Frantic, Brian flung the car once more into reverse and floored the gas. Before the car could even move, Cassandra lunged towards him, her long, painted nails digging gouges in the bonnet as she grasped it and pinned the car in place, wheels spinning uselessly in clouds of rubber smoke, the supercharged engine contesting with her supernatural strength and coming up short. Finally, realising with dread that he wasn’t about to get away, he lifted his foot off the throttle, the car stalling with a clonk of finality. The woman smiled at him, the smile of an apex predator knowing it was about to feed. But then a metallic thud, a strange device rolling onto the bonnet between them. At the end of the small cylinder, a fuse, already lit.
“Close your eyes!” came Helsing’s hoarse cry.
Brian did as he was told, slamming his eyes shut and just in time; as the device went off, blinding white light bleached his retinas even from behind the safety of his eyelids. When he finally opened them, Cassandra was gone. He gazed about, blinking the bright afterimages from his vision. Nope, she certainly nowhere to be seen. Though that didn’t comfort him; he’d seen how quickly she could vanish and then reappear. He sat there, trembling; what the hell was going on? It had started as such a typical morning. And now this? What manner of woman was that Cassandra? And how in the blue blazes was he going to explain the state of the car to Gordon?
A groan of pain broke him from his reverie; that man, that Helsing, he was still lying there by the hedgerow at the side of the road. Did he go out and check on him? But what if Cassandra came back? Either way, Brian owed the man his life, he realised; whatever Cassandra was, she’d certainly made it clear that she was going to kill him and only Helsing’s intervention had stopped her. Slowly, carefully, gazing all about like a guilty dog as though expecting the woman to reappear at any instant, he opened the door and shuffled his way towards the fallen man.
“Are you… are you alright?”
The man lying on the floor looked pointedly down at his ruined chest, before raising his gaze to Brian’s own.
“Do I look like I’m alright? Are you dense? I’m clearly dying.”
“Oh.” Brian paused, unsure. He’d never had to comfort a man dying of horrendous wounds before. Wasn’t quite sure of the protocol. “Shall I call an ambulance?”
Helsing shook his head.
“They can’t help. She hit my heart, I can feel it. Every beat is painful.” He coughed and winced, fresh blood spurting forth from his mouth to land on Brian’s shoes. “Sorry about that.”
“No biggie,” Brian lied, face pale as he wiped his shoes on the back of his trouser legs.
“You did well, you know,” Helsing told him, eyeing him strangely. “To resist her charms as long as you did. And then running her over like that too. That took balls.”
Brian didn’t feel the need to tell him that sheer panic had been the only reason he’d managed either.
“Well,” he murmured, shuffling uneasily. “I’d best be off then. Got to get the car back to the garage, think up some excuses for my boss.”
Helsing stared at him, incredulous.
“The car? Sod the car, lad. Jesus! You gonna leave a bleeding man at the side of the road without hearing his dying words? What’s wrong with you? Did you not just see what happened? Do you not have any questions? Not wondering what is going on?”
“Well, yes.” Brian shrugged. “But it’s not really any of my business. Don’t want to pry.”
“Pry?” The man’s tone was disbelieving. “You nearly got killed by a vampire and you’re worried about prying? What are you, special?”
“No,” Brian retorted. “I’m not… wait, what? A vampire?”
“Nosferatu,” the man nodded sagely. “Demons of the night. Blood drinkers. Ghouls. Yes, lad. Vampires are real. And that bitch, Cassandra, is one of the worst. I’ve been chasing her a long time. Thought I’d got her this time, but I’m old, have been for a while. And she never ages, her strength and speed staying the same, even as mine lessens by the year. And so it seems this is my final mission. This is where journey ends. And yours begins.”
He stared meaningfully at Brian, who simply stared in return, uncomprehending.
“I… what are you on about? And, not being rude, but shouldn’t you be dead by now?” He gestured to the man’s ruined chest, the great gashes spilling blood out in a torrent onto the street. “You’re doing an awful lot of talking for a dying man.”
“And more talking yet before I pass,” Helsing nodded. “Come closer, lad. What I’m about to tell you will change your life. Forever.”
Brian didn’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.
Chapter Three: Gangela Lansbury
It hadn’t come as a surprise when Gordon had fired him on the spot. Getting to work late, slow sales; these things could be worked on, could be forgiven to an extent, his boss had told him. But bringing a car back from a test-drive absolutely mullered? Rear bumper smashed, great tears in the bonnet like it had been attacked by some rabid animal? Then to top it all off, his only excuse had been an outlandish tale of vampires and ancient prophecy? Brian had been thrown out of the door, helmet following shortly behind, along with some sharp words in his ear.
But it wasn’t Gordon’s words he was mulling over as he sat on his couch staring down at the strange ring in the palm of his hand.
I am Helsing, the dying stranger had whispered to him with his last, blood-choked breaths. As was the man before me. And the one before him. And so on. Hunters of Vampires, Demons and all things that go bump in the night. And now you, too, are Helsing. The latest link in a chain that stretches back hundreds of years. Helsing had given him this ring now in his hand, closing his fingers about it with almost fatherly reverence. This ring will gift you the Sight, that you might root out evil wherever you find it. And powers, too, that you might fight such evil on even grounds. Go to St Michael’s Mount; there you will find the masters. And they will teach you our ways. Go now, and do my legacy proud. I have faith in you. Even if you are a… blithering… idiot…
And with those final gasped words, Helsing had passed from this world, his very body, his flaming sword, his crossbow, all turning black and crumbling to ash, stirred away on the fitful Cornish breeze. Brian had got some of it up his nose and sneezed, eyes streaming as he blew his nose on his sleeve, trying to rid himself of the smell of dead vampire hunter.
And now, sat in his house, Brian stared down at the ring in his hand. Had all of that really happened? Had a seductive vampiress really nearly killed him? Had a mystic demon hunter actually passed him his mantle, wanting him to take it up and roam the Earth, searching for evil spirits and ne’er do wells? Well yes, he thought. Obviously, it had happened, he’d seen it with his eyes. The ring was in his hand, the car had been ruined, his job lost. These things were facts. But what to make of them, he had no idea. His poor brain felt fried, couldn’t process what was going on. He needed to clear his mind. A Pot Noodle. A wank. Maybe some Xbox. That’d do.
But before he could even rise to put the kettle on, let alone boot up PornHub, his phone vibrated. Stowing the ring in his jean pocket, he glanced at the screen. Neil, texting him and asking if he wanted to meet for a commiseratory pint down the pub. He paused for an instant, before reaching a decision, grabbing his keys and striding out of the front door. A pint or ten would help him forget all that had happened today. And he might as well get a few drinks in before he ran out of money once more.
Neil was already there at the Penzance Wetherspoon’s by the time Brian had arrived, leaning against the bar, one foot up on the brass rail as his blue eyes scanned the crowd, ever on the lookout for totty. Spying Brian, he raised his head curtly in that strange reverse nod all men gave to their friends, before sliding a pint of Doom Bar his way.
“Got the first one in for you, mate,” he said as Brian drew near.
“Cheers,” he replied, taking a great swig of his pint and relishing the nectar. But it would take more than one to wash away the memories of this d
ay. “What was Gordon like when I left?”
“Ranting and raving,” Neil chuckled. “Thinks you’re off your rocker.” He narrowed his eyes conspiratorially. “Now we’re not at work… what really happened on that test drive?”
Brian shrugged as he took another sip of his beer, wiping the foam from his upper lip as he replied.
“Exactly what I said. Crazy hot vampire woman tried to rape me. Flaming sword guy appeared. Bullet-time Matrix fight ensued. Ran over vampire in the car. Flashbang. Vampire gone. Dying demon hunter handed me his ring, then vanished in a puff of smoke. Don’t think I left anything out.”
Neil nodded, pulling a thoughtful face as he took a sip from his own pint.
“So you’re a vampire hunter now then?”
“So it seems.”
“And how’s it going for you?”
“Well, not really started yet. It’s only been a few hours.”
“Have you tried the ring on yet? Maybe it changes you? Like wassisface? Captain Marvel? Maybe there’ll be a boom and a flash of light and you’ll become a broody, leather-clad warrior?”
Brian pondered this for a few moments, before shaking his head.
“Nah. Cos Helsing would have changed back after he took it off. He still looked the same.”
“Well you don’t know for sure till you try it.”
Brian nodded, seeing his point, before reaching into his jean pocket and retrieving the ring. The two stared at it, as though expecting it to glow like the Green Lantern’s, or maybe to flash with ancient runes like Frodo’s. Instead, it simply sat and stayed very much inert and ring-like. Silver, with a wide front like a sovereign, upon which was stamped a simple cross.
“Well, go on then. I want to see what happens.”
Brian shrugged, before going to put it on his finger. He hesitated for a moment. What if Neil was right? What if some mystic flash of light did indeed fill the room? What if some godly voice called down, announcing his ascension? That would raise questions from everyone in the pub, questions to which he wasn’t sure he had enough answers. He downed his pint, before throwing a tenner Neil’s way.
“Get the next round in; I’m gonna try it on in the loo. In case, y’know… Shazam.”
His friend and former colleague nodded in understanding, before turning back to the barman, Brian sauntering off in the direction of the toilets, throwing the ring and catching it in his hand as he went. Why was he even doing this, he thought? A ring that granted magical demon-hunting powers? Nonsense. And yet how else could he explain the events of the day? Maybe I’m overtired, he thought? Up too late at night, leading raids in WoW, slaughtering noobs in Call of Duty. And yet that might have explained hallucinations, but it wouldn’t have explained the ring in his hand, nor the ruined Mini at work. No, he thought; he needed to get to the bottom of this. But what then? What if the ring did indeed transform him into some supernatural bounty hunter? He needed money for food and heating, not danger and fear.
And yet even as he thought these things, he made his way to the gents’ door, pushing his way through and traipsing through puddles of ill-aimed piss. After a minute’s search, he found a cubicle that didn’t reek of the dead and made his way inside, locking the door behind him. He unfurled his fingers and looked down at the ring in his palm, so small, so normal-seeming. Why, if it looked so mundane, was he so anxious about putting it on his finger? Just do it, he thought. Just try it on for size. Yet was it his own voice that was goading him on, he wondered? With a deep breath and a shiver of dread premonition, as if knowing that his life was about to be changed forever, just as Helsing had told him, he screwed his eyes shut and slid the ring firmly onto his finger.
Moments passed, long and tense, before he finally opened one eye, gazing about. No lightning, no godly voices, no choir of angels. Not even a cape. Did he feel different? Nope, not at all; he still felt tall, reedy. Could still hear the booming beats of shite dance music from the pub’s speakers. Could still smell that subtle aroma of fermenting piss that rose up from the tiled floor. Nothing had happened. Was the ring a dud? Were the events of the day merely the imaginings of an over-stressed, underpaid mind? He didn’t know; all he knew was this had been a pointless exercise. A large part of him was glad, for how would he fare as a demon-hunter extraordinaire? He knew nothing apart from what he’d gleaned watching Buffy as a child and he felt sure that at least some parts of that show had been poetic licence. And yet a small part of him seemed almost… disappointed. Why, he wondered? Wasn’t he happy with his mundane, boring life? He enjoyed having all of his free time to himself to waste away as he saw fit. Did some tiny part of him really crave action and adventure? If it did, he resolved never to listen to it. With a sniff, instantly regretted as ammonia lashed his nostrils, he made to remove the ring from his finger to be forgotten.
It wouldn’t budge.
He strained, pulling and heaving at the metal, but it remained resolutely fastened to his digit. What the…? His hands couldn’t have swollen, surely? It wasn’t that warm in here and he had notoriously poor circulation. He gave the ring another tug, wincing. Nope, stuck fast. Perhaps at home he could try some washing up liquid. That technique had gotten him out of some lonely misadventures before, experiments that would never be heard of by the ears of any man, and hopefully it would work again.
With a shrug, he made his way through the cloying haze of recycled beer and from the toilets towards the bar. Neil was waiting there, fresh pint in hand, an expectant look on his face.
“Ring’s on, I see,” he remarked. “Any super-powers? Heat vision? Adamantium claws?”
“Not yet,” Brian admitted. “Think it’s a dud.”
“A dud?” Neil raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think that’s how magic works.”
“Well it’s either that or I’m just mental,” he replied. “And I’m not insane; I have a certificate to prove it.” He had, in fact, tucked away somewhere in a drawer at home, signed by his counsellor. “Besides, I’m glad. I mean, could you imagine me as a vampire hunter? They’d laugh their heads off.”
“Well that would make it an easy job, to be fair.”
Brian bit his lip and nodded, seeing the logic there, before taking a sip of his pint.
“So now that’s out of the way, what next? Shots? I’m feeling jaeger bombs…”
“Nah mate,” Neil grinned, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a flash of white kept close that only Brian could see. “I brought a friend with me.”
Brian smiled, eyebrows raised.
“Is that our good lady Gangela Lansbury?”
“Nope. Younger model; Gangelina Jolie.”
“Well, let us away to the beer garden,” Brian said, feeling now the numbing effects of the beer and longing to plunge further down the rabbit hole of inebriation. “And partake.”
Chapter Four: SHAZAM!
The weed was potent stuff, but then it always was, the shit that Neil managed to get a hold of. It never looked like much, often looking to Brian’s eye as though cut with pencil shavings. But after only his third puff, blowing the acrid smoke into the bushes at the edge of the beer garden so as to not give away their game, he was already buzzing and he grinned at the fact.
Things always seemed a bit easier when high and drunk, he mused. Life seemed a little less intimidating. The shadows not quite so filled with fears, the stares of strangers not so full of contempt and threat.
“So,” Neil ventured, reaching for the blunt, his eyes already red-rimmed, voice beginning to drawl. “What’re you gonna do for a… y’know… an, erm… a job?”
Brian shrugged, staring into his pint as though it held the meaning of life. Perhaps it did, if he reached the bottom.
“Not sure,” he replied. “I’ve got the ‘ped still. I could probably do something with that. Deliver pizzas? Dunno. Maybe be one of them kangaroo riders with the big blue box on my back?
Neil stared at him for a moment, before his mouth slowly spread wide in a grin.
“
Gaaaaay….” He intoned.
“You’re gay,” Brian replied with a frown. “And so’s your mum.”
Neil nodded.
“Well, yeah. She is. That’s kind of why her and dad split up. And why she’s now married to Beverly.”
“Well, I… yeah, I suppose so,” Brian admitted with a shrug.
A group passed them by, chatting as they made their way to the smoking shelter at the end of the beer garden. Brian sniffed, smelling a familiar fragrance, the hairs on the nape of his neck rising in recognition despite the mind-numbing influence of the weed. As he turned, a woman amidst the trio that walked by, her form clouded by the cloying scent of sweet perfume; the very same perfume that Cassandra herself had been wearing that very morning. The woman, short, with pale skin and blonde hair tied back into a pony-tail, looked nothing more than a young student on a night out, glass of prosecco to hand. And yet as Brian’s eyes followed her, some strange sixth sense made itself known in the back of his mind. The ring on his finger tingled.
“Wassup with you?” Neil asked.
“That… that girl,” Brian replied haltingly. “There’s something about her.”
Neil followed his gaze and nodded.
“She’s hot, mate,” he agreed. “But she’s young, dude. Eighteen maybe? Not far off jail-bait…”
Brian shook his head.
“I think it’s more than that.” He gazed down at the ring on his finger, puzzled. “My ring’s vibrating.”
“Some people pay good money for that,” his friend remarked with a sage nod.
“No. I mean… I think she’s a vampire.”
Neil laughed, taking another drag on his blunt.
“I think the Gangelina Ballerina might be too dank for you,” he chuckled. “What makes you think she’s a vampire?”
“I… well… I dunno. I’ve just got a feeling. Her perfume; same as the woman’s earlier. Really strong and sweet. Her skin’s the same colour too. And the ring… it’s like it’s trying to warn me.”
Brian Helsing: The World's Unlikeliest Vampire Hunter Box Set 1 - Missions 1-3 Page 3