VROLOK (45 page)

“That was your error in judgement.”

Sofia stood back from Vlad in disbelief. This was not the man she had fallen for. She now realised that the man that she had loved had just been a dream and the man before her bore no resemblance to him whatsoever. Sofia wiped away her tears; she had lost enough dignity in front of this man. She stepped back and walked towards the door.

As she opened the door that lead back out onto the street she took a deep breath and said, “I never want to see you again.”

Vlad was glad it was over before it was too late, but then he felt completely iniquitous as Sofia spoke her last words to him. “And the child that I am carrying will never know your name.” With that Sofia left. Vlad was devastated. It was too late; the damage had already been done. Vlad’s heart sank. He should have been happy, for he had done what he had set out to do, but his heart was heavy and he did not want to hurt Sofia any more than he had already done.

A few years passed. Vlad went back to check that Isabella was all right and of course she was. He watched her from a distance, trying to remind himself what he had done this for. When he looked at Isabella he remembered why he had done what he had—to preserve her precious life. Vlad knew what he had to do but he delayed the inevitable as long as he could. He had meant to stay away only months but had stayed away years. Five years passed before he finally returned with the intention of killing Sofia’s child.

He gazed at Sofia from afar. She looked so happy with her child. It was a boy. She was walking with him to the market. She was laughing and her son was laughing, too. For the first time in her life she was completely happy; she had found someone to love completely and who loved her completely in return.

How could Vlad take this away from her? But he had to. It was the only way. He waited until the boy was outside his house playing on his own. Vlad approached him and the boy unknowingly greeted his father.

“Hello,” said the boy. Vlad didn’t answer him. He just stared at the child he was about to kill.

“Abraham, Abraham,” a voice called from behind Vlad; it was Sofia.

“Coming, mother,” the boy shouted. Vlad was amazed Sofia had named him Abraham—the name he had used when he had met her. Abraham ran to his mother and hugged her.

She greeted him with a smile and said, “Go into the house and get ready for dinner.”

“All right,” he answered and ran to his home.

Sofia went over to Vlad and said, “What are you doing here?” Vlad ignored her question; he had one of his own.

“I thought you said he would never know my name?”

“I thought I hated you when I said that, I even tried to hate you but I realised I couldn’t, because you gave me something that I will always treasure.” Vlad could not do it; he could not kill this woman’s son.

“You have raised a good boy; he will be better off without my influence.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Sofia said seriously. Sofia watched as Vlad walked away from her forever.

Sofia would never realise how lucky she was and how close her son had came to danger at such an early age. Vlad left never to return. He knew Sofia would never tell anyone of her affair, so he knew no one could possibly find out that her child was a Dhampir. He would find another way to kill Leila. There had to be another way. He would never try this method again.

ABRAHAM VAN HELSING
THE MOST FAMOUS OF ALL THE DHAMPIRS 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Isabella would completely recover from the wounds that Leila had inflicted. However, she now had two more permanent scars, one on the back of her head underneath her hair and one on her chest just above her heart. Her recovery would be slow, and she would stay with Vilem’s child, Jakub, until it was complete. His wife Rayna, was not happy about the situation but Isabella knew her hostile attitude was only because she was concerned about her children. Isabella understood this and put up with the somewhat repressed animosity that Rayna infrequently displayed.

Jakub’s eldest child Anna interested Isabella. She was a strong, wilful child and Isabella liked her. Anna revered Isabella and followed her around, imitating every mannerism Isabella displayed. Isabella was flattered by the child. Unfortunately, the skills of reading and writing that had been passed from generation to generation within this family had stopped with Katalin. She had no interest in learning and no interest in teaching. Isabella decided to correct Katalin’s mistake and used her time at Jakub’s to teach Anna how to read. It was her payment for Jakub’s family’s kindness and toleration.

Isabella was enjoying her recovery; she felt as if she was part of a family again. Even though the parents within this family feared her, they also respected her and Anna, not knowing how her parents felt, loved Isabella like an older sister. Despite this, Isabella knew her stay with them was to be relatively short-lived and when five years had passed and she was fully recovered, Jakub approached her.

“How much longer are you going to stay?” Jakub asked.

“You are not sick of me already, surely not, for it has only been a few years?” Isabella smiled as she said it. She had been expecting this conversation for the past year.

“We are not sick of you,” Jakub answered.

“No, you are not sick of me. You are just scared that I will kill your children.” If Isabella was going to be flippant, Jakub was as well.

“I know you won’t kill my children, I am worried for the neighbour’s children.”

Isabella laughed. “Fair enough, I will leave soon.”

Jakub detected sadness in her eyes, and he regretted the previous conversation.

“Stay as long as you want, Isabella, I mean that.”

Isabella turned to him and smiled poignantly.

“I know you do and that is why I must leave, for some day the thirst will over take me and I will kill someone and it could be someone you care about,” Isabella answered.

“I don’t believe you would do that.”

“Rest assured I would and it would not be the first time.”

Sensing her remorse, Jakub replied, “I am sorry for you.”

“Don’t be. I know what I am; don’t let sentiment make you forget.”

“You are quite a woman.”

“I was. Not any more—now I am quite the Vrolok.” There was a lull in the conversation.

“Isabella I mean it, you can stay as long as you like,” Jakub reiterated.

Isabella ignored Jakub’s comment and asked, “Do you remember your mother?”

“Not at all. I sometimes think I remember what she looked like but how could I?”

“You remind me of her.”

“I do?”

“Yes very much so. I have to say she was the most honest and pure soul I ever knew.”

“Thank you for telling me that, I would give anything even to remember what she looked like or what her love felt like.” Isabella turned and placed her hand on Jakub’s shoulder.

“Your father should have told you.” With this, Isabella went back inside the house with the intention of leaving that very night.

“My daughter will miss you dreadfully,” Jakub shouted after her.

Isabella turned back towards Jakub and said, “She is a good child. Say goodbye to her for me.” Isabella stood for moment looking at Jakub; she wanted to give him something. “I have never given you anything for letting me stay here. I would like to.” Isabella walked back towards Jakub placed her hands on his temples and Isabella gave him a memory, a long since forgotten memory. Jakub was amazed; tears started to flow from his eyes.

“I remember her,” he simply stated. Isabella wiped his tears away with the tips of her fingers and left him.

b

Isabella traveled north through Germany and then through Holland. Since she had left Jakub’s home she could sense she had company. Leila was always close but never showed herself. Without the Dhampir’s blood Isabella was too strong for her. So Leila chose to follow her without confrontation, waiting for an opportunity to arise to either end Isabella’s life or inflict some great harm. Isabella let her follow her, for she too was looking for some way to kill Leila and Isabella was sure that she would eventually find it.

Isabella had practically traveled as far north as she could without crossing an ocean. She had halted in Rotterdam and was walking along the bank of the port. She paused for a moment to gaze out across the Mass River. She was only fifteen miles from the North Sea. She longed to cross it and chase after Nicolae, but she knew she could not. She stood on the dock beside a dilapidated and abandoned ship. It caught her eye for a just a moment as she turned. The ship was old and weather beaten; it had been tied to the pier where it would eventually sink, a once magnificent ship that had been forgotten when it had outlived its usefulness.

“The last of the Flying Dutchmen,” a voice spoke at Isabella’s side. “I came here to see it.”

“A Flying Dutchman?” Isabella queried. She was glad of the conversation; it had been ten years since she had spoken to anyone.

“Do you know the story?”

“No, tell me.” Isabella turned to see who was talking to her. He was a little more than a child and a little less than a man.

From the instant she saw him Isabella discerned that there was something very different about this very young man. She sensed an inhuman quality. If she didn’t know better she would have sworn he was another Vampire, but she knew he couldn’t possibly be; he was far too young. Hopefully not even Leila would have turned one so youthful. This creature was something new, something extraordinary, neither human nor Vampire. This new being continued to speak.

“Legend says that Captain Van der Becken was determined to achieve what no other captain had before. He wanted to sail around the Cape of Good Hope. So dogmatic was he in his quest that he did not observe, or chose not to observe, the dark clouds looming overhead. The captain sailed straight into the eye of the storm; the ship was doomed and started to sink. The captain, however, would not give up and would not let a storm so baneful that it must have been sent by God himself to beat him. He yelled out and cursed God for sending such a storm. He yelled he would round the Cape even if he had to keep sailing until doomsday. And with his own words he had sealed his fate, and that is where he is until this day, sailing his ship totally alone, his crew having abandoned him. So if you ever see a ship only manned by one sailor, look away quickly, as whoever looks upon the Flying Dutchman will die a most terrible death.”

“That is a grim tale,” Isabella said.

“It is not a tale, it is the truth,”

Isabella smiled. “Of course it is.”

“Abraham!” A voice in the distance echoed through the summer air.

“That is my mother. I better go.”

“You had better.”

The boy bowed as a courtesy to Isabella. He had been holding a paint box, tightly in his hands the whole time they had been talking.

“Are you a painter, Abraham?” Isabella asked.

“I am, but not for long. I start medical training next winter.”

“I take it you are not happy about that prospect.”

“No, not really, but it is what my mother and father want me to do.”

“Medicine is a good profession, an honourable one.”

“I suppose.”

“Abraham!” This time his mother’s voice was sharper and more determined.

“I better go.”

“You better.” As Abraham turned and walked away Isabella knew that she would meet this boy again, but when he was fully grown.

Isabella did meet him again several years later in Germany. He had lost a little of his romantic nature and was now a man of science.

Isabella was walking along the bank of the river Neckar when she came across an advertisement.

“Goethe’s
Faust
now showing at the Heidelberg Theatre,” it read.

“You know the story.” A familiar phrase and a familiar voice came out of the darkness. Isabella looked around and saw Abraham. He had matured and was now a handsome young man, his adolescence several years behind him.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Isabella answered.

“Is it a good story? I am considering going to see it.” Isabella smiled at Abraham, but he did not recognise her.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Isabella enquired.

“No, should I?”

“You should, I flatter myself that I am not usually so easily forgotten.”

“When did we meet?” he questioned.

“You told me a story about the Flying Dutchman.”

Abraham looked at Isabella and now he recognised her. “That must be ten years ago; you look as if you haven’t aged a day.”

“Appearances can be deceptive.”

“You look well; anyway, I can’t believe you remembered that, I was just a boy then.”

“You are not a boy any more?”

“I try not to be.”

“An honest answer, a rare thing from a young man.”

“That’s a bit harsh; you must never have known the right young men.”

Isabella laughed and answered, “I mustn‘t have.”

“Well we can correct that; if I go to the play tonight will I see you there?”

“Perhaps,” Isabella said, and a promising smile occupied her face.

“I hope I do.” Abraham bowed his head and left Isabella. She still felt that unfamiliar aura but it seemed a good deal more human than it had done before and so she dismissed it as a simple paradox.

Vlad and Leila looked on as Isabella was talking to Abraham. Vlad was not close enough to recognise his own son. When Isabella left the young man she still sported her smile for a few hundred yards. Abraham had made an impression on her and this fact was evident to both Leila and Vlad. Leila decided there and then that if she could not kill Isabella she would kill anyone else that Isabella held dear, so she would wait until this impression grew deeper. Vlad also tried to fight off similar instincts; old pangs of jealousy were starting to well up inside him. He saw Leila following Abraham and he knew what her plan was but he hesitated from stopping her; he briefly considered letting Leila kill this young man.

Leila kept watching the pair for the next few months, looking for some sign of growing affection on Isabella’s part. Leila had waited to kill him until she was certain that Isabella would be hurt by his death, and unfortunately for Isabella she was growing fond of Abraham.

Isabella was relishing the company of this young man. He was someone to talk to and who was eager to talk to her. She was asking him plenty of questions, about his life and what he wanted for his future. He was from a prominent Dutch family and he was attending Heidelberg University studying medicine. He was an enigma. To Isabella he was just a normal man, with a normal upbringing, but yet still there was something about him that captivated her. When he touched her she felt a sharp tingling sensation run through her. It was not unpleasant, but it felt unusual and out of place, as if her body was warning her to stay away from this man and that ironically was what made Isabella stay close to him. Isabella could not read him at all, she could not see what he was thinking, and even when she touched him she could not enter his mind.

Isabella had been keeping company with Abraham for almost a year. Abraham requested to see Isabella regularly, but today was different. He had made such a formal request to see her, he had even gone to the measures of sending a note to her apartments, and this was something he had never done before. He wrote that he wanted to ask her something important and because Isabella could not read him she had no idea what it was.