Storm

*Rumble! Boom!*

A sound of thunder echoed through the air. The night was momentarily illuminated by the sudden lightning, but the moment later everything returned to normal. Heavy rain pounded against the window as if threatening to break it.

"Bloody storm... I've just painted the fence..." An older man cursed under his nose, his grumpy voice was spread in the almost empty room.

He was sitting in an old wooden chair, which creaked every time he made any move. He wore a simple white shirt and tattered jeans. The man was old, seemingly in his 50, maybe 60. Messy gray beard and shoulder-length hair in the same color.

A lit cigarette was in between his fingers, a small trail of smoke slowly flew towards the ceiling. As he wanted to take another inhale, a loud booming sound was heard just right outside his front door.

"What the-!" The surprised man wanted to curse and threw away the cigarette.

The man heard loud footsteps followed by the crashing sound, his door was kicked open. Old man's eyes suddenly become sharp as he dashed toward the drawers and pull out a revolver.

The footsteps halted as if the person was listening, but just like he heard the old man, the person started walking towards the room.

The elderly man checked the magazine of the revolver. Six bullets were in their place, the primers shined in the light of old lamps.

A loud creaking sound was heard getting closer and closer.

The old man pointed his gun towards the closed door. His shooting stance was flawless, his eyes focused on what was in front of him. He slowly made his way behind the desk to have something to cover.

Suddenly heavy footsteps stopped, just outside the door. But strangely, none barged in, none tried to open the door or even banged on it. The old man was 100% sure that someone is standing right on the other side. He aimed where he thought the center of the chest would be and prepared to shoot.

But as he slowly pulled down the hammer with his thumb, index finger on the trigger, he heard a quiet wailing of a child. Surprised by it, he frowned, but still, hold his gun in place.

"Put that... gun away...!" A deep male voice came from the other side. The person sounded like he was in pain, out of breath.

The old man's eyes widened in surprise. "Conrad?! The fuck do you want?!" The elderly man yelled lowering his gun but still holding it in his hands.

At that moment the door finally opened revealing the intruder.

He was tall, around 190cm, with broad shoulders and a wide jawline. His hair was silver, shaved on the sides, and because of the rain, they looked like they were shining. Seemingly nothing abnormal if not for the three things.

Ruby-red eyes desperately staring at the old man, blood mixed with rainwater dropping down on the floor, and a small boy hanging on the man's neck.

"Henry... I need... your help..." The mysterious man said, walking closer towards the house owner, completely ignoring a barrel pointing at his head.

The old man looked at the intruder angrily. Both of them were familiar with each other, though the older man wish they weren't.

Conrad walked to the center of the room, and after briefly looking around he found a small couch, right next to the bookcase. He gently put the boy on it, but the child started crying once again through his sleep. Conrad whispered something to the boy's ear and waved his hand. In the next moment, the boy calmed down, he started breathing rhythmically and no longer cried.

"What the hell is going on? Can you be so kind and tell me before I stuff you with silver?" Henry said impatiently.

"Calm down, you may have a heart attack. Help me with this." Conrad said pushing aside a part of his cloak, revealing a nasty slash, a source of the dripping blood.

Henry clicked his tongue in annoyance and walked towards the drawers from where he took a vial with strange liquid in it. He carelessly tossed it to the pale Conrad who effortlessly catches it and drank.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, you are paying me back for it. I ain't wizard nor potion master, I have little of this stuff." Henry said harshly and took out another cigarette. "Now explain what the hell is going on."

Conrad walked to the window and looked at the outside. The rain was still pounding mercilessly, with dark clouds and strong wind outside.

"Orkan faction, those bloody fools dared to attack us during a conference a few days ago! They broke the code!" Conrad said in anger, still watching outside as if he was looking for something.

Henry looked in disbelief. "They rebelled against royals? I thought the hierarchy was sacred for you..."

"Not anymore it seems... We are losing, badly. All important clans joined Orkans in rebellion, there are too few of us..." He looked at Henry. "I want to you to keep an eye for the boy. I have to come back and aid my people."

"What?" Henry looked at Conrad as if the latter was stupid. "There is no way. I'm not going to get involved." He flatly refused.

Conrad frowned. "Henry, please. You owe me..."

"I owe you shit! I don't care about your leechy mess! Get the brat and out of my house!" Henry yelled at Conrad in true anger.

Conrad snapped at that moment. In a blink, he grabbed Henry by the collar of the shirt and lifted him in the air. "How dare you, human!!! I didn't turn down your parents when they wanted help!" Blood gushed out of the closing wound. Conrad winced and slammed Henry on the floor.

"My clan gave your family support when English Pureblood Families demanded to obliviate the minds of your ancestors! I gave your mother the cure to save your unborn ass despite what your family did to mine! I decided to bury the ax and let the past be passed!!! You owe me! Your whole fuckin family does!!!" Conrad screamed as he never had in his life. The desperation and fury were evident in his red eyes.

Henry didn't say anything. He started at Conrad, unable to refute the silver-haired man's words. Ultimately he just turn his head to the side and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Get off me." He grunted and slowly stood up, with a scowl on his face.

Conrad also had an unpleasant expression. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to have anything to do with this man and his family. But he knew he has no choice.

"What do you want?" Henry said grumpy and plopped in his chair.

Conrad sighed and pressed his hand to his wound. "Take care of the boy. I will return for him in a few days when things get settled down." His eyes fell on a sleeping child.

Henry frowned but didn't say refuse. "Your son?"

Conrad just nodded silently.

"What about the mother?"

This time Conrad shook his head, his expression filled with sadness. Henry sighed, it wasn't hard for him to guess what it means.

"My condolences." The old man said shortly, but he really means it. His brown eyes fell on the portrait above the couch. He knew how it feels.

"Thanks." Conrad took a deep breath and put his hand inside the pouch hanging on his waist. A medium-sized bag appeared in his hand, much bigger than the pouch itself! He put it next to his son and after gently kissing his forehead, he started leaving.

"Give it to the boy when he wakes up. Inside among other things is a letter. He will understand." Conrad explained and walked outside without looking back.

He glanced at the mail post with a name on it, and with a swoosh, he disappeared in black smoke. The words on the mail post said "Van Hellsing".

Back inside the house, Henry walked to the front door, and just like he thought, the lock was broken. "That God damn leech! I will charge him for this!" He cursed and shut the door. He also put a small chair against the broken door to keep them closed.

With nasty humor, he walked back to his favorite room, which also was his office and library in one.

Henry crouched next to the sleeping boy and started examining him. "He's under the sleeping charm..." The old man started mumbling to himself. "The hands are normal...nails too..." He crudely lifted the boy's eyelids and lips. "Hmmm... no fangs, too young to learn to tranfigurate them, perhaps late bloomer? But eyes are the same as his..." Henry fell in his thoughts until he lost interest.

He was angry at the boy's father, but he had nothing against the child. As someone says "You don't blame children for their parent's faults". Henry gently patted the boy's head and stood up. He glanced at the bag and decided to move it somewhere else.

His attention was stolen by the name on the bag, seemingly handy made with golden threats. He shook his head and went to grab a bottle of bourbon. "Hah, so you are Marcus? My name is Henry Van Hellsing. It's nice to meet you, Marcus Tepes."