The Reluctant Miss Van Helsing

by Minda Webber

  Dracul laughed, along with the other vampires of the nest.

  "How touching," Lady Montcrief jeered. The sound was chilling. "And what would this last favor be?"

  "I wish to give a final farewell to my wife."

  Dracul released his hold on one of her arms, bowing mockingly. He said, "Yes, this makes the moment all the more terrible. You have a few moments… so begin."

  Staring at his wife with all the love in his heart, Asher quoted, hoping Jane would understand that help was on the way—if only they could stall long enough. "Ah love, let us be true to one another! for the world which seems to lie before us like a land of dreams, so various, so beautiful, so new, hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, nor certitude nor peace, nor help for pain; and we are here as on a darkling plain swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, where ignorant armies clash by night.'" Asher prayed that he had bought them enough time, since he had heard footsteps and a loud thump upstairs, directly above his head.

  Dracul threw back his head and laughed. "What an imbecile you are. A weakling. Your favor is to quote poetry to your wife?" He sneered in disdain. "But, then, Asher, you always were a fool for the mortal word. I remember how you used to fawn over Shakespeare, following him about, never missing one of his silly plays."

  Jane gasped. Her husband had known Shakespeare and never told her? Just wait till she got him alone; she would so give him a piece of her mind.

  Asher sheepishly noted his wife's exotic eyes turn a deeper shade of green. She was in a huff. He only hoped she—

  "You knew Shakespeare personally and you never told me?" She asked, clearly furious. "Asher, how could you be so stingy? How could you keep something like that from me?"

  Glancing back at Dracul, Jane went on, "My husband does have a warped sense of humor." Turning back to Asher, she shook her head. "Really, Asher, how could you not have told me? You know how I adore his plays."

  Asher wanted to laugh. Here they were in a life-and-death-and-undeath situation, and all she could do was scold him? She was such a feisty, unpredictable handful. But with Jane's passion, he would never, ever grow bored.

  "Enough! No more interruptions," Dracul said, gathering Jane back into his arms. From above, a loud crash reverberated. The noise halted Dracul's advance, and he gazed upward to the second floor of the Gothic manor house.

  "Check out that noise," he commanded Rudolph. The tall vampire stood to leave, but another crash sounded from the back of the house, a sound that definitely demanded his full attention.

  Glancing at the short Baltic vampires who had entered with Lady Montcrief, Dracul commanded, "You! See what caused that sound!"

  Then he turned to O'Hara, Lady Veronique and Herr Blixen, and pointed, stepping away from Jane. "Check the back of the house too," he snarled at them. His eyes had turned a bright scarlet.

  Jane wanted to weep with relief, and she quickly moved back toward Asher. The cavalry had arrived! The major was here. Her barbarian cousins hadn't let her down. She had never been gladder to see anyone in her life, for she spotted Dwight and Douglas come through the door, followed by her grandfather, crossbow in hand, yelling the Van Helsing battle cry.

  Dracul turned, his fangs flashing and his eyes glowing. He raced toward the eldest Van Helsing in a movement so quick, Jane had trouble following it. She gasped in fear, knowing she was about to see her grandfather slaughtered.

  But in one quick move, displaying an amazing agility for one so old, honed through years of hunting the undead, Ebenezer Van Helsing lifted his crossbow. Using it, he shot his arrow straight and true. It pierced Dracul's chest, embedding itself in his cold, black heart.

  The count was so startled, he glanced for a moment in stunned silence from Jane's grandfather to Jane to Asher, and then down at the wooden arrow-stake protruding from his chest. His eyes widened as blood gushed from his mouth.

  "Impossible! No human can kill me!" he muttered, sinking slowly to the floor. "For me, tomorrow never dies." He gasped, but his form began to crumble to dust as if he'd been in living daylights.

  Asher watched, unmoved by the death of his foul foe. "Never say never."

  Jane, who had a perfect view to the kill, added, "You should have lived and let die." Her heart was racing, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her grandfather had used the goldfinger vampire-execution move, and with remarkable aplomb.

  She shook her head in shock. The world was not enough for someone like Dracul, who so craved power and destruction. His death was a gruesome sight, yet a necessary one. Everyone was again safe from the evil Prince of Darkness. Light had crept back into the shadows, erasing them. Jane sighed in relief.

  The emotion was short-lived, however, as Herr Blixen and a Slavic vampire rushed to attack her grandfather for killing their prince. It seemed everything slowed down, and she watched in horror as Herr Blixen leapt to within a few feet of Colonel Ebenezer Van Helsing.

  But before he could strike, Blixen was melted. He was doused by holy water that Jane's eldest cousin, Dwight, threw. And a stake through the back stopped the other evil vampire's attack, courtesy of Brandon, who'd raced into the room like an avenging angel. Jane's brother had first countered an offensive move against his grandfather with a well-practiced stake-and-shake called the Thunderball, invented by the first Jakob Van Helsing in the seventeenth century.

  With vampires dying right and left around her, Lady Montcrief screamed in rage. Grabbing a chair, she swung it against the wall to break it into pieces. With one broken leg in hand, she leapt toward Asher, who was still bound in chains and hanging from the hook.

  Seeing what was about to happen, Jane yelled to her grandfather. Her Catching Flying Stakes class had come to mind immediately. In one smooth motion, her grandfather threw her a stake. Grabbing it from the air as if by magic, Jane turned and plunged it into Lady Montcrief's chest.

  Heedless of anything but the fierce desire to destroy Asher, Lady Montcrief continued forward, her own momentum propelling the stake through her. The timing was perfect, and Jane recognized that the many long hours of practicing in the grass had not been in vain. She might hate the sight of blood; she might hate the thought of stabbing anything other than a vampire dummy. But this time her husband's life was at stake—and she was, after all, a Van Helsing.

  With a #4 protruding from her chest, Lady Montcrief fell to the floor, crying out, "You stupid bitch! How could you?" But as she fell, her face began to disintegrate. Pieces of her skin began to turn to parchment, and she was soon left a pile of white and black ashes.

  Life was odd, Jane thought, staring down at the blood on her hands. Her whole life she had been pushed and prodded toward goals that were not her own. She had shed many a tear in dismay and loneliness. The road traveled had been a rocky and difficult one. Yet, from her vampire hunting beginnings she had become who she was, and that person was strong without being aggressive, caring without being cynical. She could be sad without being melancholy and happy without being a fool.

  Yes, from her past Jane had garnered a solid iron core that was strong enough for her to do her duty when it needed to be done, even if that duty was a despised one. And if not for that despised duty, Asher would now be dust, a hunk of wood through his heart. Life was filled with wonderful irony, and with tiny miracles joining together to make big ones.

  In a daze, she abstractly noted that her cousins George and Jemeny were lifting Asher off the hook. Suddenly Jane began to tremble, and her knees felt shaky. She sank to her knees as tears ran down her cheeks, and she vomited. Her first true staking, and she was so sick she could die.

  "There's no crying in staking, Jane," Dwight scolded.

  She only cried harder.

  "Stop that! There's no crying in this game, Jane. No crying at all," Dwight admonished.

  "My wife can cry if she wants," Asher growled, dropping to his knees beside her, concerned by the pallor of her complexion. He handed her his soiled handkerchief. "Jane, Jane, never have I known you to have a
handkerchief when you need one." She smiled faintly.

  He felt as if he would burst from pride, and he hadn't even had any holy water spilled on him. As the sounds of battle faded in the other parts of the house, he gazed at Jane with pride. "Wife, you saved my life. I think I am the luckiest vampire in the world."

  He would never forget the way she looked tonight, with blood on her dress, her hair mussed and courage in her eyes. She was magnificent, and she was his. His lady in red. He was a very lucky vampire, he decided happily. Very lucky indeed.

  She shook her head. "I know. But I have never killed a real vampire before. And I never want to do it again."

  Asher leaned his head against hers. "I don't want you to, either. I like my friends just as dead as they are," he teased.

  Jane managed a small smile. "Bite your tongue."

  "No, I believe I will let you do that," Asher argued. "And other places as well."

  She shook her head. "You are insane. We have just been rescued from the jaws of death—" Jane began, looking over at what was left of Dracul slowly disintegrating on the Persian carpet. She shuddered at the gory mess."—and you are thinking of bedroom matters. And to think, I used to think you were so proper and stiff."

  He smiled wickedly. "I am stiff. In the mornings, nights, and in point of fact, anytime you are near."

  Jane blushed. "Asher!"

  He continued to grin as her grandfather came and knelt down beside him, took out wire cutters and began to cut his chains. Asher winced in pain as the silver was pulled free of his flesh.

  Jane watched in silent sympathy, nausea her companion as the last of the links were pulled out. Asher gasped in pained relief, and Major and Jakob Van Helsing entered the room.

  Both men took in the in the scene of destruction with cheery dispositions. Jakob grinned, saying, "Vampire total dead: seven. Plus one dead human servant. Van Helsing losses were nil, but there were some minor bruises and cuts."

  "All clear above and below stairs," he went on to inform them. "Jolly good show. We got every last one of the bloodsuckers."

  George laughed loudly, boasting, "We came, we saw, we kicked their teeth in!"

  Jane's grandfather went over to what was left of Dracul. "Looks like I finally got the biggest vampire rat of them all," he said proudly.

  "And with your crossbow too," Brandon remarked. "I guess it was all that practice on the… vampire rats." He hesitated over the last part, as he'd always been embarrassed by his grandfather's insane theories about the mice. He summoned up some enthusiasm to cheer: "Tallyho, Grandfather, you got him! Finally, after centuries of murder, the Prince of Darkness has been stopped by a crossbow made for mice! It's almost too perfect." He knew he would tell his grandchildren of this night in years to come.

  Jakob Van Helsing patted his father on the shoulder. "Jolly good show, old man."

  The major however, was not amused. His crowning achievement was to have been Dracul's death. He frowned. "I should have come in here instead of taking the cellars. It should have been me."

  Both Brandon and Jane shook their heads. Their father would never change.

  "At least you didn't do the deed," the major said brusquely as he glanced over at his brother, Jakob.

  Jakob and George frowned, while Jane and Brandon both shrugged their shoulders.

  "Glad to see you aren't hurt, Jane. Jolly good show, old girl," the major remarked. "Proud of you."

  Jane's eyes teared up. Her father was proud of her and Asher loved her. He really loved her. Life was beautiful.

  Asher stood, rubbing his wrists where the worst of the burns from the silver had created red ridges in his flesh. "Dracul's dead now. And the world is a safer place—thanks to the Van Helsings. All of them." He bowed formally. "I am in your debt. I owe you my life, as well as my wife's. I don't know what I would do without her."

  "You love her…" Brandon stated thoughtfully.

  "With all my heart," Asher agreed.

  Looks of all kinds crossed the faces of the Van Helsings in the room. Expressions of amusement, disbelief, pride and anger.

  The major was the only one in a foul temper. "What is the world coming to? A Van Helsing, riding to the rescue of a vampire?" he groused.

  Jane grinned, secure in herself and Asher's love for the very first time. "Elephants are flying, and I do believe I'll need to purchase a pair of ice skates," she commented, as her husband drew her into his arms and held her tight. She felt as if she had crossed a dark and desolate continent to finally find her way home. "I guess little demons all over the underworld will be shivering tonight."

  Staring down at his wife, Asher threw back his head and laughed. Yes, hell had frozen over. He had fallen deeply in love with a Van Helsing. And the future had never looked rosier.

  Jane joined his laughter, much to the bewilderment and bemusement of her family.

  So Many Vampire Ashes Gone with the Wind

  The next night, Asher discovered both the triumphs and tribulations of life in a large family. Jane had invited the Van Helsings—cousins and all—to a victory celebration dinner.

  At first he was reserved and wary. It wasn't often that a master vampire was encircled by a room full of slayers and lived to tell the tale. But the Van Helsings quickly wanned to him. They were amazed by all the mirrors in his front rooms, and even more amazed that Asher's reflection could be seen whenever he stood near one. The Van Helsings learned that one of the many things they'd thought they knew about vampires was a myth. Which alerted them to the possibility more vampires might be hiding in London than they'd previously thought. They were grateful for that.

  Yes, in spite of his being a Nosferatu, the Van Helsings had taken him into the bosom of their family—and what bosoms there were! Asher thought as he stared at Jane's décolletage. He really had to talk to her about her dressmaker and lay down a few laws. The neckline of that gown should be at least two inches higher. No, make that three, he decided as his wife bent slightly forward, listening to her cousin George.

  Cocking his head, Asher decided that his wife looked lovely in her scarlet-colored gown. He was a. vampire, and he wanted her now in a most elemental way, with blood and body, heart and soul. Thanking his lucky stars, Asher realized how fortunate he was. In a world filled with lonely people, all searching for that special someone, he had found his. And since he was a vampire, he could have her by his side forever. He smiled devilishly, his love for his wife glowing from his eyes.

  Jane returned her husband's smile, happier than she had ever been. Asher truly loved her, and she loved him with an intense passion that she knew would never die.

  "Jane, pay attention," George admonished. "This story really is quite humorous."

  Jane sighed and pretended to listen to her cousin's recollection of the other night's trip to the cemetery as she watched Spot approach Asher to be petted and held. With a sigh of resignation, Asher picked up the little dog and began scratching under Spot's chin. Jane hid her smile. Her toplofty earl was an old softie at heart. All the while she watched her husband talking with various members of her family. It was remarkable, but the Van Helsings had declared a truce with Asher, and they were all getting along famously. At this moment, Asher was discussing the tying of the oriental cravat with her brother and cousin Jemeny, who seemed awed by Asher's know-how.

  Her grandfather was scouring Asher's home for mice. Uncle Jakob was deep in conversation with Renfield about the origin of the best red wines. Her eldest cousin, Dwight, was preening before the full-length mirror in the corner, and the major was sitting in the large brocade chair by the fireplace, his knees upon a cushion, discussing deer hunting with Douglas. (Though her father hadn't been very courteous to her husband, at least he wasn't reaching for silver chains or staring at Asher's chest with bloodlust in his eyes.)

  She nodded happily at something George said, thinking how fortunate she was. They were just one big happy family—Orville, Spot, vampire hunters, vampire, human servant and all. In fact, Orville w
as singing his nightly song, screeching happily while Dwight, the major and Asher all wore disgusted expressions. Jane laughed. They had more in common than they thought.

  After dinner, the hours sped by quickly, and the Van Helsings took their leave; Brandon, Douglas and Jemeny waved and called out their good-byes.

  "Alone at last," Asher whispered dryly, as he watched his butler close the door on them. "Now you are mine, and I can have my wicked way with you." He leaned close and kissed her on the neck. "Stars fade, but I linger on, dear, just craving your kiss. I will always crave your kiss—your smile, your love, the way you argue with me…"

  "Why, Asher, I rarely argue with you," Jane argued.

  Asher threw back his head and laughed. Then he quoted, " 'Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove.'"

  "Christopher Marlowe," Jane said, knowing at once who had written the words. "And speaking of quotes—"

  Asher cut her off with a hot, brief kiss.

  Jane pulled back, staring at her husband. "I can't believe you knew Shakespeare personally, and didn't tell me."

  Placing both hands on either side of her face, he said, "Jane, Jane, my most cherished wife, I love you."

  "That is because you have impeccable taste," she teased. "Now, my love, stop trying to distract me. Tell me all about Shakespeare," she said, trying to ignore Asher nibbling on her ear.

  "Do you know that your love was sharp enough to pierce my cold heart?" he asked. " 'I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?'"

  Jane would not be distracted. "That last part is Shakespeare—and you knew him. Were you good friends? Did he confide in you? Were any of his stories written about you?" She had a hundred questions to ask about the grand old playwright.