Michael Belmont and the Heir of Van Helsing (The Adventures of Michael Belmont) (21 page)

She followed the example of the girl in the next bed and pulled the covers up over her head, wondering if Caleb had been able to find anything.
 
She stayed awake until morning hoping he’d come back to give her news, but he didn’t.

The next morning Michael and Abigail joined all the other children in the dining hall for breakfast.
 
Michael counted about fifty other kids as they all visited and ate their meal of oatmeal, sausage, and apples. Abigail was unusually quiet.
 
Michael knew that his sister probably hadn’t gotten any more sleep than he had, but she was usually grouchy when she was tired.
 
After a few minutes of sitting together in silence, she told him about everything that had happened the night before.

He was shocked and angry.
 
“Well, I’m glad you’re alright,” he told her.
 
“If fact, I’m really proud of you.
 
You didn’t fall for that sicko’s tricks.”

“I almost did.
 
It’s only because I remembered what he did to Elizabeth that I was able to fight him.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said with a sad smile.
 
“But I don’t know why this stuff keeps happening to me.
 
I’ve never tried to hurt anyone, why do these monsters keep trying to get
me
?”
 
Tears began to flow down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away.
 
“I still have nightmares, almost every night, about the werewolves attacking me.
 
That was almost a year ago, and now Mihnea’s coming after me too.
 
Why?
 
Why is he trying to get me?
 
I didn’t do anything.”

Michael didn’t know what to say.
 
He was raging inside, and was determined to make Mihnea pay for this.
 
First he’d taken Elizabeth, and then he and his mother were attacked, and now he was even trying to get at Abigail.
 
Mihnea was going to be sorry when Michael got ahold of him.

Some of the other children noticed Abigail sobbing, but it didn’t seem to surprise them.
 
Michael imagined that there was a fair share of crying in a place like this, after all, children weren’t sent here because things were going well in their lives.

“Look, you’re going to be alright.
 
We all are.
 
Besides, it sounds like Caleb really meant what he said about keeping an eye on things for us out there.
 
Hopefully Mihnea won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

Abigail nodded.
 
His words appeared to make her feel a little better.
 
“Do you think it was Mihnea who crashed the plane, or some of his people?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds like they’re going to do whatever they can to get what they want.
 
We need to stay strong until Mom and Dad and the MacDonalds turn up.
 
We’ve got a job to do.”

Abigail sighed and formed a determined look.
 
“Okay.
 
So where do we start?”

“Well, there are six or seven boys that fit Olaf’s profile.
 
Caleb said he was seventeen years old.”
 
Michael scanned the room and looked at each of the older boys in turn.
 
He had no idea what Olaf looked like.
 
“I don’t think we should risk spooking him until we know for sure who he is.
 
If we start asking around for him by name, he might get suspicious.”

“What about him?”
 
Abigail gestured toward a tall blonde boy sitting across from a group of giggling girls.
 
Another boy, slightly younger, was sitting beside him.
 
They were all carrying on and having a good time.

“I don’t know,” said Michael.
 
“Maybe.”
 
He kept scanning the room.
 
Another boy caught his eye.
 
He was of average height, a bit overweight, and wore glasses.
 
He didn’t look like the descendant of a world-renowned monster hunter, but looks could sometimes be deceiving.

Michael moved his eyes to the other end of the chubby boy’s table where another teen sat, but his eyes soon moved to the girl sitting across from him.
 
She was gorgeous.
 
She had long, curly black hair, brown eyes, and cherry red lips, and looked about fourteen or fifteen years old.
 
She glanced over and caught him staring, and Michael’s stomach seemed to do a back flip.

Abigail saw her brother gawking, and thought he was looking at the teenage boy.
 
“Do you think
that’s
him?”

“What?
 
Oh…uh, I don’t know, maybe.”
 
He looked back at the boy sitting on the other side of the table.
 
He had black hair too.
 
In fact, he shared several of the girl’s features.
 
This was most likely her brother, and he looked about the right age for Olaf.
 
“Yeah, I think that might be him.
 
That girl looks like his sister, and she’s about the right age too.”

“Should we go talk to them?” Abigail asked him.

“I guess so.
 
Just remember, we don’t want it to seem like we’re interrogating them.
 
They’ve had people chasing them all their lives.
 
And whatever you do, don’t mention the name Van Helsing.”

Abigail agreed, and the two of them got up and carried their trays over to where the others were sitting.

“Excuse me, are these seats taken?” Michael asked the girl.

She raised her eyes and looked him over suspiciously.
 
Without saying a word, she shook her head and turned back to her breakfast.
 
He sat down next to her and Abigail took the seat beside him.

“I’m Michael, and this is my sister, Abby.”

The girl and her brother looked at each of them, and then at each other.
 
“Yes, we know,” the boy told them in a English accent, which caught Michael a bit off guard.
 
“Your parents are missing, you two escaped from a crashing plane.”

Michael was shocked.
 
“How did you know that?”

“Word travels fast here,” he responded.

Michael wasn’t so sure about that.

“We usually give gifts to new kids when they arrive.”
 
The boy opened his hand, revealing a small crucifix on a silver chain.

“Thanks, but we already have our own,” said Michael, pulling down his shirt to show them the cross Dorothy Stoker had given him a few days before.

“What about you?” the boy asked Abigail.
 
She pulled out the cross hanging around her neck.
 
She then began to put it back, but remembering the night before, she decided to leave it on the outside of her shirt.

“So, what are your names?” Michael asked them.

The girl looked at her brother as if seeking approval, but he just looked down at his bowl and took another bite of oatmeal.

“My name is Magda Van den Berg, and this is my brother Olaf.”

Michael smiled at her in an attempt to look charming.
 
He wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off though, because Magda didn’t smile back.
 
“You’re from England?” he asked her.

“We grew up outside Sheffield, but our mother was Dutch.
 
We moved back here to her hometown just before she died.
 
That’s how we ended up in this orphanage.”

Olaf raised his eyes and gave his sister a disgusted look.
 
Then he rose to his feet, grabbed his tray, and stormed away.
 
Magda gave them an embarrassed glance and chased off after him.

“Well,” said Michael, “at least we know who they are now.
 
I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to convince them we’re friends though, much less confirm that they really are the Van Helsings.”

Abigail nodded and took a large bite of her apple.
 
She looked over Michael’s shoulder and began pointing.
 
“Mmmm, mmmmm,” she moaned.

Michael turned to take a look, and saw Ms. Voss coming toward them.
 
She wished them good morning and sat down next to Michael.
 
Abigail quickly swallowed down the apple, nearly choking.

“Have you heard any news about our parents?” Abigail asked her.

“I’m sorry, dear, they haven’t contacted us yet,” she said.
 
“But I was able to confirm that no bodies were found in the wreckage of the plane.
 
That’s a good sign, right?”
 
She gave them a cheery smile.

Michael took note of how much prettier Ms. Voss was in the morning than after being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.
 
He couldn’t help but smile back at her.
 
He was positive that his father and Mr. MacDonald had gotten off the plane okay, but what had happened to his mother and Liam?
 
Dorothy had taught them all about how to protect themselves from vampires.
 
She’d given them crosses, garlic, and holy water.
 
Caleb told them that silver was also a valuable weapon, and gave them all silver blades.
 
A silver blade wouldn’t kill a vampire unless it was plunged into the heart, he’d explained, but it did cause them a lot of pain.
 
Michael knew that his mother and Liam were aware of all these things, and they were prepared for a fight.
 
Remembering that made Michael feel a little better, but why hadn’t they turned up yet.
 
It wasn’t a good sign.

“Well, if you need anything, just let me or one of the teachers know,” Ms. Voss told them while standing to her feet.
 
“And keep your chins up.
 
Things are going to turn out okay.”
 
She smiled sweetly before walking away.

“She’s a sweet lady,” Abigail said, raising the apple to take another bite.

“Pretty too,” Michael said.

Abigail gave him a disgusted glare.
 
“You boys are all the same.
 
Can’t you think of anything else but how pretty a woman is.
 
What’s inside matters too, you know.”

“Oh, okay,” he huffed back.
 
“Tell me all about it Miss
has a crush on Caleb Boone
.”

She looked at him in shock.
 
For a moment Michael thought she was going to let him have it, but instead she returned to her apple, the color of which closely matched the redness of her face.

Two days came and went without any news of Michael’s parents or the MacDonalds.
 
Caleb had stopped by the day before to give them an update on his search.
 
He’d been unable to find anything, but promised to keep looking, and return each night to keep an eye on them.

Michael and Abigail had spent those two days trying to befriend the Van den Berg children, but they seemed pretty good at keeping to themselves and avoiding unnecessary contact with anyone and everyone.

It was a cold but beautiful morning, and the sky was threatening snow, but most of the children were in the playground behind the orphanage.
 
Michael saw some boys shooting hoops and decided to join them.
 
It felt good to exercise and forget his troubles, and besides, he hadn’t been able to practice his three point shot for a while.
 
They all played until the other boys decided to go back in and get a hot drink.
 
Michael decided to stay and keep practicing.
 
He hadn’t played nearly as well as he thought he should.
 
In fact, his performance had been a little embarrassing.

He moved out to the three-point line and took some shots.
 
He sank a few, but most bounced off the rim and he had to go chase the ball down.
 
He took one shot that missed completely.
 
It fell short of the hoop by at least six inches, bounced off the court, hit a rock, and rolled down the hillside into the forest below.

“Dang it,” Michael snapped at himself as he jogged after the ball.
 
He’d been just about ready to go inside and didn’t feel like chasing it.
 
It bounced off a couple of small trees and eventually came to a stop in a mound of leaves beneath a large alder tree.
 
He stooped to pick up the ball, and noticed a graveyard through the tree line.
 
He picked it up and hiked down to take a look.

Like many old graveyards, the place was beautiful and creepy.
 
The grounds weren’t particularly well kept, and dead weeds still cluttered the ground from the summer before, but some of the individual grave sights looked more lovingly cared for.
 
As Michael walked through the tombstones, he brushed away ice and crusted snow to examine the names and dates, wondering what kind of people were buried below.
 
Some of the inscriptions were hundreds of years old, and many were worn away so that it was impossible to read them.

He came to an intricate grave marker with the life-sized statue of an angel, which was a little bit taller than him.
 
She had a beautiful, gentle face and long flowing hair, and one of her wings had broken and fallen away about halfway down.
 
She reminded him of his mother somehow.

“I guess even angels can get broken,” he told her, looking up into her hard, marble eyes.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.
 
It’s not safe.”