The Van Helsing Legacy: Dark and Hungry Graves

Chapter 3

'Your Miss Van Helsing,' she elaborated. She plucked a salmon-and-white hothouse carnation from the vase on the hall table, amputating the stem with a sharp motion of her hands, and inserted it into his button-hole.

I smiled at the gesture, and at the nervous flush that darkened his pale ears.

Realising that I hadn't been seen, and that I probably shouldn't be, I crept back to my seat at the end of the settee.

In another moment, he was there.

But he didn't look at all pleased. He looked frightened.

'What's happened?' he demanded instantly. 'Are you all right? Is Miss Holmwood?'

I'd disappeared, and now he thought I'd only come around if the attacks had resumed. I sighed.

'No, everything's fine. Nothing's happened. I just thought I'd drop by. Just to visit. I... I hadn't, for a while.'

A lesser man would have agreed that it had been quite a while, and then I'd have felt even worse, but he only studied me closely for another heartbeat and a half. Then he broke into a beautiful, brilliant smile and crossed the room in two strides with his hand extended. I took it, and he folded mine in both of his, our flesh separated by the thin, white leather of his gloves.

Then he simply didn't let go.

I resumed my seat, and he sank down beside me.

'It's very good to see you, Meg. I hope you've been well.'

I wondered whether he'd been losing any sleep. 'Oh, you know. There was something of interest last night, though.'

I told him about Professor Sanderson and his wife, and he listened with a reserved sort of interest, as though not sure whether he ought to be alarmed. That story had turned out all right, though. No scarlet eyes in the dark, no violent death, only quiet and rest. 'I'll be satisfied when I hear she's been buried beside him,' I finished.

He nodded. 'Professor Sanderson was... Well, he was known to the Academy.'

I blinked at him. 'Oh, what do you mean by that?'

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. 'He was never a member. And he refused to speak to them, for the most part. But before me, he was the foremost expert in sorcery in the United Kingdoms.'

'Good Lord, and I just read Greek with him.'

'I don't think he'd have talked to you, either, if you'd ever wanted to know more. However he gained his knowledge, he kept it to himself.'

I thought back to the little bungalow house and tried to remember whether I had seen anything otherworldly. Other than the man, himself, of course, and his wife.

'But that might explain how he managed to hang around intentionally. I'd never heard of someone rising deliberately, before, but if he'd had time to plan, prepare, make sure it wouldn't be for very long and that he wouldn't hurt anybody...'

A touch of the expression drained from his features, leaving his face fixed. 'Sorcery is never harmless, Meg.'

'That doesn't mean that an otherwise clever man, at the very end of his life and concerned for someone he loves, might not think it a good idea. At least, I've been keeping an ear open today, and I haven't heard that anybody was found exsanguinated.' I frowned. 'He was a very kind man. I can't imagine he'd ever have done anything he knew to be evil.'

He shifted uncomfortably and finally released my hands. It was likely a difficult subject, the dark things one might do for love, even though I had not meant it as an accusation. But with a reaction like that, it would be impossible to ask him again for the name. I wouldn't get anything by asking. I wouldn't get anything by trying to guilt him, even if I could bring myself to do it.