Archive of Our Own

Long Ago in a Time of Darkness
Library_Colleen

The vampire hunter had become a vampire!

For a moment Van Mousing considered stepping into the sunlight streaming through the window. He grimaced. Even in the shadows the light prickled at his skin, offering a quick but painful death. He would do it if he had to but, he wasn't one to give up without a fight. The vampiric infection was new. There might be something that could help him. Some spell or potion that could reverse the condition if he could just apply it soon enough.

Stepping deeper into the shadows, he turned to look at his two friends and fellow vampire hunters. Dipworth Goofington III and Drake McQuack had always had his back. They were stalwart and true friends and had stood beside him in the best and the worst of times.

They…
They...
They looked delicious.
…
…
…
Aw Gee.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Van Mousing?” Goofington’s concerned voice snapped him out of his disturbing thoughts. He looked at his friends to see them carefully moving towards him.

"Don't!”

They both stopped like they'd run into a wall.

"Sorry. I'm not sure what I might do if you get too close to me. "

Goofington and McQuack gave each other a worried glance.

"Why would you be worried about that?" McQuack asked.

Van Mousing closed his eyes a moment before admitting.

"I'm hungry."

His two friends gulped.

"Do either of you know of anything that might... Cure a brand new... Vampire?”

The Two hunters shrugged at each other, both thinking furiously.

“Well," Goofington said. "I have heard that if you clean the bite right away with Holy Water...

McQuack nodded. "I heard someone saved three bitten people that way just last year.”

Van Mousing grimaced, yet reached into his coat to pull out the flask of holy water he always kept on him. This was going to be unpleasant.

He opened the lid and screwing up his courage, poured the contents over the two puncture marks on his neck.

“Arrrrgggggh.”

Goofington and McQuack both cringed as they listened to their friend scream himself hoarse as he writhed in pain on the floor.

“Screw it." McQuack shouldered his bat and walked over to Van Mousing, ready to help his friend or defend himself, whatever was needed.

Goofington tiptoed over with him. "How do you feel?” He asked, cringing slightly at what he knew was a stupid question.

“Horrible," Van Mousing said, his voice pained and rough. Just hearing it made Goofington wish he could offer him a tea with lemon and honey.

“Let me see your neck.”

With a grimace, Van Mousing tilted his head to the side. Goofington checked Van Mousing’s injury. Though it looked like he'd been splashed by boiling water, the puncture marks were gone.

“I think it might have worked,” he said.

Van Mousing grunted, and held up a hand. Goofington grabbed it, pulling his friend to his feet.

Van Mousing couldn’t hold back a gasp. "I hurt so much.” He looks towards the windows. “Help me get to the sunlight."

“Are you sure Michael?”

Van Mousing nodded. “I need to know that it worked.”

Goofington took one side, McQuack the other and together they helped him move to the windows.

Van Mousing watched dust motes dance in the sunbeam for a short time. Gritting his teeth he stuck his hand into the light. For a moment he thought he could feel it burning, then his flesh prickled before even that sensation faded and it was just warm.

“Thank goodness,” All three of them said together.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tired and injured, they bandaged their wounds and camped in the vampire’s castle, catching a few hours of sleep. Drake and Worth set the vampires ashes on fire just to be sure and swept them up. They would dump them at intervals, in different spots as they travelled to make sure no one could resurrect the fiend once more. Not wanting to spend the night there, they headed out in the late afternoon.

Van Mousing was incredibly tired, the few hours of sleep not enough to see him through. He half dozed in the saddle, only really waking the few times he felt his skin prickling at him, like it had when he’d first touched sunlight that morning. He noticed Goofington and McQuack weren’t much better off. Both men were exhausted and aching from the encounter with the vampire.

They made camp while it was still light out, Goofington making a supper with the supplies he always packed into his saddle bags. Michael noticed his two friends watching as he ate. He was so tired, eating was a chore. He did his best to eat what he could anyway, knowing that if the cure hadn’t worked he wouldn’t have been able to consume even a bite of it.

“Is it okay if I take the last watch?” He asked. “I’m just really tired.”

“Sure.” Drake said, Dipworth nodding from where he sat.

Van Mousing wrapped himself in his bedroll and was out as soon as his head touched the ground. Both friends watched him worriedly for a moment, relaxing when the mouse started up with his usual quiet snoring.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Van Mousing’s eyes snapped open and he looked around. The fire was little more than hot coals, so some time had passed. He sat up and breathed in, the night air invigorating him. Glancing over at his friends, he saw McQuack passed out in his bed roll and Goofington sitting up with a weapon at hand, fast asleep.

Normally, Michael might have given him an annoyed poke, but he couldn’t blame him right now. Their fight against the vampire was harrowing and it would take them several days to recover from it. He stood, stretching the kinks out of his back and neck, deciding to head into the trees and walk the perimeter of the camp.

Half way around, he noticed a simple squirrel looking curiously at him from a tree branch. Usually he would have smiled at it and walked on. Instead he stopped to stare at it. Something….

The squirrel moved to skitter away, but faster than it could run, Van Mousing snatched it off the tree and sank his teeth into its small body.

He didn’t remember the next twenty minutes after that.

He came back to his senses beside a small creek, trying his best to heave up what he’d just consumed, but his body wasn’t having any of that and valiantly held on to his liquid meal. Looking behind him he saw a trail of small bodies littering the ground. In his hands was a dead grouse. To his surprise, he realized he had wrung the bird’s neck, but he hadn’t bitten it. Why..?

Groaning he realized he must have been coming out of the blood haze and captured and killed the bird to roast up for the team’s breakfast. Hunting for a meal was a chore they traded off on when their rations ran low in the field.

He started to laugh at the absurdity of it, the mirth quickly giving way to tears.

What was he going to do?

He sat there a few minutes longer, staring at nothing before plunging his hands into the creek, scrubbing them fiercely to remove the blood from them. Cupping the cold water in his hands, he did the same to his face, to clean away the blood and tears. Wiping the water away with a sleeve, he picked up the dead bird and headed back to the camp. He started plucking it as he walked and it was clean enough for roasting by the time he got there.

He came to a jerking stop at the edge of the camp. He would not hurt Dipworth and Drake for all the world. Staring at the sleeping forms of his two friends he felt…

No Hunger.

Sighing in relief, he went over to the fire and stirred up the coals, adding a little wood to keep it going without introducing to much flame for the cooking. He pulled out a knife and dressed the bird before going back to the edge of the woods to bury the offal and cut a few branches to construct a spit. Returning, he trimmed and quickly shaved down the branches. He skewered the bird with a practiced hand, but hesitated before putting it over the heat. Dipworth was a stickler for a properly prepared bird.

Stepping over to Goofington, he gave his friend's shoulder a shake.

“Wha?” was the sleepy reply.

“Do you have salt, pepper and paprika?

Goofington fumbled in his coat and pulled out three jars of spices.

“Do you want garlic powder as well?”

“Uh…. No thanks.”

“Kay.” Goofington was asleep again the next moment.

Smiling sadly at his friend, Van Mousing returned to the fire and spiced the bird before putting it over the coals.

It should be ready as soon as his friends woke up.

As soon as the sun was up.

This time, Van Mousing would meet the dawn and he would not move or try some other cure that would not work. He would let the light take him before what he feared he might do to his friends could come to pass.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dipworth Goofington III woke up to the smell of roasting meat. Looking over, he saw Van Mousing sitting by the fire, his eyes closed. For a moment he thought the mouse was sleeping, but that thought was dispelled when Michael reached out to turn the spit without opening his eyes. McQuack was still asleep, but from the snuffling and quacking sounds coming from his bed roll, he would be awake soon.

“Smells good. I’ll see if I can rustle up some greens to go with it. I think I have some bread left as well.”

Van Mousing opened his eyes, gave him a small smile, and nodded.

“Quack!” McQuack sat up, looking around blearily for a moment before giving himself a shake. Glancing around, he noticed the cooking food.

“How did you manage to go hunting this early?”

“Lucky find while I was patrolling the perimeter,” was Michael’s quiet answer.

“I need some water.” Goofington held up the pot he was going to use to cook the pack of peas he’d found in his saddle bags.

Van Mousing stood. “I’ll get it. There’s a creek nearby.” He took the pot and headed into the woods.

McQuack watched him go. Turning to his other friend he had to ask. “Is he okay?”

Goofington shrugged.

Van Mousing returned with the pot of water and put it on the fire. He stood watching the sky as it lightened.

Any moment now.

“I think it’s ready,” Goofington said as the sun broke past the curve of the earth. Van Mousing held up a hand to shade his eyes from the light and waited.

And waited.

The same prickling he felt yesterday in the sunlight swept over his body and then just… faded away. He lowered his hand, surprised to find himself still alive.

“You gonna have some of this Van Mousing?"

“Uh, sure.” Feeling completely confused, he sat down to have a meal with his friends.

Packing up the camp, they travelled on, hoping to make it to the next town before nightfall. Van Mousing tried to keep track of every time his body had that prickling feeling, but he knew he zoned out a couple of times, yesterdays sleepiness returning, though not as badly.

Briefly, he considered the possibility that he’d dreamed the entire blood feast, but knew he was kidding himself. He didn’t remember the details, but the taste of blood in his mouth… that would never go away.

They stopped at midday to water the horses, stretch their legs, and eat a quick bite of food. Dipworth came over to him, carrying their first aid kit.

“Let’s take a look at how your neck is doing.”

Grimacing, Michael nodded and pulled off the bandage they’d slapped on at the castle.

“Hmmm. Looks like it’s doing all right.”

“Wish I could see it.”

Dipworth handed him a small shaving mirror and Michael looked into it, surprised to see himself looking back. He angled the mirror to get a better look at the neck wound. It looked good…. He frowned. It looked too good. It looked like it had been healing for four or five days, and not the short time since he’d used the Holy Water on himself. Still, he was relieved to see that the bite marks had not come back.

Back on the horses and hours later they realized they’d misjudged how long it would take to travel to the nearest town. The sun set while they were on the road, but they continued on anyway. The moon was still near full, so there was plenty of light to see by.

Van Mousing was ready to abandon his horse and run if he even considered his friends as a snack, but so far the only thing he noticed was he was more awake than he had been all day.

They were still a couple of miles from the town when Van Mousing heard the sounds of a baby crying. He glanced at his friends, but realized neither of them were hearing it. The sudden female scream of pain and terror got their attention though and as one they rode towards the sound.

Van Mousing spotted wheel tracks going off the road, not realizing how well his eyes were working in the dark.

“This way.” The tracks looked like they might belong to a carriage, the area they carefully moved through just big enough that one could have pulled off the road there. The path opened out into a small clearing, all of them hearing another scream as they entered.

There was a carriage and it didn’t match to the rough camp set up in the clearing. Van Mousing blanched at the sight of a dead driver and horses. The cries of the baby he heard earlier were coming from inside the carriage, but they were almost drowned out by the pained sobs coming from a woman who was lying on the ground. She was being straddled by a man with a knife who was amusing himself by cutting shapes into her arm.

“Unhand her you scallywag,” Goofington called out, horrified by what he was seeing.

The man looked up at them and… guffawed.

Van Mousing slid off his horse, landing quietly. “Get off her.” The night air suddenly seemed colder and his horse nervously moved back a few steps from him.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” He whistled and another three men slipped out of the shadows, each of them carrying a makeshift weapon. “Deal with them,” The bandit said. “And when you’re done, someone shut up that damn brat.”

“No!” The woman under him started struggling with the last of her strength. The man backhanded her across the face for her efforts. He stood, leaving her lying dazed on the ground.

“Just sit tight. We’ll have our fun once we deal with these dandies.”

Goofington and McQuack dismounted, stepping up to stand even with Van Mousing. McQuack pulled out his trusty bat, while Goofington was suddenly wielding a cast iron frying pan and a… baster? Van Mousing paid the weapon choice little mind. He had long learned that despite their oddity, his friends were highly effective with them. As for himself, he forewent his crossbow with the wooden bolts and pulled out the pistol he kept for more mundane dangers.

Even though the man who appeared to be the leader of the group guffawed once more, he chose caution as he moved to engage with Van Mousing. Meanwhile, McQuack raised his bat and ran berserker like towards his closest opponent, while Goofington distracted the second one by squirting something in his eyes from the baster while swinging at the third with the frying pan.

“You really should stop,” Van Mousing told the brigand.

“Nah.” And then the guy charged him.

Van Mousing squeezed the trigger, aiming to wound. It was a shock when nothing happened, the hammer coming down on a dud bullet. He quickly found himself grappling with his opponent, the man doing his best to knock the gun from Michael’s hand. Van Mousing instinctively tried to shove him away and the man staggered back, just barely holding on to his balance. That… That shouldn’t have worked. Normally, Van Mousing wouldn’t have had a hope of managing that. Yes, Vampire hunting kept him fit and stronger than someone his size usually was, but his lack of height and mass meant he couldn’t go toe to toe with someone taller and heavier. He’d learned to fight smarter and use leverage to his advantage, but that still shouldn’t have worked.

“Oh, feisty.” The brigand lunged at him again for another grapple, this time managing to knock the gun from Van Mousing’s grip. "I think we’ll have to keep you for some more fun,” the brigand said, hoisting the vampire hunter up by his shirt so they were face to face. “Yeah, truss you up and let you watch while we finish our fun with the woman. Maybe celebrate with some roasted baby.”

Van Mousing blanched at the very idea.

“Mmm," The apparently cannibalistic bandit continued. “You look like you’d be pretty good eating too.”

Van Mousing went deathly still and felt something in him snap into place. He’d been pale before, with the mention of planned cannibalism, but now his complexion went as white as moonlight. The air around him got colder and he breathed out, not noticing when he didn’t need to breathe in again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

McQuack and Goofington were trying to catch their breaths, as were their opponents. Currently they were at a stalemate, thought McQuack was certain it wouldn’t last for long. Heck, if they hadn’t taken such a beating at the vampire’s castle, the group of bandits wouldn’t have been anymore than a mild distraction.

A glance towards their third member showed he was in trouble. The mouse was being held up off the ground in his attackers grip. Oddly, he wasn’t struggling.

McQuack blinked as something emerged from the man’s back.

Was that… Was that a hand?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The cannibalistic brigand’s mouth was opened in a surprised ‘O’. Van Mousing braced his feet against the man’s legs and one arm on the brute’s shoulder for leverage. His other arm was buried in the man’s chest and with a fang filled growl he….

Pulled.

The brigand went down like a bag of wet oatmeal. Van Mousing dropped to the ground, looking at the heart he held in his hand. Gore covered his arm from the tips of his fingers to the top of his shoulder. Distantly he thought he heard the sound of someone calling his name, but he ignored it. He smirked at what he held in his hand.

“So, are you good eating?” He asked. Then his fangs sliced into the heart and he drank it down.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Van Mousing?” Goofington asked again, feeling horror rise up his throat as his friend suddenly shredded the heart he’d been drinking from with his… claws, meaty tissue flying everywhere. From the corner of his eye he saw McQuack looking just as horrified, before the duck shook it off to focus on the remaining bandits.

The villains looked at them like they were about to morph into some sort of monsters as well. Goofington shifted his weight forward and that was all it took. The three bandits bolted for the hunters horses.

“Stop them!” McQuack yelled out.

Van Mousing jolted at Drake’s voice. He’d been frozen for a time, held somewhere between fascination and horror at what he’d done. The bandits were running, and even thought they were giving where he stood a wide berth, they still had to pass him to get out of the clearing. Looking around for something to use, he spotted two half buried rocks in the dirt. Reaching down he yanked them out to find they were comfortably fist sized. He turned and flung them at the escaping villains.

He thought he’d knock them off balance and make them trip, but he didn’t take into effect his new strength and how it increased with fresh blood. He’d also expected the stones to drop more over the distance and hit them in their backs.

The back half of their heads disappeared in a fine red mist.

Behind him he heard the last of the brigands stop for some reason. Turning, Van Mousing saw the man pick up the gun he’d lost during the fight with the first bandit.

Shaking, the man levelled the weapon at him. Van Mousing growled, his teeth feeling impossibly large in his mouth. The man’s eyes widened and Van Mousing eyes did the same as he realized what the bandit was going to do.

“No!”

He couldn’t reach him in time, couldn’t stop him. He tried, he did but, even with his new speed he wasn’t fast enough to stop the man when he put the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

This round was not a dud.

Van Mousing fell to his knees, eyes wide, looking at the dead man and the carnage around him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Goofington studied his friend, now vampire? Would they have to stake him, behead him? Would he try to attack them now as well?

“Van Mousing? Are you alright?” He heard McQuack ask and Dipworth felt overwhelming shame for what he’d been thinking as his friend… began to cry.

The tears started silently, but quickly worked their way up to breath stealing sobs. In the back of his mind, Van Mousing realized he had started breathing again and didn’t know when he’d stopped, but the thought was lost in the misery he felt.

It was someone moaning that broke him out of it.

He glanced at the woman, but she was unconscious and he hoped she hadn’t been aware of what happened. Focusing, he turned towards the carriage. The baby had quieted down to mere whimpers and over that he heard another moan.

“There’s someone else in the carriage. They’re injured.”

McQuack rolled his eyes. It never failed. Van Mousing could be bleeding from multiple wounds yet would ignore them if he saw someone he thought needed help more.

Actually, it was reassuring he still acted this way, even as a vampire.

“I’ll check on it,” Goofington told them as he headed over.

“Be careful,” Van Mousing called out.

McQuack just rolled his eyes again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The man in the carriage appeared to be the woman’s husband. Goofington grabbed the first aid supplies from his saddlebags and did what he could to patch him up. Outside, McQuack did the same for the woman. Van Mousing stood as far away from all of it as he could, afraid to go near the bodies or anyone who might currently be bleeding.

Strangely, the blood drying on his hands and clothing was having the reverse effect to hunger, leaving him feeling nauseated.

Dipworth trudged over to him. “We need to get the family to town and see if we can find a doctor for them. Drake is going to hook up two of our horses to the coach.”

Michael nodded. Drake was a dab hand with harnessing horses and carriage driving.

Dipworth fidgeted for a moment. “You can follow on your horse.”

“No,” His reply was quiet, but firm. “You take the horse. I’ll… I’ll be gone by the time you get back. I’ll stay away and I’ll find someplace where I can’t hurt anyone.”

“NO!”

“Is he being stupid?” Drake called out the question from where he was dealing with the horses.

“Yes.”
“No, I’m not.”

The two of them glared at each other for a moment before Dipworth’s look turned pleading.

“Please Michael, don’t disappear, or at least… Not until we can talk with you about it.”

Van Mousing looked unsure.

“Please. Promise me you’ll at least talk to us first.”

He shook his head.

“Promise me Mickey, please!”

Van Mousing looked at his friend, surprised. He hadn’t heard that nickname since they were children together. He closed his eyes. Darn it, he owed them that much at least.

“Alright, I promise.”

They loaded the poor woman into the coach with her husband and the baby and McQuack snapped the reins to get the horses moving. Van Mousing asked Goofington to take his horse with him. The animal was acting a little skittish around him and to be honest, Van Mousing was afraid he’d eat the poor thing. Van Mousing did grab some fresh clothes and his washing supplies out of his saddlebags before they left and once they were out of sight, he headed off to find some water and clean up before they got back.

He checked the camp first, thinking they must have some water if the bandits were living there. A sniff at the rain barrel they used had him wondering how they hadn’t died of a water bourn illness before they’d come across them. A glance into their stock pot had him backing away and gulping as he realized the bandit hadn’t been joking about the cannibalism.

Taking to the edge of the camp, he found a well worn path that led to a ramshackle outhouse that made the rain barrel smell pleasant. Thankfully the path continued on and he followed it to find a fast running creek that had probably been their main source of fresh water.

He looked at the creek with some trepidation, lore and instinct both telling him that stepping into running water would be a bad idea. With a sigh he stripped off his clothes and knelt by the water’s edge, doing what he could to clean up.

Since he had to wet his towel to scrub down, he sat waiting for the night air to dry him before dressing. The sound of rushing water was soothing and he didn’t even notice when his eyes slid shut.

They snapped open a while later. He was dry and a look at the star lit sky told him he’d lost a couple of hours. maybe more. Dressing quickly, he gingerly picked up his ruined clothing and towel, planning on dropping them into the abyss of the outhouse on the way back to the camp.

Carnage.

He’d thought what he’d done before was bad but… Had he come back here in his sleep and…? No, there was no way he’d washed up twice. Perhaps animals had come into the camp while he was gone?

Gingerly he picked his way around the body parts, thankfully finding them unappealing as far as food went. Two of the men had their guts ravaged and that added new and unappealing scents to the mix. All of them were missing bits and pieces, though he did find a torn off hand partially chewed and left behind. Grimacing, he notice the two half crushed heads had received similar treatment.

What had done this? He could see there were wolf tracks, but there were also rabbit tracks overlapping. He’d followed the conflicting animal spoor to the edge of the clearing when the sound of horses travelling the road put him on alert. It was a relief to see Goofington and McQuack emerge into the clearing.

“Van Mousing…” What ever Goofington was going to say petered off with a slight gulp. “What?”

“It wasn’t me and I don’t know. The tracks are odd.” He gestured to the mishmash of animal tracks he’d been studying.

The other two hunters dismounted and came over to study the scene. They quickly became perplexed as well as they followed the trail back to the bodies.

“How is the family? Van Mousing asked.

“The baby should be okay,” Goofington told him. “They had to sedate the mother and the father’s been in and out of consciousness. I think they’re worried about the hit he took to the head.”

Still looking at the tracks, McQuack shook his head and threw his hands up in defeat, giving up on trying to figure out what had made an even bigger mess of their mess.

“The town’s sending some law enforcement out once the sun is up. We told them we took on the bandits but during the fight something attacked the men. We lost the moon behind some clouds and couldn’t tell what it was.” He gestured to the scattered remains. “I didn’t think we’d be sort of telling the truth.”

Van Mousing gave him a very unhappy huff of a laugh. “Yeah.”

“We told them one of our party stayed behind to try and track it,” Goofington said, taking up the narration. “We ah… We told them we’re monster hunters. Thought it best not to specify.”

Van Mousing grimaced, but nodded. He glanced up. The light of false dawn was brightening the sky and Van Mousing judged that the sun would be up in under an hour. He looked to his friends and noticed Dipworth was also looking at the sky, before looking at him.

“NO!”

“What?”

Dipworth turned to Drake, panicking. “We need shelter. He can’t be out when the sun comes up.

McQuack’s eyes widened in equal panic and he looked around for somewhere safe. The camp was absolute rubbish for cover. With how many holes there were in the makeshift structures he didn’t know why they bothered.

“Uh, Guys?”

"Maybe we could build a lean-to," McQuack suggested.

“Guys?”

“Or dig a hole,” Goofington proposed.

“Guys???”

“Or we could patch that hovel,” McQuack countered.

“Grr.”

“Cover him with our coats?” Goofington asked, feeling like he was grasping at straws.

“Grrrrrr. GUYS!”

Both hunters stopped their freak out to look at Van Mousing.

“The sun hasn’t bothered me in the last two days. If… If it’s a problem now, someone can throw a coat over me and get me to the outhouse over there.” He pointed in the direction of the cesspit, really hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

“Huh,” McQuack said, contemplatively. “It hasn’t been bothering you, has it?”

The duck could swear he’d heard… No, read something about that. Something anecdotal he’d read in one of his books on vampire bats maybe? He thought the author had gone off on a tangent and he’d only skimmed it.

When dawn finally broke, Dipworth stood by holding his coat at the ready. The same prickly feeling came over Michael and for a moment he worried it wasn’t going to stop, until it once again faded away, at least for the moment. His eyelids suddenly felt weighted down and he gave his head a shake.

“Are you okay?” Drake asked.

“Yeah, just… tired all of a sudden.”

“But,” Dipworth asked. “The sun’s not bothering you, right?”

“Yeah, Worth. It’s…” Michael shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Sighing with relief, Goofington pulled his coat back on.

Thankfully it wasn’t much longer before the local law showed up. They introduced them selves as Oran and Alby. Neither man looked happy at the sight of the bodies. McQuack would have made book on Alby, the younger of the two, losing his most recent meal at some point. The older one studied the tracks that had baffled them and nodded. “Yup, it’s the Wolpertinger.”

Van Mousing frowned. “I thought they didn’t usually attack people.”

“You’re right. This one doesn’t usually either. It probably had enough of these… gentlemen in its territory. Can’t say I’m sad about it. All four of them have bounties on them, dead or alive.”

Goofington looked at the tracks again. “It’s part wolf?” That was unusual, as they tended to be a rabbit squirrel mix.

Oran nodded. “Anyone who’s seen it says it’s got the front of a wolf, rear end of a rabbit and of course, the usual wings, antlers, and fangs.”

The officer stopped at one of the bodies with an obvious gun shot to the head. “What happened to him?”

Van Mousing swallowed a sudden burst of nausea. “He tried to run when… when it started.”

“Couldn’t really see him, it got too dark,” McQuack continued.

“We heard the gun shot,” Goofington added. “We figured he’d shot himself. Don’t know if it was an accident or on purpose though.”

“Hmmm.”

“Were you wanting any help hunting down the Wolpertinger?” Drake asked.

Oran shook his head. “Like I said, it doesn’t usually bother people. If it becomes a problem, we can deal with it. The town has a local monster hunter.” He sighed. “The wagon to take the bodies back should be here soon. You can head in, if you’re willing to make a statement later.”

He suggested an Inn they could stay at and they agreed, hoping to get a little sleep. Van Mousing had to ride double with Goofington, as they’d left his horse back in town. When they got there they rented three rooms, but instead of going up right away McQuack steered them into the attached pub.

Was it morning, yes. Did he care, no!

“I’ll get a pint for each of us.” Drake asked.

Dipworth nodded but Michael shook his head. “Tea. Water if they don’t have that.” At their questioning looks he explained. “I can’t risk compromising my wits.” He had always been a silly drunk, but now was not the time to find out if that had changed. Besides, silly could still be dangerous in the wrong situation.

McQuack got their drinks and sat. They knew they needed to talk, but they were all so tired and even McQuack had to acknowledge he needed sleep more than beer. They finished what they had and went up to their rooms to get what rest they could.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Mickey no… Please!” Dipworth pleaded to no avail as the mouse sank his fangs into his friend’s neck, relishing the taste of blood. One hand whipped out to catch the wooden bat swung at him and he pulled it out of Drakes grip, tossing it aside before dropping his first prey and lunging at the duck. His pleas to stop didn’t help him either and Van Mousing drained him dry. Smiling, he stood, wiped the gore from his mouth and turned to leave. His body jerked as he suddenly found a wooden bolt in his chest. He looked up from the protrusion to see another him standing there, crossbow in hand. He smiled at the vampire hunter.

“Nice try.”

Michael woke up gasping. Briefly he considered swearing, but there were no words strong enough so he didn’t bother. He sat up on the side of the bed and buried his face in his hands, rocking back and forward in misery.

“No,” He said quietly and then more firmly, “No!” I will not hurt my friends.” He laughed for a moment and shook his head. “I won’t run from them either. That would hurt them as well.” He was also certain that the only vampire hunting they would get done was tracking him down to chew him out for his thoughtlessness and stupidity.

Sighing, he grabbed a notebook and pencil out of his pack and wrote down the details of the dream before they faded, despite how much he wished to forget it. Vampires and some other types of monsters could get into your head, especially through your dreams. Dream diaries and dream analysis were things they all had some experience with.

He looked over what he’d written, added a couple of observations and then got down to the nitty-gritty of analyzing it.

“I kill my friends, therefore I am afraid I will kill my friends.” Simple.

He shook his head. “No, you have to go deeper than that. There is too much at stake here.” “I kill my friends.” He squeezed his eyes shut in a pain that was purely emotional. “I want to abandon my friends, be without them. Why!?” The question was a wail of agony.

“No, come back to that. If I focus on it now I’ll be sitting here trying to figure it out until next week.”

In the dream he’d relished the taste of blood. He swallowed hard, but didn’t lie to himself. He did. He didn’t want to, but he did. It was simply telling him a truth he was trying to ignore.

Wooden bolt to the chest. There was a little bit of wanting to kill himself in that, but really what he wanted was to kill the vampire self.

“Nice try.” Basically he was telling himself that there was no way to destroy that part of him. Also it was obvious that he was seeing himself as two distinct people. Vampire hunter and Vampire.

That splitting, that had to stop now. Fighting himself like that would get people killed. And that brought him back to abandoning his friends, but now he thought it was a warning rather than what he wanted. Without them the vampire is what he would become, his humanity ripped out and thrown away.

But he still had to make sure he wasn’t a danger to them. That meant he had to be mindful of his needs now. He had to find a safe way to deal with his dietary requirements without hurting anyone. Being hungry would just make him deadly.

He wondered if taking in a lot of protein during the day when he didn’t seem to have trouble eating regular food would help.

“Well, no time like the present.” He grabbed his money wallet from under his pillow and went to find some food.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oran stepped into the pub, ready for some food and beer. The day had been pure horror and he still had to finish up with the out of town hunters before he could put it away.

He raised an eyebrow when he spotted the smallest of the hunters. The mouse was eating at one of the tables, his plate piled high with meat. He wasn’t eating quickly, but he did seem to be working through it with dogged determination.

Van Mousing looked up from his food to find a man standing by the table, holding a plate of Shepard’s pie and a pint of beer. It took him a moment to recognize one of the inspectors from this morning.

“Mind if I join you?” The man asked.

Van Mousing gestured to a chair and finished the bite he was chewing.

“What can I help you with?”

Oran sat down and was going to answer when the chair beside him was pulled out and a duck sat down. McQuack dropped his head to the table and looked like he was going to back to sleep right there.

“Is Worth up yet?” The mouse asked.

McQuack groaned and sat up, blinking at the plate of meat in front of his friend. Oran thought the duck seemed surprised for a moment, before a ‘huh, that’s interesting” expression crossed his face.

“Don’t forget to eat your veggies Michael, or Worth will complain about it.”

Oran gave the mouse a questioning look.

“Our third is rather passionate about food and cooking,” He explained.

“Understatement,” said the duck. “I’m going to get a drink.”

“Eat some food with it Drake,” Van Mousing called out after him.

“Yeah, Yeah.”

Oran jumped as the tall, lanky member of their team materialized beside the table and slapped a bowl of leafy greens down on it.

The mouse nodded. “Thank you. “

Goofington smiled before putting the other two plates he was juggling down. One where the duck had been sitting and the other at the spot where he was going to sit.

Oran frowned at the food on their plates, then back at his own lunch. He’d never seen the pub serve anything that looked that good before.

Van Mousing glanced at the food as well. “They let you use the kitchen?”

“Yep.”

The mouse nodded and took a break from the meat to work on the greens.

The duck stomped back with his drink, but he was also carrying a pitcher of water that he put down by the mouse.

“Fluids.”

The mouse paused his eating. “Huh! Thanks. Didn’t think about that.”

McQuack grunted, sat down and started on the plate of food in front of him.

Oran had never felt so confused by watching three people eat lunch before.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Any word on the couple and baby? Van Mousing asked him between bites.

Oran frowned. “It’s too soon to say. The baby’s doing well, but only time will tell with his parents.” He contemplated telling them the rest for a moment and decided it was best that they knew. “They’re lucky you showed up.” As one, the three hunters shrugged. “I mean really lucky. We found evidence that the brigands were…”

“Cannibals,” The mouse said coldly. Oran sat up straight as a chill ran up his spine. He suddenly had an inkling of how someone who seemed so small to him could survive as a monster hunter. “The bandit I was fighting mentioned his plans to…” The mouse screwed his face up in disgust. “Have roasted baby and… Roasted mouse.”

The other two hunters looked like something they hadn’t understood was suddenly made clear.

Oran studied the group. He was about 95% certain they’d taken down the bandits themselves. Oh sure, he thought the Wolpertinger took advantage of the situation to scavenge the bodies. It probably came into the camp while the mouse washed up. He’d been too clean for the situation when they’d shown up at the camp. He wasn’t sure why they weren’t owning up to it. The bandits were a dead or alive bounty. They would be in no trouble for what they had done.

Given the groups reaction, he thought the mouse may had gotten unusually vicious and scared all of them, himself included. With the difference between fighting monsters and regular men… Well, it probably hadn’t been pretty, especially if the hunters were anything like others he’d known. It would even explain one of the brigands killing themselves. He’d thought that had been bull at first, but a good look at the scene supported it.

How bad had it been that he’d resorted to that?

Ah, he didn’t know and he probably didn’t want to. He put it aside to discuss other matters.

“You’ll have to come in to collect the bounty.”

All three of them looked confused.

“Monster interruption or not, you engaged the bounties and reported their deaths. The bounty is yours.”

He saw the mouse shudder. “No. Thank you, but no. Please give my share of it to the couple. I’m sure they could use the help with the doctor’s bill.”

Oran saw the other two look at each other, until they both shrugged. “Yeah,” The taller one said. “I’d like the couple to have mine as well.”

“Same,” The duck followed up with.

Oran nodded. “Alright. If one of you could stop by the station to sign off on that sometime today we can get that wrapped up.” They nodded.

“Can I ask you something?” The duck asked.

“Sure.”

“You said you have a local monster hunter. Does he have much of a library?”

“Couldn’t say. I can give you his name and where to find him if you want to ask him yourself.”

“Please.”

Oran bid them a good day, but went over to the bar to order another beer. It was after lunch now and fairly quiet. He wanted to see if he could hear anything else from the hunters.

“We’ll need some more travelling supplies,” He heard the mouse say.

“I’ll get them,” The tall lanky fellow replied. “Is there anything extra you need?”

The mouse was quiet for a bit. “Soap and a new towel. Cheese.”

He heard the other two laugh, like cheese was a regular request. The laugh sounded oddly relieved though.

“How about you Drake?”

He didn’t hear the duck say anything at first, so he may have just shook his head.

“I’m going to check in with the local hunter. I need to look something up and I’d rather not wait till we’re home. I’ll deal with picking up a couple of new bats myself.”

The rustling of clothing told him the others were probably nodding.

“You!” He heard the duck say. “Are going to stay put and rest and… eat more if you need to.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Don’t worry guys.” He heard the mouse say. “I’ll be here when you get back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

McQuack banged on the door with a fist. “Anyone home? I’m looking for…” He rolled his eyes. “Snare.”

He stepped back, because hunters had a tendency to… The door slammed open and a gun barrel poked out where his head had been a moment ago… try and surprise people.

“Wadda you want?”

“Wings of the Night and Vampire Bats: Ultimate Secrets.”

“What?” The gun lowered and McQuack could see the hunter was a well built human.

“Local law said you’re a hunter. Hoped you might have something of a library. Need to check up on a couple of facts.”

“And I should do this because?”

“I’ll pay you a rental fee for the books.”

The hunter looked annoyed, because apparently that was a good reason.

“Huh, fine. Let me check my stuff. You, stay out here.”

The door slammed shut. McQuack waited, whistling bits of songs to amuse himself as he listened to a lot crashing and swearing coming from the house. It was quiet for a bit, before the door was ripped open. “

“I’ve only got Wings of the Night, take it or leave it.”

McQuack let out a mental sigh of relief. If he was remembering correctly, that one had the more relevant passages for the current situation. They haggled a price and when the hunter found out where the duck was staying, told him to leave the book with the innkeeper when he was done with it. He’d collect it later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Goofington picked up the usual supplies. He purchased a couple of small wheels of cheese, Michael’s soap and towel, and then went looking for things to supplement his own equipment with. Garlic of course, but he bought an air tight jar to keep it in, even though it wouldn’t be good for the garlic. He didn’t want to kill his friend with the aromatic weapon. He found a set of basting brushes to add to his repertoire and poked around the market for some spices. He made his own hot sauces and rubs. They came in handy on hunts regularly. Sadly he didn’t find anything he didn’t already have. Just before he left the market, he paused in front of a set of glass topped jars and bought those as well.

He bought a couple of stakes from the local carpenter, then visited the butcher for some steaks which he often found more useful in the field than the wooden ones. He discussed another purchase he’d like to make with the owner, which the man agreed to. Goofington arranged to come back in bit to pick up everything. Having the time to kill, he stopped by the policing station.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alby noticed one of the out of town monster hunters come in. He didn’t think much of their prowess. Standing around like idiots while a bunch of guys got killed by a Wolpertinger? Useless.

“Hi,” the hunter said. “Oran said one of us needed to sign off on the bounty.”

Alby sneered. Didn’t do the kill, still taking the money. “I’ll get the paperwork.”

The hunter rocked back and forth on his heels, a, in Alby’s opinion, stupid smile on his face. He returned to the desk and slapped the papers down. “Here. Sign these.”

The hunter looked the papers over, frowning. “This isn’t right.”

Alby glared at him. “Trying to jack up the price?”

“Huh… oh, no. I mean who it’s going to. We told Oran we wanted the money to go to the couple and the baby.”

Alby’s mouth dropped open. “Wha?”

“Well, they said the bounty was ours, but it didn’t seem right. Besides, them folks will need all the help they can get to recover.”

“Wha?” Alby’s mind felt like it had gotten stuck, his expectations not meeting reality. “Uh.” He took the papers back. “Well.”

Thankfully Oran walked into the station right then. “Hunter.”

The tall hunter chuckled. “Dipworth Goofington III. I just came in to sign over the bounty to the couple and the baby.”

Oran nodded and grabbed the paperwork, crossing out, adding a few things and initialing them before passing it back to the hunter to look over.

He nodded. “Looks fine.” Picking up a pen he signed it and handed back the papers. “Thanks.” The hunter said, before tipping his hat and heading out to pick up his order at the butchers.

Alby looked at Oran. “They’re really not taking the money? They’re hunters. Why would they give up on an easy payday?”

Oran gave him a look, the one that said he was being a bit thick. “You don’t really believe the Wolpertinger took out those men, do you?”

“But…”

Oran shook his head. “They found out about the cannibalism. I’m pretty sure they killed them when they did.”

“But why not just admit that? The bounty was theirs.”

Oran sighed. “I think they, or at least one of them, was so past angry they reacted the same way they would when fighting monsters.” He shrugged. “Monster hunters against humans? Personally I’m surprised the bodies were identifiable. I’ve seen Snare’s work, he doesn’t leave much and he’s only one man, not three.”

“But, The money.”

Oran snorted. “I don’t believe they’ve had to kill people very often, if at all. I think they didn’t realized the level of damage they could do and it scared them. I suspect they just want to forget about it and giving the money away is part of it. Also, they seem like they really do want to help out that family. Doubt they’d have gone in to save them if they didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Alby wandered off and Oran shook his head. The silly boy had a lot to learn, but he thought he’d get there eventually.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Van Mousing paced in his room. He’d eaten a ridiculous amount of food, largely protein. Even the greens Goofington gave him were, he knew from past lectures by their food and cooking crazy companion, high in protein. His common sense told him he should be stuffed full, maybe even ill after eating all that food. Instead he felt like he could do afters. Maybe a nice cheese plate?

He shook his head. His food bill was going to go through the roof.

He just hoped it worked. He had to admit, he hadn’t eaten much until now, since being bitten. He was recognizing that he’d felt more off than he’d realized, as if he’d been fighting a flu or other infection. He sat down on his bed and his body immediately suggested a nap. He stood and started pacing again. He was fairly certain he’d become somewhat nocturnal, his body wanting to sleep more in the day than at night, but he needed to be awake when Goofington and McQuack came back. They’d put off the talk they needed to have for long enough.

Goofington raised an eyebrow when he came in at Michael’s invitation to find him pacing the floor.

“Got what you asked for.” He said, passing the items over to him. He put a box down on the dresser, the contents clinking slightly.

“Is Drake back yet?” Van Mousing asked.

“Saw him downstairs. He was doing some reading. Said he’d be up in a bit.”

Van Mousing nodded and sat down on his bed. Goofington watched as his friend's eyes closed and his breathing turned soft for a moment, before his body jerked and his eyes snapped open. The mouse made an annoyed sound and started pacing again.

“Mickey, is something paining you?”

Van Mousing frowned and shook his head. “Tired. Will fall asleep if I stay still too long.” He gave his friend a smile. “That’s the second time you’ve called me Mickey recently.”

“Huh, oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be, I think I kind of missed it.”

Goofington’s face lit up in a smile.

McQuack came in to find Van Mousing pacing the floor and Goofington keeping an eye on him.

“Time to talk.”

“Yeah.” Mickey blew out a breath. He contemplated what to say while Drake took a seat on the bed next to Dipworth.

“So, the first night we camped, I was walking the perimeter and… Let’s say I ended up hunting more than the grouse.”

“Why didn’t you say anything Mickey?”

Drake looked at Dipworth, surprised at the resurrection of Michael’s childhood nickname but, didn’t say anything.

“I,” Mickey continued. “I thought I had gone full vampire. Thought the sun would deal with it.”

He saw Worth pale and Drake didn’t look much better.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you but...”

“But you were being a self sacrificing idiot.” Drake finished.

Mickey winced. “Yeah. I was also, very confused. Still am. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Drake opened the book he was holding and held it out to the mouse. “I may know what is.” Mickey took it, as his friend continued to explain. “Idiot who wrote that book goes off on tangents about every three chapters. This one may actually be useful.”

“Dhampir,” Mickey read out loud. “Offspring of a vampire and a human.” He gave Drake a look. The duck held up a hand to stop him from saying anything. “I know, it’s not exactly what’s happening, but it’s the same characteristics. More human during the day, more vampire at night. Needs blood but also food.”

“More nocturnal.” Mickey continued, reading from the book. “Can handle the sun, but would sleep during the day if given the chance. Animals skittish, but also some ability at animal control” He grimaced. That probably explained why he’d been able to catch so many small animals that first night.

“Okay, so the bite turned me… or was turning me into a vampire. The Holy Water… what?” He made an, I give up motion with his hands. “Diluted the infection, giving me a weaker version of it?

Drake nodded. “Sounds plausible.”

Mickey thought for a moment. “What about those people you’d heard of that had been cured by Holy Water?”

Drake gave his head a rub as he tried to remember what he’d heard. “I believe my source on that. He told me… Oh.” Drake put a hand over the front of his bill, just the tiniest bit surprised he had figured it out. He dropped his hand into his lap. “The vampire who bit those people was very new. Had walked out of his grave the week before.”

“And the vampire who bit me was the prince of vampires. One of the strongest of them.” Mickey finished.

Goofington winced. “I don’t think there’s any way to reverse it now.”

“Yeah, I know. My subconscious poked that at me earlier.

“Dreams?” Drake asked.

“Yeah, gave me some clarity.”

His two friends looked worried.

“Basically abandoning you and running would eventually turn me into what I fear.”

They both let out a relieved breath.

“Guys, if you're okay with me staying, I’ll stay. If you want me to go…” They shook their heads, but Mickey continued. “If you ever want me to go, I’ll go. If you ever have to stop me. Please, STOP ME! Promise me Worth, Drake.”

The two hunters swallowed.

“Mickey.” Goofington started.

“No. You cannot ever let me hurt you, understand?”

They gulped again, but nodded.

“Um, about that Mickey.” Dipworth said. “If you still need blood at night, I might have a solution.” He pointed at the box he’d brought in.

Frowning, Mickey went over and opened it. Inside were four glass topped jars and a bit of ice. He pulled out one of the jars to find it full of a red liquid.

“What?”

“I got them from the butcher. If it works and you need blood regular like, there’s some butchers back home I can set you up with. You can just tell them you like to make your own blood sausage.”

Drake had to snort laugh and shake his head. “Cooking to the rescue again.”

All of them had to laugh at that. It was strained, but real.

Mickey put the jar down on the dresser, then went and sat down on the bed with them. “Okay guys. I have one more condition.”

They looked at him surprised.

“One… No, two years.”

“Mickey?” Dipworth said, worried.

“If in two years, I’m doing okay with this, you are no longer allowed to hover and fret about it, okay?”

“Why two years?”

“Because I realize this is a big change and it takes time, but that’s all the time you get. By then we should all be use to it.”

Dipworth and Drake looked at each other and nodded. “Okay,” Drake agreed. “But the same goes for you. If you’re doing okay, then you don’t get to fret yourself all over the place either.

Mickey nodded. “Deal.” Frowning, he went back to the dresser to look at the bottle of blood. The idea of drinking it didn’t repulse him, but he didn’t feel any great need to do it either.

“I’m going to get some sleep, then see if…” He gestured to the jar before picking it up and putting it back in the box.

The other two nodded and left to let him rest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mickey opened his eyes to see someone learning over him, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight and aimed at his throat. He reached out and grabbed the intruder by the throat. Sitting up, he let go, giving the smirking vampire him an annoyed look.

“You really think it will work, staying with them? You really think you won’t kill them in the end? Or that they won’t kill you?”

“I don’t know if it will work, but I’ll do my best. They will stop me, or I will stop myself.” The vampire’s smile widened, like he had a trump to play, but Mickey continued on anyway. “If that ever did happen, I will only live as long as it takes to end myself.”

The vampire’s smirk crumbled. “Self sacrificing idiot.”

“Yup.” He sighed. “I don’t want to… fight you.”

“Yes you do.”

Mickey considered it for a moment. “Okay, I do, but I also don’t. This is who I am now. I have a lot to figure out and I can’t do that if I’m fractured. I’m not saying I’m all happy about this, but I want to make it work. I’m hoping you might want to as well”

“Now you’re just an idealistic idiot”.

“Hope not, because, you know. You’re still me, even with the fangs, bloodlust and all.”

The vampire looked affronted. “I’m not…. I’m… darn it.”

Mickey smiled. “Well?”

“Fine, we’ll try it your way for now. Screw up though, and I’ll be waiting.” Vampire him placed a hand on his chest and turning ghost like, swept inside, where he now belonged.

Mickey opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He threw off his covers and picked up his dream journal. He hesitated for a moment and then went and got one of the jars of blood. Opening it and his journal, he alternately sipped at the blood and wrote out the dream.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next morning, after letting Worth and Drake know the supplemental nutrition had worked, the three hunters packed up, got on their horses and continued on. Mickey knew they still had a lot to figure out, but time and friendship had seen them through horrors before, it would see them through this.

The End