The Van Helsing Legacy: We Shall Not Sleep [SAMPLE]

FIVE

Spring, 1914

Sir Hannibal regarded the gold seals that swirled over the surface of the door, leaning heavily on a cane. He really should not have been out of bed, but Green had made the mistake of leaving him unattended, and if the fool couldn't anticipate his complete inability to follow doctors' orders, well, then that was on him. Hannibal eyed the door, and the pair of Wardens eyed him, neither wanting to be the one to order him back to the infirmary. Ordering Sir Hannibal to do anything had never ended well in the past.

'How long has he been quiet?' he asked at last.

Garner answered. 'Three days, now.'

'After a ruckus that lasted for two, I understand. A delayed reaction, perhaps?'

Garner and Martin exchanged a look, but neither responded.

Hannibal did not seem to notice. 'Well, he was quiet enough before the experiment, too. How does he seem? Who's been in to see him?'

'Ah, er,' Martin said. 'Nobody's been in there.'

Hannibal blinked and turned. His legs nearly buckled, and he caught himself against the wall. 'Nobody at all?'

'Not on your life!'

The look on Hannibal's face told them they probably would have been better off manhandling him back to the infirmary.

'I was given to understand he had been trying to batter the door down with his body. No one has seen to his injuries?'

'Oh, ah,' Martin and Garner said in unison.

'Has he asked for any help?'

'Hasn't said a word.' Garner was beginning to understand that everybody involved was in deep trouble.

'Likely unconscious, then?'

'Hard to say...'

Hannibal grunted a small Anglo-Saxon word and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. 'Is any food gone when you remove the tray?'

Martin took a step backward. 'Oh,' he said. 'Ah.'

'And what does that mean?' Hannibal's eyebrows went up, and a volcanic rumble shook its way out of him. 'You didn't. You're not telling me that my patient hasn't been fed in five days!'

'Oh,' said Garner. 'Ah...'

Sir Hannibal bellowed a number of unkind words at the Wardens. 'Open the door,' he demanded, and added more words still. 'We're supposed to be the heroes of this bloody story!' he roared. 'We don't starve our enemies to death!'

Martin could not bring himself to open the door, but he handed Hannibal the key and the pair of heavy leather gauntlets that hung from the wall on a peg. Garner pointed a rifle at the opening as the door growled open on its heavy hinges.

'Fetch water,' Hannibal said coldly. 'Clean cloths, and lukewarm mash of bread and milk. And for Christ's sake, find Green.'

He expected them both to obey, but only Martin scuttled off toward the stairs. Garner and his rifle remained. Wise, Hannibal had to admit, but it still irked him. He had put a lot of time and effort into this. He had nearly died seeing it through. If the boy was not dead of hunger already, there was no way Hannibal meant to let him get shot.

It was dark in the cell. The nature of the seals meant the space could not be wired for electricity, but no one wanted to leave the boy with an open flame, either, so they had provided an electric lantern, instead, with a bright, tungsten-filament bulb. No one had brought food or water, and no one had brought fresh batteries, either. The dead lantern lay on its side next to the mussed cot.