Van Helsing's Castle 2, page 1
Van Helsing's Castle 2
Virgil Knightley
Front Matter Stuff
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I don't really have a particular person to dedicate this to, so I'll dedicate it Bruce Campbell because I think he's groovy.
Copyright © [2023] by [Virgil Knightley]
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Father-Daughter Bonding
2. Quality Time
3. Into the Castle
4. Along Came a Spider
5. A Chat With a Castle
6. Cat and Dog
7. Emmy’s First Interlude
8. Sabina’s Massage
9. It Takes a Village
10. Date With a Demon
11. Interrogation
12. Respite
13. Turnabout is Foreplay
14. Risk
15. Atonement
16. Emmy’s Second Interlude
17. Touring the Village of Monsters
18. Chains of Salvation
19. Distress Call
20. In the Heart of Battle
21. What Happens Next
Back Matter Stuff
Chapter one
Father-Daughter Bonding
“Daddy?” Shelley said, her husky yet feminine voice piercing the night air.
Oof. “Yes, Shelley?” I replied, still unable to hide my irritation with the hypocorism she’d selected for me. True, I had enough experience with the BDSM community in my past life to not be scared off by such nicknames in normal contexts, but this was…different.
“I think I sense the village up ahead. The one Dusky and Vania spoke of.”
I didn’t bother to answer her, but I sensed it too. My jaw clenched with determination as I felt the rush of resolve steel my veins. The stink of rural air pervaded my senses, and though I couldn’t be sure, I thought I saw the crest of a dark castle peeking over a hill on the horizon. If so, we were definitely on the right path.
“Are you ready?” she asked. It was an innocuous enough question, but there was a hidden measure of caution in her words that surprised me.
I regarded her with an amused expression. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Why do I sense some anxiety in your tone?”
She shrugged, biting her lip. She was a beautifully weird mish-mash of monster parts, alive only because of the presence of an ancient fairy soul, and the tips and tricks Vania found in Frankenstein’s journal. It’s a long story. If you know, you know.
“It’s just, Vania mentioned that we may run into some monks of the Black Phoenix here,” she said, scratching at one of the stitches in her neck. “I—I wasn’t there last time, but I heard about what they did to you.”
“It wasn’t a ‘they’ situation,” I corrected her calmly. “It was a ‘she’. And she won’t be here, or so I’ve been told.”
I was referring, of course, to Emmy Van Helsing, the half-sister that I’d only known about for the last couple of weeks. Let’s just say our first meeting didn’t go particularly well. It wasn’t the sort of tearful reunion that long-separated siblings often enjoyed on daytime TV. Rather, she beat the ever-living fuck out of me and killed the monster girl that was the whole point of my mission. I still thought about it every day, actually several times a day.
“She almost killed you,” Shelley said grimly, her pretty face contorted at the second-hand memory. “Tasha told me about it at least a dozen times.”
I had to laugh at that. “We really need to get that girl a hobby, then. She only told you that because she likes getting you worked up.”
As we crowned the hill, we were treated to the sight of a blazing purple sky, with a setting red sun that cast a crimson–violet glow over the valley below. On one side of that valley was a mountain range directly off of our position, cardinally situated at our 2 o’clock. A murky stream bisected the valley. On the other side of the creek, further in the distance, were steep and rocky cliffs. The vegetation here was lush, largely composed of pines. Ahead of us, at our 12 o’clock, not all that far away, was a humble village and a far-less-humble obsidian-black castle.
“There,” I said, pointing at the obvious landmark. “That’s where we’re headed. That’s where the arachne queen is.”
“I hate spiders,” Shelley whimpered with a shiver.
I had to laugh at that. “You volunteered for this mission knowing exactly what we were doing.”
She nodded. “I’ve always said it’s important to face your fears.”
“Always, huh?” I teased her. “You’ve been alive for literally a week.”
“I think you’ll agree, I’ve got a lot of personality for my age!” she countered wryly, winking at me. “But in all seriousness, you know full well I possess some memories of the ancient fairy you used to make me, as well as some strange connections to my assorted body parts. I’m practically way older than you, in all reality.” She played with her massive breasts for a moment—one of my proudest selections for her. “I certainly don’t appear that much younger than you. Look at these things.”
I smirked at her. “I know.” I nodded down at the valley below, particularly at the village. “Well, let’s see if we can race the sunset and get there before it’s totally dark.”
“What’s the name of this town again?” Shelley asked, stretching her arms behind her head. I always worried she’d strain her stitches when she did that, but the woman liked to stretch. She was surprisingly flexible for being constructed out of pieces well past the label of rigor mortis.
I scowled as I recalled it. “Reapingwood,” I said. “Village of the Dead and Dying.”
I half-expected a fight when we strolled into town. I had a fairly fraught history with quaint medieval-looking hamlets. Dunhollow was a shit show, and then there was the cathedral town where I met Emmy. My shoulders tensed up instinctively, my hand hovering over the whip on my hip as we approached the settlement with measured caution.
We’d found a path once we descended the hill, and we made our way toward the village. For a village connected to such a malevolent-looking castle and with such a dark name, the people certainly seemed nice enough at first blush. There were no guards or gates, nor any sign of armed men patrolling. In fact, not a single person gave us more than a glance as we passed them, save for a warm smile and a curious look or two. I also had Vania’s glamor magic to thank for that, disguising us as people that could have come from this world.
Looking around, I spotted a tavern along the edge of the village closest to the castle gates. “There,” I muttered. “If people aren’t offended by our presence, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay tonight in an inn.”
“Whatever you want, Daddy,” said Shelley. “But I think at least one of us should keep awake at all times.”
“Agreed,” I replied gruffly, wiping a bit of sweat off my brow. “Good instincts.”
“Aww, Daddy’s proud of me,” she giggled.
We walked into the nameless tavern and glanced around at the decor. The place was surprisingly tidy for such a remote location. No dust on the furniture, no cobwebs in the corners, and the floor was swept clean of dirt and grime. The furnishings looked almost brand new, without a single crack or blemish in the wood. The owner stood, talking to another customer at a small bar in the back.
Shelley and I sat down at a table and waited. The owner came over a few minutes later. He was a bulky fellow, nearly as wide as he was tall. His thick gray beard looked like it hadn’t seen a razor in years, and what little hair he had left on his head matched.
“Welcome to Reapingwood,” he said with genuine-sounding cordiality. “Before I get some food in those bellies, might I ask if you’ll be stayin’ the night?”
“Yes,” I said, returning his warmth with a smile. “If you don’t mind my saying so, this town’s a heck of a lot friendlier than I anticipated from its name.”
The man guffawed. “Well, don’t judge us too quickly. We have a kind mistress, and she takes care of us all. What need do we have to be unwelcoming to travelers such as yourselves when we’re thriving as we are?”
I nodded, listening attentively to not just his words but the way he said them. He believed himself at least, of that I was sure. My enhanced senses were keen enough that I could pick up cues that mundane humans would miss. I could sense the quickening of someone’s pulse, sweat forming in unseen places, and more. I spotted tics in behavior that others wouldn’t notice, too. This man was as honest as a hard day’s work. But there was something else about him that seemed odd—beyond odd, really. His pulse was slowing in real-time. His body was drastically and rapidly losing heat.
“Are you alright?” I asked, but he returned me a perplexed expression. I tried to explain myself at once. “It’s just you’re losing a little color in your face.”
Suddenly those nerves I’d been looking for appeared. “Oh,” he mumbled. “Well, I suppose it is about…that time.”
“What time?” Shelley asked, crossing her legs.
“Well, how about I show you to your rooms then,” the man suggested out of nowhere. “I’ll deliver your dinner straight to you. How’s that sound?”
I nodded. “It sounds fine.” There was something going on here, though—that much was immediately obvious. I could see a similar look of suspicion growing on my beautiful monster girl’s face, too. Thankfully, she was wise enough not to call the fellow out. We both knew that forcing a confrontation had a number of fail-states attached that we wanted to avoid. Caution was likely the best course of action for now. I stood up, silently motioning for Shelley to do the same.
We followed the man to our intended room. It was a modest chamber, with a single bed and a small desk. There was only one window, and it was not large, but there was a pleasant little fireplace that the man offered to start for us. I let him do so as I plopped down on the chair in front of the desk. Shelley sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, waiting for the man to leave before she got comfortable.
“This place is pretty small,” she commented. The man shot her a somewhat wounded look.
“You’re so picky,” I laughed at her. “Forgive her, this is her first time away from home. She doesn’t know what to expect.”
“It’s alright,” the innkeeper smiled. “I’m Clifford, by the way. I’ll be—”
“I’m Nathan.” I interrupted his hasty attempt to leave us as the embers got going. With him already having half a foot out the door, I reached out for a handshake. I had a hunch I wanted to test.
Hesitantly, the man took my hand and shook it. His skin was cold, and there was no pulse. Just as I suspected.
“Sorry,” he grunted, smiling sheepishly and hastily pulling away. “Bad circulation.”
That isn’t the half of it, I commented inwardly. Being in an active romantic relationship with a vampire, I recognized the touch of undeath when I felt it. It was odd, though—before the sun had fully set, the man was living and breathing, with a heartbeat and warmth and all the faculties you expected of a living, breathing person. Now that it was dark? Undead as a ghoul.
I fought the urge to press him for information. I let him go, and he closed the door behind him, and I locked it. I turned to face Shelley and shrugged. “He’s undead.”
“I could’ve told you that,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “But what is he?”
“That’s the question. Well,” I clarified, “that’s one question. I’ve got about a dozen more.”
“Name a few,” she suggested, lying back on the bed. She looked lovely there, her body a colorful hodgepodge of lusty feminine parts sewn and stitched together to form something like the perfect woman. It was hard not to get distracted as she lay there, without a hint of modesty in her spread-eagle posture.
I cleared my throat. “Well, if he’s undead, does that mean everyone else is? And why was he still alive during the day? I’ve never known the undead to be as friendly as he was either—that opens a whole new can of worms.”
“Sabina would pout if she heard you say that, Daddy,” she said.
“Sabina would be the first to tell you she isn’t exactly lovable toward humans besides yours truly,” I replied, smirking at her playfully. I stripped off my jacket and draped it on the chair.
Shelley inhaled and exhaled a few quiet breaths before she patted a spot on the bed beside her. “Come here, Daddy,” she urged me pleadingly, batting her eyelashes like a spoiled housewife trying to have her way.
“We’re still waiting for our food, remember?” I reminded her, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t want to go from A to Z before we even reach B.”
The monster girl’s face took a bit of a journey as she decided whether she’d rather roll her eyes dramatically at me or pout. She went with pouting.
“In all seriousness,” I said, scooting the chair closer to her and seating myself cross-legged in it, “we should talk.”
“About what?” she asked, propping herself up slightly on her elbows.
“About you. It’s been a week—how are you doing? I’ll be honest, I was hesitant to take you on this mission, but I thought it’d be a good opportunity for us to get to know one another.”
She nodded slowly. “I see.” She chewed a bit on the inside of her cheek, her eyes lolling upward and rolling side to side as she pondered her answer. I smiled at the cuteness of her facial tics.
“Take your time,” I reassured her. “It’s only just after sunset, and we have at least a few hours to eat and chat before we have to go to bed.”
She let out a husky sigh, scratching her jawline as her eyes found their way back to me. “I may seem articulate enough, but I truly have no idea what the hell I’m doing,” she confessed. “I don’t know what’s going on most of the time. I have a vague impression of certain things—the castle, Vania, the other girls, and of course you. But my head feels so… empty.” She frowned. “That makes me sound so stupid. But I feel like I’m doing okay, you know? Like, I’m running on sense memory and instinct? Impressions left from past lives, maybe? I’ve got the maturity, emotional stability, and wisdom of a dozen lifetimes—but no true memories to call my own. It’s surreal.”
I nodded, considering every word. “None of that sounds unexpected,” I reassured her. “We’ll take it nice and slow with getting you acclimated to everything, don’t worry.”
She shook her head. “I don’t worry,” she replied, and her lips broke into a smile. “However confused I may be, I’m happy.”
I felt a little weight lift off my shoulders from hearing that. “I’m glad,” I told her. “That’s a relief.”
“I can tell you’re a good man,” she sighed, beaming at me.
I scoffed at that. “Well, I’m a good friend and confidant, I suppose. But—my moral compass isn’t what it could be, that’s for sure. I’ve done some stuff, Shelley. I’ve done things and then felt literally no remorse.”
“How does that make you feel?” she asked, blinking at me. There was no judgment in her eyes—only curiosity.
I exhaled a fraction of a laugh at that, shaking my head as I considered the psychiatric question. “Bad,” I confessed. “But that’s weird, too. Because—when I do something that I know is wrong, like kill someone or beat someone within an inch of their life, I feel nothing. But I feel guilty that I felt nothing about it.”
“Sounds like guilt by proxy,” she giggled. “At least you feel something.”
“Most of my life, that sort of detached sense of self-loathing was what defined me,” I went on. “But as I grew up, I learned to just embrace myself for who I was. I learned to control my impulses after I got out of jail. Managed to get a job at a gas station thanks to a friend. Worked there for most of my adult life.”
She smiled. “I have no idea what a gas station is, but I think I understand the concept of jail. Why were you there?” she asked, her voice lifting with curiosity as she slumped back against the pillow.
I leaned against the wooden back of the chair, uncrossing my legs and placing an elbow on the desk. “Gouged out a guy’s eye,” I told her. “He shoved my girlfriend at the time after they got into a shouting match. He was her roommate. It was a money thing.”
She grimaced at me. “Sounds intense.”
“It didn’t need to be,” I admitted. “I used to have the tendency to escalate things beyond what they should have been. Thanks to my buddy—the one who landed me the job—I figured out how to calculate the pros and cons of going ‘Hulk mode,’ as he liked to put it. That is, I started thinking before acting.”
“Hard-earned wisdom,” she noted, smiling warmly. “Why are you telling me all this? It seems really personal.”
“It is,” I agreed, but I was smiling back at her. “But I want you to see that it took me a hell of a long time to understand who I was and learn to live with myself. Having one friend in my life who was there at the right moment for me was enough to set me straight. I guess what I’m trying to say is—”
“You’re there for me?” she asked, her voice going soft. “Thank you, Daddy.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Hello, I’ve got your food,” said that familiar deep male voice. I stood up, still smiling at Shelley for a moment before I paced over to the door. I opened it up and expected to see the man there, but instead I saw two heaping plates of potatoes and steak on the floor. The owner of the inn had dashed away.
