and looked at the massive door. She worried about how she would get it open, but Aelfraed had done it without too much effort during the funeral, so she figured she could. Grasping the giant iron ring in the center of the granite slab with both hands, she dug in her feet, leaned back, and started walking backwards. It was more difficult than she hoped it would be, but easier than she expected, and it made no noise. In moments she had opened the door wide enough to slip inside, and Mr. Mistoffelees followed.
She lit the lighter and saw the kerosene lamps set up in their niches. She lit them and went up to the sarcophagus. She was relived to see it was still in place. In her anxiety she had imagined Mandy might have removed it since the funeral, but that was impossible; it was anchored to the floor. She examined the padlock that secured the chains. Her first impression seemed correct: it was quite well rusted.
It should come loose with only a little effort. She pulled on it, yanking it down as hard as she could manage, but it didn't open. She repeated that effort several more times, growing more frustrated with each try, but the lock refused to come open. In anger she slammed it against the sarcophagus repeatedly, finally throwing it down as she shrieked in rage.
She stood staring at the lock, panting from the exertion, her throbbing arm beating in her brain, adding to her fury. The rust must have fused the parts. To come so close, only to be balked by a stubborn piece of antiquated hardware. It was intolerable!
"Bloody hell!"
It was hopeless, and she felt the anger drain out of her, leaving despair. She turned around and leaned against the stone coffin, then slowly collapsed to the ground. She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, gently rocking back and forth. She didn't want to die; worse, she didn't want to let down her father. He had such hopes for her, in the grand tradition of her great family.
Well, here I am, the last of the Van Helsings, a failure. Not only will my family become extinct, but Britain will now be vulnerable to Her enemies, all thanks to me. I'm useless, worthless, and apparently rejected by God. Maybe I don't deserve to live.
Unable to bear the anguish any longer, she buried her face in her knees and wept. Mr. Mistoffelees yowled in a mournful manner as he rubbed himself against her legs.
How long she sat there, she couldn't say. There was no clock, she didn't have a watch, and in her state she had no sense of passing time. After awhile, however, she raised her head and stifled her sobs. It was only a matter of time before Mandy found her. She thought about leaving, but realized she had nowhere else to go.
All I can do now is try to hide, and this is as good a place as any; possibly better than most.
She looked around, but she couldn't see any place she could fit into, except the sarcophagus. She did, however, notice a number of chunks of granite littering the floor, one in reach. She had seen them during the funeral, but hadn't paid them any attention. Looking up, she spotted the places from where they had fallen. The mausoleum was almost 900 years if not older, so small wonder bits and pieces of it were breaking off. She picked up the chunk closest to her. The edges were crumbling, but the core felt solid, and heavy.
Her heart raced with excitement as she realized the implication. Glancing up at the lock, she dared hope that the rock could break it open.
It has to work!
She jumped to her feet as the cat jumped up on the lid. She gripped the granite nodule in both hands, raised it over her head, and smashed it down on the lock. The infuriating device stubbornly held firm. She felt anger well up inside her, but she channeled it into her resolve to break the lock or die trying. She pounded on it harder and harder, letting her anger enhance her strength, but it defiantly refused to break. She imagined it was laughing at her, and in a final show of determination, she slammed the lock between the sarcophagus and the chunk as she scream like a furious banshee. The nodule split and broke, coming apart in both hands. She threw the pieces away with a shriek of rage, but when she focused on the lock, she laughed with hysterical joy: it hung open from the chains.
She shouted the release of her tension as she slipped the padlock off the links and tossed it aside, while Mr. Mistoffelees meowed in triumph and jumped down. She threw the chains off the lid in an excited manner, but then sobered as she thought how heavy it must be. Yet when she pushed up on it, it swung open easily, as if counterweighted. Eager to see what it contained, she looked inside, wildly anticipating the legacy her father told her about, but whatever it was, it was shrouded in a shadow too dark for her to discern. She lit her lighter and held it up above the sarcophagus. At first all she saw was dusty black cloth deteriorating from mildew and dry rot, but when she move her hand towards the top, she caught sight of a face: shrunken, desiccated, and wrinkled.
It was a long-dead corpse.
She recoiled with a sharp cry of startled fear, extinguishing the flame, but the shock passed quickly, and she edged back and peered hesitantly inside, lighting the lighter again. It was an extremely tall, thin, emaciated man, who looked as if he had starved to death. He was covered in a long coat, with only the lower half of his trousered, booted legs sticking out. His block-shaped head was framed by a tangled mass of long, ropey, snow-white hair, and his face was dominated by a domed forehead, prominent cheekbones, and square jaw that terminated in a blunt chin. A thick, snow-white moustache ran perpendicular under his Alexandrian nose straight across into either cheek, and there was a tiny tuft of beard just under his lower lip. His eyes were closed, but his mouth hung open, as if anticipating, or begging for, a morsel of food. Curious, she reached out and touched his skin. It felt like hardened leather.
She drew back her hand and stepped away from the stone coffin as she extinguished the lighter, feeling confused and betrayed.
This can't be the legacy Father told me about! How could this dried-out husk be my promised knight champion?!
It made no sense. She loved her father; she wanted to believe what he said was true, but how could she be sure he was even lucid when he said it?
What if this is just some sick joke, inspired by delirium? Whatever the truth, it's over; my last chance for survival is gone. There's no champion, no protector, no weapon, no shield; no hope. Mandy will win, when she finds me; in fact, she's already won. I'm as good as dead; I just don't know enough to give up.
A sharp pain in her arm brought her back to reality. She looked at her wound, and saw fresh blood welling up through the fabric of the makeshift bandage. She realized her exertions must have torn it open. The blood was even beginning to drip from the saturated linen. The sight of it made her angry.
I may be a walking dead girl, but I'm not going to make it easy for her either! If she wants me badly enough, she'll have to work for it!
Differel hurried over to the mausoleum door, took hold of the iron ring on the inside, and pulled it closed. She extinguished all the lamps, then lit the lighter and went back to the sarcophagus. Extinguishing the flame, she pulled herself up and crawled inside. When she heard an unexpected meow, she lit the lighter again and looked down. Mr. Mistoffelees stood on his hind legs, his front paws braced against the side of the sarcophagus, giving her an intent look.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shut you in! No, you stay down. You've been a good friend, but you'd better forget about me. Stay free. I'll miss you." The cat dropped back to a sitting position and watched her with his green eyes.
She extinguished the light and placed it in her pocket, then reached up and pulled down the lid. It closed as easily as it had opened. She laid herself on the corpse's chest, placing her head beside its own, and draped her wounded arm over its face.
I might as well get comfortable, being as this is likely to be my home for eternity.
The inside smelled musty, but curiously not foul or rotten, so she did not fear contamination, though she doubted she would live long enough to be harmed in any event.
"My apologies for intruding," she whispered in the corpse's ear, "but I have no choice. You don't object to my sharing yo
ur resting place, do you?" It made no reply, not that she expected one.
"Thank you, you're most generous. Perhaps I can repay your kindness in turn."
She lapsed into silence. It was ridiculous talking to a dead body as if it could hear and understand her.
But, what harm does it do?
She sighed. "My birthday was last month; I turned twelve. On that night I wished I was a princess from a fairytale. I should have wished I would live to be thirteen. The stars are already out, I saw them as I came here. It may be too late, but if you don't mind, I would like to make one more wish. Being dead, you are the safest person to tell it to. I wish...I wish you were a knight champion. I wish you would come back to life and kill Mandy."
Once again, the corpse made no sound, and nothing changed. "I'm sorry, I must sound like an awful git. I'll just be quiet now and let you rest." She closed her eyes, even though she could see nothing, and she hope for a pleasant dream before the end.
Aelfraed stepped out of the tent and looked over the bivouac. Despite the number of lights set up, there were still areas of pitch darkness too black to see into, so it was hard to get a clear picture of what was going on. There was a fair amount of activity, and he could hear helicopters flying around overhead, but when the army arrived, he and the rest of the staff had pretty much been shut out of the planning sessions to retake the estate, except for whatever reports the commander of the manor troops was allowed to give them.
Once the entire staff had been evacuated from the house, the troops escorted them off the estate grounds and pulled back to a staging area ten miles up the military road. It was only then that anyone realized Differel was missing. LCpl. Giles Holt had been the last one to see her, and he reported she had ordered him to join the evacuation when Miranda and the house security guards had shown up to take her to the shelter. Aelfraed had then checked his mobile telephone and saw the alert from the emergency call button in the office. He had realized at that moment that something had gone wrong, but when he reported to the troop commander, he was told they were in constant contact with Miranda, and she and her security contingent were conducting a search, but under no circumstances should anyone return; the estate was still crawling with monsters. That had raised his suspicions immediately: how could a Baker's dozen armed only with submachine guns hold off scores of paranormal creatures that had overrun a platoon of soldiers armed with assault rifles and heavy machine guns? But the commander maintained he had his orders, both from Miranda and the Adjutant-General to the Armed Forces: wait for reinforcements and the all clear. And while Aelfraed did not take his orders from them, he could do little without the commander's cooperation.
Helena appeared around the corner of the tent, carrying two cups of coffee. She handed him one as she stood beside him.
"How is everyone doing?" he asked.
"Anxious. They don't like being kept in the dark."
"Neither do I."
"There has got to be something we can do."
"Not as long as the army is in charge."
"Oh, bugger the army! That's never stopped you before."
He smiled at her reaction. She had always been more earthy. "True, but under the circumstances I have few options."
She took a sip before speaking again. "There has been talk among the younger staff members, abetted by a few older ones, of sneaking back into the estate and conducting their own search."
He shook his head and gave her a pointed stare. He had no doubt she was one of those 'older ones'. "That would not be advisable. We have no idea what the state of the situation is. They could walk into their deaths."
She gave him a skeptical look. "There's something very odd about this whole operation."
"Indeed?"
She turned to face him. "Whatever they were, those creatures hit us hard and fast, and drove us out before we could mount a proper defense. Don't you think it strange that they didn't kill anyone?"
He smiled. "Very much so."
"Also, I can't believe those security wankers can succeed where the troops failed."
The security contingent had become rather unpopular over the last couple of years. "I had the same doubt myself."
"And how could they lose Differel once they had her? That would seem to be either incompetent or careless, and they don't strike me as being either."
"I couldn't agree more."
"Then what do you think is happening?"
"I think it is rather obvious, Dear Sister: a coup. The question is, by whom?"
"I know exactly by whom, Brother Mine: Lady Pendragon."
"Woman's intuition?"
"Common sense."
He nodded. "I tend to agree. Unfortunately, we have no proof, and without it, we cannot lift a finger to help Miss Differel."
"I don't need any proof; or rather, give me a pistol, and I'll get all the proof we need."
"Temper, Dear Sister, you'll set a bad example for our young mistress."
She laughed. "If she's anything like her mother, Brother Mine, it's already too late."
"Excuse me, Mr. Walters?"
Aelfraed and Helena turned around as Holt stepped out of the tent's shadow.
"I didn't want to startle you. Has there been any word?"
"No, Mr. Holt," Aelfraed replied, "nothing in the past three hours."
At the news, his expression turned so anguished that for a moment Aelfraed was afraid he would eat his rifle. "I should never have left her."
"You had no choice, she ordered you to go."
"I should have disobeyed. It was my responsibility to keep her safe; I failed."
"We still don't know what happened. You may not have been able to save her; you might have even gotten her or yourself killed."
"Or she might be safe with us now."
"Giles," Helena said, "we understand how you feel, Aelfraed and I. We blame ourselves as well. We were all caught between conflicting duties and responsibilities, and we may not have made the right choice. But that's in the past. We cannot change it, and self-recrimination is useless; worse, it's self-destructive. The best way we can help Differel now is ascertain what's become of her and rescue her if we can."
He flashed a knowing look. "What do you have in mind?"
Helena looked at Aelfraed, giving him an apologetic grin, and he smiled and nodded.
"Aelfraed and I were discussing the possibility of re-entering the estate to look for her."
He looked startled, but he also smiled with boyish glee. "I would like to help!"
"Wouldn't that be considered desertion?" Aelfraed asked.
"Sir Henry had me re-assigned to the house. My post is by Dame Differel's side. Any desertion would have occurred when I left it."
Aelfraed nodded. "We'll need a vehicle."
"I can secure that."
"What about the checkpoints and guard house?" Helena asked.
"From what I've learned," Holt replied, "they've been abandoned or are minimally staffed. We should have no trouble getting through."
"You can't just search blindly," she pressed. "Where do you plan to look?"
"She might be frightened," Holt said, "but she's an intelligent and level-headed child. I'm sure she would try to find somewhere to hole up and wait out the crisis."
"The motte-and-bailey?" Helena asked. "She's been spending a great deal of time there lately, especially since she thinks we don't know about it."
Aelfraed stiffened as an idea jolted him. "No, not the bailey; the mausoleum."
"Why there?" Holt asked.
"She asked questions about it during the funeral. She took particular interest in the old sarcophagus."
Helena's eyes grew wide. "You don't suppose --?"
"That day he spoke to her alone, just before he died, I believe Sir Henry encouraged her to open it if she ever felt her back was to the wall. He may have even told her what was in it."
"St. George have mercy!"
"I don't understand," Holt objected. "What are you talking about?"
Aelfraed dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "I'll explain on the way. For now, suffice to say I believe that is the best place to look for her."
Holt nodded. "Very well. Meet me on the road outside the camp in thirty minutes." And he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
"Do you believe the rumors are true?" Helena asked, a nervous quaver in voice.
"I don't know." Aelfraed felt icy tendrils of dread creep through his gut and along his nerves. "I sincerely hope not, even considering Differel's peril. But if they are, may God help her; nothing else can."
"Then I'm going with you, Brother Mine."
The calm strength returned to her voice helped to restore his own. "I expected no less, Dear Sister."
"What do you mean, you have not been able to find her?!" Mandy raged.
"We discovered a blood trail in the nursery, that led us to a secret stairwell," one of the male guards replied. "We followed it down to the ground floor, and found where she got out through the director's office. But we've made a complete search of the house and an extensive search of the manor grounds and the park within the circuit road, and there's just no sign of her."
"If she has gotten past you, I swear, I will fry the lot of you!"
"There's no indication she's tried to get through the gates, and there's no other way through the perimeter wall, except the river, and we've had that watched. Even if she did get through, we have men watching the roads, and she's not been picked up on any of the cameras. She's got to still be here, somewhere."
"We are running out of time! The members of the senior staff are getting suspicious. That cursed butler especially is asking too many questions. We have to find her now, before he takes unilateral action!"
"What can he do?" a female guard asked. "He's just a butler."
"You fool. There are only three people I would not want to fight in direct hand-to-hand combat, and he is one of them, even at his age."
"We've expanded our search," the male guard went on, "to the inside of the perimeter wall, concentrating on the motte-and-bailey and the churchyard, but it will take time! We're only a dozen people."
"You have until dawn! I cannot keep the staff from coming back any later than that. And your orders have changed: search and destroy!"
"Your Ladyship?!"
"You heard me! There is no longer enough time for an embryo to assimilate her, even if we had another. She cannot be allowed to tell anyone what we tried to do, so shoot to kill on sight. That is an order!"
"Yes, Baroness!"
"Excuse me," another female guard said as she approached.
"Yes? What is it?"
"One of the searchers thought he heard a noise down by the churchyard. When he went to investigate, he found the gate in the wall open."
"That could have happened at any time --" a male colleague began.
"No, that is it!" Mandy interrupted. "I should have realized this sooner. With nowhere else to go, she would have gone to the one place she could find comfort, her father's crypt. Recall your men at once! Have them assemble at the Norman church. We have her at last!"
"Yes, Baroness!" And they hurried off to carry out her orders.
Back to TOC
+++
A Friend's Sacrifice
"My god!"
Aelfraed had just finished explaining about the sarcophagus, and he couldn't blame Holt for his reaction.
The young marine drove the land rover he had commandeered, while Aelfraed rode in the back seat and held an LA85A2 assault rifle for him. Helena sat in the front passenger seat; she had taken a Parker Hale PDW submachine gun. For his part, he had a bandoleer slung over one shoulder bearing twenty Fairbairn-Sykes Fighting Knives. He felt far more comfortable having them than he did any firearm.
"You mean, it's all real?!" Holt continued.
"Every word," Helena said. "Stoker left some details out, but the rest are wholly accurate."
"I can't believe it!"
"It's the basis for the whole existence of the Order," Aelfraed explained. "Surely you don't discount that possibility, not after everything you've seen during your service."
"No, sir. Still, monsters are one thing, but this..." His voice trailed off into silence.
"All part of the Van Helsing legacy."
"We're coming up on the perimeter wall," Helena announced.
"Let's hope the gate is still open," Holt said. "The first checkpoint will be coming up on our left. If anyone tries to stop us, I'll just barrel on past. Once we're through the wall, the second will be on our right."
Helena cocked her gun. "Understood."
"Once we're past that, I'll take the inner circuit road around behind the churchyard. Hopefully, that way we can catch anyone prowling around by surprise."
"We're in your hands, Mr. Holt," Aelfraed said.
Aelfraed watched as the auxiliary guardhouse got closer, and fingered one of the daggers. Holt did not slow down, and they passed in an eye blink, but no shouts were raised or shots fired.
"Abandoned. Gate coming up," Holt said. They crossed the intersection with the outer circuit road and approached an opening in the armored concrete barrier. The perimeter wall had three entrances, one for each road in, and they were closed by armored doors built in layers of metal, ceramics, and depleted uranium.
"I'm going to risk the lights," Holt announced. He switched on the headlamps for a moment, and Aelfraed saw the doors stood open.
"Thank god," Holt said. He drove the vehicle through.
"There's the next checkpoint."
Aelfraed watched the guardhouse go past, and again they were not challenged or attacked.
"Also abandoned," Holt said. "I don't like it."
"Maybe they're all out searching," Helena suggested.
"No, they would maintain at least a skeletal force, to prevent what we're doing. If they've pulled out, they've either fled the estate or have found Dame Differel." He took the turn onto the inner circuit road with barely a drop in speed.
"Then we'd better hurry," Aelfraed said.
"Right." Holt floored the gas pedal and the land rover accelerated.
"Can Dame Differel really control it?" Holt asked once they reached maximum speed.
"According to the stories, she should be able to, yes," Aelfraed replied, "but I pray to God we don't have to find out."
"I second that," Helena added.
Differel realized she must have fallen asleep, when the lid being raised with a crash awakened her. Harsh light flooding the inside of the sarcophagus, and she heard the sound of gun bolts being drawn back.
"She's here; we've found her!" a male voice cried out, startling her to full wakefulness. The powerful flashlight beams blinded her and she shrank back, but multiple strong hands seized her, lifted her out of the stone coffin, and tossed her to the ground like a rag doll.
"My god!" she heard a female voice say in a fearful tone, "what the hell is that?"
"Just some wanker's corpse. Probably one of her ancestors, maybe even old Abraham himself."
"Enough. Keep your minds on your work."
Differel recognized that voice as Mandy's. She looked up, and found the woman standing over her, staring at her with an expression of pure hatred.
"On your feet, Niece. I had expected to find you cringing under your father's crypt, not cowering inside there, but perhaps it is just as well. We can put your body back inside once we have dealt with you. Give you some company in your eternal rest. It will be the closest you will come to having a man in your bed in any case."
Differel stood up. Behind Mandy and on either side of her stood four security guards with their submachine guns. She glanced behind herself, and saw two more standing in front of the sarcophagus. Six electric lamps had been set up around the chamber, shining their light upwards to reflect off the walls and ceiling. That reduced the intensity of the illumination, but it was still bright enough to see by.
Looking back at