Blood and Silver Ch. Ten

Chapter Ten

Riddles from the Hellhole

Dr. Van Helsing was gripping the desk so hard she thought that her chewed-up nails would sink into the wood. She was going to have to file those things that protruded from her fingertips before her next public appearance. It had been many a winter since those nails saw the slightest sliver of beauty.

“Doctor?” came a familiar voice followed by a knock on the door.

“Come in, Balem,” replied Dr. Van Helsing through gritted teeth. “Are any of our computer systems still operational?” She didn’t have to look up to know that he was shifting his weight from side to side.

“I-I wish I had better news for you, doc,” the poor bastard sounded close to wetting himself, she thought. “We’re going to have to reboot everything from scratch. If we had known—”

“SPARE ME THE FUCKING EXCUSES!” shouted Dr. Van Helsing as she sent a bunch of things flying and crashing from her desk with one sweep of her arm. “Did we by any chance get a number before the virus was released?”

Balem did not answer.

“I’m waiting.”

“No, ma’am.”

Dr. Van Helsing took a couple of deep breaths as she sunk into her chair. “Do you have any idea how long it will be before we have any power to so much as to access Google with an iPhone?”

“I know you hate this answer, but I honestly don’t know; this isn’t a regular virus.”

“Magic,” Dr. Van Helsing said disgustedly. “Well, I do have to admire this unnamed adversary’s ability to blend sorcery with technological literacy. But, there is no way that we will regain any of the files that were not on paper and you and I both know that no witch or wizard can undo the magic of another witch or wizard.”

“So all we have to do is track down who released the virus.”

“With what, Balem?” asked Dr. Van Helsing, incensed. “If you have any means of tracking down this person, please, do tell.”

Balem glanced down contritely. “Hey, at least we know that this Sanguimagus is out there somewhere.”

Dr. Van Helsing cocked her head reproachfully. “We’ve known that for months, you half-wit.” Her look softened as she got up from her chair and walked over to him. “But, you are right, now we know that our little Sangie is out there and if we continue pushing all the right buttons,” she began undoing the buttons on his shirt, “it will slither out of its hole.”

Balem’s black eyes brightened at her comment as she slipped him out of his shirt. His hands slipped beneath her blouse and drew nonexistent circles on her smooth back. Her breathing quickened as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and Balem’s soft, but ]slightly chapped lips made contact with what little of her breasts peeked out from beneath her unimpressive cotton bra. She knew this made her an unfaithful wife, but so what? Marriage could not hinder her needs any more than it could imply that she loved her spouse.

By now they were both naked from the waist up and between increasingly passionate kisses, the doctor’s exploring hands slithering beneath her colleague’s pants and he let out a shuddering breath as her hands slipped past the scratchiness of his body hair and made contact with his erection. She tucked her greying auburn hair behind her shoulder as her lips began working their way down his body, her fingers scrambling to undo the clasps that held his pants in place. The fool almost lost his balance as she pulled his pants and underwear down, leaving them in a crumpled heap around his ankles.

And just as she was about to take Balem in her mouth, the phone rang. She rolled her eyes as she stood up and walked over to her desk. After sending a silent command to Balem, telling him to put his clothes back on, she picked up the phone.

“What is it?” she asked, resuming her business attitude.

“Doctor, you will be happy to hear that a number of our files are on printed-out format,” announced a rather confident voice that she recognized from the archive department.

“Do you have anything on the text message?”

“No, ma’am, but—”

“Then quit wasting my time and don’t disturb me unless you have anything of ingress to bring to my attention!” the doctor slammed the landline down so hard she was surprised that it did not even crack.

“Anything of latent consequence?” asked Balem hopefully as he smoothed down his shirt.

For some reason, the doctor found herself smiling. “I like the way that you phrased that. What I’ll have you do now is have everyone gather whatever files that are on paper—everything from official archive down to the last sticky note—and have them on my desk in ten minutes,” she said as she got up and began making her way towards the door.

“Wait, Doc, where are you going?” Balem called after her.

“I need to have a chat with the redhead.”

“But, doc, don’t you want to put your clothes back on?” but she was already out the door.

* * *

“My, oh my, oh my, doc!” laughed Five-o-six-nine-five, despite her rather unsettling state. “How long have I been in this hellhole? Are people finally discarding upper clothing for public partial nudity?

“Shut up, bloodsucker,” snapped Dr. Van Helsing. She never harbored tolerance for the redhead’s wry humor, but this evening, her patience was hanging by a thread.

“Just making conversation, you sourpuss,” retorted Five-o-six-nine-five as she sat up against the wall and crossed her ankles. “So, what’s all the fuss about? Did somebody carpet the place in toilet paper?”

While the bloodsucking cunt laughed at her own joke, the doctor actually found herself wishing that that was the case. Of course, it would not have been handled without her wrath, but at least it would have been a harmless prank. But the situation had robbed her even her own unorthodox humor.

“Enough!” she shrieked, kicking the redhead as hard as she could in the ribcage. “What’s going on outside of this room is none of your concern, bloodsucker. What I need from you right now is—”

“—information?” the redhead finished. “Oh, what a surprise, can you be anymore stagnant?”

Dr. Van Helsing scowled. “Unless you’d like to put that to the test, I suggest you cooperate.”

“What more do you need to know, you unappreciative cunt? The Sanguimagus is a ghost; you’d have better luck find a stick insect. At least they aren’t always changing their appearance.”

The Doctor cocked her head. “I never said anything about this shadowy adversary changing his appearance,” she stated with the shadow of a victorious smile. “However, now that you mention it, how does this Sangie change appearance? Is he like a chameleon? Or is he some kind of shape-shifter?”

“You’re wasting your time, doc,” the redhead driveled out. “Why don’t you just go back to your whoring with that black-haired gigolo of yours? I can smell him on you. My, my, my, doc, there was a time when women were maimed, stoned, caned, and even burned for such a sin. Stoning is still a common practice in some countries. I’d hate to see your lopsided ass share one of those fates.”

The Doctor’s cheeks reddened as she slammed her hand on the lever that sent the redheaded bloodsucker rising by her wrists from the ground. She caught herself rubbing her hands over her buttocks self-consciously. Wait, were they disproportionate? She was going to have to look into that. Opening the drawer next to the lever, she pulled out the obsidian knife and jammed it into the redhead’s vulva to stop her from spinning, followed by a pained scream.

“I don’t have time for your smart-ass comments, monster,” Dr. Van Helsing whispered venomously. “Now, my facility’s computer systems have some of the best anti-magic software in the world and what I need to know is…WHO ON THIS WRETCHED PLANET HAS THE POWER TO OVERRIDE EVEN MY SYSTEMS?”

The redhead stared down in disbelief. Not at the doctor but through her, as if she were in a reverie. “That girl has blossomed,” she breathed.

“What girl?” demanded the Doctor. “Are you telling me some kid made my systems go haywire? The Sanguimagus is much older than that.”

The redhead let out a painful chortle. “No, not a Sanguimagus, but a very special child that could power down the entire state of Ohio within five minutes and the entire country within an hour. But her hacking skills are the least of your concern.”

“I’ll take my chances,” muttered the Doctor flippantly. “But, I would appreciate it if you would shed some light on this lowlife.”

“I’m sure you would, doc. This ‘lowlife’, as you choose to call her, is a powerful young Praecantatress who was born into a family of xenophobes not unlike yourself. They loved her, nurtured her, but when she started having her first episodes of magic, loving parents turned into psychotic religious folk. They, in their pathetic ignorance thought that the poor girl was possessed and they felt that the best way to purge her of those demons was to torture her, mutilate her.

“But this girl’s prayers for help did not go unanswered. It was not long before a man and his wife came and rescued this child from her torment. The girl’s saviors killed her abusive parents, adopted her and they lived happily ever after. There you have, now you can do some research.”

“And what’s this girl’s name?” asked Dr. Van Helsing impatiently.

“I don’t have to give you a name, doc,” the redhead sneered. “Why don’t you crawl out of your little hole for a while and go to the library to go through some old news articles. Shouldn’t be too difficult for you; you might have more luck finding something on the girl’s mysterious disappearance than you would the Sanguimagus’ whereabouts.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Oh, I already know his whereabouts. He’s in town.”

“Do you have a name, an address, or even something to tell you what the man looks like?”

The Doctor tried to keep a smile, but the redhead had a point.

“So, no name, no address, and no way of telling what the man looks like? Looks like you’re making a fool of yourself saying that you know the whereabouts of the Son of the Purge.”

“‘Son of the Purge’?” repeated the Doctor. “What purge?”

“You are not much of a reader, are you?”