Michael Belmont and the Heir of Van Helsing (The Adventures of Michael Belmont) (2 page)

He wiped Dracula’s blood from the sword before drawing it across his own forearm.
 
Mina winced.

“Not even a blow from the mightiest hammer has been able to scar these pillars.
 
I was however, lucky enough to discover how to seal the gateway and prevent anyone else from re-opening it.”
 
He smeared his own blood along the blade, and then sheathed the sword into a small hidden slot in the dragon’s right palm.
 
Pulling it all the way in to the hilt, he turned the hilt clockwise until he could turn no more.
 
The ethereal barrier between the pillars shimmered with a green flash of light and disappeared.
 
Mina looked to the wall and mural once more, seeing no strange effect.

Van Helsing pulled the sword from the throne and held it out for examination.
 
The blood he’d smeared across the blade was gone, and the steel glimmered as if it had just been polished.

Mina was drained.
 
She felt like she could lie down right there on the floor and sleep for days.
 
Van Helsing looked at her with kindness and sympathy.
 
He reached down and touched her cheek.

“My deepest apologies for this excursion, my dear.
 
But it
was
necessary, I assure you.”
 
He turned to Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward.
 
“There are still several matters that need my attention.
 
Perhaps the two of you would be kind enough to assist me, but first we must see to the body of Mr. Morris, and assure that our beloved Mina and her Jonathan are sent safely on their way back home.”

Mina smiled gratefully.
 
She placed her head on Jonathan’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
 
The nightmare was over.
 
Finally, it was over, and now she would be able to sleep and dream of good and lovely things once again.

The gravelly washboard road caused the car to shake violently, drawing Michael out of sleep.
 
He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
 
It was morning, which meant his father must have driven straight through the night.
 
The sunlight was gleaming in and out through the snow-covered trees, and it took him a moment to wrap his head around where they were.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” his father said while eyeing him in the rear view mirror.

Michael ignored him.

His parents hadn’t given him a lot of details about this trip.
 
All he knew was that they were returning to his mother’s childhood home to retrieve an old family heirloom.
 
They told him they would explain more about it when the time was right.
 
He hated it when grown-ups told him that.

“Are we almost there yet?” he asked them sleepily.

“Yes,” his mother answered.
 
“It’s just up this road.”
 
Michael thought she sounded unusually nervous, and that worried him a little.

He thought of his little sister Abigail, who had stayed home with their mother’s best friend Elizabeth.
 
Abby had an important kung fu demonstration coming up in a few days, and she’d been allowed to stay because her class had scheduled extra practices.
 
He and his parents would be returning home in time to see her perform, as this was only a three day trip.
 
Michael had looked forward to getting away from his sister for a few days, but now found himself missing her company.

Before long they came to the end of the road and pulled up to a decrepit house.
 
It looked like something out of an old horror movie.
 
Could his mother really have grown up in a place like this?
 
It was hard to imagine someone so beautiful and happy coming from a place that looked so ugly and sad.
 
Maybe this house had once been different, he thought to himself.
 
He couldn’t recall his mother ever speaking about her life as a child, and he couldn’t remember having ever asked her about it.
 
That made him feel a little guilty.

The car came to a stop in the driveway next to a rusty truck with a camper shell.

Mark looked at his wife with tenderness.
 
He could tell she was dreading the idea of going inside.
 
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in there and talk to him alone?”

“Are you kidding me?
 
You’d probably never come back out again.”
 
She scratched at her face nervously.
 
“Let’s just get this over with.”

His father looked back at him with an assuring smile.
 
“You stay here Mike, we’ll be back in just a few minutes.
 
Play your video games or something, okay?”

Michael forced a grin and nodded.

He watched his father and mother get out of the car and walk up to the house.
 
His mother knocked at the door.
 
Someone answered, but it was too dark inside to get a good look at whom it was.
 
After a moment, they both disappeared inside.

Michael stayed in the back seat and took a good look around.
 
The yard outside the house was just as run down as the house itself.
 
The whole place was overgrown with weeds, and old, rusty cars and auto parts were scattered everywhere.
 
A broken up washing machine sat on the porch near the front door, and the porch and ground were littered with beer cans and glass bottles.

The house looked like it hadn’t been painted for a hundred years.
 
The second story had two large windows that looked like eyes, and loose tiles on the roof occasionally flapped in the wind like strands of short, unkempt hair.
 
Everything about the place was drab and creepy.

Several minutes passed as Michael sat in the car and observed the scene around him.
 
Apart from the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, everything was quiet.
 
Perhaps turning on the radio would lighten his mood.
 
He leaned up over the front seat, but froze in place before reaching the knob.
 
Was someone yelling?
 
He sat back down and remained still.
 
There it was again.

Just as he fixed his eyes on the house and began rolling down his window to listen, a large, half emptied bottle of liquor came crashing out the window next to the front door.
 
Amber liquid splashed across the icy ground before it rolled to a halt a dozen feet from the car.
 
Michael was surprised it hadn’t broken.

There was silence for a few moments, and then the yelling resumed.
 
He couldn’t tell what was being said, and he didn’t recognize the voice, but a man was now screaming at the top of his lungs, and he sounded infuriated.

Michael didn’t know what to do.
 
He had a strong urge to jump out of the car and run to the aid of his parents, but his father had told him to stay put, and he didn’t want to make the situation worse.

He got out of the car and moved slowly toward the house, stopping at the porch near the broken window.
 
Listening intently, he watched the window in case anything else came flying out at him.

“YOU PUT ONE FINGER ON HER AND I’LL TAKE YOUR HEAD OFF,” he heard his father yell.

“YOU GOT WHAT YOU CAME FOR SO JUST GET OUT OF HERE.
 
DON’T EVER COME BACK, EITHER OF YOU.”

There was a great crashing sound, and then the front door burst open and his parents came rushing out.
 
His father’s head was down and his arms were folded over his chest.
 
His mother locked her eyes on his.

“MICHAEL, GET TO THE CAR, NOW,” she screamed at him.
 
She’d never spoken to him quite like that before, and it scared him.

He ran up ahead of them and jumped in the back seat, but they weren’t far behind.
 
His mother pushed his dad into the passenger seat, slammed the door, and then ran around and got behind the wheel.
 
She started the car and shot back in reverse, crashing into the frame of an old Buick, and then threw the shifter back into drive and tore out of the driveway as if the devil himself were chasing her.

Michael looked up at his mother and saw that tears were streaming down her face.

“You should have just let me shoot the old—”

“Be QUIET,” she snapped at him.
 
“Open up your shirt and let me take a look at you.”
 

“I’ll be fine, just keep driving.”

“NOW!” she screamed back.

“We got what we came for,” he said calmly while unbuttoning his shirt.
 
Michael scooted over to get a look, and saw that his father was covered in blood.
 
Four large claw marks were etched across his chest.

They rocketed back onto the paved highway and drove for a few minutes before his mother found a safe spot and pulled over.
 
The car skidded to a halt and she put the shifter into park, and then leaned over to take a good look at her wounded husband.

“My God, Mark, we need to get you to a hospital.”

“Just stay calm.
 
I’m going to be fine.
 
Michael, get the first aid kit out of the trunk.”

He was about to open the door when he heard the tires screech again and felt gravity pin him back into his seat.

“Don’t be ridiculous.
 
What are you going to do, put a band-aid on it?
 
I’m TAKING you to the hospital.”

“Fine, okay.
 
Just stay calm.
 
The roads are icy and getting us all killed in a car wreck isn’t going to help.”
 
He patted her on the leg.
 
“Look, the I-70 intersection is just up ahead, take us into Denver and get me to a hospital.”
 
This seemed to calm her a bit, but she continued to weep as they sped down the road.

Michael’s heart was pounding.
 
“Are you going to be alright, Dad?”

“I’ll be okay pal, don’t worry.
 
The cuts are long but they didn’t go deep enough to do any serious damage.
 
We just need to get them cleaned out so I don’t get an infection.”

“Who was that back there?
 
Who did you get in a fight with?”

Mark looked at his son and then back to his wife.
 
“That was your grandfather.”

“Grandfather?
 
I thought your dad was dead, Mom.”

She kept her eyes fixed on the road.
 
It took her a few moments to respond.
 
“I’m sorry I misled you,” she sobbed.
 
“It’s just that…well, he’s been dead to
me
for a long time now.
 
I never thought I’d have to see him again.
 
But this was just too important.
 
I had to come back.
 
I’m sorry you had to see all that.”
 
She sounded so miserable that he couldn’t feel anything but sympathy for her.

“It’s alright, Mom.
 
Are you going to be okay?”

She smiled at him in the rear view mirror.
 
Her eyes were puffy, and the tears continued to stream down her flushed cheeks.
 
“I’ll be fine.
 
I just need a little time.”

Michael smiled back at her, and rested his hand up on her shoulder.
 
The roar of the engine and the sobs of his mother filled his ears as they drove into Denver.

“ARMANDO,” screeched the old woman, “GET OUT HERE WITH YOUR FATHER’S RIFLE!”

Moments later, Armando shot out of the house like a rocket, the screen door snapping shut behind him.
 
“What is it now, Grandma?” he called to her, throwing up his hands in exasperation.
 
He simply could not get used to his grandmother reacting like this whenever she saw some unfamiliar form of wildlife, and his blood ran cold every time she started screaming like this.
 
He’d often complained to his mother that the neighbors were going to think someone in the family must have been getting murdered.

About six months earlier, Armando’s father, a police officer, had been killed in the line of duty.
 
Grandma Elena, his maternal grandmother, had moved from Los Angeles to be with her daughter’s family in Prescott, to support them and offer comfort.
 
For the most part, she did, unless some new creature that crept in from the forest behind the house was tormenting her.

“Calm down, Grandma,” he said, approaching her slowly.
 
“What’s the matter?”

“THERE, THERE IN THE TREE!
 
DON’T YOU SEE IT?”

Armando covered his ears.
 
“Grandma, pleeease stop screeching, you’re giving me a headache.”
 
He scanned the large ponderosa pine tree she was gaping at, and soon found her antagonizer.

“Hey, take a look at that.
 
It’s not much more than a baby.”

“What IS that THING?
 
A bobcat or something?”

“It’s a young mountain lion, a cougar,” Armando told her.
 
The cat looked down at them from a branch about fifteen feet off the ground.
 
Its brilliant blue eyes gazed back with curiosity.
 
“We see them around from time to time.”

A short, plump boy dressed as Spider-Man came waddling out of the house and ran up to join them.

“Francisco, get BACK!
 
That thing is DANGEROUS.”
 
Elena seized her grandson and pulled him in close, but not before he was able to get off a few shots of imaginary webbing.