Immortality

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Seventeen

Abraham Van Helsing had the appearance of a man of fifty-six; he stood roughly six feet tall and wore his lengthy silver-grey hair loose around his shoulders, had sharp blue eyes that glinted with just a hint of mischief and though not exactly wealthy, he could have dressed with a great deal more style than he actually did. The elbows of most of his jackets and shirts were wearing slightly thin, and the most expensive item of jewellery he wore was his silver pocket watch. His colleagues called him eccentric. He just had no time for fashion.

He was a medical doctor who had taught here and there and after a long while in London had moved off to Paris to ‘pursue other interests’. His other interests were chiefly the destruction of the unholy undead known as Vladislaus Dracula, and the continued well-being of his younger brother, Gabriel, without whom he was convinced he could not defeat his enemy. That morning he faced the very real possibility that Gabriel was lost, and so his quest was doomed to fail.

It did not become apparent until half past nine that Gabriel was not where he should have been. Abraham had been awake then for a little more than an hour but hadn’t yet thought to wake his brother, remembering the days when they’d shared a home and that Gabriel had always been a late riser, preferring the dark of night to the daylight. But as the morning wore on, Abraham grew a little impatient and went to Gabriel’s room to wake him; when he didn’t answer to his calls and knocks, Abraham went in and found that Gabriel was gone.

He called Carl, who had no idea where he was, either. He called the landlady, but all that she could tell him was that at almost midnight she’d seen him sleeping soundly in the chair by the fire. He was obviously not there any longer, and his coat and hat were both gone. But he could not have left the inn because his weapons were all still lying in his room. It didn’t make sense that he’d leave without them, or without telling anyone that he was going. Still, he must have done just that, because he just wasn’t there.

So they looked for him. Abraham supposed that there were only so many places that he could have gone in a village of that size, and so he and Carl split up to search; between them they checked every street and alley, every room in the inn, the village hall and the church, and thanks to the brief early morning snowfall there wasn’t even so much as a footprint tint int them in the right direction. It was disheartening to say the least – they’d travelled clear across Europe and Abraham had waited so long, so had Gabriel if he could have only remembered, and now hope – and Gabriel – was gone.

It was desperation that turned the two of them to the woods, not any real expectation that they would find any trace that he’d been there. As they walked Carl began to theorise out loud – perhaps he’d left and gone home though that was unlikely, perhaps he’d gone on ahead which seemed unlikely also. Perhaps he’d been taken. Perhaps he’d developed a sudden case of somnambulism and was lying helpless in the words… Abraham didn’t dislike Carl exactly, but he started to wonder how Gabriel coped with him.

Then they came to the clearing. There was a smattering of snow dashed across the earth and the place was eerily quiet; Abraham had learned that quiet was often not the best of signs. Carl tottered off to the other side of the clearing and Abraham glanced down at the ground around where he was standing, not exactly filled with the greatest expectation of his long life. But then a gust of wind blew through the trees with a strange low whistle and he saw something stir. Obviously Carl had also spotted it, as they both walked in that direction, Abraham’s hand coming to rest on the butt of his pistol.

It was Gabriel’s hat. His hand left the pistol and he picked it up, dusting off the light layer of snow from it with one gloved hand. Definitely Gabriel’s hat, and though Abraham remained reserved, every trace of mounting dismay disappeared from Carl’s face.

They were spurred on somewhat by the discovery, but they found nothing else all that afternoon. Carl looked absolutely miserable as they made their way back to the inn to ward off frostbite by the fireside, and Abraham was unsurprised when the landlady informed them that there had been no sign of Gabriel in the village, either. Abraham just sighed to himself as he sat warming his hands from the chair by the fire. Of all the things he’d imagined could go wrong, this had certainly been a long way down the list.

The landlady brought the two of them some stew and wine, and they ate in a miserable silence. What a wasted day. What a terrible circumstance. He had waited so long only to have his hopes dashed to pieces, as he should have know they would be. All there was left to do was trudge off to his hired room and attempt to drown his disappointment mug mug of sharp red wine, wondering what on earth had become of his brother. Perhaps he’d leave for Paris in the morning.

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