by Allan Burd
I kick aside the body of a sheep and repulse. “Jeez, this place is revolting. Cooper, can you see anything with that night vision of yours?”
“Not yet. But Padre is correct. The stench is fading fast. It’s still darn repulsive but bearable, and the smell of death usually lingers longer.” Cooper steps further into the room. He pushes aside a skeleton which rolls off a pile, hits the floor, and crumbles to dust.
“There is definitely something supernatural going on in here,” says Miguel, his arms wide, as if he’s feeling the room’s aura. “There,” he says, pointing to the room’s center.
Cooper squints in that direction. “There’s a wooden box beneath that pile of bodies. I think it’s a coffin.”
I walk over with my flashlight. Miguel follows and gives me a hand moving away the carcasses atop it, which decay further at our touch.
“Given the moisture in the air and the fact that I’m guessing this room has been locked for at least 70 years, this coffin appears to be in remarkably good condition,” I say.
Cooper gets a firm furry grip on the lid. “There better not be a vampire in here. I hate vampires.”
With a powerful yank, he rips the lid free. The strong-looking wood snaps apart like a brittle branch. Cooper’s super strong, but still the wood shouldn’t have broken apart like that. We look inside the coffin. Laying horizontal across the cushioned lining is a skeletal corpse dressed in garments from a long gone era.
“Any thoughts?” I ask.
“Perhaps the sudden rush of air. Perhaps something more,” Miguel replies. His fingers caress the fabric, which flakes off onto his fingertips. He examines the skull and other parts of the bony remains. “The garb he’s wearing is Dutch. My educated guess places the man about the turn of the century.”
“Sixteen years ago. Looks older. Smells older,” says Cooper.
“The turn of last century, genius,” I correct him.
“Late eighteen hundreds, early nineteenth,” says Miguel.
Cooper nods, reaches in, rips off his skull. “Can I keep this?”
“Was that necessary?” asks Miguel.
“Not like he needs it,” answers Cooper. “And I think I deserve something of a trophy for coming along on this adventure.”
Miguel sighs.
Cooper stares at the head. “Bet he was quite the charmer,” Cooper says. “Think about it. There has to be a reason the ghost of Frankenstein kept him down here. Might even be the skull of Doctor Frankenstein himself. Maybe it’s his original body.”
“No, the German authorities claimed his body. This is someone else,” says Miguel.
“Well, this head has to belong to someone important,” says Cooper.
Miguel and I slide our hands inside the dead guys’ vest. Miguel pulls out something tightly wrapped in cloth. His success hastens my search. I start patting everywhere. On the underside of a cracked rib cage I find a sack that feels like it’s filled with rocks. I pull it free. The material is well preserved compared to the other decay occurring around us.
Miguel unwraps the cloth. Within is a dagger with an uneven amount of wear. The blade is yellow in spots and shows signs of rust. However, the grip contains a stone and appears to have aged remarkably well. Perhaps that is due to the specific way it was preserved or a byproduct of whatever supernatural force is at work in this room.
Miguel holds the dagger out, displays the letters A, V, & H engraved on the handle. “I believe I know who it is we are looking at.”
I untie the string and open the sack. Inside are a bunch of stones, similar in shape to the one embedded in the hilt of the blade. I plop one into my hand. Other than an odd marking on it, it’s a dull gray rock. I grab another, which unusually is the exact same size as the other. However, it has slightly different markings on it.
“These look unexciting. The big guy better not have sent me all this way for these. A handful of slate—” without warning, the two rocks I’m holding begin to glow. Red at first, then the color cycles through the rainbow.
“I believe I know what those are too,” asserts Miguel. “If the legends are to be believed, you hold in your hands ancient objects of considerable power.”
“Pet rocks?!?” I say.
“They are rumored to be much more and even the few who whisper about them never believed they truly existed,” says Miguel. “Those are the reason we were sent here. Of that I am sure.”
“Any idea what they do?” I ask.
“All I know is they are extremely dangerous,” says Miguel. “But considering who was in possession of these before us, I am also certain that you were meant to find them.”
“You know who this was?”
Miguel tosses me the dagger. I deftly pluck it out of the air by the handle.
“There’s another stone embedded in the handle. That too is yours, Silas. As for the skull you hold, Cooper, it belongs to someone even more famous than the infamous Doctor Frankenstein. It belongs to a man greater, more heroic.”
“Come on, Padre. Who’s better than Frankenstein?” asks Cooper, glaring curiously at the skull in his hand.
I study the hilt, staring at the Old English letters A – V – H, when the answer hits me like a brick to the head. “Holy shit,” I whisper.
“Yes. I suspect the greatest monster hunter of yesterday has just met the greatest monster hunter of today. I also suspect that these objects were part of the repertoire he used to fight evil. It appears God has found you worthy enough to send you on a quest so that his inheritance has now passed on to you.”
“Okay, you guys are annoying me. Are you ready to share?” says Cooper. “Who’s messed up mug am I holding in my paws?”
“The greatest monster hunter of the nineteenth century. The man who slew Dracula. The one and only Abraham Van Helsing.”
Chapter 24
Satisfied we got what we came for, we exit the castle through the main door and head toward the barrier. At least, we try.
“We seem to have forgotten the gates are locked,” says Miguel, staring at the heavy iron portcullis that blocks our way.
Cooper, to no avail, shakes the bars. “Would’ve been nice if Kiltrace had an extra key for this gate.”
“I have plenty of unused C-4,” I say. “Unless you feel like making our way up and then back down and out through those murder holes?”
Miguel looks up at the high structure, looks back at me. “Putting it mildly… I’m kind of tired.”
With Miguel’s tacit approval, I remove a sizable amount of explosive from my backpack and, with some helpful boosts from Cooper, strategically place it around the edges where the less sturdy stone bricks hold the gate in place. I set the detonators, ignite them, and we all hide around a corner knowing that climbing down through the machicolations would’ve been quicker and easier. Many loud pops later, the gate falls away from us into the leaves with an anti-climatic plop.
“Yup, it wouldn’t be a Silas Hill adventure without you blowing something up,” says Cooper.
“Tell that to the gargoyle and the mountainside,” I reply.
“Yeah, yeah. So now that we made it through this gate, any idea how we’re going to make it through the barrier,” says Cooper, as we venture back into the forest.
“Don’t worry. This is the part of the story where the magical wall dissolves and Baecker’s men gaze upon us in awe as they race in to clean up,” I say. “By the way, Miguel… when Victor and I were sparring as ghosts, you couldn’t see us. How did you know to shoot the knife out of his hand at just that moment, another godly intervention?”
“Nothing of the sort. I saw the floating knife and discerned from its shaky downward movement that a struggle was taking place. I figured that your opponent would be physically stronger than you, no offense. Additionally, your fighting abilities are far too eloquent for you to ever simply attempt to pin your opponent down and stab him through the chest. I reasoned you might be in need of some assistance and since I couldn’t see the ghost, I shot
the knife.”
“Good call,” I say.
We reach the perimeter. I move my hand forward and it collides with an invisible barricade of solid air.
“Magically dissolves, huh. Miguel is always awesome. You… not always,” says Cooper.
“Wait for it,” I state confidently. Ten minutes later I’m pounding on the magical membrane like a crazed mental patient in a rubber room.
“Obviously, they cannot see us,” says Miguel.
“They can’t hear us, either. But nice job keeping your cool,” says Cooper.
“Easy for you to say. I really have to go to the bathroom. Not number one, either.”
“I’m sure there’s a bathroom back there in the castle,” says Cooper.
“I am not going back there. Ever.” I scowl and pound on the barrier and scream for another two minutes. “Shit.” I give up the fruitless task, grab a handful of leaves, and walk off behind a bush leaving Cooper rolling on the ground laughing. I could have sworn I even saw Miguel’s lip curl a bit.
An hour later, we’re still sitting there with our thumbs up our asses. I ask Miguel if he has any brilliant ideas and all I get back is a ‘have faith’. At the two hour mark, I follow Cooper’s lead and lie down for a nap. A combat boot nudges me awake.
“I told you he was still alive,” Cooper says to Baecker. “Dead men don’t drool while they sleep.”
Baecker extends his hand, lifts me to my feet. “About time,” I say to him.
“The spell took two days to construct,” says a seductive female voice emerging from a shadow. “You should be grateful we were able to deconstruct it in only six hours.” It’s Eliza, approaching with unparalleled grace and beauty.
“Wow,” says Cooper, admiring her loveliness.
“Don’t howl,” I say to him.
“I might,” responds Cooper.
She touches Cooper’s face and shape-shifts into the female form of a surprisingly beautiful wolf, rendering Cooper speechless even though his mouth is wide open. Then she shape-shifts back to Eliza.
“Our mission was a resounding success,” says Miguel.
“So the runes have informed me,” Eliza replies.
“Is this really over?” asks Baecker.
“Safeguarding this location is no longer necessary. Your responsibility here ends. The Mysticals thank you for your patience and your dedicated service.”
“Wait… did you say Mysticals? Ms. Tickles” I emphasize, figuring it out. “Oh, boy! I’m an idiot”
Eliza giggles. “The business card presented to you was blank, imbued only with a summoning spell. The card reads your mind and tells you what it needs to for you to come to the desired location. You have a pure soul, Silas. Your mind, however, is quite dirty.”
“What can I say? I have a penchant for the incredibly attractive. Are you going to take this thing out of my chest now?”
“Yes, and there is much for us to discuss as well. I need you to come with me. Alone.”
“I could work with that,” I say.
She waves her arms in a continual circular motion. Then she pulls a bone from a pocket I didn’t know she had and drops it on the ground in front of her. The wind kicks into an eddy where the bone lay. The swirling air around it becomes menacingly dark.
“Come, dear Silas. We have important matters. We must depart.”
I turn to Miguel and Cooper. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find my way home.”
“I bet you will,” says Cooper, shaking my hand, pulling me in close, and patting my back.
“I will see you soon, my friend,” says Miguel.
“Godspeed and Veil Gluck, Mein Freund,” says Baecker.
I walk into the circle. Eliza drops a feather on the ground and we’re gone.
Chapter 25
We’re back in the same house we were in before, but somehow I surmise we’re not in the same location.
“You are very perceptive,” says Eliza.
“You reading my mind again?”
“I’m scanning your emotional state and getting a brief mental picture of what you currently see in your mind’s eye.”
“You know, I’m thinking this is the part of the story where the guy who saves the world gets the girl.” I place a mental picture of us in my mind that even makes me blush.
“So you say,” she says. She approaches me, kisses me gently. I feel excited. Then I feel woozy. “Oh, come on,” I say, as I pass out.
I wake up on the same table as before, though this time my wrists and ankle aren’t bound. The ancient lady is dangling her fingers over my chest, as the implant rises into her grip. She packs the device away in an onyx case. After that, she wiggles her fingers conjuring mystical light that caresses my flesh as she leans forward so her face is next to mine.
“I will make love to you if you like,” she says, showing me surprisingly perfect teeth for such an old broad.
I don’t even know how to answer. Thankfully, she cackles loudly and leaves the room, taking the onyx case with her.
“She’s an interesting woman,” I say.
“You have no idea,” muses Eliza.
“So… that thing, a soul catcher, huh?”
“We refer to it as a soul harness. It kept you tethered to our world. Without it, you would have drifted into the beyond and would not have been able to face Victor. Nor would you have been able to return to your body. It also allowed us to make love last time without me completely devouring your soul.”
“Nice to know it was real, though without it I gather a repeat of last night is off the table?”
“My making love to you was a necessity to see how long the harness could hold onto your soul before the currents to the afterworld proved too strong. The pull of death is a powerful force, similar in nature to the gravitational force which binds our physical bodies to this earth.”
“You could have mentioned that to me yesterday. It would have made my life easier. Well, my death. It definitely would’ve removed the heaviness of burden you placed upon Father Miguel as well. It unjustly caused him to seriously question his faith.”
“That was regrettable, but unavoidable. If either of you knew what to expect, it was more likely than not your apprehension over what you both needed to do would have resulted in your using the device prematurely. You could only die once within a given span and three minutes is an especially limited amount of time. Your ‘death’ had to occur the moment you encountered Doctor Frankenstein’s ghost and it required a situation where no hesitation would occur on either of your parts.”
“And as recompense for being placed in that untenable position, my reward is this bag of magical stones.”
“They are not stones. They are runes, each one instilled with a unique purpose or power.”
I reach into my clothes. The bag of stones is still with me. I pull one out.
“What does this one do?” I ask.
Eliza touches it and, for a second, purple light pulsates from it. She laughs.
“Is it talking to you?” I ask.
“It is communicating. That is how we knew your mission was completed and they were in your possession.”
I toss it up in the air. “Neat. How do I understand it?”
“You don’t. Their beats are indecipherable to someone unfamiliar with ancient dialects formed long before man. Providentially, you don’t need to comprehend them to use them. The one you are holding is the spirit rune. It would have proved useful, rendering most of our recent machinations unnecessary. When it is on your person, you, and anything you hold or control, can make contact with ghosts physically and verbally without you having to become one.”
“A ghost rune. Really?”
She nods. “That is only one of them. Within that bag there are runes of protection against the undead, runes that shield you from divergent types of magic and more. Others can bond with weapons to help you slay monsters you otherwise could not. Let me show you.”
We spend hours as she demonstrates what
most of them can do. Some are strictly defensive, others strictly offensive, some of them a bit of both. I’m in awe. With these I can fight and hunt evil I wouldn’t have had a lick of a chance against in the past.
“There are some limitations,” she says. “It is best not to carry more than three runes with you at the same time. They work on different magical frequencies, so if too many are used at once, they will interfere with each other with unpredictable results. Imagine too many networks vying for the same broadcast channel. I believe that to be Helsing’s undoing. Lamilla is crafting you an amulet that will allow you to carry three runes of your choosing at a time based upon what your situation requires.”
“Lamilla?” Ah, the ancient woman.
“She’s quite fond of you,” Eliza says.
I nod my appreciation and acceptance. “What about the runes you haven’t told me about?”
“Those were created for more sinister purposes. Some of them I am aware of. Some of them I am not. They are the runes that Van Helsing pledged to safeguard with his life. You have now been chosen to inherit that responsibility. You must know this. If any of them ever fall into the wrong hands, it could result in the end of all life on earth.”
“So these were why I needed to go to Burg Frankenstein?”
“Yes, Doctor Frankenstein, as ghastly as he became, was not the true motive for sealing the castle behind a magical membrane. The runes were. There is much more to Frankenstein’s story than people know. As you know, back in the 1800’s Victor Frankenstein became obsessed with bringing the dead back to life. But every experiment he tried had failed. In his frustration, he turned to the occult. He found a man who told him demons could help him accomplish what he alone could not. He became a student of ancient texts. He had a resonating chamber built within his residence and wisely mastered spells of containment to surrounded the arrival platform he had carved into the stone. However, his arrogance drove him to start by summoning the most powerful of all demons.”
“Balzuzu,” I say.
“Yes. Balzuzu promised Victor everything he wanted and more. He promised he would grant his recreations souls. All he needed to do in exchange was willingly sacrifice some of his blood to set Balzuzu free. Thankfully, Doctor Frankenstein was as perceptive as he was intelligent. Balzuzu terrified him, a being of horror beyond his anticipation. He knew Balzuzu would help him bring the dead to life, but only at the cost of destroying all life. Even Dr. Frankenstein was not that mad. He disrupted the spell, sending Balzuzu back from whence he came. But through this experience, he learned that consorting with demons was the correct path to take to achieve his goal. He just chose the wrong demon.