Chapter Three

Pine Ridge, New York, January, 2024

Emily Van Helsing leaned low over the wheel. She should have stopped hours ago. She should not have climbed through the Endless Mountains and over the New York state line, not in this weather. Snow was falling faster than her wipers could keep up, and she’d passed three wrecks since leaving Binghamton.

“But a Van Helsing doesn’t quit.”

Simeon Crow had been her great-grandfather Abraham’s failure, her grandfather Arthur’s failure, and her father Egon’s failure. If she had a brother, the notorious vampire that had terrorized London for over a century would have been his failure, too.

But not hers.

Not hers.

A dark shape flew across the road—not man, not beast, but something in between.

Monsters. She’d heard rumors about a place called Pine Ridge, a place where monsters were “nice” and “civilized.” Ha. No such thing as a decent monster. No such thing as a harmless vampire, no matter what Simeon Crow claims.

When she’d cornered Simeon in London two years ago, he told her he hadn’t killed a single soul in years—and then he’d kicked her through a second-story window.

“Two years of tracking your pale ass down. I’m not going to stop until you’re a little pile of dust in the wind—oh-ohhh!”

Emily gripped the wheel. She’d fought demons and vampires alone since she was sixteen. She could handle her car skidding in the snow.

But the car didn’t behave like a monster that she could stake or stab. She turned into the skid—and the car ran out of road.

The world went up and down, over and over, like the world’s most evil carnival ride. Her car skidded, flipped, and bounced down the lower foothills of the mountains, just a few miles ahead of the Pine Ridge exit.

Everything was red. And white. And still.

“Thank God the Lumberjacks had a late game tonight!”

“Thank God I decided to fly instead of riding in your car, Jakob.”

“You would barely fit, friend.”

“No one would have found her until daylight.”

“Who is she? Is she local?”

“I don’t think so. It’s a rented car with out of state plates and I don’t recognize her. She’s breathing, but she’s hurt pretty bad. The car is totaled.”

“Should we get her to the hospital ourselves or call for an ambulance?”

Emily winced but couldn’t open her eyes. Her brain was too heavy; it had pinned her eyelids shut. And her ribs were smashed into her chest. Her heart felt heavy and slow, too.

“I’ve got no signal.” A voice with a faint Polish accent was coming from far away.

“I’ll fly you to somewhere with signal, Jakob, and you call for the ambulance. Simeon, you stay here with her. Flag down the ambulance if you see them first.”

Simeon. Simeon Crow.

The other two voices were gone.

With all of her strength, Emily managed to pry open her eyes. Badly blurred, the vampire’s face stared back at her. “Crow.”

“Miss Van Helsing.”

“Why don’t you run?” He’s been running from me for months, sending me on false trails.

Why would he run from you now, Emmeline? Her grandfather’s voice was severe in her head. You are no longer the hunter.

She wanted to struggle, she wanted to rise and fight, but her body betrayed her. He’s going to kill me. That’s why he’s not running.

“You’re hurt. Don’t talk. Don’t move. Actually...” Crow’s nostrils began to work. “Bloody hell. Never mind, you’re coming with me. I’m taking you with me.”

“No. You can kill me, but I’ll never join you. I won’t drink.” Her speech sounded slurred and feeble, and she hated it.

“Emily, I’ll buy you a drink any other night but tonight. I’m taking you with me, out of this wreck! Your car is leaking petrol, and this thing might go up like a bleedin’ Roman candle any second.”

White, bloodless hands were touching her, ripping her seatbelt from its holder with inhuman strength.

“Don’t touch me!” There. That sounded at least a little more commanding, worthy of a Van Helsing.

“I’m getting you out of the car. If it hurts, I’m sorry. It’s either me or death by inferno.”

“Just call me Dante.” She managed a smile. Her father had told her never to let a vampire see you’re afraid. They’ll let you live longer if they can have a conversation. They like something to play with. They were higher demons, still part human, that’s what he’d told her.

Soulless, but smart.

“Very funny. All right, Dante. Let’s have you out.”

Her car door went flying next, ripped off by the demon in a black leather trench coat and—and was that a hockey jersey underneath? Red plaid?

Vampires don’t wear plaid.

The scent of gasoline burned her nose. Maybe she was hallucinating. Simeon Crow would not be wearing plaid, and he wouldn’t be saving her life. Those thoughts were too complex. She focused on the obvious. “You talk like you’ve been in Dockland for years.”

“I have.”

“You went to Cambridge in the 1870s. You studied theology until you—”

“Don’t tell me what I know. All right, upsy-daisy.” Strong arms wedged under her back and legs. “Fuck.” He sounded genuinely distressed.

That can’t be good. Unless it’s a ploy. It’s probably a ploy. “What?”

“Steering wheel is smashed into your knees, love.”

“Don’t call me love .” She wanted to make air quotes. Why couldn’t her hands move? Where were her hands? Please let me still have hands.

She wriggled in her seat, and pain shot up her arms and down to her toes.

Yay! I have a spine! And hands!

“The steering wheel is smashed into your knees, your bleedin’ highness. If I yank that off, poof goes the airbag. Speaking of which, that should have deployed. I’d look into a good solicitor if I were you. You could sue the manufacturer.”

Emily winced again as his fist punched directly at her face—and hit the headrest, knocking her seat back by several inches and sending the innocent piece of car seat flying into the back. With an acrid hiss and pop, orange flames flared into life in Emily’s peripheral vision.

He’s going to leave me to burn now. He has to. Vampires might like to play with their food, but not enough to risk burning to death for it.

To her shock, Crow grabbed her again, none too gently, and yanked with all his might. Her jeans tore off at the knees, and her black hiking boots twisted painfully from her ankles, where they were trapped under the crushed interior of the driver’s floorboard. She fell out into the snow, cradled in his arms.

“That was a rental,” Emily gasped as the car turned into a black and orange fireball in front of her eyes.

“You are so badly concussed,” Crow griped and dragged her through the snow.

The shock of the cold and the pain were waking her up. The red staining the snow was worrying, especially as Simeon's gaze was fixed on the bloody puddles around her.

But I’ll worry about it later. After I nap. Her weak back gave out, and she flopped into the snow where Simeon deposited her.

“No. No! Van Helsing, don’t you dare do this to me.” Crow was suddenly picking her up again, his eyes crimson and his voice harsh.

“Do what?”

“Don’t die on me! I’ve only just gotten settled into this town, and it’s where I want to stay. It’s a nice little place!” he hissed, shaking her. “Stay awake. Look at me.”

“Your fangs are out.”

“You’re bleeding everywhere, and it’s late. I’m hungry. I didn’t even want to go to the bloody hockey game, but Mr. Minegold’s been so kind to me, and the Lumberjacks are doing really well this season.”

Emily narrowed her eyes. “You’re right. I am concussed. Are you wearing plaid? Are you talking about hockey?”

“Yes, on both counts.”

“While I’m dying?” I always figured vampires would have better speeches when they’re about to kill off their sworn enemy. Wait, does this mean I’m not his sworn enemy? I don’t know whether to be insulted or relieved.

“You’re not dying! I’m not going to let you die.”

“Why not? You killed enough other people.”

“Only the ones who deserve it—and now... Not even them. I tried to tell you that two years ago, and you wouldn’t listen, you stubborn bitch.”

“You almost killed me then. You kicked me through a window.”

“I panicked.”

Was it the blood loss talking, or did he look just a little bit ashamed at that admission?

A flapping sound that was accompanied by a huge dark shape interrupted the conversation.

A gargoyle. She’d never seen one in real life. Her father said they were evil, demon spawn left on earth to terrorize humans. This gargoyle was carrying a human. Or at least something that looked human.

“Oh, my God! Oh, thank God, you got her out, Simeon! We could see the flames from the highway!”

Another vampire. Emily’s unfocused eyes moved from Crow’s face to the face of a man in his forties or fifties with immaculate silvery hair and a kind smile. Still a vampire—she’d been trained to note the signs, the pale skin, the way the pulse never ticked in the neck, and the faint hints of red in the pupil. That kind face could mask centuries. Simeon Crow could pass for twenty-five or thirty. Ha. He’d been born during the Crimean War.

“I’m Jakob Minegold, my dear. This is Genesis Davidson. The ambulance is on its way. Hang on.” He reached out a comforting hand and stroked her hair.

“This is Emily. Van Helsing.” Crow’s voice was carefully flat, but there was an undercurrent of dislike he couldn’t disguise.

“Oh, goodness. Of the Van Helsing family of vampire hunters? Well. I suppose she must crave a bit of peace and safety, too. Don’t worry, my dear. Whatever good things you’ve heard about Pine Ridge are true, and all are welcome. You won’t have to live in fear or face your foes anymore. Unless, of course you’re interested in joining the Night Watch rotation which is rather like a Neighborhood Watch organization. Usually, things are very quiet, but—”

“Jakob. This isn’t the time,” the gargoyle protested, cutting him off.

“Of course. Simeon, you know Miss Van Helsing?”

“We met once.”

“Before you—?”

“No. A few years after.”

“Does she know?”

“I tried to tell her, but she doesn’t believe me.”

“I can hear what you’re saying. I’m not dead yet,” Emily snapped peevishly.

“I can see that,” the older-looking vampire nodded, a gentle smile on his face. “Seeing is believing, Miss Van Helsing, and you’re in good hands. The ones who harm the innocent don’t remain in Pine Ridge. We will not allow it.”

Emily stared at the lined face, now stern, hints of ruby dancing under blue. The gargoyle behind him crossed his massive arms and nodded once.

“Then why is Crow here?”

“There is no better way to atone for one’s past than by creating a peaceful future.”

Whatever else they were going to say was forestalled by the distant wail of a siren.

“Thank God,” Crow picked her up and passed her to Genesis, who looked like he wanted to put her right back down. “Hold her! Minegold and I don’t have any body heat. She’ll go into hypothermia or shock or something.”

Thick, bat-like wings wrapped around Emily, and she immediately began to shudder as the meager warmth hit her muscles. “I am in shock.” Her voice sounded far away. She knew the symptoms and signs. Blood loss. Trauma. Head injury. Cold.

“Put this over her.” Simeon Crow was suddenly in front of her, tearing off his big leather coat and draping it over her when the gargoyle lifted one wing.

“Tilt her head back and her feet up if you can, Genesis. Pull the blood to the vital organs!” Mr. Minegold instructed, voice sharp with urgency.

Emily felt shivers course through her as her body began to warm. Or maybe they were the shivers of someone bleeding out.

The gargoyle was running now. “I’m taking her toward the ambulance!” he shouted.

Lights hurt her eyes. Red and white strobing lights against the blinding snow. Doors opened in a few seconds, and the world changed. Her head filled with calm, collected voices, and her body landed on a stretcher. Simeon Crow was crawling in the back with her, holding her hand without question when one of the paramedics instructed him to.

Their eyes met, and then his fled from hers. He kept a grip on her hand but stared at the paramedics as they moved around in the back of the ambulance as it began to creep along the treacherous road.

Emily said nothing as they wrapped her in some sort of foil blanket that made her feel like a baked potato. What the hell is happening?

“Don’t worry, miss. You’re definitely banged up, but you’re going to make it.”

“Hospital here is top-notch,” Simeon muttered.

“And I think you’ll be staying there for quite a while!” One paramedic grinned at her, trying to be reassuring. “It’s a good thing those guys found you, especially in this storm. Emily? Look at me?” Another bright light in her eyes. The paramedic put his little flashlight away after checking her pupils, his smile more relaxed now. “You’ll be okay.”

Emily nodded, but “okay” was not in her vocabulary. She might never be okay again.

When her car flipped, so had her world.

Did monsters actually save my life?

Wait. Why?

Could the Van Helsing Code be wrong? Are there a few good monsters in this world after all?