Alex Van Helsing

by Jason Henderson

  The teacher was standing at the door of the refectory. With a final scowl at the Merrills, Alex strode over to Sangster, Sid following closely.

  “How are you two holding up?” he asked. “Besides this insane need to keep fighting with the Merrills.”

  “I didn’t…,” Alex began, but Sid cut him off.

  “We’re just waiting for more news,” Sid said.

  Sangster nodded, and glancing from Sid to Alex, said, “Look, I know this may be an awkward time, but can you two do some research for me? For class.”

  Alex looked at Sid.

  “Sure,” said Sid, “anything to take my mind off this.”

  “I want to know about Lord Byron and magic,” Sangster said. “I’m going to the library to pull whatever I can. Would you mind helping?”

  Sid and Alex nodded and they were off.

  The three of them went to the library where Sangster had set up at a long table in the back. Sangster’s chair had several yellow legal pads and a stack of books laid before it. Sangster pulled a legal pad toward him, scrawled a library code on a slip of paper, and handed it to Sid. “Sid, I missed this one, could you go find it?”

  Sid nodded, taking off for the stacks.

  “It’s taking some doing.” Sangster looked at Alex. “But I’m on the move tonight.”

  “What do you mean ‘it’s taking some doing’?” Alex asked. “We found the entrance.”

  “Oh, they’re happy about the entrance,” Sangster said. “What they’re not happy about is spending men and material on chasing after two hostages. They’re afraid if we do something big and bold, we might lose access to the Scholomance.”

  Alex was disgusted. “What are you saying, that they’d sacrifice my friends because saving them would be inconvenient?”

  “Alex,” Sangster said, scowling. “We’re not a bunch of Republic serial villains. To answer your question, yes, they would sacrifice the innocent if it would save more lives. If accessing the Scholomance later, with a bigger plan, when we know more, will save more lives, then they won’t move right now. But beyond that, doesn’t this spell trap to you? Just two hostages, taken right in front of me, a known agent to them, and you, a guy who they’re just waiting to see hit the stage?”

  Alex had to blanch at the idea that the vampire world was buzzing about getting him “onstage,” as though he were a new Jonas Brother. “But you are going,” he said. It was not a question.

  “Yeah, I’m going,” Sangster said. “I argued for hours. I’m not giving up on a student. They’ll allow a one-man insertion. One try. That’s it.”

  “Let me ask you something,” Alex said. “You really think they’re still alive?”

  “I think so,” Sangster said.

  “Why do you think so?” Alex asked. His fear about Paul and Minhi had been haunting him.

  “Because you don’t take two hostages right in front of witnesses just to kill them immediately afterward.” Sangster scrawled another number on a slip and handed it to Alex. “So…at worst, it’s probably a trap. But Icemaker is still up to something, and I need to figure out what that is. Here—I need some stuff on the whole Icemaker circle, Mary Shelley, Polidori, everyone. Go find this.”

  Alex turned around, looking at the slip of paper. The book was The Monsters, call letters 823 HOO. Alex scanned the vast bookshelves as he walked past them until he found the row marked 810–830.

  It took Alex no time to locate the book Sangster had sent for—it was a new book on the Romantics and clearly had just been acquired and library-bound. When Alex found it, he pulled it down, stuck it under his arm, and scanned nearby to see if anything else might prove useful. He liked to stumble across information this way—visually scanning nearby books beat out online key word searches any day. His search paid off: He found another volume—Polidori and the Vampires—that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  Then he heard a creak. A book fell from a top shelf.

  Alex looked up and then straight ahead at the sound of a sharp laugh. Through the stacks, for just a moment, he saw the face of Steven Merrill. And then something heavy struck him across the forehead. As it tumbled down—it appeared to be a copy of Childe Harold—Alex was stunned. He tried to stand up straight, grab the bookshelf, but it was falling, books pouring in a wave off the shelf. Alex started to stumble and trip toward the aisle.

  Slow motion now, the fourteen-foot-tall shelf began to crash down against the next one, domino reaching for domino, with Alex underneath. Suddenly, he felt something grab him across the waist and push him hard. Alex tumbled out into the aisle and fell spread-eagle on the floor. Safe.

  The library shook and thundered, shelving units slamming down, heavy wooden sounds followed by thousands upon thousands of smaller falling-books sounds.

  And then all was quiet. Alex staggered to his feet, looking back for who had hit him. There was Sangster, halfway buried under the shelves, trying to pry himself free.

  Sangster cursed, then looked at Alex. “Help me with this,” he rasped.

  Now Sid came running up, followed by more students and the librarian. They all worked to lift the shelf off Sangster’s legs until finally there was enough give that the librarian, who was a strapping Viking of a woman, was able to grab Sangster by his shoulders and help him wriggle free.

  Everyone let the shelves settle back. “Don’t get up.” The librarian held out her hand. “Can you feel your legs?”

  Sangster was touching them. “Yes, yes, but…” He indicated his right leg, gritting his teeth. “I think this one is broken.”

  “You!” the librarian looked at Alex. “Go to the front and call an ambulance.”

  Alex was scanning the library for the Merrills, but they were nowhere in sight. As he ran to the front for the phone, he was cursing them, plotting indescribable revenge. If Sangster was hurt—if Sangster couldn’t do the mission tonight, and the Polidorium was unwilling to do it without Sangster—where did that leave Paul and Minhi’s chances for survival?

  CHAPTER 16

  “It’s just a sprain.” Sangster was waving off the protestations of Mrs. Hostache, who was adjusting a pillow that a nurse had put behind Sangster’s head when they had led him into the emergency room. Sangster was in a curtained area of the ER in Secheron’s clinic. Alex and Sid had ridden along on the condition that they remain silent and not interfere.

  The doctor had already bound up Sangster’s leg in a plastic-and-foam cast that prevented him from bending it. He would wear it, the doctor had said, for nearly a month. That would be weeks in a wheelchair or on crutches. Now they were just waiting for his wheels.

  “Do you ever manage to go anywhere without triggering some catastrophe?” asked Mrs. Hostache, staring at Alex. He could read what she was thinking—she was running through possibilities, angles: What would cause an enormous bookshelf to topple; whether such an occurrence could be caused by climbing or other roughhousing; or whether it intimated something definitely darker. Whether Alex had made it happen. Whether she trusted Alex or not. Especially given his record.

  Alex cleared his throat. “If Mr. Sangster hadn’t jumped and pushed me when he did, I—those things are heavy, is all I’m saying.”

  “How did this happen?” she finally asked, straining for a neutral tone.

  He could tell the truth—he had seen the Merrills, and naturally they hated him and were inclined to try something nasty. But then had he seen them pushing, climbing, anything? Was it enough to stick? Finally he said, “I don’t know.”

  “Were you climbing on the shelves?” Mrs. Hostache asked, pushing up her glasses.

  I’m not four, Alex wanted to say, but instead he just shook his head honestly. “No, absolutely not.”

  “He wasn’t climbing,” said Sangster, rolling his eyes. “I thought I might have heard some kids roughhousing, but by the time I got there, the shelves were falling.”

  “Here we are.” A nurse, a twenty-two-year-old ponytailed guy, arrived with a whee
lchair for Sangster. “Your ride, m’sier.”

  “I can take the crutches,” Sangster said, pointing to the ones by the bed.

  “Hospital policy, m’sier, is to wheel you out. After that, eh, you can run as far as we are concerned.” The nurse laughed.

  Sangster shrugged. “Alex, carry those crutches to the front entrance, would you?”

  Alex carried the crutches and the entourage followed Sangster out. When they hit the front door, Sid got into the back of the van as Mrs. Hostache climbed in and started it up.

  As Alex helped Sangster into the van, he spoke low. “What about the raid?”

  “The official position is wait and see; the raid is my idea.” Sangster shook his head in disgust. “I’ll be healed up soon.”

  The engine was running, and now Alex slowed to a crawl in helping Sangster out of the chair and onto the crutches. “How long will that take? The doctor said weeks.”

  “It’s not ideal.” Sangster sighed. “But trust me; it won’t be that bad.”

  “That’s insane,” Alex hissed.

  “Shh,” Sangster said. “Calm down.”

  “Have you called in yet?”

  “No,” said Sangster.

  “So then is the Polidorium still thinking that you’re going tonight?”

  “They’ve given me reluctant permission and there’s a go package waiting for me under the angel statue,” Sangster said. “So it gets stalled.”

  Paul and Minhi may not have that kind of time, Alex thought to himself.

  At ten o’clock, Alex rose and found Sid staring at him from his bunk. He was lying still on his side, watching silently. Alex remained wordless as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. It wasn’t until he sat on the chair at the writing desk that Sid spoke.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Oh,” Alex said, pulling on a pair of sneakers. “I forgot the—I left a—”

  “Are you hunting them?”

  Alex looked up. He had no idea how to answer, and he played out several versions in his head. Then he said truthfully: “I’m going to the Villa Diodati.”

  “That would be a secret, wouldn’t it?” Sid asked.

  Alex finished lacing his shoes. “Yeah.”

  “Then I was asleep.” Sid turned over to face the wall.

  Alex nodded, rising. “I need to borrow your bike again.”

  “Just get them back.”

  Alex rode Sid’s bike a quarter mile down the road before ditching it behind a small group of pine trees, where he and Sangster had hidden the Kawasaki Ninja in the early hours of the morning on the way back from the shore. He pulled several branches and a tarp off the motorcycle. It took him another twenty minutes to reach the vineyards of the Villa Diodati.

  CHAPTER 17

  Static throbbed and hissed in the back of Alex’s head as he crept along the beach near the Villa Diodati. The angel statue cast its gaze on the water, its wings unfurled, its arms wide and beckoning. Alex bent down, sweeping sand aside next to the marble base. After a moment he felt his hands strike a plastic sack.

  He ripped the sack out of the sand and tore it open to find what Sangster had called the go package, a black backpack bearing the Polidorium logo at the top. Alex lifted it quickly, looking around as if one of their agents might come to retrieve it at any moment. He opened the pack and found a heavy, leatherlike roll inside. Like the one Sangster had before, when we were looking for the entrance. He set it on the ground, rolling it out.

  Alex looked down at the gear. He saw a net containing several of the glass water balls, a Polibow with four twelve-bolt cartridges, assorted silver knives, and one of the specially carved, silver-lined stakes. The Polibow had a sling and he slipped it over his shoulder. There was also a sort of air gun with a grappling hook in the barrel. Cool. He decided to ignore the Beretta; he had trained with hunting rifles but knew enough about guns to not try using one he’d never been taught. The stake he shoved through a belt loop.

  Alex found a Bluetooth headset fastened to the roll, retrieved it, and put it on. He thought back to his time at the farmhouse.

  He tapped the button on the headset. He wondered who would answer and prepared several responses.

  An answer came across: “Farmhouse.”

  Alex said, “Farmhouse, I’m in the field, I need Sangster.”

  Instantly the voice said, “Routing.”

  Alex blinked, pleased with himself, and waited. There was a series of clicks and finally an answer as Sangster came on the line.

  “This is Sangster.”

  “Sangster, this is Van Helsing.”

  There was a silence, and then he heard a distant crackle.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I have the go package,” Alex said. “I’m going in.” He clicked the device off.

  Alex turned toward the water, feeling the corresponding rise of static in his mind. He threw a glass ball into the air, raised the Polibow, and took it down in one shot. The tinkling shards of glass on water opened up another world. Now he had to hurry.

  Cold shot through Alex’s limbs as he waded into the lake. Near the lip of the tunnel, where the water was up to his chest, it got worse; the temperature plummeted. He could see his breath. His teeth started to chatter as he grabbed the edge of the entrance and swung his leg up, dragging himself onto the stone floor. The static was pounding. This was a place of evil.

  Cut that out. Pay attention.

  For a moment he remembered his first skiing instructor, on a mountain where Alex had gotten into a precarious spot and had started to complain about whether or not he could make it back down.

  What are you doing right now? Are you solving your problem or is this just noise?

  For now, the static was just noise. He forced his mind to push the static back and down.

  Drenched to the bone, Alex stopped for a moment at the mouth of the tunnel. Inside, the air was still frigid, but at least he wasn’t swimming in it anymore. He crouched low, collecting himself. The tunnel itself was as wide as a driveway, and as he looked down, he saw that it sloped at about a 15-degree angle, leveling off out of sight, probably dropping again. How many underground lairs can this part of Switzerland hold? He turned over the pack, observing that the zipper worked as a seal, so that the pack was waterproof. Alex touched the tunnel wall. It was made of what seemed to be stone, lined with a matrix that stretched around and down as far as the eye could see. At intervals he saw reinforcing beams embedded with skulls.

  He clicked the Bluetooth device on, and said, “You still there?”

  “Alex,” came Sangster’s voice, cool and steady. “You need to turn around. Don’t go into that tunnel.”

  “Too late,” said Alex. “You gonna help me or are we going to discuss this a little more?”

  “You’re in danger already.”

  “Yeah, so I need your help,” he said. Alex needed to have some idea of what he was dealing with. “The walls are lined with a white—like a white net. What is this stuff?” The matrix glimmered in the light as Alex ran his hand along it.

  Sangster responded, “That is probably a reinforcing mesh of bone.”

  “Ugh,” Alex said, pulling his hand back.

  “Not pure bone, though, there’s probably metal or something in it. It’s a polymer of some kind.”

  “Vampires make polymers?”

  “Vampires make work orders,” Sangster said. “Probably someone else would make the polymer.”

  “I never knew they were that organized,” Alex said. Of course, I never knew they existed. There was a flicker behind him at the mouth of the tunnel, and he turned with surprise—only to see the opening closing up. Now a sheen of water lay across the top, and he could make out the distant moon shining, murky through the liquid.

  Alex walked back to the entrance and struck the wall of water, wanting to know what he was dealing with. His hand bounced off painfully, smarting as if he had struck concrete. “Ow!”

 
“What?” Sangster hissed, far away.

  “I smacked the entrance,” Alex said. “It’s closed. So would this be technology or magic?”

  “Both,” Sangster replied. Alex could hear the teacher deciding he had no choice but to guide him. “Okay. Alex, you need to keep moving. You can’t stay still very long. Stay away from the walls. I’m thinking they’re not sensitive or you’d probably be hearing alarms already, but you don’t want to take any chances.”

  Alex snatched his hand away from the wall. “You could warn me about these things ahead of time.”

  “You’re telling me,” the teacher said. “What about your…other sense?”

  Alex blinked. “It’s vibrating and, you know, there.”

  “I was afraid of that,” said Sangster. “You won’t be able to use your sense to warn you of a sneak attack because right now you’re surrounded by evil. It’s just going to constantly clang. We’ll find someone to help you with that.”

  Alex wondered who they could find to help. “That someone wouldn’t be my own father, would it?”

  “I think that’s up to you,” Sangster said.

  As Alex crept, Sangster whispered advice to Alex, Just stay low. Don’t go anywhere wide-open. If you see anyone coming after you, run. You’re there to find the hostages and information, not to engage the enemy.

  After he had traveled about a half mile, the light had grown so dim that Alex spoke again. “It’s getting hard to see.”

  “Do you have the go package?”

  “Yes.”

  “Reach in and feel for the left pocket. You’ll find Velcroed to the side a pair of infrared glasses. Put them on.”

  Alex found them. They were lightweight, barely bulkier than a welder’s mask, and when Alex had slipped them on, he found the button on the side and pressed.

  Suddenly he could see again. He nearly screamed.

  Sangster heard him gasp. Alex said, “I found someone.”