Brian paused for a moment, pondering both Heimlich’s words and XII’s, the two sides of his soul warring in his mind before reaching a verdict.
“No.”
Heimlich blinked.
“Oh.”
At the Master of Magic’s surprised look, Brian laughed.
“You said it yourself, Heimlich; I’m surprising.”
“Yes. And you said I’m a fucking lunatic.”
“I still stand by that. Any teacher who uses napalm as a learning aid should be reported to OFSTED in my book.”
“Well thank God I answer to higher powers than the education board. What now?”
“Now?” Brian thought long and hard. “Home to relax. I’ve a video game I’ve been meaning to get round to. I’m assuming I can have at least one day off a week?”
“You can.”
“Good.”
With that, and under the smiling eyes of the gathered Masters, Brian began to walk from the Healing Chamber, through the anteroom and towards the centre of the Sanctum and the garage beyond. Halfway down the corridor towards the garage, a patter of light footsteps beside him and he turned to see Gertie hurrying alongside.
“Wetherspoon’s opens in ten minutes,” she told him. “And I hear they do a mean Full English.”
“If you like your black pudding like shurikens, sure.”
“Good,” she laughed. “Then it’s a date.”
Out of reflex, he snapped.
“It’s not a… wait, what?”
With a grip that told him she could snap his neck like a fortune cookie, she looped her arm through his and grinned.
“Come on, let’s get some breakfast. And I’m driving Bertha; I’ve heard she can be a little feisty for you…”
I like a bit of feistiness, Brian mused, regarding her petite form and bright hair as they strode through the door and up to the Camaro. A wizened figure laughed at him from within the windscreen, before pulling his wide-brim hat down in a nod of respect and fading. And within moments, Bertha’s angry tones filled the concrete chamber, and with a squeal of burning rubber, she was gone.
Figures stood in the still-open doorway to the garage, regarding the receding muscle car. Well, two stood at least; the other sat in a chair that puffed and steamed tiny clouds of oily smoke.
“What do you think?” Heimlich asked the other pair.
“I quite like him,” Otto shrugged, smiling. “Reminds me of myself at that age.”
“What?” Friedrick replied. “Were you a lanky streak of stupid too?”
“Less lanky, but yes, stupid.”
“He’s a work in progress,” Heimlich mused. “But Gertie seems to like him. And she doesn’t like anyone. So there’s that.”
“How do you think he’ll cope with the next mission?” Otto asked.
“Fucking terribly, is my guess,” Friedrick ventured. “Even XII struggled with Water Nymphs. This buffoon’s gonna make a right dog’s dinner of it.”
“We’ll see,” Heimlich said. “He’ll need some training.”
“Oh aye?” Friedrich looked up with a wry smile on his face. “Got some more schemes cooked up?”
Heimlich’s smile was all the answer he needed.
“We’ll make a Helsing of him yet,” he replied. “And you know what…? I’ve an inkling he might turn out to be the best one yet.”
ENJOY THIS BOOK?
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FANCY SOMETHING DARKER AND MORE EPIC IN SCALE? READ ‘THE GRAEME STONE SAGA’ STARTING WITH BOOK ONE ‘THE DESCENT TO MADNESS.’
FANCY A HORROR? WHY NOT TRY THE ‘CORNISH GUARDIANS’ SERIES, STARTING WITH THE FIRST BOOK ‘THE KNACKER.’ (YES, THE VERY SAME KNACKER WHOSE TEARS, MIXED WITH UNICORN PISS, CONVEY INVULNERABILITY UPON MUSCLE CARS!)
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND GAZ HOPES BEYOND HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK HALF AS MUCH AS HE ENJOYED WRITING IT
Brian Helsing: The World's Unlikeliest Vampire Hunter: Mission #1: Just Try Not To Die Page 14
