Chapter 96: The Snake saw Fangs

The mention of his Abraham's last name brought him all the credit he could've wished for.

He was the special target. Just not the one Bronte and Ilyana were previously discussing. Abraham was who blade spoke on behalf of.

More specifically, the Helsings.

With that in mind, maybe he gave his name knowing it would establish trust. Well renowned Vampire Hunting families probably assumed that tourists appearing at infestation sites were fellow hunters.

Or Vampire back-up.

"Alright, Abraham. We have questions." Ilyana started.

"I'm sure. Shall we all go for a walk?" Abraham suggested as he ran a hand through his overly gelled hair.

Ilyana looked at Bronte. Brontë nodded and they left the bar shortly after.

The setting Sun welcomed them as they stepped outside of the bar and into the snow crusted village. The mountain peaks surrounding them fractured the yellow rays and spread uneven swathes of light everywhere. The shadows in the alleys remained, like a physical smoke that made Bronte look twice everytime.

"So…. Do your people also have powers? To help in Hunting Vampires?" Ilyana asked what would've felt random if Bronte wasn't present before.

Abraham glanced at her as they walked, "Some did….. sometimes. Not me, though. I'm just a man."

"Then how did you hear us in the bar? We were whispering." Ilyana asked as the cold winds began to redden the tip of her nose and cheeks.

Brontë continued to watch Abraham. Everyone else was gone. Back inside their homes where it was warm and probably less suspicious.

Abraham laughed like it was a dumb question and spirals of steam escaped his lips, "I grew up in these mountains hunting. I've been using my senses in ways most people don't for decades."

Bronte didn't smell any guns on him. No blades either. All he smelled was the beer on his breath.

"The mountains?" Ilyana said.

Abraham nodded, "Y-You guys headed there? I can get you to the best entrance."

Ilyana was ready to oblige. Brontë could feel it. And for reasons unknown to his rational mind, that made his stomach twist.

He coughed, interrupting Ilyana's answer.

"Everything alright?" They asked as Bronte stood up straighter and tapped his chest.

"Yea, I'm straight. And we're not going to the mountain. Actually, we just had some more questions."

Ilyana spared him a side eye as they continued walking towards the cities exit.

"Sure, ask away…. Erhm." Abraham managed.

"What are the Vampire numbers like here? It doesn't seem too stuffed around here."

"That's because it's not. My family has cleared most of this place out. Everything is up in the mountains these days. It's easy up there. No cameras, no reception, no suspicious locals. Just free blood….. and…" He trailed off.

"No Vampires in the city either? I was expecting to find a few nests around the butcher shops but…." Bronte questioned.

"Nope. This place is pretty straight forward. Unassuming old folks… maybe a little skittish. But who isn't in small towns, right? Haha…"

Brontë and Ilyana shared a glance.

Two things happened following Abraham's response.

He was lying. Terribly.

He told them there were no Vampires as if the city wasn't rife with them. Just not the usual snarling fiendish husks.

In doing so he also told Bronte he didn't actually overhear their conversation.

Meaning he either wasn't a Hunter in the way he spoke of, or there was something else at play.

Something related to the mountain.

"You know what? I'm actually in the mood for some good views, can you take us to the mountain?" Bronte asked while passively thinking it wouldn't hurt to get away from the city-village full of Vampires.

Abraham's neck became dotted with globules of sweat just above the fur lining of his long coat. Brontë could smell his perspiration.

"Oh… sure, yea, right this way." He led them down the long winding road and to the left. More colorful homes and absent streets welcomed them.

As Brontë followed he dug in his pocket and began typing out the message to the Midnight Suns groupchat with the little time he had before it became obvious.

"Abe Helsing is Cap. Headed to mountain. Will stop mid-way."

***

Ilyana and Bronte made small talk with Abraham as they reached the cities exit. Forced but functioning in the sense that it kept tensions calm. It allowed Bronte and Ilyana to survey their surroundings and get a feel for the situation that became increasingly curious following Abrahams critical blunder.

The two of them decided to follow Abraham outside of the city walls and through the forest trail leading to the mountain range.

The rest of the team would come running if anything went sideways.

Moon-Knight and Ghost-Rider were already on the move.

"I will say, the Vampires up in the mountains are much worse. They're more like animals…. It's been a while since I've hunted their kind…. I wish I could give you more information." Abraham explained before casually hopping up a hill that led them off the beat in path.

"You're not coming?" Bronte questioned.

Abraham shook his head, "Unfortunately, no. Helsing jurisdiction holds me to my assigned areas."

"Right…" Bronte replied plainly as they stepped into a clearing in the middle of the forest.

He stopped. Causing them to stop.

Abraham held up a hand as he looked back at them while stuffing the other deep in his coat pocket, "Do you guys hear tha—"

As soon as the Hunter clicked the button in his pocket, Bronte lunged at Abraham, grabbing him by the back of his neck as a wooden spike was fired in their direction.

It sunk into a tree near the place Bronte previously stood.

At the same time another spike fired off in the distance.

Ilyana summoned her SoulSword in a flash and cleaved the spike in half before it could puncture her chest.

"Five-hundred feet north, no more than eight…. seven now." Bronte yelled to Ilyana.

Immediately she teleported into the distance and began destroying the self firing crossbows.

But not before another could fire in their direction.

Brontë held up Abraham and let it hit him in the shoulder.

"AAAOUCH!"

Bronte spun him around and ripped the wooden spike out, pressing it against his neck as he held him to a tree.

"Ok! Ok! Wait!" Abraham's face was pale as ghost flesh. His hair hung over his eyebrows wildly from all the commotion that happened in less than eight seconds.

"What does the name Daken mean to you?!" Bronte growled.

"Wha—"

"Answer me!" He pressed the spike hard enough into his neck that it broke skin.

In the distance wires tore and metals snapped under snarls and sword slashes.

"NOW!"

"I-I don't know! Is that Chinese?!"

Bronte pressed harder.

"Please, I swear! I- I thought you were with the others that went up the mountain. I couldn't get them— there were too many. So I saw the two of you…. I thought…." He trailed off as Ilyana teleported back to where she was in the clearing behind Bronte.

A pack of Wolves came shortly after, dragging destroyed automatic-firing mounted crossbows.

"Thought what?" Bronte asked.

"I thought….. ERHM— I thought the both of you were Vampires…. Well— I thought you were."

Bronte sighed.

"What?!? Is that so crazy to assume!? You literally have silver fangs! And claws! And Werewolves don't move in such little numbers."Abraham pressed.

"And her?" Bronte pointed back to Ilyana.

"I assumed she was your familiar. Beautiful women tend to be familiars…. I-I don't make the rules." Abraham added as Ilyana raised a dark eyebrow at him.

"The hell is a familiar?"

Abraham looked up hesitantly, blinking as the water that was steadily dripping on his head began to splatter against his forehead.

Robbie sat on a tree branch. Melting the snow covering the tree with his mere presence.

"No idea. But since it's Vampires let's assume it's a weird clash of sexuality, slavery, violence and compulsion. Wonderful ingredients, by the way." Moon-Knight said as he crouched on a branch beside him, almost blending in with the fading snow.

Abraham cursed to himself, "Who are you all?"

"Those are my students, Abe….. and you're interrupting the field trip." Blade entered the clearing behind Bronte, flanked by a dozen Werewolves— only known by the yellow glow of their eyes and attention from the Wolves. Maybe the bushy sideburns and missing coats as well…

Abraham's eyes widened, "Blade!?"

Bronte let go of him. He hit the ground ungracefully and stumbled forward until he was at Blades feet.

"It's been a while, Junior" Blade grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him to his feet. "The hell are you doing back here? Weren't you living in France?"

"Yea, where's your dad?" One of the Werewolves asked after standing up from petting a Wolf.

"He's dead." Abraham replied flatly before adjusting his hair, "I get everything in his will if I become a Hunter for a year."

"And that's what you were doing here…." Blade said.

"Please…. Don't make me go over it again."

One of the Werewolves laughed. Abraham deflated a little beneath his expensive longcoat.

"Whatever your father was offering you ain't worth it if you're dead, slim." Blade said seriously.

"You don't know that."

"What and you do? After a life of drugs and partying you finally run into some wisdom? That what's got you out here playing fraud hunter? Do you even know what a Mutant is?" Blade's top lip curled into an angry snarl.

"Of course I do— he just….. I made a mistake, alright?"

"You make mistakes." Blade corrected.

Bronte internally cringed.

"They seem to have history….." Mend mumbled in his mind.

"What do you know about Wundagore mountain?" Bronte asked, "Who's up there?"

"A group of twenty. They were following some old nutcase muttering about devilish mutation and cleansing a dagger." Abraham explained.

The Midnight Suns cursed in unison.

"What? Is that bad?" One of the Werewolves questioned.

Brontë and Ilyana looked at each-other.

"What are the chances Daken bit Silver Dagger?"

Bronte shook his head, causing his dreads to shake in and out of his vision, "Low if he's still talking like that. More than likely Daken's using him. Still, we have a radicalized anti-mutant Sorceror about to get his hands on the most powerful dark magic spell-book in the world…"