VAN HELSING - A Short Story

Part Three, Chapter Seventeen: The Good King and the Walking Castle

AMBRA 

I was unable to shut an eye the entire night. I could hear Collinwood's thoughts and see his dreams while he had me under his thrall, keeping me wide awake with it.

I was more than certain that he would be able to see the same should I fall asleep. That seemed like a risk then, afraid of what my dreams could show. Who my dreams could show.

The next day, he dragged me out of bed – He was unbothered to make me change – and onto the road, heading for the city and to do something that I could not quite catch while he murmured it to himself.

I was able to catch snippets of his thoughts though; every time that he tires and thus easing the effort for me to read them. Yet on any occasion, I was powerless against his penetrating mind. He was able to read my thoughts no matter what.

But now, he appeared too concentrated on what lay ahead and the task that kept him going to notice my intrusion into his head. When thinking about it, the more days passed, the more tired Collinwood grew. It was as if the thrall was eating away at him. Slowly steering him into insanity. I hoped that it was only a matter of time before I would be able to break free. Johann surely thinks I'm dead.

Once we reached town, we did not keep to the main road. The bustling streets, crowded shops and entangling scents of food and perfumes were merely a distraction to Collinwood.

He turned the first corner and not even giving me a chance to enjoy the familiar hustle and bustle of the weekend market. How I wished back these simple times when my only worry was to arrive in time for cooking and whether Chef Matthews would notice that I nicked a penny to buy myself a tart from the confectionary's booth.

I even saw the plump man handing a satchel of homemade butterscotch, his pink cheeks turning to circles as he flashed her a well-mannered smile of goodbye.

If I could want to shout for help, I doubt that he would even be able to recognise me. Ever since my turn, I have visually changed into an entirely different person. The weight on my hips and chin had molten overnight and with each day that passed, my skin grew more transparent and my muscles more defined. It was as if merely the thought of breathing trained every inch of my body.

Collinwood kept leading us down narrower alleyways than the one before and in an almost maze-like pattern until we had reached a single building at the very outskirts of the city. I knew London by heart and I do not recall this pub? – As it seemed – to have ever been here and judging by its already aged frame it was not one that tended to many visitors. Yet Collinwood was headed right for it.

The door opened with a loud squeak and Collinwood let us to the very back of the wide room, finding a table that was the furthest away from the serving top. He seated me to face the latter and himself to face the door.

A young man from a back room, calling the name Tina, right before an equally young woman came out after him, scanned the room and was headed right towards us with a yellowing grin stamped onto her face.

"What can I do for you today, cuties?"

She asked with a sweet voice and even more widening grin – if that was even possible.

"I would like to have two 4oz. cups of your finest rum but let the barman show me the bottle first."

Collinwood demanded in a way that made my hair curl up my spine. Not even an inkling of the well-behaved man that had greeted me several nights prior to today had remained. All that was left was a sour old man but at least I got a drink.

The barman walked around the counter with a half-empty bottle of orange-golden liquor in both his hands. By the way he was clutching the bottle, one really could tell that it was a truly expensive one. And Collinwood approved of it once he saw it up close.

With a nod, he allowed the rather pale-looking bartender to pour the liquid into the two glasses. It smelled of strong alcohol and this would be my first time tasting the heavy drinks.

Collinwood dismissed the two people and took the small glass into his hand, gulping down the drink in only one sip. As he did what he did, my body followed involuntarily.

Once the alcohol ran touched my tongue and ran down my throat, spilling into my stomach, and every bit of skin it touched on its way began to burn and eventually making me cough. It did not even have any particular taste. The closest it came was to tasting of fire for all the drink did was heat me up and make me gag.

Before I could fully process my first taste of strong alcohol or even recover from the unpleasant sensation, we were already leaving.

Even while drinking, the entrance that Collinwood was facing opened, forcing him to stand up. In the doorframe stood a man that waved us – or rather Collinwood for he did not pay any attention towards me – out.

As we had reached the door, I heard footsteps coming from the room behind the counter and a loud female voice beginning to talk to the two employees who were standing behind the counter and wishing us a pleasant stay, thanking us for our visit.

"Tina? Elliot? I heard voices. Are we having guests?"

I instinctively turned to follow the voice. I had heard it before. And I knew the body that it belonged to. Once Imogen had stepped into the pub's room and seen me, she stood still immediately.

Our eyes locked and she only looked at me with mouth wide agape. My rekindled spirit was able to fuel a portion of my resistance against Collinwood and therefore, I was able to mouth the word "help" before the door fell shut behind me and separated us once more...