Michael Belmont and the Heir of Van Helsing (The Adventures of Michael Belmont) (31 page)

Magda glared at him.
 
“I hope you’re right.
 
Our lives might depend on it.”

“Come,” said the Dragon while stumbling toward the window.
 
“It’s not safe to travel through the halls of the castle.
 
We must go another way.”

He leaned out the window and gave a sharp whistle.
 
“OG,” he shouted out into the blackness.

“What is he doing?” Magda whispered to Michael.
 
“Grunting out the window like some sort of madman?
 
I think he’s lost his bloody mind.”

They waited in silence for a few moments before the old man repeated the whistle.
 
A short time later a very strange sound rumbled in from the distance.
 
It began to grow louder and louder, and as it got close, Michael cringed.
 
He suddenly had a good idea about what it was.
 
He and the girls looked back and forth at each other anxiously.

Michael crept up beside the old man and looked out the window just as a large, dumb face swung up to peer in at them.
 
Michael staggered away and tripped over his own feet, crashing down painfully to the floor.
 
He held up his lantern, flooding the creature’s face with soft blue light.
 
It was a human face, more or less.
 
The thing’s head was titanic.
 
It had disheveled black hair and its eyes were crossed and bulging.
 
Its nose was pugged and smashed, and yellow crooked teeth protruded from a slobbery grin.
 

“Tha-that’s the thing we saw swinging on the chains outside,” stuttered Abigail.

“You called that creature here, WHY?” Magda demanded as she drew her daggers.

The Dragon raised his hands, trying to calm her down.
 
“It’s alright.
 
He’s harmless, I assure you.
 
Well, perhaps harmless isn’t the right word, but he’ll listen to me.
 
He won’t hurt you.”
 
He turned to the creature, who smiled at him dumbly as a stream of drool dripped from his mouth.
 
“Og, we need you to take us down to the Garden of the Setting Sun, can you do that?”

“Og, og,” the creature grunted happily like a dog waiting for a ball to be thrown.

“Alright, you’ll have to go slowly, and be very careful not to drop us.
 
Do you understand?”

“Og,” he agreed with a nod.

Without warning, Og reached in through the window and snatched Magda and the Dragon with one hand.
 
He carefully pulled them through the window.
 
Michael jumped to his feet and ran to look out.
 
He saw that Og was perched on the chain like a bird, holding on tightly with his toes.
 
He drew out a large brown sack and gently placed his two passengers inside.
 
Abigail looked terrified, and Michael gave her shoulder an assuring squeeze.

“Hold on,” he told her, “I think things are about to get interesting.

Michael was next to go into the bag, and he was caught off guard by the creature’s gentle touch.
 
His slid into the sack until his feet reached the bottom, and he felt Magda’s body pressed tightly up against him.
 
It was uncomfortable and exhilarating.

“I feel like a sardine in here,” she complained.

Abigail’s scream pierced the air as she was picked up.
 
Og tried to place her in the sack, and her feet bounced off the other's heads several times before he realized she wasn’t going to fit.
 
A moment later Michael heard her scream again and shout out something incoherent.
 
Then they swung off through the darkness.
 
The creaking and screeching of the chains cut through the night like nails on a chalkboard, which was interrupted only by the screams and disgusted shrieks of Abigail.
 
Michael wondered what Og had done with her.

The whole trip was disorienting.
 
This is what laundry must feel like
, Michael thought to himself.
 
He wanted to say it out loud to make Magda laugh, but was afraid he’d throw-up if he opened his mouth.
 
Back and forth through the air they swung, moving from one chain to another, sliding down or landing on some unseen surface only to bound off again.
 
It might have been fun had it not been nauseating.

Eventually they came to a stop and Michael felt himself being poured from the sack.
 
He took a few deep breaths to try and clear his head.
 
The world was spinning, but as he regained his senses he could see the decrepit remnants of an ancient garden, bathed in moonlight.
 
He sat up to see that Abigail was standing before him with her hands curled into fists.
 
She looked like she’d just climbed out of a pond.

“Why are you all wet?” Michael asked her dumbly.

She looked as if her head might pop off.
 
“HIS MOUTH!” she screamed.
 
“He carried me IN HIS MOUTH.
 
You got the SACK, BUT I GOT PUT IN THE BIG OAF’S MOUTH.”
 
She looked over herself in disgust.
 
“Can you see any teeth marks on me?” she asked, lifting up her shirt and trying to see her back.

Michael stood up and took a look.
 
“No, not really,” he told her, although he did see some faint red marks near the small of her back.
 
It didn’t look like anything that wouldn’t fade away soon enough.

Magda looked Abigail over and frowned like she might be sick.
 
“You have some snot in your hair,” she said, wiping it away for her.

“I could feel his tongue rubbing back and forth across my stomach,” she wept.

Og just stood there smiling stupidly at them.

“Good boy, Og.
 
Good boy,” the Dragon told him.
 
“I don’t have a treat for you, I’m sorry.”
 
Og looked disappointed, but grinned at them once more before waving goodbye and bounding off into the darkness.

“Follow me,” the Dragon told Abigail, “and I’ll show you where you can wash yourself off.”

The Dragon stealthily led his three young companions through the garden, as if he were expecting just about anything.
 
He led them through dense foliage and hidden trails, attempting to keep under cover when possible, and avoid the open areas where they’d be easier seen.
 
The Garden of the Setting Sun was a massive place, and was located both inside and outside the castle.
 
It reminded Michael of a botanical gardens, complete with gazeboes, pergolas, and greenhouses, and despite its beauty was easily the eeriest garden he’d ever visited.

Michael noticed that the man guiding them already looked much better than he had when they’d freed him not an hour before.
 
Perhaps the cold, fresh air was doing him some good.

“Is there something living in this garden that we need to be worried about?” Michael whispered.

“Who knows?
 
All forms of wickedness dwell within this castle and on its grounds.
 
The place seems to draw evil like a sponge.
 
Apart from that, Dracula conducted many bizarre experiments.
 
That poor beast that brought us from the tower is one such example.
 
He was one of several similar creatures assigned to guard the castle, most of which are now dead.
 
For the most part however, Og keeps to himself and is more content to eat and sleep than track down any would-be intruders.”

“Dracula created that thing?” Abigail asked.

“Created?
 
No.
 
Manipulated or reformed might be more appropriate words.
 
No man is capable of creating life, although there are some who have attempted to modify it, corrupt it, even re-animate it.
 
The count did not shy away from any such practices.
 
Ahh, here we are.
 
The water here is pure.
 
It comes from a hot spring, so it will be warm enough to bathe in.
 
I can’t remember the last time I had a good wash.”

The immense statue of a voluptuous woman loomed over them.
 
She wore a thin flowing sheet of stone, which was veiled in ice, and her nose was missing.
 
She stood in a circular stone pool and poured a heavy stream of water from a fat pot, which filled the pool before pouring out into a canal that crept through other parts of the garden.

The steaming water must have been a tempting sight for Abigail, who promptly kicked her shoes off and jumped in to immerse herself, clothes and all, in the flowing stream from the pot.
 
Magda looked at Michael and chuckled.
 
He was glad to see her smiling again.

“I wish I had some shampoo,” Abigail lamented to no one in particular while scrubbing furiously with her bare hands.

After she was done, the Dragon said “My turn!
 
You all might want to turn around, unless you want your brains scarred.
 
I don’t shower with my clothes on.”

They turned their backs while he stepped beneath the stream.

Michael insisted that Abigail ring her clothes out, so Magda helped her while he stood guard.
 
Then he put her shirt in his backpack and gave her his jacket to wear, insisting that he’d be warm enough without it, and that he didn’t want a popsicle for a little sister.

“So what’s the plan now?” Michael called over his shoulder to the old man.
 
“Is this the easiest way out of here, or what?”

“There’s something we need to retrieve,” he told them.
 
“And then we’re off.
 
We need to get out of here as quickly as possible.
 
I’m sorry for the delay, but seeing this warm water was just too tempting.
 
You have no idea how much you miss certain things until they’re taken away from you.”

“So there’s something nearby that you want to retrieve?” Magda asked suspiciously.
 
“What is it?”

“A weapon we can use to help us defeat Mihnea.
 
If he succeeds in opening that portal, then ordinary weapons will be useless against what comes out.”

A few minutes later when everyone was sufficiently clean and refreshed, they continued on through the garden.
 
A variety of trees and other forms of plant life surrounded them on all sides, but many had gone dormant for the winter, and the entire place was in great need of repair.
 
It looked like whoever had been tasked with taking care of the garden was in way over his head.
 
There were stones and barriers out of place, broken statues and cracked pots, overgrown shrubs and vines growing out of control, yet the place somehow retained much of its charm.

They soon came to a dirt path that led them up a steep hill and through a dense patch of snow covered evergreens.
 
Michael gazed back behind them.
 
Castle Dracula rose up into the night, wearing the crescent moon like a crown and the stars like a sparkling robe.
 
Enchanted and disturbed by its presence, Michael again turned his eyes to the path ahead.
 
The trail climbed sharply, and there were a few points when he found himself using his hands to climb as well as his feet.
 
Reaching the top of the hill, the trees cleared and they could see the main road leading up to the castle, upon which Michael noticed some strange lights and stopped to take a look.

“Come on,” the Dragon told him, pulling him along by the arm.
 
“We’re nearly there now, we need to keep moving.”

Soon they were descending the other side of the hill, and after walking a short distance they arrived at the edge of a steep cliff.

“Carefully now,” the old man warned them.
 
“This is where things get interesting.”

“THIS is where things get interesting?” Abigail complained.
 
She began mumbling incoherently under her breath, but followed him down the path.

Magda came up beside Michael and glowered at him.
 
“You
still
think this is a good idea?”

He just shrugged at her.
 
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
 
And don’t get touchy with me, sweetheart.
 
This party was thrown for you Van Helsings, remember?
 
I’m just another name on the guest-list.”

She smirked at him threateningly and shook her head.

He took her hand and grasped it tightly.
 
“Come on, we need to stay together.
 
Abigail might need my help getting down.”
 
They started down the stone steps that led them down the face of the cliff.
 
It actually wasn’t as bad as Michael expected.
 
The steps were all fairly wide, except a few spots where the path narrowed to a mere few feet.
 
There were a few small patches of ice, but these were easily spotted.

“Come on, Abby,” Michael called ahead encouragingly.
 
“We’ve been on hikes worse than this.
 
Remember Camelback Mountain last summer?”
 
She nodded, but kept her eyes glued to the path.

They climbed for several minutes before reaching a large opening in the cliff face.
 
They stepped inside, stopping short of the veil of darkness hanging before them.
 
“Wait here for just a moment,” the Dragon told them.
 
He disappeared and a few moments later they heard the strike of a match and saw two torches light up.
 
The old man came back and handed one of them to Michael.
 
“Watch your step,” he warned them as they crept inside.
 
“The ground is wet and uneven.”