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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Creatures & Monsters
- Published: 02/04/2025
Cold Eyes, Fierce Fury
Born 1990, M, from Trail, BC, Canada.jpeg)
The darkness was everywhere.
The gloom wrapped around her, it clung to her limbs, tendrils of twilight encompassing her very being. She was a child of the night — a goddess of pale recollection — and she came and went, as she pleased. She was a creature that dwelt in places unseen, a thing of myth, who seldom allowed itself to be glimpsed by any passersby.
Her name was…Mina.
Wilhemina Harker.
Our story opens in London, 1874. And what a dreadful time it was for mortals. They spent their days fleeting about in the wretched streets; some begging for scraps and coinage, others selling their flesh for far too cheap, but the lucky ones — took fanciful rides in carriages, meeting for dinner parties amidst jovial interaction and guiltless hedonism.
It was all quite the affair.
When she first came to the city, it was aboard the SS Ben-my-Chree, a paddle steamer renowned for its size and speed. Mina managed to sneak onboard in human form, she was steadily becoming more and more accustomed to inhabiting the likeness of a mortal — a feat that at one time drained her powers completely — now only requiring minimal concentration.
Her chosen form was that of a brunette: high ivory cheek-bones; tapered small-nose, and a natural blush that increased with cardiovascular exercise. Her form was slim, yet shapely — enticing; aristocratic. She wore expensive clothing, all silk and satin. This ensured she wasn't mistaken for a commoner. She craved persuasion and that only came with the influence of a "high society type".
After a few years of frequenting the hotspots of London, she grew tired of the incessant rain and decided to travel further east. Her journey took her from England, to France, to the mystical Orient, and beyond. Her final stop was: Bucharest, Transylvania–
"All those destined for Bucharest Railway North, please exit after the whistle."
Mina gathered her things and disembarked from the passenger-car — taking great care when she stepped down from the train car not to scuff her boots. It was unbecoming to let your apparel fall into disrepair; so she always maintained her clothing as much as possible. When she descended from the train — Mina Harker was met with an array of exotic smells, combining into an eclectic mix and leaving her olfactory sense in a state of delirium. She began to progress into the city in a semi-fugue state, visiting shops and bazaars to familiarize herself with the local sellers and their wares. The heightened senses of her immortal form created an intoxicating effect when exposed to new locales, it was quite overpowering.
Hours later, she was seated in a cafe, sipping a hot drink and testing the local cuisine. The cafe was decked out as a parlour room; fine leather couches adorned in traditional Transylvanian garb, paintings of Africa lined the walls – barely visible through the blue-ish haze of cigar smoke and pipe tobacco fumes.
"When in Rome," Mina murmured to herself.
She began searching for a tailor made cigarette in her tote-bag, just then a man approached with a carrying case (ivory, polished) and a match; already lit for convenience. The case held fourteen hand-rolled smokes — revealing a monogram behind the top row — an engraved VD.
Interwoven and elegant.
"We meet again Mina."
Abraham Van Helsing – the man she once fought alongside, the man who pioneered the end of Dracula.
Mina hadn't seen him in years and years, not since contracting Vampirism from her encounter with the Lord of the Living Dead. Her assumption had always been that if she saw Helsing – it meant the Roman-Catholic church dispatched the renowned Hunter to tie up loose ends.
"Well, should I greet you as friend or foe?" Mina inquired cautiously.
"Greet me as a fellow world-weary traveller, one hoping for an open seat at your table." Helsing replied enigmatically.
"Also, kindly use the match I've offered before it burns into nonexistence."
Van Helsing extended the cigarette case towards Mina. She acquiesced and took a smoke, lit it, and deposited the burnt match on the floor. She pulled heavily on the smoke, filling her lungs with the clove flavoured tobacco, exhaling a cloud that languished in formlessness before taking the subtle shape of a wolf.
"Neat trick Mina – now cut it out."
Helsing continued:
"I'm not here on Church business. It is true my superiors bother me relentlessly about you – yet I continuously assuage their concerns telling the Bishops you've chosen hibernation over damnation."
"Is that so?" Mina Harker responded scanning behind Helsing, watching for any sign of white robes and crosses.
"So what is your purpose here, Helsing? Are you just tired of those rain-soaked, cramped London streets, too many fish-mongers I presume?"
Awaiting a response; Mina rigorously searched the thoroughfare passing in front of the cafe. Her heightened senses allowed for total precision in this task. Her ability for lesser-telepathy ensured that even a silent and camouflaged approach would be detected. Sadly, she could never read a mind as powerful as Van Helsing's – his faculties (and will) were indomitable. This is the real reason why Vlad was undone, sure it was a concentrated effort but the solitary zealot across from her was the lynchpin.
"I hate coming back to this country – you know that Mina. Reminds me of the Beast of Beasts."
"And yet you keep a souvenir…" Mina nodded toward the ornate cigarette case that was now laying on the table.
Opting to ignore her point, Helsing nonchalantly tossed a piece of paper in front of Wilhemina Harker instead. The Hunter assertively pointed at it – lifting an eyebrow in the process to emphasize the parchment's importance. Wilhemina Harker – her interest now piqued – leaned forward and briskly snatched the document from the table top. Bringing it up to her face she swiftly took in the contents of the deed…moments later she obstinately slammed the paper back down.
"This is my old home."
"Yes."
"From when I was mortal."
"Yes,"
"And that's my husband's signature."
"Yes it's Jonathan Harker's mark – there it is, clear as day." Abraham Helsing replied before placing the leaflet back into his satchel.
So he's either alive, or there's an imposter. Mina knew she must depart with Helsing now and search for her lost love. If there was even the slightest chance her husband was still out there….
"Mina, are you coming?" Van Helsing was now standing, he could read her expression, only asking the question as a formality.
Wilhemina Harker sprang to her feet and swept out the door alongside her ex-cohort now turned compatriot once again; glancing at him and warning in a low growl,
"Watch yourself Hunter; it is hard for my kind to fully trust any man who carries silver, a stake, and crucifixes."
"I'd expect no less Mina." Helsing responded, knowingly.
Then they departed.
*****
Cold Eyes, Fierce Fury(Lee Fenton)
The darkness was everywhere.
The gloom wrapped around her, it clung to her limbs, tendrils of twilight encompassing her very being. She was a child of the night — a goddess of pale recollection — and she came and went, as she pleased. She was a creature that dwelt in places unseen, a thing of myth, who seldom allowed itself to be glimpsed by any passersby.
Her name was…Mina.
Wilhemina Harker.
Our story opens in London, 1874. And what a dreadful time it was for mortals. They spent their days fleeting about in the wretched streets; some begging for scraps and coinage, others selling their flesh for far too cheap, but the lucky ones — took fanciful rides in carriages, meeting for dinner parties amidst jovial interaction and guiltless hedonism.
It was all quite the affair.
When she first came to the city, it was aboard the SS Ben-my-Chree, a paddle steamer renowned for its size and speed. Mina managed to sneak onboard in human form, she was steadily becoming more and more accustomed to inhabiting the likeness of a mortal — a feat that at one time drained her powers completely — now only requiring minimal concentration.
Her chosen form was that of a brunette: high ivory cheek-bones; tapered small-nose, and a natural blush that increased with cardiovascular exercise. Her form was slim, yet shapely — enticing; aristocratic. She wore expensive clothing, all silk and satin. This ensured she wasn't mistaken for a commoner. She craved persuasion and that only came with the influence of a "high society type".
After a few years of frequenting the hotspots of London, she grew tired of the incessant rain and decided to travel further east. Her journey took her from England, to France, to the mystical Orient, and beyond. Her final stop was: Bucharest, Transylvania–
"All those destined for Bucharest Railway North, please exit after the whistle."
Mina gathered her things and disembarked from the passenger-car — taking great care when she stepped down from the train car not to scuff her boots. It was unbecoming to let your apparel fall into disrepair; so she always maintained her clothing as much as possible. When she descended from the train — Mina Harker was met with an array of exotic smells, combining into an eclectic mix and leaving her olfactory sense in a state of delirium. She began to progress into the city in a semi-fugue state, visiting shops and bazaars to familiarize herself with the local sellers and their wares. The heightened senses of her immortal form created an intoxicating effect when exposed to new locales, it was quite overpowering.
Hours later, she was seated in a cafe, sipping a hot drink and testing the local cuisine. The cafe was decked out as a parlour room; fine leather couches adorned in traditional Transylvanian garb, paintings of Africa lined the walls – barely visible through the blue-ish haze of cigar smoke and pipe tobacco fumes.
"When in Rome," Mina murmured to herself.
She began searching for a tailor made cigarette in her tote-bag, just then a man approached with a carrying case (ivory, polished) and a match; already lit for convenience. The case held fourteen hand-rolled smokes — revealing a monogram behind the top row — an engraved VD.
Interwoven and elegant.
"We meet again Mina."
Abraham Van Helsing – the man she once fought alongside, the man who pioneered the end of Dracula.
Mina hadn't seen him in years and years, not since contracting Vampirism from her encounter with the Lord of the Living Dead. Her assumption had always been that if she saw Helsing – it meant the Roman-Catholic church dispatched the renowned Hunter to tie up loose ends.
"Well, should I greet you as friend or foe?" Mina inquired cautiously.
"Greet me as a fellow world-weary traveller, one hoping for an open seat at your table." Helsing replied enigmatically.
"Also, kindly use the match I've offered before it burns into nonexistence."
Van Helsing extended the cigarette case towards Mina. She acquiesced and took a smoke, lit it, and deposited the burnt match on the floor. She pulled heavily on the smoke, filling her lungs with the clove flavoured tobacco, exhaling a cloud that languished in formlessness before taking the subtle shape of a wolf.
"Neat trick Mina – now cut it out."
Helsing continued:
"I'm not here on Church business. It is true my superiors bother me relentlessly about you – yet I continuously assuage their concerns telling the Bishops you've chosen hibernation over damnation."
"Is that so?" Mina Harker responded scanning behind Helsing, watching for any sign of white robes and crosses.
"So what is your purpose here, Helsing? Are you just tired of those rain-soaked, cramped London streets, too many fish-mongers I presume?"
Awaiting a response; Mina rigorously searched the thoroughfare passing in front of the cafe. Her heightened senses allowed for total precision in this task. Her ability for lesser-telepathy ensured that even a silent and camouflaged approach would be detected. Sadly, she could never read a mind as powerful as Van Helsing's – his faculties (and will) were indomitable. This is the real reason why Vlad was undone, sure it was a concentrated effort but the solitary zealot across from her was the lynchpin.
"I hate coming back to this country – you know that Mina. Reminds me of the Beast of Beasts."
"And yet you keep a souvenir…" Mina nodded toward the ornate cigarette case that was now laying on the table.
Opting to ignore her point, Helsing nonchalantly tossed a piece of paper in front of Wilhemina Harker instead. The Hunter assertively pointed at it – lifting an eyebrow in the process to emphasize the parchment's importance. Wilhemina Harker – her interest now piqued – leaned forward and briskly snatched the document from the table top. Bringing it up to her face she swiftly took in the contents of the deed…moments later she obstinately slammed the paper back down.
"This is my old home."
"Yes."
"From when I was mortal."
"Yes,"
"And that's my husband's signature."
"Yes it's Jonathan Harker's mark – there it is, clear as day." Abraham Helsing replied before placing the leaflet back into his satchel.
So he's either alive, or there's an imposter. Mina knew she must depart with Helsing now and search for her lost love. If there was even the slightest chance her husband was still out there….
"Mina, are you coming?" Van Helsing was now standing, he could read her expression, only asking the question as a formality.
Wilhemina Harker sprang to her feet and swept out the door alongside her ex-cohort now turned compatriot once again; glancing at him and warning in a low growl,
"Watch yourself Hunter; it is hard for my kind to fully trust any man who carries silver, a stake, and crucifixes."
"I'd expect no less Mina." Helsing responded, knowingly.
Then they departed.
*****
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