Brian Helsing: The World's Unlikeliest Vampire Hunter Box Set 1 - Missions 1-3

by Gareth K Pengelly

  “What?” shouted Friedrick in reply.

  “What?” Finally, with a high-pitched whine, Brian’s hearing began to return. “Ah. So that’s what it sounds like to fire a gatling gun then. Loud.”

  “No,” Friedrick replied, rifling in one aching ear with a bony finger as Frank helped Brian to his feet. “That’s what it sounds like to be a colossal twat. Have you never fired a gun before?”

  “Well, no. Why would I have?”

  Silence descended, before Friedrick glanced up at Frank. The giant shook his head, before turning away, and Friedrick turned back to Brian with a sigh. “We’ve a lot of work to do with you, young Helsing. And so off to Gertrude you go. Maybe she’ll have some luck with you. And in the meantime, I suppose we’ll be repairing the damage you’ve caused.” He began to steam away on his chair, before noticing that Brian wasn’t moving. “Away with you lad, off to the Dojo. I wouldn’t keep Gertie waiting. She might look like she smells of lollipops and farts fucking rainbows, but trust me, if you think I’m pissed off, well, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  With that, Brian turned and made his way back out of the Armoury, accompanied by nothing more than a foreboding sense of dread and an insistent ringing in his ears.

  Chapter Nine: Lollipops and Fucking Rainbows

  Gertrude was already waiting for him in the Dojo, stretching her leg high above her head with a hand about her foot, looking for all the world like a Goth ballerina, minus the pomp or indeed the dignity, and forcing Brian to avert his eyes lest he catch glimpse of the unknowable abyss and be forever scarred, no doubt by her and whatever sharp implements she could find. The Master of Combat caught sight of his awkwardness out of the corner of her eye and grinned.

  “So, weapons selection was a complete fuck up then?”

  “How…? How did you know?” he asked, still staring intently at the floor as though it might yield the answers to life, the universe and everything. “No-one passed me in the hallway…”

  “I just assumed. Rightly, it seems.” She lowered her leg back to the ground and turned smartly to face him, before prancing across the straw matting and stopping directly before him, gazing up into his eyes as though sizing him up. And finding him enormously wanting. “You’re not only an absolute novice, but you don’t have a single warrior bone in that entire lanky streak you call a body. How you managed to defeat the vampire in the pub beer garden, even with the ring, I haven’t a clue. I can only assume you’re tremendously lucky.”

  “I’d have to disagree with you there,” he assured her. “Trust me when I say, I am probably the least lucky person you’ve ever met.”

  “Well, I suppose so,” she agreed, nodding, her eyes flashing with a glint of amusement that sent fingers of icy premonition crawling over his skin. “Because now you’ve got your first day’s training with me; and I’m not going to be easy on you.”

  Brian snapped.

  “Listen, woman. I’ve been nothing but humiliated and abused, physically and verbally, all day. If I’m supposed to be this legendary bloody Helsing, protector of the masses, kisser of babies and lord of the freaking rings, why doesn’t anybody show me the slightest hint of god-damned respect? Answer me that!”

  She stepped a foot closer, that pixie smile still plastered on her pretty face.

  “Because you’ve not earned it yet. The ring is on your finger, but that was only a happy accident of fate. Being called Helsing is not the same as being Helsing. Make no mistake, the previous Helsings were all treated better than you, even right from the off. But they were warriors, proud, noble, skilled, already proven before they’d taken up the mantle. You? You’re a nothing. An idiot.”

  “Then why not kill me now? Just pass the ring onto someone new?”

  Even as he spoke the words, the bottom fell out of his stomach as she inclined her head, almost as if considering it.

  “Well, it’s not really the done thing,” she laughed, finally. “Besides, I do like me a challenge. And training you to be the greatest hunter of demons on Earth would be a challenge and a half. Now, get in that ring.”

  She nodded over her shoulder towards the arena, a square, ten metres by ten, of unyielding concrete with only a thin covering of straw to cushion what he knew would be his inevitable hard falls. He gulped.

  “What if I say no?”

  Her smile, if anything, widened.

  “It wasn’t a question.”

  With that, she grasped him by the wrist, allowing herself to fall backwards to the ground, one leg raised in front of her as she pulled him towards her. Her foot drove into his stomach, hurling him through the air, up becoming down, before he landed in the ring with a hard smack that drove the wind from his lungs. As he lay there gasping, his head ringing, he watched her circle him through blurry eyes. She moved slowly, surely, regarding him like a cat a mouse. A pathetic, scrawny mouse, with three legs and one eye, not fit for a meal but perhaps an amusing diversion for a moment.

  “The ring is a relic of a bygone age,” she told him. “Forged by mighty wizards, led by the first Master himself. It taps into realms of forbidden knowledge, lending sorcerous power, feeding you with strength and speed to match the vicious creatures you will encounter on your missions. But without proper training it’s nothing but a crutch. If you listen to me, learn from me, however, you will begin to meld magically borrowed strength and your own learned skills, transforming even a spineless idiot like you into a warrior beyond compare. A warrior worthy of the title Helsing.”

  “And what if I don’t want to be worthy,” Brian gasped, rising from the floor with a creak of battered bones. “What if I just want to go home and be normal? No-one seems to give a crap about what I want, do they? I didn’t ask for this.”

  “The universe chose you, Helsing. And you think the universe gives a crap what you want?”

  With that, she lunged, connecting a punch clean to his jaw, even as he stood and pondered her words. In shock, he reached for his lip, spying blood on his finger.

  “What the hell was that for?”

  She spread her arms wide, a look on her face as though explaining the obvious to a very slow child.

  “We’re combat training. What did you expect? Netflix and chill?”

  “I expected some warning,” he grumbled, rubbing his jaw.

  Another blow, this time a kick straight to his midsection, doubling him over with a gasp.

  “You think vampires are going to give you warning? You think a werewolf would tap you on the shoulder and go ‘excuse me, Mr Helsing, but mind awfully if I bite you head off’ hmm? Get real.”

  Get real? Brian fumed. He’d had enough, he decided. If this little girl wanted to play rough, then play rough he would. He was sick of being pushed around, demeaned. If the only way to earn respect in this crazy hell-hole was by kicking a little ass, then ass he would kick, even if it was a woman’s. He rose up straight to his full towering height. Growled. And charged.

  Straight into her outstretched fist.

  “You’re making this difficult for yourself,” she told him as he clutched his throat, gasping for air. “The ring will tell you what to do, if you only listen to it. Quieten your mind. Shouldn’t be too hard for you. And listen to the ring’s urges. If it tells you to block, do so. If it tells you to dodge, don’t question it. The ring has absorbed the fighting styles of a dozen Helsings, each mighty warriors with their own distinct combat techniques. Trust in it. And fight.”

  Brian didn’t want to listen to her, he was too angry. To listen to her would be to admit defeat. And yet he knew the sense in her words. When he was high in the pub beer garden, his mind had been clear of worries, of anger, of doubt. And as such he’d been able to hear the ring, subconsciously or not, and not only avoid being killed, but even defeat that vampiress, Beth. With a snort of resignation, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on clearing his mind.

  A swift kick to the temple was his reward.

  “And for crying out loud, don’t close your eyes in t
he middle of a fight,” she chastised him.

  “Would you give me two bloody seconds?” he screamed. “It’s somewhat a lot to take in all in one go, y’know?”

  “Fine,” she told him, turning and walking towards the edge of the mat. “I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself. But then I’m coming after you. And I won’t pull my punches this time.”

  Pull her punches? The woman was a lunatic, he thought, staring after her with fury in his eyes. No, calm down. Listen to the ring, he told himself. The ring knows what to do. He kept his eyes open this time, not trusting the woman as far as he could throw her, but inside he was trying his damndest to calm his thoughts, to clear his mind. Contrary to Gertrude’s beliefs, there was, in fact, a lot always going on in Brian’s mind, the sea of paranoia and neuroses that it was. Finding a moment of calm amidst the noise was proving quite difficult. Was that a calm spot, an eye in the storm? Maybe. After what seemed like only a few seconds, the Master of Combat had already turned back towards him, making her way slowly, nonchalantly, across the mat.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  Her foot flashed up in a roundhouse kick, whistling through the air towards him. This time, his arm was already there, an impenetrable barrier that her leg simply stopped against. She stood there, leg still raised and resting against his forearm, a curious look on her face, almost surprise. Not as surprised, Brian thought, as he was himself. Suddenly, she leapt into the air, that leg dropping, the other one coming about now, smashing into his face and sending him crumpling to one knee.

  “I stopped one of them, at least,” he told her, spitting blood onto the straw.

  “Good,” she told him, sounding almost sincere this time. “That’s called progress.”

  Chapter Ten: Wheels Of Steel

  Heimlich had to stifle a laugh behind a fist as Brian limped slowly, painfully, into the Scrying Chamber. As Brian looked about with the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, through the cloying cloud of incense that hung low and heavy in the dimly lit air, he saw half a dozen of Heimlich’s subordinates, each sat at their own desks. A strange amalgamation on those desks, a combination of the past and future; desktop PCs, all flat-screened with wireless mice, yet at the same time crystal balls, tea-leaves, divining rods and strangely glowing maps. Was one person… were they gutting a chicken? They were; and spraying its still-warm blood onto a piece of white card, gazing intently at the resulting pattern, tapping a pencil against their lip, before nodding and typing something into their PC. He tried to grimace in distaste, but couldn’t feel his face, so the result looked more akin to a raver’s gurn.

  “Welcome to the home of magic within the Sanctum, Helsing,” Heimlich greeted him. “Here is where my team scry through magical means for threats to come.” He frowned momentarily. “Not being very talkative, I see. Gertie playing a bit rough today?”

  Brian’s silent stare was his reply, his face battered, bruised, lip cut in several places, a gash on his temple. From the way he was holding himself, bruised ribs too. Heimlich nodded, realising he wasn’t going to get anything out of Brian in this state.

  “Follow me, young Helsing. Let’s get you fixed up.” Sullenly, Brian did as he was bade, following the Master of Magic through the room and out of a side door, to a small side-chamber, all softly-lit with candles, a small fireplace at one end and two small chairs facing each other in the middle. But they didn’t stop here, Heimlich leading him one door further. Here, what looked like a shower cubicle, albeit with no shower. In fact, as he glanced closer, it was indeed a shower cubicle; he could still see the B&Q sticker, half-peeled off in one bottom corner of the glass. The only difference being, the glass sides of this cubicle were etched with tiny runic shapes by the hundred. “Yes,” Heimlich told him at his questioning stare. “It is a shower cubicle, but also much more than that. Powerful magicks are unleashed within, the runes on the glass sides containing and amplifying the effects. Step in, and I’ll get things in motion. We’ll soon undo Gertie’s over-enthusiastic handiwork.” Still in a state of daze following his beating of before, Brian began to disrobe, much to Heimlich’s surprise. “God lad, no, keep your clothes on! It’s magic, not water.”

  With a numb nod, Brian walked forwards and into the cubicle. Heimlich shut the door behind him and took a few steps back. Through the frosted glass, Brian could hear the man mumbling some strange chant in an ancient language, a tongue similar to that he’d heard Helsing XII speak when lighting his sword. His hands began to twist and weave in a strange pattern. A wind began to whirl about inside the cubicle. Strange shapes engraved into the rock above and below him began to glow with a colour he couldn’t even begin to name, a high-pitched buzzing filled the air and a sense of warmth began to flow across his skin. A tingling. An itching. Then suddenly, pain.

  “Ouch! Jesus! It hurts!”

  “Well, we’re reversing the injuries of before,” Heimlich told him through the glass. “It hurt to get them, it hurts to get rid of them too. Your body is going backwards through time, undoing the damage caused to it.”

  Brian’s ribs thumped, his temple blaring, his lip burning. Then suddenly, it all stopped; the strange lights fading, the noise abating. And the pains that once wracked his body, ebbing away as if never there. The cubicle door opened, Heimlich standing there, a satisfied grin on his face, surveying his fresh, whole and entirely unmarked body.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Brian nodded, confused and at once relieved to be out of pain.

  “Better. Now let me out of here, I want to go home. I’ve had enough for one day. Enough for a lifetime.”

  “Not yet,” Heimlich told him as Brian climbed from the healing cubicle and out into the room proper. “First, intro to Magic 101.”

  “No. I’ve told you, I’ve had enough. Home and bed. Might rustle myself up some beans on toast if my bread’s not gone mouldy. Knowing my luck, I don’t hold out much hope.”

  Strangely, Heimlich didn’t protest, instead stepping aside and sweeping his arm for Brian to pass, a strange glint in his eye. Brian stared at him suspiciously, before striding past, out of the healing chamber door, into the anteroom beyond with its two chairs, Heimlich strolling slowly, casually behind him. The door up ahead that led to the Scrying Chamber and Brian stormed towards it with purpose in his steps. He flung it open and stepped out, the door closing behind him. He stood. And blinked. And groaned.

  He was back in the anteroom, Heimlich standing before him, smiling.

  “No, no, don’t do this. C’mon. It’s not fair,” Brian sighed.

  Once more, just for luck, he barged his way past the Master of Magic, all but sprinting towards the door for a second time. He opened it, not going through this time; there, standing before him, Heimlich in the anteroom. He turned back to look behind him. The same view awaited him that way too. Deflating, all hope seeping out like air from a balloon, he closed the door.

  “Fine. Let’s just get on with it.”

  “Good man, I knew I could count on you to see sense. Please,” Heimlich said, gesturing towards one of the chair. “Take a seat.”

  Brian did as he was told, all he ever did these days, or so it seemed, slumping down into the chair with a huff and a puff of indignation. His body felt refreshed following the magical shower, but his mind creaked, its cogs gunked up by the confusion and fear of the day. Heimlich took a seat before him, steepling his fingers in front of his face and regarding him with curious eyes, eyes that flickered mysteriously with the light of the fire behind Brian.

  “Alright, Morpheus,” Brian asked him. “What now? And if you offer me any pills, just be aware that I’ll probably take them. I’m looking for any way out at this point.”

  Heimlich laughed and slouched back into his chair, crossing his legs.

  “You’re a strange one,” he mused, still smiling slightly.

  “Tell me something I don’t know. Everyone here stares at me like I’ve got two heads.�
�

  “That’s because you’re an enigma, Brian.” Brian started at the sound of his own name, but why? He suddenly realised; it was the first time anyone here had called him by his real name, not Helsing, not Number Thirteen. His interest suddenly piqued, he listened somewhat more intently now. “The ring usually chooses warriors, men of strength, courage, intelligence,” Heimlich continued. “And yet when Helsing XII passed away… it chose you. Why, I wonder?”

  “Well, isn’t it obvious?” Brian told him. “Neil should have been in that car on that test-drive, not me. He offered to let me take Cassandra out, to get in my boss’ good graces, for all the good that did me.”

  “Indeed, that’s how it would first appear, yes. A mere fluke of circumstance, an accidental skein in the tapestry of fate. And yet…”

  “And yet?” Brian asked, eyebrows raised, for surely the obvious answer had been the right one? And yet Heimlich didn’t seem convinced.

  “For all your friend’s qualities, his obvious lack of fear, his curiosity, his physical fitness, I don’t think he was the ring’s intended target.”

  “What? Why? I mean, he’s perfect for the job. And I’m me.”

  “At first glance, yes. But I see with more than just my eyes, lad. I see with the spirits, with the powers of the elements themselves. Even now I can see into that confusing mess you call a mind. And I saw into Neil’s too.” He drew slightly closer, staring at Brian intently, the very act making Brian squirm as though he were a bug being studied under a microscope. “I don’t believe Neil would have survived the encounter with Cassandra. He’s too masculine, if anything, too led by his crotch, by his testosterone. Too… normal. Not like you. No offence intended. He’d have succumbed to her charms in short order and died before XII could have even arrived to rescue him. And yet you, Brian… you survived where even he would not have done. Why?”

  Brian shrugged.

  “Sheer, pants-wetting terror?” he ventured. “She scared me. She was sexy, god yes, more so than any woman I’ve ever met. But too hot, if anything. Too confident. And the way she came onto me – me, of all people! – just confused the hell out of me. Set my spidey-senses tingling.”