“Not much for sea travel, are ya mister?” The voice of a young boy piped up from behind Abraham.

Helsing just shrugged, turning himself away from the vast sea to face his new bother. Abraham was not one for any kind of talk, small or large. The worn look on the old travelers face must have shocked the boy, for he stepped back an inch.

“Gee mister, it looks like you could use a rest!” The boy nearly yelled, his tiny index finger pointing up at the bags beneath Abraham’s eyes. “Looks like you gonna collapse.”

“Go away child.” Abraham stared coldly at the child before turning back to the sea. In the distance Van Helsing could see a black shadow, one that lined the entirety of the horizon. Pulling his leather coat tight around his body, Helsing made his way to one of several cabins below deck. There, he readied himself to depart from the transport.

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The moment Abraham stepped off of the vessel, his nose picked up the stench of death. Even at the age of 45, Van Helsing’s senses were still working perfectly. Abraham took a moment to survey this free land. Unlike the rumors that were spread all through Europe, the streets of this fine land were definitely not paved with gold.

Van Helsing let out a deep sigh. New York was his new hunting ground, and he dreaded it more than tracking down the century old Dracula. New York was vast, creating many different locations for lycanthropes to hunt.

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With the urge to immediately start his hunt for the origin of the “disease”, Abraham wasn’t fussy about which bed and breakfast he would reside in. After settling himself in, Van Helsing scribbled notes down in his journal – the book that he hoped would warn future generations of the evils that roamed the world. Van Helsing briefly described his journey over before changing the subject to his current task.

In a city as vast as this, finding a member of the lycanthrope family will be a task more difficult than hunting down Count Dracula. Unless the host of the curse wants to be found, I fear the hunt will go on for days. My previous encounter with this blight has made me all the more knowledgeable about the carriers in their more animal form. The lycanthropes are more attracted to living prey. Unfortunately, a trip to the butcher will not aid my hunt. The local tavern will be my first journey. Drunken tales usually hold some truth behind them.

Feeling satisfied with his writings, Abraham placed the journal back into his suitcase and retrieved several double sided stakes. One half of each stake was covered in a coating of silver (each weapon dipped into liquefied silver and then left to dry), while the other half remained pure wood. The double-sided weapon would prove useful if the disease associated with Europe’s vampirism had spread overseas.

Shoving the stakes into several slots hand-sewn into the inside of his jacket, Abraham left the tiny bed and breakfast with haste. Making his way down the dark streets of New York to the nearest tavern, Van Helsing kept his senses keen.

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The smell of alcohol and sweat struck Helsing as he pushed open the light wooden door. Stepping inside the poorly lit tavern (aptly named “Night Shade”), Van Helsing made his way to the bar, where he was sure many stories have been told.

Taking his seat at a shaky barstool, the traveler kept his head low as he eyed the tavern up. The drinking hole was inhabited by only ten people, each drunkard looking like the next. Van Helsing could feel each beady eye in the room glaring at him.

“Can I getch you som’tin to drink?” The tender leaned against the dirty bar top. The bartender’s speech was slurred and broken, making it difficult to make out everything he said.

“I’m looking for information regarding murders around these parts.” Abraham’s spoke loud enough for the rest of the tavern to hear him. Van Helsing hid his Romanian accent and gave off the best American accent he could.

“Murder? There’re plenty of murders round these parts.”

“Supposed animal attacks. You talkin’ bout those murders?” One of the drunkards stood up at his table.

Abraham turned himself towards the patron. “What do you know of them?”

“Only what everybody else knows. Bodies were found in the morning, sliced and diced to shit, I’ll say. Blood was splattered everyway – on the walls, the street, even several feet away. Nobodies seen anythin’ like this.” The man paused for a second, as if to collect his thoughts. In the middle of his pause, he took a swig of his alcohol. “We figger its one of them rich crazies, ‘till that detective said somethin’ bout an animal.”

“Hell if we’ve seen an animal that could do that ‘round these parts!” A voice from the crowd rose, followed quickly by a collective grunt from the other patrons.

“Detective? Where can I find him?” Van Helsing focused on the information he was just given and ignored all side comments.

“His name is Hara, Detective Leroy Hara. You’ll find him in his office. Just make a left when you leave the tavern and head straight for a few feet. You’ll see it.”

As Abraham stood from his stool to leave, he nodded to the tender. Before he could make his way out, his exit was interrupted by a voice he hadn’t heard before.

“Some fool came in the other day, soggy as shit. He was frantic, searchin’ for help or something. Kept mentioning something about death; I ‘unno. At the time I thought he was more drunk than we normally are. You may wanna ask him some questions.” Taking a swig of his ale, the tavern regular continued. “Believe he called himself Lawrence Talbot.”

“Talbot?” Abraham’s head shot up, his eyes gleaming at the patron. “You sure his name was Talbot?”

“Absolutely. I may be drunk, but my memory still is good.”

Van Helsing gave one last nod before storming out of the tavern. Outside, as the cold air blew against him, Helsing’s mind raced. He remembered the night in London when he had put a stop to the spread of the lycanthrope disease.

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It was pitch black outside, only the soft glow of several street lamps lighting the way. Van Helsing moved slowly along the brick walkway. His eyes were wide as he scanned the darkness and his ears searched for any noise. Beside the soft hum of the wind, the night was quiet and still.

The thin walkway began to grow wider until it connected with different colored bricks, which formed a large square in the middle of town. The square was illuminated by surrounding lamp posts, lit each night in hopes of driving evil away.

As Van Helsing entered the center of the square, he was greeted with a low growl. The noise came from a spot of darkness set off from the square, hidden adjacent to a rickety building. Abraham could feel a set of eyes preying upon him, trying to pierce through to his fear. With the rise of a menacing snarl followed by a drawn out howl, Helsing drew his weapon (a silver tipped wooden stake) from his jacket. Standing poised, Van Helsing readied himself for the attack.

The first strike came quick, but Abraham was ready for it. As the creature’s talons stretched out for its prey, Van Helsing rolled to the side. In the midst of his roll, Abraham jabbed the stake outward blindly. After slight hesitation, the weapon pushed forward and Abraham felt a warm liquid splash against his hand.

The creature whimpered and fell to the ground with a thud. It clawed at the protrusion inside of it, but it innards burned even with the slightest movement. The tip of the stake sizzled against the creature’s organs, causing the beast to shrill in pain.

Van Helsing approached the furred monster, his eyes scanning the Wolfman’s body. Two muscular hind legs (which resembled a hairy human leg) supported the weight of large torso and two long arms. The muscle of the beast’s forearms and biceps could be seen perfectly under the thick mat of fur.

As the monster writhed in pain, it rolled onto its back. With a full view of the beast’s face, Van Helsing suddenly felt sympathy for his attacker. The animal-like muzzle started to quickly lose its fur and snout until the face of a human was visible. Even with pain painted on his face, the poor soul extended his hand – which still had traces of fur – towards Helsing, as if to express gratitude.

Abraham took the cursed man’s hand. “Sleep now, Lawrence Talbot. You will no longer be in pain.”
Van Helsing pulled the stake from Larry’s abdomen, the wound already starting to heal as the silver tip was removed. Before the transformation was able to begin again, Helsing knelt down at Larry’s side and jammed the weapon into the man’s heart. Talbot released a drawn out groan as his back arched in response to the immense pain. Soon after, his body slumped down against the ground.

“You shall not be reawakened.” Abraham spoke softly as he snapped the wooden end of the stake off. Still imbedded underneath Talbot’s skin was the one thing that would finally release him from the curse.

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