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Eric Yorkie, The Van Helsing of Forks

Summary:
Vampires have come to Forks, and only one person can possibly stop them. That would be me. I am Eric Yorkie, the Van Helsing of Forks. The True Adventures of a Vampire Hunter. A Twilight AU JokesonJane made this awesome banner


Notes:
I don't own Twilight.


6. Chapter 6 Where I Am Confronted

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The most important virtue required in hunting vampires is courage. Vampires know they're scary and will use that and any other advantage in situations designed to dominate you. - From The Diary of a Vampire Hunter by Eric Yorkie

The next morning I ride my bike to school so I can get there early. Before anyone's around, I take the recorder, switch it to voice-activated mode, and tape it to the underside of the Cullens' lunch table. I am excited. This is probably my best idea yet. See, it's modern day vampire hunting, making technology work for you.

I know people, even my best friends, won't believe in something as outlandish as vampires in Forks unless I have proof. Just a few unguarded words from the Cullens, a drained victim, or an undeniable show of vampire speed is what I need to build my case. And the sooner I can show people I'm right, the safer I'll be. But until then, I need to be strong and fearless. Someone has to stand up to the vampires. Because first it's vampires, then it's werewolves. Then it'll be shape shifters and maenads and all kind of unsavory characters, and they'll turn this lovely, sleepy town into some kind of real-life Bon Temps. Ain't nobody going to do that to my town.

I keep a low profile that morning, trying to avoid thinking about vampires and werewolves and any other nasty creatures−to keep the images out of my mind, in case anyone is looking. I duck into the boys' bathroom between math and Spanish. I take care of business, and I'm tucking in my shirt as I exit the stall when I come right up against Emmett's chest. He and Jasper are waiting right outside, leaning on either side of the door. We three are the only ones in here. The two of them tower above me.

My heart starts pounding in my chest, like it wants to jump into my throat, but I try to play it cool. "What do you guys want?"

"Oh, I don't know as to how we're wanting anything," Jasper drawls.

Emmett smiles, the same way a shark does when it slides by you in the water, checking you out. "Maybe we just want to be friends."

I turn sideways to slide past them, heading over to the sinks. I might be facing down vampires, but a guy still has to wash his hands. "I'm surprised you're brave enough to come in here. Aren't you afraid your reflection won't show up in the mirrors?" I surprise even myself with the balls it takes to say that.

"Do we look like we're afraid?" Emmett's reflection asks me. He's got a cocky grin on his face.

I grab the sink's lever handles so they don't see my hands are shaking. "So, what's bringing on this sudden desire to be friends?"

The two of them exchange glances. "Edward and Bella," Jasper says.

I look at them via the mirrors. The hairs on my neck are standing straight up, but I start scrubbing my hands. "What about them?"

"We want you to leave them alone. They like each other. They deserve some room to let things...develop," Emmett explains. He's serious. If he wasn't a treacherous vampire, I might even think he cares about his brother.

"Hasn't Edward already done his hocus-pocus thing on her?" I ask bitterly. "The poor girl was so sore, she could barely walk yesterday."

Emmett and Jasper exchange another glance. "Edward? You think he and Bella are…?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't it obvious?"

Emmett lets out a little chuckle. Jasper snorts once. "Edward," Emmett says, looking at the ground.

"And Bella," Jasper adds. They start laughing, chuckling at first, then as they think about it more, increasingly harder. I turn around from the sink and cross my arms over my chest as the two of them grab onto each other for support, they're laughing so hard. Jasper looks at me, and suddenly I'm starting, too. Edward and Bella. Yeah, that's funny. Pretty soon, I'm laughing with them, but I don't really understand why. I'm looking between the two of them, completely mind-fucked.

"Christ, no," Emmett says when he can finally talk. "I'd be surprised if he's even grabbed titty."

I'm still chuckling and wondering why. "Why should I believe you?" I ask, finally shaking off the strange compulsion. This is the consequence of hanging with vampires: you lose touch with reality. Next I'll be throwing birthday parties or some such nonsense for them.

"Why not?" Jasper asks reasonably as the door swings open, and a couple of freshmen slink into the bathroom. They only come up about halfway on Emmett and Jasper, and with furtive glances at us, slide into the first two stalls.

I head toward the door as Emmett claps his paw on my shoulder. "Really, just give them some space."

I'm saved from having to answer because as I pull the door open, Alice is standing just outside the boys' room, frowning with her arms crossed. She looks like a pissed-off Tinkerbelle. But it's not me that has apparently earned her elvish wrath

.
As I walk away, I hear her collar Emmett and Jasper behind me. "What in hell do you two think you're doing?"

I glance back over my shoulder. She's got the two of them pinned up against the wall and is pointing her finger in their faces. It's like a Chihuahua facing down a couple of Dobermans, and she has them all but rolling over to show their throats. "Hey, we were just trying to warn him off " Emmett starts to protest.

"Well, don't," she says crossly. "I've got this covered, and I don't need you two fucking things up!"

"Come on, Alice," Jasper says placatingly, reaching out to her. "Don't spoil our fun."

She slaps his hand away. "Spoil your fun? You guys don't realize what a thin line we're walk " She turns to see me watching as I slowly walk backwards away from them. She points a red-painted fingernail in my direction. "You. Get to class."

Yes, ma'am.

Lunchtime comes. The Cullens are at their usual table, and they're talking among themselves. I can't wait to hear what the recorder picks up. While the rest of my gang is chowing down and yakking about the Sadie Hawkins dance, I'm watching Edward and Bella, who are at their own table again.

There really is like this bubble around them. They're talking low and occasionally smiling shyly at each other, both of them leaning across the table like they wish the wood between them would just disappear. The rest of the world doesn't exist for them because they're so wrapped up in each other. Bella keeps curling her hair around her fingers, and Edward keeps reaching his hand across the table like he wants to touch her but always draws back at the last moment.

I roll my eyes. Next they'll be serenaded by a fat Italian with an accordion singing "That's Amore" while unicorns shitting butterflies trot by their table. Angela keeps sneaking glances over there, though, and I can see the tenderness in her eyes. Would she be quite so swoony if she knew what he was? I think not.

At the end of lunch, Alice drags Edward away, and the two of them head for the parking lot. Another unfair perk of being a vampire: you never have to go to class unless you want to. I suppose they just pick the exam answers right out of the teachers' heads.

Biology is next, and I sit two tables back from where Bella and Edward sit. Edward isn't there, though, and I can see Bella keeps glancing over at his seat like she wishes he was. I make a point of catching up with Bella as we're leaving class. Maybe now that he's gone, she'll wake up from the spell he's cast over her.

"Hey, Bella," I call to her just outside the class room.

She turns, clutching her books to her chest. "Yes, Eric?"

"What are you up to this weekend?"

Her eyes become guarded. "Oh, I don't know. Why?"

I come up close to her. She does have these beautiful brown eyes, wide and thickly-lashed. She's the kind of girl that normally your eyes just slide right over; nothing really sticks out about her. It's not like she has a huge rack or anything. But then when you take a second look at her, you realize she's pretty−hell, she's even beautiful. Her skin is perfect. "You could hang out with us," I offer hopefully.

"Thanks, but I've got some things I need to do," she says, turning away. I put my hand on her arm to stop her.

"You're going to be with him," I guess. The blush that rises on her face only confirms it.

She raises her chin, though, and draws herself up straight. I bet she can be stubborn when she wants. "Edward is the best thing that's ever happened to me," she says quietly with a mature, calm dignity. There is unquestioned certainty in her voice. The high school student has faded away and a woman stands before me.

I'm surprised by this confession, but suddenly her brave front collapses. She slouches, and her shoulders give a little shake. "He's, like, the only thing that's ever happened to me," she says wryly. A-a-a-n-n-nd the teenage girl is back. "I'd do anything for him," she adds softly.

"Bella-" I say, but she shakes me off.

"I've got to get to gym," she says and hurries off down the hall. I watch her receding back, confused and conflicted.

Is it possible that she might even love him? Could you really come to love the undead? It's obvious they can love each other, as evidenced by the pairing up of the Cullens. And I can't be certain that I'd say no if Rosalie attempted to seduce me. They might be cold, but still, that is one bodacious set of tits. But even I can tell the difference between love and, well, necrophilia.

Doubt starts to nag at me as I make my way to the last class of the day. Have I been misjudging the Cullens? It's been true that I've yet to see any victims. Although, they've as much admitted to me that they're vamps, I'm the only one who suspects anything. Well, except maybe Bella, and it doesn't seem to be slowing her down. But…they're vampires. Automatic evil, right?

After the last class of the day, I run by the cafeteria and snag the recorder I had taped to the underside of the Cullens' lunch table. Once the school has mostly emptied out, I go sit out on the lawn by the bike racks and switch it on.

There's a lot of rustling and noises of people walking by. I can hear what sounds like Mr. Sidarski cleaning the table, and he's mumbling about dirty kids and if he ran the school, by god, these brats would be cleaning up after themselves, yada yada. I skip past flashes of what must be the first lunch session. Do all freshman sound high and squeaky like cartoon characters on tape?

A few more taps on the fast-forward button, and I hear a chair scrape across the floor. "The meatloaf looks particularly nasty today," Rosalie says disgustedly. "I can't believe they eat this stuff." Damn that goddess. She even sounds hot.

"Now, Rose," Jasper drawls. "There was probably a time when you would have liked it."

"I sincerely doubt that," Rosalie answers.

Emmett says something I can't quite catch, and there's some chuckling around the table. "So what's up this weekend?" he asks.

"Baseball," Alice says definitively. "Sunday. In the afternoon."

"Cool." That's Emmett. "Do we win?"

"That would be telling," Alice says primly.

"Where're you going with Edward?" That's Jasper's drawl.

"You're leaving?" Rose asks.

Emmett answers. "He needs to fill up if he's going to spend time with Miss Smell-Me-Eat-Me over there."

"We're going to head out by Wenatchee. We haven't been there in a while, and we can be home by morning." Alice answers.

I'll have to watch the headlines for any deaths in Wenatchee. It's gotta be maybe six hours away.

"Take care, darling," Jasper says. "Come home soon." There's a pause as I imagine them kissing.

"This is so ridiculous. He is so ridiculous," Rosalie complains. "It's not like this can go anywhere. What is he trying to accomplish?"

"He likes her," Emmett answers mildly.

"Give her a chance," Jasper suggests. "Maybe she can loosen him up a bit."

"Hmmpff," Rosalie grunts. "He has no business cavorting with a hu-" There's a sudden scrape and rustle. "Oww," she complains. "What was that for?"

More rustling follows and some whispering I can't make out, even with the volume turned way up high. I think they're on to me, somehow. I don't see how, though; the lunch tables have a lip that would make the hidden recorder almost impossible to stumble upon. The conversation turns completely innocuous, and then the confirmation comes as they get up and leave as evidenced by the scraping of chairs. "Goodbye, Eric," someone whispers and there follows a chorus of chuckles.

Damn.

These vampires seem to have outsmarted me at every turn. It's a good thing I have help on the way.

Speaking of help, I wait anxiously for Solomon Kane of Vampire Hunters, Inc. to come on Saturday. I even pass up the opportunity to go stag to the Sadie Hawkins dance because I want to be sure to be home when he comes. I wonder intensely about what kind of person he'll be. Maybe he'll be like Anthony Hopkins in that vampire movie: old, chiseled and wary, or maybe Hugh Jackman−an Indiana Jones kind of guy.

Finally, about nine o'clock that night, a pair of headlights pull into the driveway. I jump out of the chair that I've been using to watch TV with my parents and head for the door.

"Who's that?" my mother calls as I open the front door.

"Just one of the guys," I say. "I'll be right back."

Out in the driveway, a 1980s Ford Econoline van is gasping and choking as it tries to shut down. Even in the dark, I can see that it's a beater; there's a dent in the door, and the front bumper is slightly askew. The figure in the front seat, though, I can see by the dim light is wearing one of those wide-brimmed hats like Jackman wore in Van Helsing, and my hopes rise.

I come around to the driver's door. The man inside rolls the window down and a cloud of cigar smoke and beer fumes roil out.

"Hey, kid," the man behind the wheel says in a dark, gravelly voice. "Is this the Yorkie house?"

"Yeah," I say. I stick my hand out. "I'm Eric Yorkie."

He takes my hand. "Solomon Kane. Nice to meet ya." We shake briefly. His hand is big and meaty and a little bit damp. "You got my money?"

"Right here." I pull a wad from my pocket and hand it to him.

He flips through it, counting it, and says, "Why don't you come have a seat?" He nods his head, indicating the passenger side seat. I run around the front of the van and pull open the side door. The interior light comes on, and I get my first good look at Solomon Kane.

He's old, maybe as old as my dad, and despite the Van Helsing hat, his appearance does not inspire a lot of confidence. He's big around the middle−his belly kind of lies in his lap−and he's wearing wrinkled khakis. He's got a cotton plaid shirt on, and it doesn't look like he's shaved in a couple of days. The van reeks of smoke and stale beer, and I have to kick empty beer cans, a vodka bottle, and empty cigarette packs aside to climb into the front seat of the van. He's starting to remind me more of Chris Farley−the guy who lives in his van down by the river−than Van Helsing.

"So you're the kid with the …" He waves his hand.

"Vampires," I supply.

"Right. Vampires." He nods. "How many you think you got?"

"At least seven. There's a whole coven," I explained. "Most of them go to high school, but the leader is a doctor."

He looked over at me with skepticism and disbelief. "A doctor vampire?"

"Makes sense," I argue. "The blood bank is right there."

He pauses, thinking, and then shrugs. "Okay. What do you know about them?"

"They aren't bothered by garlic or holy water. Crucifixes make them laugh." He raises his eyebrows on that one. "They walk around during the day, and I think one of them is trying to seduce a local girl."

"Any drained victims?" he asks.

"Nobody yet around here. I'd know, too. My dad runs the funeral home."

"He does, huh? How long these vampires been in town?"

"Couple of years, more or less."

"Couple of years? And there's no victims? And they walk around during the day?" He frowns at me. "You sure you got vampires?"

"Oh, I'm sure. They as much as admitted it to me."

He looks askance at me. "What did they say?"

"Well, uh." I am trying to remember. They haven't really said anything. "They just kind of told me to leave them alone."

"Hmm," he hums skeptically. He's got a very hairy foreman resting on the driving wheel.

"Oh, and they have yellow eyes," I add. "All of them, even though they claim to not be related."

"Yellow eyes?" he asks. "Most vampires I've seen have red ones."

"Have you seen a lot of vampires?" I ask, belatedly thinking that maybe I should have gotten some kind of resume from the guy.

"Oh, tons," he says, gesturing with his hand. "They're all over the place. You wouldn't believe how many I've snuffed out."

"Really?" I ask eagerly. "How many?"

"Um, lots." He shifts in his seat. "So, my accommodations?"

That's right. He said something about that in his email. "There's a Super 8 motel about four miles up 101."

"You got a reservation in my name?"

"Me? No. I don't have money for a motel."

"Well, I don't either." He looks at me expectantly. "Geez, kid. You drag me up here for barely gas money. You want me to help or not?"

So that's how Solomon Kane wound up sleeping in my bed while I roughed it in a sleeping bag on my floor. I told my parents he was a cousin of Mike's and the Newtons were having all kind of relatives over for some big family thing. They didn't have enough beds over at their house for all the relatives, so I'd offered to take him.

I had a feeling my mother didn't believe me, but with Solomon standing right behind me, she wasn't going to call me on it. Now I wish she had. He stinks, and he snores so loud it rattles the windows.

At least it covers up the werewolf howling.