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“Okay, okay, jeez,” I said as Oliver practically shoved me into his room. He slammed the door behind us, giving me a serious look.
“What I’m about to say to you, I need you to take it very seriously,” he said, gripping me by the shoulders. He gave a sigh of relief when I nodded, unable to think of anything to say.
“I’m being hunted.”
“Hunted?”
“By a vampire.”
I looked at my friend, half scared, half waiting for the inevitable 'psych!’ as he unveiled it was all just another joke. I’d never seen Oliver so serious in my life, so either he had really stepped up his acting, or he was having a psychotic break.
He pressed his lips together as he jerked the collar of his shirt to the side. There on his skin were two deep puncture marks, about a half inch in diameter each - not small by any means. Definitely not a spider bite, or a taser mark, or whatever else my brain tried to explain it away as.
“What the hell dude,” I said quietly, staring at the marks.
“I told you. Listen, I know it sounds insane, but I’m serious. I woke up a week ago with these, and every morning they’re bleeding again. The only time they weren’t was this morning.”
“Okay, so why not this morning?” I asked hesitantly, still vaguely hoping this was the setup to a horrible punchline.
Oliver moved over to the back of his door, moving a jacket hanging there to reveal a string of garlic cloves hanging underneath.
“You’re shitting me,” I said, almost laughing at the absurdity of it.
Oliver shook his head solemnly.
“Listen dude, I know it sounds insane but I had to try it and it worked, ” he insisted, a peculiar expression taking over his face. I couldn’t tell if I was more scared of what he was saying, or how he was saying it.
“Okay, so...you’re a vampire’s blood bag,” I said, “what now?”
Oliver licked his lips, looking hesitant as he stepped over to his laptop.
“I want your help. I found...a guy, online. And I think he could help, but I’m not about to go alone,” he said, his expression practically pleading as he looked back at me.
I stepped forward, squinting down at the page. It was a geocities-era website, like early html stuff, all tacky clip art and eye-burning colors.
In between two gifs of spinning books, in red comic sans on a black background, I read:
VAMPIRE HUNTER EXTRAORDINAIRE
Hunted by the undead? In need of an expert opinion?
Visit my store at the corner of 5th and 3rd for more information
- Home - Resources - Symptoms of being Hunted - Forums
I looked back up at Oliver, tilting my chin. “You can’t be serious.”
“Listen, let’s just go see him, okay?” Oliver asked, biting at a cuticle. “You know how weird professionals always have shitty websites like that. I figure it’s worth a shot, okay?”
“Sure, but how come you didn’t tell me earlier?” I asked, frowning.
“It sounds insane is why,” Oliver pointed out, grimacing. “I told you now because...I don’t know. It seemed like a bad idea to go alone.”
“Fair enough,” I said, shrugging. I still wasn’t sure I really believed all of this, but if all he was asking me to do was go see some crazy guy, then sure.
“Let’s go.”
-----
The storefront was surprisingly unassuming. I’m not sure what I really expected, but an antique bookshop wasn’t it. In fact, I must’ve passed by the store itself innumerable times already over the years - I recognized it and its fellow buildings, but I’d genuinely never given it a thought before now. It just blended into the scenery. The large display windows had been painted over in black, one reading in large decorative text “ANTIQUE BOOKS AND CURIOSITIES.” A sheet of printer paper was tacked to the door, listing hours of operation.
Oliver wiped his palms down his pants, standing outside the entrance with me.
“This is it,” he said.
“Yeah,” I agreed, and neither of us made a move for a solid few seconds.
Finally, I broke and stepped forward to yank the door open. It had felt like some portal into the strange and unknown as we had stood outside, but now I just felt silly. It was just a sleepy store, full of soft music and warm air. It did smell almost musty, but in the way a beloved local thrift shop does - certainly not whatever arcane dungeon I was expecting.
There were shelves filling most of the store, lit by an odd mix of cool fluorescents hung from the ceiling and warm little table lamps scattered about. An older man, maybe sixties, sat behind the counter that stood to the side of the door, obviously reading before I’d startled him.
“May I help you gentlemen?” he asked, and I tried to place the odd European accent. It was somewhere between Scandanavian and Nordic, and I really didn’t have enough of an ear for accents to figure out much more than that.
Oliver looked nervously to me, then back to the man when I gave a small gesture of encouragement. I wasn’t about to ask a stranger about vampires.
“Yeah - um, yes, we’re looking for...um, the owner of the vampire hunter website? It said this was their shop?” Oliver said, stumbling over his words. I was silently thankful that he had found a way to sidestep actually asking a grown man ‘ are you a vampire hunter?’ point-blank.
“And why might that be?” the man asked cautiously. I felt my pulse spike - was this dude about to call the cops on us? Was he used to crazies coming in here?
“We’re being...hunted. And we need help,” Oliver said finally, swallowing hard.
Since when was this a ‘we’ thing? It’s you being hunted, dude, I thought to myself.
The man gave a small smile, rising to his feet as he stuck out his hand.
“Then yes, I am the one you are looking for. Abe Helsing, at your service,” he said proudly.
“Helsing? As in van Helsing? ” I asked incredulously.
“It’s not my legal name if that’s what you’re asking,” he said, winking, “but it’s good advertising.”
It did serve as a pretty good dog whistle, I supposed. It was just a funny coincidence of a name, unless you were already convinced that it wasn’t.
“Can you help us or not?” Oliver demanded.
“Yes,” Helsing continued calmly, dipping his head. “Just follow me into my study, if you wouldn’t mind.” He gave a sweeping gesture towards the back, and we moved down a dark hallway into a tiny office. Like the rest of the store, it was crowded but cozy.
I sat down in one of the leather chairs facing the large varnished desk, but Oliver remained standing. Helsing moved past us with grace to sit behind the desk, folding his hands together as he turned to face me.
“So, you’re being fed upon?” he asked, arching a brow.
“Yes, I already told you that,” Oliver snapped. He started pacing, biting at his nails.
“Sorry,” I apologized, giving Ollie a disapproving look - though he hardly noticed it as he kept pacing. “He’s the one being...targeted. You can imagine how stressful this has all been,” I explained.
“Of course,” Helsing said reassuringly, giving me a faint smile. “And for how long?”
“A week now,” Oliver said, not even bothering to look at Helsing.
“Hm,” Helsing frowned, tapping his chin. “That is a long time. Most are dead by a week.”
I heard Oliver stop pacing, and I looked over to see him blanche.
“Do you have a bathroom? I think I’m going to be sick,” Oliver said weakly.
“First door on your right,” Helsing said with a gesture of his hand.
As Oliver left, Helsing turned to me, his expression serious.
“I’m afraid your friend is already too far gone,” he said solemnly.
“Too far gone? What do you mean?” I asked angrily, leaning forward in my chair.
“The vampire has fed on him for too long,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Even if you killed the one siphoning off of him, it would be of no help. The most humane thing to do would be to put him out of his misery before even worse befalls him.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said, my clammy palms gripped the arms of the chair. Worse? What was worse than dead?
“I’m afraid so. If we don’t do it now, we’ll only have to hunt him down later, when he’s more powerful,” Helsing explained.
“You mean he’s already...a vampire?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I understand how hard this is, believe me. But if we wait any longer, he’ll be nearly impossible to neutralize.”
Not kill. Neutralize.
“So what...what do we do?” I asked, swallowing hard.
Helsing sighed, pressing his hands to the table as he stood.
“In my experience? The kindest way is by staking.”
“Staking?!” I nearly shouted, leaping up.
Helsing held up a hand, shushing me. “I know. It sounds...gory. But believe me, it is the method that will cause him the least amount of pain.”
I ran through my mind, desperately trying to think of other ways vampires could be killed. Sunlight? It was dusk now, I didn’t know if that would work. Garlic and holy symbols only repelled as far as I knew, not...neutralized. Decapitation was...no, that was worse than staking. Shit.
Helsing must’ve read my defeated expression, as he sympathetically put a hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t even noticed him move over from behind the desk, but as I looked up at him, he reached out to put something in my hand.
I felt the rough wood of the stake in my hand, the weight of it as I gripped it. The tip was shaved to a sharp point, and I stared down at it despondently.
“I can’t,” I said, trying to give the stake back to him.
“You must,” Helsing insisted, shaking his head. “It is the greatest kindest you can do for him now...Unless you want me to do it?” He arched a dark eyebrow, reading my expression carefully.
No. No, it should be me. He was right - Oliver had asked for my help, he was my friend. Somehow it felt worse to passively let a stranger kill him than to do it with my own hands.
Helsing nodded, retreating back to his seat. He gestured with his hand, inviting me to sit again. Unsteadily, I plopped back into my chair. I didn’t bother hiding the stake - Oliver wouldn’t be able to see my lap until he was already in the room. And by then, it would be too late.
-----
I couldn’t tell if the blood burning my skin where it touched was a result of shock or the supernatural. My hand was still tensed, though the stake had long left my grip. Tears streamed down my face as I stared down at what I had done. Several seconds went by, before a thought finally occurred to my shock-stopped mind.
“I thought vampires were supposed to burst into flames when they got staked?” I asked, panic slowly creeping into my voice. I could feel my pulse still racing, the cold rush of adrenaline still seeping into my body as I stared down at his.
“Oh, they are,” Helsing replied calmly.
I snapped my head up to stare at him, wide-eyed. Helsing only tilted his head, his face splitting into a toothy grin.
And for the first time, I noticed his teeth.