Everything in Creation is governed and bound by Laws;

Heaven and Hell are no exception.

In times when Demons refuse to comply,

When the actions of the rogues jeopardise the balance,

Hell sends their ancient and most dangerous spawn;

The Contractor…

Interim III - Hunters

“Fear… Nevermore, my son...

“Desmond, the day you read this letter, we would have been long gone from this world, banished from the Third Kingdom for all eternity. We all have choices in life and ours was to keep you safe; safe from evil, safe from cruelty…

“I have no doubt in my mind that your foster family have loved and cared for you immaculately all these years in my absence and for that I am truly grateful. I have requested that your guardians give you this letter when you become a man so that you can understand what happened to your family; to us.

“By our wishes, your guardians have kept the details of your lineage from you but now it is time that you know who you are, who we are and what happened to us. For you, my son, come from a long line of proud warriors and fierce demon hunters; you, my son, are a Van Hellsing…”

The heavy English rain buffeted against the worn, wooden sidings of an old, two-storey house hidden along the cliffs of Dover slightly off Waterloo Crescent. Its dilapidated appearance masked a modern interior in which its inhabitants were sitting quietly in a dimly lit lounge room, saying nothing to one another.

The only sounds heard through the room was the buzzing of the fluorescent light bulb overhead and the ticking of an antique, ‘Dresden’ grandfather clock sitting in the corner, swaying its pendulum in soothing monotony.

No words were said until a middle-aged woman cleaning the equally-aged Winchester rifle in her hands broke the silence. ‘You’re sure it’s tonight Kennedy?’

A thin, bespectacled young-man stood up and walked across the room towards the desk, upon which sat an aged, handwritten chart.

‘It’s definitely tonight,’ he said surely, running his finger across the chart, ‘the Southward Equinox is definitely tonight, mother.’

‘Well that’s it then,’ said a younger, twenty-something year old woman sitting on the far end of the worn couch, ‘they’ll be here soon.’ Her hands shook nervously as she poured lubricant on an old rag, cleaning out the barrel of the pistol on the coffee table. ‘Where the Hell is dad?’

The older woman, Kennedy’s mother, stood up from her stool opposite the younger girl and walked over to the windows. ‘Patience Sylvana,’ she said, focusing her eyes through the heavy rain outside their homestead, ‘Abelard will be home soon.’

She drew the out-of-style curtains closed. ‘Sylvana, why don’t you take your sister upstairs and re-salt the rooms.’

Sylvana and her identical twin stood up from their seats and proceeded to run upstairs. ‘Oh and Leonie, don’t forget the corners of the windows.’ Leonie turned and nodded at her mother before disappearing upstairs.

‘You need to relax Adelia,’ said the older gentleman, leaning against the grandfather clock with a glass of Scotch clutched firmly in his wrinkled hand, ‘your husband is perfectly capable of keeping himself out of trouble.’

The mother, Adelia, leered at the glass in her brother’s hand and then back up and his pinked face. ‘How can I relax when my bloody brother is drinking at a time like this? Will you please put that down and do something else for a change Garland?’

Garland threw his arms up into the air in defeat and finished his drink, letting out a mighty belch and placing the glass onto the coffee table. ‘And what would you want me to do, Dellie?’

Adelia let out a long, pained sigh before ordering her brother to reload the weapon magazines that sat on the table in the kitchen. Her ears perked up as she heard footsteps ascending from the basement in the room next to her.

‘That’s all of it,’ said an older woman carrying a box full of munitions, ‘this’ll go a whole lot faster if that bloody husband of mine would get off his arse and help me!’

Adelia grabbed the heavy box from her sister-in-law and carried it to the kitchen. ‘I think you’ll be happy to see Garland actually doing work for once, Estelle,’ she said, ‘I had him fill the mags.’

Estelle walked into the kitchen and clasped her hands on her mouth in shock. ‘See, now this is a grim omen of what’s to come.’ She stated sardonically, sitting down next to her slightly inebriated husband and helping him sort out the ammunition boxes. ‘Dellie could you please check on my idiot sons, make sure they haven’t blown themselves up, love?’

Adelia nodded and headed up the creaky staircase towards the bedrooms. No sooner had her foot landed onto the carpeted hallway, she smelled the distinct smell of burning gunpowder permeating from the main bathroom.

‘I told you that was too much glycerine!’

Adelia kicked open the bathroom door to find her two nephews, Jacob and Archer staring back at her with perplexed looks on their powder-blackened faces.

‘I-it’s not what it looks like, Aunt Dellie,’ the older one, Jacob, protested, ‘Archie just put a bit too much glycerine in the mix!’

‘And I told you,’ defended Archer, ‘composite explosives need a glycerine rate of at least five millilitres! We’re trying to kill here, not shave our legs!’

‘I’m an adult, Archie! You gotta listen to what I say!’

‘You’re barely eighteen!’

‘Well, I’m still older!’

‘Only by six years!’

Adelia placed a worn finger onto her temple, stifling a small stress headache that was growing from their bickering before asserting herself.

‘Boys,’ she said calmly, ‘I want you both to clean yourselves up and check the fuses but don’t leave the house do you understand?’

The boys stared at each other. ‘Aunt Dellie, you need to relax.’ Jacob replied, waving his hand dismissively through the air.

‘Yeah, Jacob and I had already rechecked the fuses, charges and primers. We’re all set to go.’

‘You’re worried about Uncle Abe aren’t you?’ Jacob asked earnestly.

‘No… I…’

Archer placed one of his blackened hands onto Adelia’s, staining her aging skin. ‘Uncle Abe will be fine, he’s stronger than all of us Aunty.’

Adelia nodded and left the boys to their explosives, inspecting the rest of the house and ignoring the piercing sound of their bickering echoing through the halls. She made her way to the master bedroom, her own room, where her twin daughters were busy placing lines of rock salt along the walls and under the windows.

‘That’s the last of it mum,’ said Leonie as Adelia walked into the room, ‘every nook and cranny fully salted.’

‘Is dad home yet?’ Sylvana asked. ‘It’s getting late.’

Adelia shook her head worryingly.

‘Chin up mum,’ Leonie smiled, ‘I’m sure he’s not that far away.’

‘That’s if those monsters haven’t gotten him first.’ Sylvana retorted dryly.

‘Syl! You shouldn’t say things about daddy like that!’ Leonie defended.

‘Well where the Hell is he, Leah? Tonight of all nights!’

‘Can’t you see mum is upset?’

Both girls stopped and stared at their mother, her face wrought with worry. None said anything, spending the time taking in their father’s absence.

Suddenly, the loud, calculative voice of Kennedy flooded through the house. ‘Something’s tripped the border sensor!’

Adelia snapped out of her daze and ran down the stairs to her oldest son. ‘What is it Kenny? Is it Abelard?’

Kennedy had his eyes glued to an ancient radar, watching vigilantly, a blip on the screen as it came closer and closer to the house. ‘I can’t be sure mum, it could be.’

Adelia’s worries melted as she heard the sound of a motorbike pull into the gravel driveway. She flung open the front door and found the handsome, bearded face of her husband, Abelard, smiling back at her. His face drenched from the rain as he ran forward and placed a soft kiss on Adelia’s lips.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late darling.’ He apologised.

Adelia shook her head. ‘How did it go?’

Abelard took off his wet, leather jacket and threw it onto the stairway. ‘He’s with the caretakers now, he’ll be fine.’

‘But is it okay, leaving him with the maid’s family like that? It feels like such an imposition.’

‘We have no other choice love, everyone we know is in this house tonight.’ Abelard placed a gentle kiss on Adelia’s forehead. ‘Relax Dellie, I’ll go get him as soon as this is over.’

‘It might be over sooner than you think dad,’ Kennedy interrupted from the lounge room, ‘I think they’re here.’

Abelard ran over towards the radar and stared at the green, beeping screen covered in a handful of green dots.

‘Eleven… twelve… there’s fourteen of them. They’re all coming from the south.’

‘I think they’re wind demons dad,’ Kennedy interjected, ‘they must be scouting the area.’

‘If they look hard enough they’ll be able to spot the traps for the earth demons to dismantle.’

Adelia walked into the room and leaned over her son and her husband. ‘Get Garland and Leonie to the windows, they can shoot them down before they reach the homestead.’

Abelard’s powerful voice rung loudly through the house. ‘Garland… Leonie… Fourteen targets, airborne, coming from the south! You know what to do!’

A loud screeching sound was heard from the kitchen as Garland quickly left his chair and ran past them, holding onto an old bolt-action rifle in one hand and a bottle of Scotch in the other as he ran upstairs.

Abelard turned quickly to Adelia. ‘Has he been…?’ He mimicked shaking an invisible glass in his hand.’

‘My brother is a better shot drunk than sober Abe,’ Adelia smiled, ‘you’re about to see a hit rate that’ll put his awards to shame.’

‘Whoa! Dad?’ Kennedy asked concernedly. ‘What the Hell are these?’

Abelard’s eyes fixed onto the green screen as a clump of dots were seen swaying smoothly towards their position.

‘They’re water demons, coming towards the cliffs.’ Abelard ran to the staircase and called out to Jacob and Archer. ‘Boys, ready those charges! We’ve got swimmers coming in fast!’

Abelard heard nothing from them but knew they were scrambling for the triggers as he heard their footsteps patting off the wooden floorboards.

‘They’re really after us tonight huh, dad?’

‘We’re just that popular, son,’ Abelard remarked, ‘let me know the moment you see any land-based demons. I’ll be checking the arms.’

Estelle sat with her hands deep into the munitions pile as Abelard walked into the kitchen.

‘So it’s started then?’ She asked him, casually ignoring the gunfire that was ringing periodically upstairs. ‘They’re here?’

Abelard nodded casually. ‘About time too, all this waiting would probably drive your boys barmy.’

‘I can only imagine how badly they’re itching to pull those triggers.’ Estelle snorted as she continued filling the ammunition pile. Both of them stared out towards the landing as they heard Kennedy’s voice ring loudly through the house.

‘Now boys!’

A loud explosion followed as the Van Hellsings felt a tremor quake beneath them.

‘Never mind.’ Estelle remarked offhandedly as Abelard ran out of the kitchen.

‘Kenny, what’s happening? Any demons on foot?’

‘Nothing darling,’ Adelia replied, ‘the boys have managed to take out the water demons and Gar and Leonie are almost done with the -’

‘Strike that guys,’ Kennedy cut in, ‘we have a large wave of demons coming from the roads.’

‘Everyone, grab a weapon and get to a window. We’ve got company!’

All members of the Van Hellsing scurried around the house and securing a position before the night air was marred with the sound of thunderous gunfire echoing from all directions.

Abelard ran to the front of the house behind a wall of sandbags on the porch and scanned the night for any signs of movement. His sharp eye caught the outline of black wings and he immediately opened fire, smiling to himself as he saw the demon fall to the ground. He cocked his bolt-action rifle and scanned the area again for his next target.

‘Dad, they’re at the first pit!’

Abelard called back over his shoulder in a loud, booming voice. ‘Jacob! Archer! First pit!’

A giant wall of fire erupted about 200 metres in front of him as the makeshift ‘moat of dynamite’ that the boys had dug earlier exploded violently. Abelard continued firing into the night, watching demon after demon fall before his rifle under the light of the fire wall.

‘Gar! Leah! Make sure you don’t let a single wind demon through!’ He shouted behind him.

Upstairs in the master bedroom, firing through a broken window, was Leonie Van Hellsing. She took a deep breath and remembered what her father had taught her: ‘squeeze the trigger Leah, don’t pull or jerk it.’ She found her target, the beating of baleful wings and grasping talons silhouetted against the night sky. Just as her father had taught, she squeezed the trigger slowly, feeling her sniper rifle buck against her shoulder heavily and hearing the deafening screech of a felled wind demon.

‘Good shot, Leah,’ her uncle Garland commended, firing multiple bursts into the air, ‘watch your two!’

Leonie pivoted to the right and aligned her sights with another wind demon, blasting the Hellion from the sky.

Through the echoes of gunfire and explosives, Leonie and Garland heard the gruff voice of Abelard commanding from below.

‘Don’t let a single one of those flying bastards through!’

 Garland scoffed. ‘I would sooner give up my medal from Bisley, Abe!’

‘Dad, they’re at the second pit!’ Kennedy shouted from the radar console.

 Archer and Jacob Van Hellsing stared out of the bathroom window and confirmed what Cousin Kenny was shouting at them.

‘Hurry up with that fuse!’ Archer barked at his older brother.

Jacob was frantically twisting a copper wire around a handmade trigger. ‘The bloody thing chose the most convenient time to short on us!’ He grumbled angrily.

‘It happens, just hurry!’

‘I’m hurrying… and… got it!’

Jacob Van Hellsing stared out of the window at the approaching horde and smiled. ‘See you in Hell.’ He remarked as his hand slammed on the trigger.

Archer and Jacob dove into the bathtub for cover but heard no explosion. Only the sounds of gunfire and the soft, muffled explosions of landmines.

‘What happened?’ Jacob asked, emerging from the porcelain bathtub.

Archer leapt to his feet and checked the trigger. ‘The wire must be cut somewhere!’ He shouted in shock.

‘Damn it! There’s too many coming! We need that wall!’

Archer ran to the hallway and shouted down the staircase. ‘Uncle Abe! The trigger’s buggered! Someone’s gonna have to detonate it manually!’

Upon hearing those words, Abelard Van Hellsing, the famed Demon Hunter of Kent, cursed under his breath and scanned the battlefield of his homestead. The demons were falling into the pit and crawling up the other side towards them. He could throw a grenade into the pit to set off the explosives, but he would need to get closer and with the demons already approaching the house, he would need plenty of cover.

‘Cover me, I’ll set off the pit!’ He shouted to his family.

He bravely vaulted over the wall of sandbags on his front porch and sprinted ahead towards the pit.

‘Cover yourself!’ Abelard heard behind him. He stopped midfield and wheeled around to see his brother, Garland, leaping from the window, holding his favourite bottle of Scotch in his hand with a rag stuffed through the mouth.

‘Garland, no!’

‘Fall back Abe!’ Garland shouted, rushing past him and towards the onslaught of demons. ‘I’ve got this one!’

Abelard cursed again and raised his rifle towards the demons, covering his brother as he mindlessly charged towards the armies of Hell itself.

Brave and foolish Garland whipped out a Zippo lighter from his pocket and lit the rag, lobbing it with all his might towards the pit. ‘Chew on this you pricks!’

Abelard watched in horror as he calculated the trajectory of the flaming cocktail. It would never make it into the pit. His eyes fell onto the grenade that lay at his feet and, instinctively, he scooped it up and sprinted towards his brother.

‘NOW LEONIE!’ Garland shouted holding his hands religiously towards the sky.

Through the mess of loud gunfire and explosions, Abelard could hear the distinct ‘clink’ of a sniper round piercing glass and watched in amazement as the makeshift Molotov cocktail exploded, alighting the night sky with its red and warming glow and showering burning splashes of Scotch into the pits.

Abelard felt a deep sense of patriarchal pride for his daughter as the last pit, the moat of explosives that surrounded the farmstead, exploded loudly, unleashing a torrential wall of flames and incinerating the demons that lay therein. He smiled at his daughter’s triumph but quickly remembered the situation as he heard the growls of earth demons bearing down upon Garland.

Raising his rifle to his shoulder once again, Abelard started firing at the fetid yellow demons as Garland turned his heels and ran back towards him. Abelard felt the pressure of the situation coursing through his adrenaline-filled veins as he felled demons one by one that were eagerly reaching at his brother’s heels.

‘Blast it!’ He heard Garland shout.

Abelard raised his eyes from his iron sights to see his brother lying on the ground, a yellow, decaying talon gripping and clawing at his ankle from beneath the earth. He raised his rifle but could not get a clean shot and he knew that Leonie upstairs would not have one either.

Abelard ran forward from his firing spot, he could see the earth demon emerging from the dirt, its yellowed fangs and salivating maws hungered for Garland’s flesh but before it could lay one of its mangy fangs upon its victim, Abelard had already arrived, giving it a swift kick into its chin.

The demon let out a shriek of pain, letting go of Garland and clutching at its jaw. Abelard pulled his brother to his feet.

‘Damn blighter twisted my ankle!’ Garland shouted, leaning on Abelard for support.

‘Don’t worry about it Gar,’ Abelard replied, doing well to mask the panic he felt, ‘let’s just get you back home and you can sit on the chaise.’

‘Yeah, make sure it’s pointing out the window.’

Abelard struggled against the weight of his heavyset brother as he hobbled back towards the house. He tried not to look back as he heard the sounds of talons, clawing upon the ground rapidly but could not ignore the harrowing cries of a demon leaping upon them. Abelard dropped his brother and pulled a revolver pistol from the holster at his side, firing madly at his pursuer.

The cunning earth demon burrowed underground to avoid Abelard’s gunfire and upon hearing the sixth shot fire, re-emerged from the earth and resumed its pursuit.

Abelard reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of salt-filled bullets, reloading them into the pistol’s chamber as quickly as he could. The demon, now only a few metres away, leapt towards him again, its sharpened talons poised for striking as it pounced. Abelard raised his fists in defiance, ready to fight the frenzied Hellion but ducked as he heard Leonie’s rifle explode, sending the demon disappearing into a mist of ash and dust.

Upon hearing the many growls of land-based demons, Abelard quickly wiped the demon’s dusty entrails from his face and picked up his brother, dragging him again back towards the house. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt his feet hit the sturdy, wooden porch.

‘Outta the way oldies!’ Shouted Sylvana, running forward towards the onslaught.

Abelard turned to call her back but shielded his eyes as Sylvana pulled the trigger of a crudely made flamethrower, incinerating the demons ahead of her in a blazing inferno of red and orange. Sylvana’s eyes glinted madly in the firelight, reducing the demons before her into clouds of ash before the screaming of her twin sister alerted her senses.

Leonie fired madly at the purple wind demon, gnashing and clawing against the barrel of her rifle, trying to pull her out of the broken window.

Leonie was careless. She neglected to prioritise the wind demons over covering her father and uncle and had let one reach the homestead.

The wind demon, upon seeing Leonie’s arm leave the threshold of the protective salt barrier that she had carefully laid, pounced, grabbing her and pulling her onto the roof.

It pinned one of its rotting talons against her throat, holding her against the tiles and blew a large gust of wind through the room, blowing away the salt lines and the only protection the family had against the scourge of demons.

Seeing its triumph, the demon turned its attention back at Leonie, struggling against its grip and losing consciousness. She could feel its hot breath against her face and the smell of unholy death made her eyes water. She heard a loud thunder of gunfire and felt herself being dragged back in through the window, her carrier careful not to cut her on the broken glass and splinters of wood.

As Leonie’s vision sharpened, she could see the clear outline of her mother firing another round at the wind demon with her shotgun.

‘Mum,’ Leonie choked, ‘the salt barrier.’

Adelia’s eyes look towards the corners of the walls, seeing white grains of salt blow across the room like a thin layer of sand. She picked up Leonie and hoisted her arm around her shoulder.

‘Come on, we’re getting your cousins and regrouping.’ Adelia commanded, picking up her daughter’s rifle and heading out of the master bedroom. ‘Boys, we need to displace!’ She heard no reply from her nephews and began to worry. ‘Archer? Jacob?’

Ensuring that her daughter was fine to walk alone, Adelia sent Leonie downstairs and carefully walked towards the bathroom. She clasped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Lying on the floor with a large gash on his forehead was young Archer, his head lolling from side to side as he dropped in and out of consciousness. Adelia’s horror was directed more towards Jacob, suspended in mid-air with a purplish, decaying talon around his throat.

She quickly raised her daughter’s rifle towards her shoulders and fired at the wind demon as its sharpened claw lunged at Jacob’s chest. He let out a pained moan as he felt the demon’s claw pierce his upper torso, its fetid nails spearing through his flesh and into his shoulder.

Jacob fell back to the ground, clutching the open and ashy wound as he watched the dusty remains of the demon crumble to the floor.

Downstairs, Abelard, Sylvana and Garland Van Hellsing were frantically running to all corners of the house, firing at the demons that were approaching the farmstead. Kennedy, having abandoned his radar to tend to his little sister, Leonie, was eagerly eyeing the green screen, ordering his family at packs of approaching Hellions.

‘Mag!’ Garland shouted to his wife from his chaise near the window.

Estelle ran into the room, holding a box that was half filled with an assortment of rifle magazines and loose rounds.

‘This is it,’ she stated in a panic, ‘it’s all we’ve got left!’

Abelard peered into the box and felt a line of worrying sweat cascade down his dirty cheek. ‘Grab a rifle and choose a window, Estelle.’ He ordered calmly.

Adelia stumbled down the staircase, carrying her unconscious young nephew in her arms and mumbling soothing words to Jacob as he clutched onto his bleeding shoulder.

She lay Archer down next to Leonie and ordered a defiant Jacob to sit and rest.

‘Kenny, I need you to treat Jacob’s wound. He’s got corpse dust in it, I think it might get infected.’ She told her son.

Kennedy nodded. He quickly ran to the nearby desk, scrambling for equipment before sitting down next to his cousin.

‘Here, bite on this.’ He said sternly to Jacob, holding out a wooden pencil.

Jacob did what he was told and winced in pain as Kennedy started pouring medical alcohol onto the wound. ‘That bloody stings, Kenny!’ He said through the pencil.

‘Yeah, well it’s about to get worse.’ Kennedy replied. He reached over to Leonie’s rifle that lay on the ground next to his mother and extracted a round from the magazine, carefully opening the bullet and pouring its rock-salt and gunpowder mix onto Jacob’s bleeding shoulder.

Jacob let out a loud, unholy growl as he bit down hard onto the pencil in his mouth, feeling the searing pain of salt burn his open wound and did not have time to react as Kennedy lit a match and held it next to the gunpowder mix, burning the gash and cauterising it.

Adelia ignored Jacob’s whining as she ran a damp cloth along Archer’s forehead, cleaning the large cut upon his brow.

‘Archie,’ she asked him, trying to shake him softly, ‘Archie, it’s Aunt Dellie… Can you hear me?’

Archer, still barely unconscious, let out a soft, reassuring moan and Adelia breathed a sigh of relief, but her joys were short-lived as she heard the blunt clicks of rifle hammers firing empty rounds.

‘I’m out.’

‘Me too.’

‘What else is left?’

Abelard ran away from the windows and towards his family, towards his wife.

‘Is this it Abe?’ Adelia asked him softly.

Abelard did not answer, he only held her tight as he heard scores of demons crash through the house at multiple points. He stood up and raised his fists valiantly as the teeming demons surrounded the living room, surrounding the Van Hellsing Family. The rest of the family stood behind him, watching Abelard Van Hellsing, their clan leader, the famous Demon Hunter of Kent, standing in defiance against Hell itself, ready to fight to his dying breath.

‘You want my blood?!’ He shouted at the surrounding, salivating demons. ‘I’m right here!’

Abelard lunged at the closest demon with his fists primed, stopping abruptly as he heard the sounds of sarcastic clapping behind him. He wheeled around to see the demons parting, making way for a man wearing an impossibly pitch-black suit, with cruel black eyes and a cocky smirk on his confident face.

‘Bravo, Van Hellsing,’ the man spoke snidely, ‘it was worth travelling all this way to witness this.’ He stopped in the middle of the room and stared at the Van Hellsings, huddled together beside him. ‘You really are a curious family aren’t you?’

Abelard lowered his fists and stared at the curious stranger. He was unsure of who he was but felt a dark evil permeating from the man’s very pores and assumed it could only be one person.

‘Lucifer.’ Abelard hissed.

‘The very same.’ The Throne of Pride bowed, sniggering at Abelard. ‘It looks like you’re in quite a predicament here.’

‘I don’t see one.’ Abelard defied.

‘Look around you mortal; your family are at the grips of death.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘All because of your colossal human ego.’

‘Send away your vermin and let’s see what my ego has to say about yours.’

Lucifer raised a finger and waved it from side to side patronisingly. ‘Now, now, is that any way of treating a guest to your home?’

‘Enough with the chit-chat, I say we skin them alive.’

All heads turned towards the kitchen wherein another man donning a pitch-black suit and an angered expression on his face walked boldly through the room, standing behind Abelard.

‘You must be Satan,’ Abelard remarked, ‘the tantrum-thrower.’

‘Yeah? How about you and I go out back and we’ll see whose tough shit?’

‘Easy brother, let’s keep a cool head.’

‘They’ll all have no heads after I’m done with them!’

Abelard, stood defensively at the two Princes of Hell. ‘What do you want?’

Lucifer smirked his trademark smirk. ‘To make you an offer; before I have my hounds tear you apart, I’m offering you a chance to settle some mortal affairs, if you know what I mean.’

‘You want my soul.’

‘Precisely.’

Abelard weighed his choices. He could bargain his soul for his family’s safety, but would the Black Princes honour his wishes? He had to try.

‘Fine,’ he answered, ‘I’ll trade you my soul and in return, you leave my family alone, forever.’

Satan let out a loud, sarcastic guffaw. ‘You reckon your soul is worth that of a clan of demon hunters? And I thought Lucy was the proud one.’

Lucifer glared at Satan and then redirected his attention at Abelard. ‘He has a point Abe; your life is not worth that of your entire family.’

Abelard stroked his beard in thought. What could he do as a last act of defiance against Hell? And then he had an idea.

‘The Seal,’ he stated, ‘my soul for the Seal.’

‘Okay, setting aside that your soul isn’t worth such a powerful relic, who will you bequeath that Seal to? After you get that ring, we’re just gonna kill whoever owns it and take it back anyway.’ Satan mocked. ‘Just give us your soul and we’ll kill your family quickly and painlessly.’

‘Abelard.’ Garland called from the floor next to Leonie. ‘A word.’

The Black Princes gave the family curious looks as they heard the hushed mumblings of agreements and protests and ideas and plots from all members.

Finally, Abelard stood up and declared loudly.

‘We will give you all of our souls in exchange for the Seal of Solomon.’ The entirety of the Van Hellsing family honourably nodded with their clan leader.

Lucifer and Satan exchanged glances before themselves nodding in agreement.

‘However,’ Abelard interrupted, ‘so long as he has not cast the first stone, you are not to harm the owner of the Seal. Are we understood?’

Lucifer smirked again. ‘Deal.’ He clapped his hand, creating a small fireball through which he dragged a large parchment from amongst its fiery manes.

Satan stared at the armies of Hellions that crowded the room. ‘As soon as the last signature hits the contract, I want you to drag them all as tortuously as possible back through the Nine Circles.’ He ordered cruelly.

“And so you see, my son, the life of a demon hunter is cruel and cursed and it is a life that I do not wish upon you. Should the day come, should they tempt you as much as possible, stay your hand, keep a cool head and do no retaliate. For the moment you fell a demon, you will forever branded by the Leagues of Hell as a demon hunter. All who know you will be in danger, you will always be on the run, on the edge.

“We all knew that we were not to walk away from that fateful night alive and the rest of your kin gave their souls so that you may grow up in a normal world…

“We all love you very much, son, and no matter the consequences, never forget that you are Desmond Linden Van Hellsing, the last of the Van Hellsing name.

Love, your father, Abelard Van Hellsing.”

 The aged letter fell to the floor near the foot of a young man. He had just been handed the letter by his servant earlier that day; his eighteenth birthday. He always knew that there was something odd about his upbringing, about what his foster family had told him; discrepancies in their story.

He closed his eyes and it was as though he was standing under a waterfall of his own memories. Images came flooding back to him, washing over him like a hot bath.

He remembered when he was an infant, hearing screams, seeing a stranger walk into his room and placing something onto his hand… something… a ring?

His hand unconsciously ran towards his neck, rubbing the silver chain that his foster family had given him since childhood and his finger hit an inconspicuously ordinary ring, dangling against his chest.

He lifted the bulky ring to his eyes. It seemed plain except for the eight-pointed star riddled with tiny symbols and illegible, time-worn writing.

‘Master Desmond,’ came the husky voice of his aging manservant, ‘is everything alright?’ He had been watching his master read the contents of the letter after handing it to him earlier. ‘You look… worried, sir.’

‘I’m fine Higgsby,’ he replied sternly, ‘and don’t call me Desmond anymore.’ He stated, staring at the letter that lay at his feet.

‘What should I address you as, sir?’

‘Call me… Deslin,’ he answered, clutching the ring that his father, his family, had left him, ‘Deslin Conrad…’

And so ends the Third Interim…