No-one’s ever survived a harpy attack before. Don’t know what effects the venom has because no-one’s ever lived to be infected by it.” He burbled. “That’s why I was collecting samples. To analysis for an antidote if we ever needed one.”

 

He quickly cleaned and salved the wound, bandaging it tightly. He rocked back on his heels with a despairing sigh. “I’ve done all I can. I don’t know what else to do.”

 

The helplessness in Carl’s voice unnerved Van Helsing. He had never heard his friend sound so vulnerable. “I’ll be alright Carl. I just need to rest a bit.”

 

Carl bit his lip in indecision. “We should move away from the corpse at least.” Against all logic, the creature was already beginning to putrefy. Van Helsing nodded and dragged himself to his feet in Carl’s steadying embrace. Together they managed to stagger to the knot of trees where the horses were tethered.

 

Carl wasted no time getting Van Helsing comfortable on a sleeping mat and building up a fire. Already his companion’s skin was cold to the touch. He heaped fallen branches on the fire and searched for the little bottle of brandy he knew he’d packed. He brought it to Van Helsing’s lips. The Hunter drank gratefully and eased back onto the mat, smiling as he felt the little friar’s fingers on his wrist.

 

The Hunter’s pulse was erratic but strong. Carl fought to keep his hands as steady as he could. His mind was racing, searching for something, anything that might help. He didn’t notice the hot tear that slipped silently down his cheek till Van Helsing reached up to wipe it away. “Oh Gabriel! I don’t know what to do.” He sobbed, catching the Hunter’s hand and pressing it to his face.

 

Van Helsing smiled absently. It was so rare and so lovely to hear Carl use his first name. The effect of the venom was making him groggy and blasé. Right now it didn’t matter that he might be dying but seeing Carl so sad was another thing. He stroked the friar’s cheek with his thumb. “I know. Just stay with me tonight.” He shivered as a bolt of cold tore through him.  

 

Carl nodded, biting back tears. If he could do nothing else for his friend, he could keep him warm. Carl shed his outer robe and laid the heavy wool over Van Helsing then crawled in under the blankets with him. He opened the Hunter’s leather vest and pressed himself close to Gabriel’s broad chest. Putting his arms around Van Helsing, he sliding his hands beneath the heavy sweater to touch the freezing skin of his back.   

 

The waves of heat radiating off the little friar seemed to be drawing off the pain. For all that Van Helsing could feel the darkness tugging at his vision and the numbing cold enveloping his legs but here in Carl’s embrace that hardly mattered. “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.” He mumbled, nuzzling in to Carl’s neck.

 

Carl ran his fingers through Van Helsing’s hair, chocking back a sob as he answered. “Promise me you’ll wake up.” But already Van Helsing had slipped into unconsciousness. Carl shuffled a little closer and as his eyes slid close he thought he saw a figure in the distance. A pale rider on a white horse, glowing in the moonlight but the day had taken its toll and he let himself succumb to sleep.

 

***

 

Carl woke, sticky and covered in sweat. Memories of the previous night hit him hard and he hastened to check on his companion. Van Helsing’s skin burned to the touch and his breathing was ragged. At least he’s alive, Carl thought thankfully, quickly drawing off the covers and mopping his friend’s brow with his sleeve. He rushed to collect water from the nearby stream. The water was icy cold and thankfully running towards rather than away from the rotting harpy corpse.

 

Van Helsing moaned in his sleep as Carl laid a damp cloth over his forehead. His eyes flickered briefly and he seemed to almost be waking. “Carl?” He mumbled anxiously.

Carl caught his outstretched hand and squeezed. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.” But the Hunter didn’t seem to hear him.

 

Concerned that Van Helsing was growing dehydrated, Carl tried to get him to drink some of the chilly mountain water. He held a cup to the Hunter’s lips but he would not take it, the water trickling from his open mouth. Carl crawled behind his friend and with much manhandling, managed to pull Van Helsing into a sitting position, resting the Hunter’s head against his shoulder. With one hand he held the cup to the Hunter’s lips and stroked the powerful muscles of Van Helsing’s throat with the other. Slowly but surely he coaxed the Hunter into swallowing the water. He lay his friend back down and settled in for a long day.

 

The day passed slowly, Carl never leaving his friend’s side. He did his best to cool the feverish Hunter and in despair, rigged an impromptu shade from a spare blanket to protect them from the midday sun. He ate and drank only out of necessity and even then, sparingly.

 

Van Helsing muttered and cried in his sleep. The fever bringing painful dreams and ancient memories to the surface. It broke Carl’s heart to sit here, so helpless as his closest friend fought some terrible inner battle. Every now and then he could make out words, perhaps names between the sobs. Carl did his best to comfort Van Helsing, whispering soothing words and stroking the dark curls.

 

As night fell, the fever heightened, bringing with it nightmares and thunderclouds. Van Helsing thrashed violently. Carl did his best to hold the Hunter down and in the end settled for just holding him. A crack of lighting caught Carl’s attention and he looked up to see the same pale rider outlined against the storm-clouds. Oh God no! Carl thought, Death has come for him. But the figure made no move to come closer. Van Helsing screamed in his arms as if the thunder itself ripped through him. Carl, pale and shaken, clambered to his feet and stood defiantly between Van Helsing and the mounted spectre. His shoulders set; ready to do whatever was necessary to defend his friend but the apparition still didn’t move.

 

For a moment Carl began to doubt his own sanity. Was this real? Or was it just the strain getting to him? Was this phantom simply a figment of his imagination? A tree or rock shaped by his own fear into something more sinister? As if in answer to his thoughts the Rider touched it’s temple in salute and reined the horse away.

 

Behind him, Van Helsing began to stir and wake. The fever had broken.

 

***

 

Carl handed Van Helsing a cup of water. “Drink. You need it.” He said earnestly.

 

Van Helsing accepted it with a weak smile. “How long was I out?” 

 

“All day.” He brushed a stray curl away from his friend’s eyes. “How do you feel?”

 

Van Helsing closed his eyes, savouring Carl’s touch. Part of him had been aware of Carl’s presence through the day but only dimly so. It felt so good to know that Carl was there, like light in the darkness. He swallowed, trying to order his thoughts. “Weak.” He tried to move but his clothes clung damply to his skin. “And wet!”

 

“Well you did run a very high fever.” Carl laughed. “You’ve done nothing but sweat!” He ran his fingers through Van Helsing’s hair. “There’s a stream nearby. Can you stand?”

 

Van Helsing struggled to his feet, supported by Carl’s surprisingly strong arms. He managed to take one step before his knees gave out from under him.

 

“Perhaps not.” Carl said softly, lowered him onto the sleeping mat.

 

“I’m sorry.” Van Helsing hung his head.

 

Carl caught his chin and tilted it up. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He rubbed his thumb over the faint stubble of the Hunter’s cheek. “I have an idea. Stay here.”

 

“Carl! Where am I going to go?” Van Helsing asked laughing but stopped when a dark fleeting look crossed Carl’s face.

 

Carl hurried to the stream, filling the cooking pot with water. He scrambled to collect more wood for the fire, not wanting to face his friend just yet. The pale rider’s appearance had shaken him and he wasn’t ready to admit to himself or Van Helsing how close the Hunter may have come to death. He rummaged through their bags to find fresh clothes and a towel. Carl set the water on to heat, dipping his fingers in it to test the temperature. Finally satisfied he took the pot off and sat it on the ground beside the Hunter.

 

Van Helsing watched his friend’s frantic preparations with curiosity. “What exactly do you have planned may I ask?”

 

Carl smiled and pressed a finger to Van Helsing’s lips and soaked a length of linen, wringing it slightly. Carl knelt at Van Helsing side and started to wipe the Hunter’s face clean.

 

Van Helsing closed his eyes and let the feeling of Carl’s touch wash over him as the warm damp cloth traced the line of his jaw, his eyelids and ears. As the cloth followed shape of his lips he caught Carl’s hands, smiling. “Hang on a moment? Are you telling me you’re planning to give me a sponge bath?”

 

Carl rocked back in his heels. “Actually I was just planning to clean your face. I was going to let you sort out the rest.” He smirked.

 

“Ah! You tease!” Van Helsing tried to grab Carl but the little friar was too quick for him. The Hunter snatched up the cloth and held it threatening, ready to flick.

 

Carl eyed him, grinning. “You wouldn’t dare.”

 

Van Helsing’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh really. You think so? And how do you propose to stop me?”

 

Carl closed his fingers round the water bottle he’d set down earlier and popped the cork. In one smooth move he dumped the still ice-cold water over Van Helsing.

 

Gabriel sat down heavily, his hair dripping. “Well I guess I deserve that.” He laughed, holding out his hands in truce and shaking his soggy head like a dog. He took up the cloth and started to clean himself off.

 

Carl smiled to see his friend’s vigour renewed as he prepared some food. In hindsight he knew shouldn’t have started to clean Gabriel’s face. They had become so physically comfortable with each other but he knew his mind was heading to a place neither of them were ready for. It was all he could do to focus on what he was doing and not look up at the semi-naked hunter on the other side of the fire.

 

Van Helsing washed himself as best as he could and dressed in the fresh clothes Carl had laid out for him. He could feel warmth and strength returning to his heavy limbs. They sat and ate in companionable silence. Van Helsing ate very little but drank plenty.

 

“How do you feel?” Carl asked kneeling beside his friend, pressing his hand to the Hunter’s forehead.

 

“Still a little weak. I’ll be alright thought.” Truth was his stomach was churning and he could feel the pins and needles chill returning to his limbs.

 

“You’re going cold again Gabriel.” Carl said quietly. He helped Van Helsing to lie down and covered him in blankets. He got up to gathered more firewood, hoping the activity would cover his shaking. Happy with the fire, he lay down beside Van Helsing, pressing himself against the Hunter’s chest.

 

“Thank you Carl.” Van Helsing whispered his voice slurred and indistinct. “You’ve always looked after me.”

 

“And I always will Gabriel. Just stay with me? Please.” but the darkness claimed the Hunter once more.

 

***

The morning brought fever once again. Nightmares and memories rocked Van Helsing and he cried and sobbed. Carl cooled and calmed him as best he could but whatever horrors lay hidden in Gabriel’s past tore at him now. One name he cried over and over again. Luca. Forgive me Luca.

 

Carl held him close, rocking the larger man like a child as he cried. Who was Luca? A friend? A lover? What had Gabriel done to need to beg so for forgiveness? All the time Carl kept his eyes on the distant figure. The Reaper was waiting.

 

At nightfall the fever broke, leaving Van Helsing exhausted but conscious. “We have to go.” Carl urged as he pulling Van Helsing up. “We can’t stay here.” He had spent the night devising a plan. If they could get to civilisation, he might be able to analysis the venom and find a way to break the cycle of fever and freezing. If nothing else he could get Van Helsing out of the open and away from those watchful eyes.

 

Somehow he got Van Helsing into the saddle and they rode hard till morning. Carl had only the vaguest sense of which way the nearest town was but he was determined to make it. As dawn coloured the sky he dismounted and helped Van Helsing down. The Hunter was still weak but the ride appeared to stave off the crushing cold. “We’ll rest here awhile.” Carl whispered, laying him down on the thick leaf litter.

 

Van Helsing held out his arm, pulling the little friar to him and relishing his warmth. The jolting ride had helped him clear his head a little. “You do so much for me Carl. But you should go on alone. I don’t know how much further I can ride. You should go.”

 

“No! I’m not leaving you.” he cried, falling into his friend’s arms. There they lay till they both fell asleep.

 

Days past, all following the same pattern: riding when they could and resting as they needed to. Stopping whenever the fever or the biting cold struck but civilisation seemed no nearer. Each attack left Gabriel weaker and every day Carl watched the Rider get closer and closer.

 

As the fifth night fell, Carl collected firewood from around the open field they had found to camp on. He reached out to grasp a fallen branch and felt his legs gave out from underneath him. He lay on the ground staring at the stars, wondering why his strength had deserted him but then it struck him. He had not bothered to eat for nearly 3 days. Their supplies were running low and there had been no time for hunting, a pursuit Carl doubted he had the skill for in any case.

 

He managed to crawl back to their camp. Chill claimed Van Helsing again and Carl couldn’t muster the strength to do anything but crawl in beside him. He could see the Rider, chillingly close at the edge of the broad clearing. Something flapped at its wrist. A bird of some kind but Carl was too drained to let to worry him now. He pulled the Hunter close and let the night take him and bring what it may.

 

***

 

Carl woke before sunrise to a high-pitched tinkle like the ringing of a small bell. He opened his eyes to see a large hawk on the ground in front of him, belled and tasselled with a rabbit in its talons. The hawk cocked its head, studying him with large, liquid amber eyes. With a deep shriek it took to the sky, leaving it’s kill within Carl’s reach. Carl rolled onto his back to track the hawk’s flight in the pre-dawn glow only to see it return to its master’s glove. The Pale Rider. Carl clambered to his feet only to see the rider vanish in the first blinding rays of the rising sun.

 

Confused but heartened by this apparent gift, Carl threw together a simple stew from rabbit and what little they had left. He knew he couldn’t manage feeding the ailing Hunter in his current state so ate alone, waiting for his strength to return. Which it do with surprising speed and force. He felt stronger now than he had since before the harpy attack.

 

He crouched beside Van Helsing, rocking him gently to wake him. “Van Helsing? You have to eat now.” But the fever held its sway and the Hunter wouldn’t wake. Carl siphoned off some of the broth and set it to cool, feeding it to Van Helsing as he had done the water, stroking the Hunter’s formidable throat. Eventually Van Helsing drank the warming liquid and gradually began to stir.

 

Van Helsing opened his eyes and looked up into Carl’s face. “Hey.” He was lying with his head cradled in Carl’s lap, the friar’s hands resting reassuringly on his chest.

 

Carl smiled. “Welcome back to the land of the living. Thought I’d lost you for a while there.”

 

“I’m a bit big to loss easily.” Van Helsing said, pulling himself up. He almost made it to a sitting position before he started to loss it.

 

Carl shimmied forward to catch him as he slipped back, letting the Hunter’s head fall on his shoulder. “Go gently. You’re still pretty weak.” He ran his fingers through Van Helsing’s hair, returning the other to its place of his chest.

 

Van Helsing caught Carl’s hand in his own. “Thank you.” He whispered kissing Carl’s calloused fingers. “Where are we?”

 

Carl shook his head painfully. “I have no idea. We’ve been riding north towards that last town we passed on the way here but we should have reached it by now. I think we’re lost.” The truth was in fear and pain Carl had simply headed away from the Pale Rider.

 

Van Helsing stretched his much neglected legs. “Then we head west. That should at least point us back towards Rome.” He winced as cramps wrenched at his calves.

 

“Let me.” Carl laid Van Helsing back and unlaced his thick boots. He rolled the sturdy leather pants up to the knee and started to massage the knots out of Van Helsing’s legs. Almost a week of illness was taking its toll. The Hunter’s skin was clammy and pale, discolouring to bruises under the slightest pressure and little blisters formed where his legs touched the stirrups. “I think you could do with a wash Gabriel.” Carl said carefully, hoping not to offend his friend.

 

“Up for another towel fight are we?” Van Helsing joked, secretly glad of the suggestion. He felt uncomfortable dirty. “Well heat up some water and I’ll get started.”

 

Carl caught Van Helsing’s shoulders and helped him to sit up. “No. I think this time its best if I help. You’re still not well.”

 

Gabriel reached out to stroke the friar’s cheek. “Thank you.” He whispered.

 

Carl heated up what water they could spare. The going had been hard and Carl had tried to stay as close to Van Helsing as possible. Just in case. But that precaution had prevented him from looking for water and their supply was running low.

 

Carl sat the pot to one side to help Van Helsing out of his clothes. The heavy great coat had been packed away at the first sign of fever and neither he nor Van Helsing had bother to close the Hunter’s leather vest after the first time Carl had crawled in beside him to share his warmth.

 

Van Helsing struggled out of his sweater and undershirt. It hurt to move his shoulder but he did his best to hide that from Carl. The little friar had done everything he could. There was no need to worry him for a little stiffness. But as Carl helped him out of the last of his clothes and unwrapped the bandages around his upper arm.

 

What he saw there made Carl cry out in shock. The cut had turned black and dark veins of poison stretched away from the wound, over the scar-marked skin of the Hunter’s back and chest and up the side of his neck. The very flesh itself was dying. Carl threw out a hand to steady himself as bile rose in his throat and Van Helsing caught him, winding his powerful arms around the little friar’s waist.

 

“It’s alright.” He tried to soothe Carl but the little friar shook in his arms.

 

“But Gabriel,” Carl said trembling. “if it reached your lungs…”

 

“It will kill me. I know.” He hugged Carl close. Already he could feel the punishing cold descend on him again and nothing now was more important than being close to the one thing that made this pain bearable. “It’s alright Carl. There’s nothing either of us can do. Just…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. He knew in his heart that Carl understood. If it was to be an end at least they were together.

 

“If it must come to this,” Carl stumbled, clearly sickened by the thought. “Let’s at least find someway better to camp.” If this was to be their last stand, it should be somewhere special and suddenly the open field felt too exposed.

 

They rode slowly and in silence. There was no need for words between them. After only a few short miles, Van Helsing’s grip on the reins faltered and Carl shot to his side to catch him as he fell.

 

“I’m here. It’s alright.” Carl whispered, stroking the Hunter’s hair. “Just rest. We’ll stop here.” He surveyed the area. A little clearing within an oak grove with the blessed sound of water nearby but he could feel the Rider’s eyes on him.

 

Tonight we end this dance, he thought as he laid out their sleeping mats, side by side. Tonight I will face you Reaper and I will not give him over without a fight.

 

***

 

Carl collected water and heated it, preparing to return to his interrupted task. He knelt at the Hunter’s side, wiping the dirt and road dust away from Gabriel’s chiselled jaw.

 

Van Helsing moaned low and long. In this fatal peace he wanted everything. To know and feel as he had never had before. He caught Carl’s hand and pulled him close. “Carl? I…” but even this was more than needed to be said. Carl pressed his lips against Van Helsing’s, mouth open in invitation, tongues sliding against each other like familiar lovers. They explored each other slowly, drawing each moment out and savouring each sensation til they lost themselves completely in each others arms and drifted off to sleep.

 

The sound of bells awoke Carl again. The moon was setting, low on the horizon but the light was enough to see by. He reached out for Gabriel, braced for the worse. Even through their long night of gentle lovemaking, Carl knew deep in his heart there was a chance he’d wake up alone. That he would lose the man he had come to love to the darkness but however ragged and labouring, Van Helsing was still breathing. Carl moved closer to him, enveloping himself in the Hunter’s warmth.

 

Van Helsing shifted closer. The movement causing him to coughed painfully. A deep rattling sound that made his whole body shake. Carl slipped an arm around him, drawing the Hunter into a sitting position to help him breath. Between agonising breaths he moaned Carl’s name.

 

“I’m here love.” Carl whispered, stroking Gabriel’s cheek and twining his fingers in his dark curls. “I won’t leave you.” The tinkling noise that woke him sounded again and Carl looked up to see a young man crouched in the shadows at the edge of the tree line. The burgundy leather bands at his wrists were belled and tasselled and strangely familiar. As he tilled his head, Carl saw the young man’s eyes flashing amber in the moonlight and Carl knew beyond doubt where he’d seen the youth before.

 

The Pale Rider’s hawk.

 

The boy cocked his head suddenly as if sensing something. Behind Carl, Van Helsing started to cough again and without thought he turned to help his beloved, ignoring the stranger. Carl mixed a little poppy juice with water and feed it carefully to the Hunter, hoping the muscle relaxant would help him breath.

 

“It won’t be long now.” The youth said quietly, creeping closer to the fire.

 

Carl continued to ignore him till Van Helsing was settled and resting again. The young man was crouching beside him now, cocking his head to one side to peer at sleeping figure. He reached out a hand as if to touch Van Helsing but Carl caught his and pulled him away. The Friar’s shoulders shaking with rage as he dragged the boy to his feet. “No! You will not take him.” his voice low with menace.

 

The youth offered no resistance, tilted his head to look into Carl’s eyes. For a moment he seemed confused but his expression melted into something sadder, almost pitying. He brushed his fingertips over Carl’s cheek and sighed.

 

The soft snort of a horse made them both look up. The Pale Rider stood; cloaked and hooded, bridle in hand not twenty paces from them. Carl made a dash of Van Helsing’s gear, dragging out the bronze sword and swinging it with rage fuelled strength. The hawk-boy had taken the horse and was hitching it to a tree as the Rider pushed back the hood. The heavy fabric fell back, revealing the face which at a distance had seemed skull-like but now showed as pale and delicate. Storm-grey eyes framed by long lashes matched the dark curls that fell almost to her hips. For a moment Carl’s resolve faltered but he rallied as she stepped closer. So the devil was fair. What difference did it make?

 

She stepped towards the sleeping form of Van Helsing but Carl was between them. The sword raised and ready, fury glowing in his eyes. “You will not take him!”

 

She lowered her head, her mouth suddenly tight and cruel. “What right do you have to stop me?”

 

“I won’t let you!” Carl screamed drawing the blade back to strike but powerful arms caught him from behind, forcing the sword from his grip. He struggled against his captivator but the Hawk had him in a tight embrace, pinning his arms to his sides.

 

Van Helsing started to cough, gasping for air as the woman approached. Through the pain that racked his body, he could just make out Carl shout his name and a dark figure leaning over him. He tried to sit up but he couldn’t draw breath enough to marshal his muscles.

 

An unfamiliar hand touched his cheek. ‘Do you know me Gabriel?’ asked a woman’s voice in his head.

 

He tried to answer but he couldn’t move. ‘Who are you? Where is Carl?’ he screamed inside his own mind. ‘What have you done with him?’

 

Fingers slid over his face, closing his eyes. ‘Rest. No harm can come to you now.’

 

Gabriel Van Helsing gave in to the darkness.

 

Carl saw Van Helsing’s eyes close and his powerful body go limp. Grief flooded his mind and he threw himself against the restraining embrace, thrashing like a madman and screaming Gabriel’s name. If he could just get free. If he could just touch Van Helsing somehow it would all be alright. He needed Gabriel to know he was there, that he hadn’t abandoned him. But the arms that held him may as well have been carved from marble.

 

Eventually his screams dissolved into great sobs that racked his body. The youth lowered him to the ground and held him more tenderly, stroking his hair away from his eyes. Finally Carl relaxed into his embrace, too empty and cold now to care. The hollowness of grief let him see clearly the scene around him. The pale woman was kneeling beside Gabriel, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she stroked his great mane of dark curls.

 

The youth notice too. “My Lady?”

 

The woman raised her head slightly but didn’t reply.

 

“My Lady please? Lord Gabriel needs you.” Still no reaction. “Necrosis has reached his lungs. If it enters his heart...” she raised a hand to silence him but he pressed on, his voice growing forceful and insistent. “My Lady! Now is not the time to indulge your pain.”

 

She let out an indignant snort but nodded her head. She opened Van Helsing’s shirt and drew a small knife from the folds of her dress.

 

Carl who had sat silently, confused by this exchange, suddenly balked at the sight of the blade so close to Van Helsing’s naked chest. He started forward but the hawk’s arms were around him again, the boy’s mouth level with his ear. “It’s alright. Just watch.”

 

The pale woman closed her hand around the blade of the knife, drawing it across her palm. Her blood stained silver by the fading moonlight. She laid her bleeding palm in Van Helsing’s chest, just over his heart and the silver glow seemed to spread and brightened.

 

“What?” Carl started but the youth hushed him, whispering close to his ear.

 

“She’s healing him.”

 

“But I thought…”

 

The youth smiled warmly. “No. She released him from the pain. He’s safe now.”

 

He watched her as her free hand stroked Van Helsing’s dark curls, whispering something to him too low for Carl to hear. The dying moonlight showed her face clearly, deep pain and loss shining in her tear-laden eyes and it suddenly seemed to make sense. “Are you Luca?”

 

The arms that held him tightened abruptly as if to protect him. Anger flared in the woman’s dark eyes but then softened into sadness, her voice cold and low. “No. Luca is dead. Gabriel …” she faltered. “Gabriel fell defending him.”

 

“Then who are you?” Carl demanded, unmoved by her sadness.

 

“I am,” she paused, choosing her words with care. “a memory from his past.”

 

“A past he doesn’t remember?” he challenged.

 

She relented with a sigh. “So it would seem.”

 

“Come now.” The hawk whispered in his ear. “We need to give her peace. For his sake.”

 

“No.” Carl stated, clear and unwavering, eyes never leaving the woman kneeling over his lover. “I won’t let you take him.”

 

She closed her eyes and turned away from his accusing stare. “I was wrong Friar Carl. It is I who have no right here. Leave me with him and he will be restored to you whole. You have my word.”

 

The youth tugged at Carl. “Come. You may believe her. Come. There is a little hill over there we can keep watch from.” Eventually he coaxed Carl to his feet and led him to a little hillock that gave them a clear view of the camp. The hawk sat down with a thud, stretching out on the cool grass.

 

Cal sat down beside him, pulling his knees up to his chest. It was all too much for him now and the great weight of emotion seemed to press him to the earth, groaning from the pressure of it.

 

The hawk, roused by Carl’s distress, wrapped his arms warmly around the friar. “He will live and be whole.” Already Carl could see the colour returning to Van Helsing’s ashen skin. “But he will not to return to her side. Not yet.” The youth whispered sadly.

 

“They were lover?” Carl asked almost coldly.

 

“Yes,” The youth replied complacently. “but more than that too. He is…was the Laevus Levus.”

 

“The Left Hand. Yes. Dracula called him that. The Left hand of God.”

 

The youth chuckled. “Close but a mistranslation. The Left Hand of the Goddess. Her left hand.”

 

“She’s a goddess?” Carl asked, slightly disdainful but now that the last rays of moonlight had died he could see that she seemed to glow with an inner fire. A fire he’d seen so many times in Gabriel’s eyes.

 

“Goddess is close enough in many ways. As a follower of the Christ King, you would perhaps call her Angel. Though we have had many names.”

 

Carl stared at him in disbelief. “You’re an angel?”

 

The boy smiled. “In the eyes of your people- yes. In the East where I was born we are Ifrit, Mirad, Djinn. In the north lands, the lands of her people, we are Norn and Valkyrie. To the people of ancient Rome we are Furies, Fates and Muse.”

 

“He has nightmares of ancient Rome. Of fighting at Masada.” Carl whispered, surprised to hear his own voice.

 

“Yes. At Masada he fell. At Masada Luca died.” The youth said gravely and then continued as if answering Carl’s unasked question. “We are The Guarding Ones. Protectors of mankind. Since the beginning we have struggled with our great antagonists, the Order to maintain the balance.” He hung his head, his voice laced with bitterness. “But they chose a different path to victory. Luca was a child of prophesy. Destined to lead our people. At a celebration for his third birthday, they attacked and were without mercy. All there died save two. The Red Queen, our great leader whose heart was broken for the child she could not save. And Gabriel who, these seven years lost, we all thought dead.”

 

“He was near death when we found him.” Carl answered. “Is that why the lady morns him?”

 

“Yes and no. Even found living he is lost to us. For our kind such a poison as this is nothing but the pain of that battle has driven away his memory. He knows not who he is nor of what he is capable. Without that knowledge, he cannot heal himself. She morns because until he comes to understand these things on his own, until he chooses to face the memories hidden inside, he cannot return to his people. To her.”

 

“So when he remembers, he’ll leave?” Carl asked anxiously.

 

“Perhaps.” The Lady answered, standing at the base of the tor “That will be his choice to make.” She summoned them to join her and they returned to Gabriel’s side. The Hunter was sleeping peacefully, his breathing even and his skin rosy. “I thought it best he slept until we’re gone.”

 

She turned to face Carl. “I owe you an apology. In my grief I sort to claim back what I believed to be mine and you stood before me willing to face death itself in his defence.” She took his hands and stepped closer. “And I know how deeply he is loved.” Planting light kisses on his cheeks, she stepped away. “Be his shield from loneliness and I shall be ever in your debt. Goodbye Friar Carl.” She took the horse’s bridle from the boy’s hand and started to walk away.

 

The hawk darted forward and hugged Carl. “Farewell friend. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday.” he smiled and leaped into the air, taking to his wings with the tinkle of bells. Carl watched until the soaring shape disappeared into the gathering dawn.

 

Behind him Gabriel Van Helsing started to wake.