Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

Eric Yorkie, The Van Helsing of Forks

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

I don't own Twilight.

7. Chapter 7 Where The Battle Begins

Rating 5/5   Word Count 4814   Review this Chapter

The hardest part of being a vampire hunter is that no one believes in your work. Skepticism regarding the supernatural is rampant. Tell people God talks to you, and they'll believe you. Tell them you hang with vampires, and watch the scoffing begin. –From The Diary of a Vampire Hunter by Eric Yorkie


I'm standing stark naked on the front steps of the school. Kids are streaming by me on their way into the building, and I'm terrified someone is going to notice I don't have any clothes on. I've got my hands over my dick, and I'm praying nobody turns around to see my naked butt.

The sun passes behind a cloud, and it gets nighttime dark. I am stumbling down my driveway, trying to find my way in the darkness. The Cullens pull up next to me in a minivan. The side door slides open, and Bella holds out her hand, like she wants me to come inside. "Hey, Eric," she says in a low, gravelly voice.

I want to jump inside the van. I know Bella needs me. "Come on, kid," she says, gesturing with her hand. She must be sick or something because her voice is so deep and raspy. But I can't see who or what else is in the van, and it's scaring me. I shake my head at her, and dejectedly, she closes the minivan door, and it pulls away. I try to call her name, to tell her to come back or to jump out of the van, but it's like I've been struck dumb. I can't make a sound. Rosalie appears next to me, all smiling and sexy and welcoming, until she speaks with that same gravelly voice Bella had. "Kid. Wake up."

My eyes fly open, and Solomon Kane is standing above me. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Rise and shine." I roll over and groan. If I thought he smelled bad last night, he was a rose compared to this morning's aroma. The bathrooms at the Mariners' games after a double header smell better. "Sun's up," he growls. "Let's go catch them vampires."

I get dressed in the bathroom−no way I'm changing in front of him−and we head downstairs. I chow down a bowl of cereal as fast as I can while he accepts a cup of coffee from my mother. When she leaves the room, he takes a flask from his pocket and surreptitiously pours some of it into his coffee.

"What's that?" I ask around a mouthful of Sugar Pops.

"Vampire repellant," he says, smiling and saluting me with his cup.

Yeah, right. Like he needs it with that smell. After breakfast, we climb into his van. "Where to, kid?" he asks, fishing for his keys.

"The Cullen house is over in North Forks," I say. "Go back out to the highway and take a right."

This is so exciting. We're going into Vamptown; I feel like a fucking warrior. It occurs to me I should have a weapon. I turn to him as he inserts the key into the ignition. "My mom has a samurai sword. Maybe I should go get it." I'd probably have to sneak it out. It's a family heirloom that hangs in my parents' bedroom. But I've seen it unsheathed, and it's absolutely lethal-looking. It's a katana forged by Dotanuki, over four hundred years old. I've always dreamed of swishing it through the air. It's sharp enough to cut stone.

Solomon takes his hat off his head and rubs his forehead with his forearm. "May not be the wisest decision to go face them in their nest right off the bat. Is there someplace around town where we could scope them out a bit beforehand?"

He's probably right. It's just the two of us against the seven of them. "Well, Dr. Cullen might be at the hospital." I don't really know what the bunch of them do on weekends. It's not like it's a school day; then I'd know where they'd be. "They said something about baseball. I wonder if Bella knows anything. Maybe we should drop by her house."

"Bella?" he asks, smooshing the hat back on his head.

"The girl I told you about? The one Edward is enslaving?" For all I know, he's got her into some harem-esque Princess Leia slave outfit. Is it wrong that I fervently hope so?

"Oh, right." He turns the key, and with a grin, slaps the stick shift into reverse. "Then let's go see Bella."

We start bumping down the driveway. "You're sure these are vampires, right?" he asks me, glancing over. "I mean, I've never heard of seven of them living together. They usually prefer to wander by themselves or with a mate. Occasionally you'll see a threesome, but never more than that."

"I'm sure." I review everything I know in my mind. "I've seen speed, strength, athletic ability. There's the mind-reading, the hypnotism, the good looks…" Rosalie's bodacious set of tits…

"And they go out during the day? You've seen them in the sunshine?"

"Yeah," I say, but then I catch myself. Have I seen them in the sun? They're always out 'hiking' during the sunny days of school. "I've seen them all walking around during the day but maybe not in the sun."

Solomon pulls a ragged pack of Camels from his shirt pocket and lights one up. The window I've already rolled partway down for some relief against his sour smell goes down the rest of the way. I wonder if he actively cultivates that odor to ward off vampires because it's enough to knock small children off their feet.

But I have to know what kind of weapons he does have. "Tell me, what do you use to, ah, off them?"

He takes a drag off his cigarette. "What? You mean the vampires?"

I nod, my mouth suddenly dry. We're talking about the death of people I know, people in my school. Well, maybe not people, but creatures or beings, at least.

"See the stakes?" He points a thumb towards the back of the van, which is a jumbled mess of clothes, tools and empty beer cans. There's even a leaking bean bag chair back there, which I am guessing serves as the back seat. But clattering against the inside wall of the van I see a set of what looks like white pickets torn out of somebody's garden fence. "Hit 'em with that in the chest, and they turn to ashes," he says with conviction.

"Really?" They're wooden stakes, so that falls in line with legend. I have doubts though; everything else about the Cullens has refused to fit into the classic mythology of vampires.

He sneaks a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, yeah. Done it a thousand times."

I frown. That sounds like it's for the kind of vampires you'd find in Buffy, The Vampire Slayer, not the kind actually walking around in Forks. I try to picture Rosalie with a stake in her chest, and it makes my stomach squirm. Crap, I can't even picture Edward like that without getting slightly queasy, and I don't even particularly like him. On the other hand, Jasper looks right at home that way.

I go to say something when I realize I see Bella's old clunker pass us going the opposite way. Edward's driving, and Bella's on the passenger side with her arm resting out the window.

"Wait! That's them!" I yell, trying to keep an eye on them in the rearview mirror. "They just passed us. Turn around."

Solomon manhandles his Econoline into doing a three point u-turn while it squeals in complaint, coughing and sputtering. This is like a slow motion car chase; it's about as exciting as watching grandmothers chase each other around a bingo table.

"Give us plenty of distance," I say. "I think Edward can read minds."

"We'll stay well back then. Try not to think about them."

We drive for thirty seconds. How can you not think about something? My mind keeps going back to why we're doing this and vampires, vampires, vampires. "Can we put on the radio or something?"

"Sure." He reaches over and fiddles with the knobs. The static slides into a Chemical Romance tune. Cool song, until I realize the song that's playing is Vampires Will Never Hurt You.

"Ah, maybe something else," I say, reaching for the knobs. I tune into the indie station from Port Angeles. Jesus Christ, it's that Bauhaus tune about Bela Lugosi. I spin the knobs again. This is ridiculous. It's that Warren Zevon tune. I'm ready to give the knob another savage yank when Solomon cries, "Wait!"

I freeze, thinking something has happened with Bella's truck, but way up ahead it's chugging along at a sedate forty-five miles per hour.

Solomon hits the volume and sings along. "Little old lady got mutilated late last night. Werewolves of London again." He sings as good as he smells.

We ride along one-oh-one, staying well back from Bella's truck, when it takes a turn onto an unpaved road. "They must be headed over Edward's," I say. "That goes to the Cullens."

"Anything else down that road?" Solomon growls.

"I don't think so."

"Does it connect with any other routes?"

"No," I answer. "There's nothing but national park for miles."

"Well, what goes in must come out," he says. "We'll wait for them to come back out. Then maybe we can go after them one by one."

We pull off of one-oh-one, and Solomon finds a place to park the van in between the trees. We edge backwards through some bushes for a bit of camouflage, but we can still see the end of the dirt driveway. He turns off the engine, settles back in his seat and pulls his hat over his face. "Keep an eye on that road and wake me if you hear anything."

I sit up straight, keeping watch like I'm guarding the Louvre, and the Mona Lisa's been threatened. Occasionally a car drives by. I hope Bella is okay, and the damn vamps aren't munching on her while we just sit here. I have a pretty good idea what Edward wants from her, and I bet she's going to be walking stiffly again come Monday. I remember how Emmett and Jasper scoffed at the idea that Edward was screwing Bella. I have to hand it to them; it was a brilliant attempt at mis-direction. Everybody knows vamps are over-sexed libertines.

It's actually a nice spring day. The sun is out, at least intermittently, and the birds are chirping. A rabbit hops across the road. Some squirrels chase each other around the trees. I hang my head out the window, escaping at least some of Solomon's sour smell. It's been maybe an hour when I hear the faint rhythmic sound of footsteps crunching through the leaves on our right, deeper in the woods. Instantly I'm on guard.

One of the Quileutes, the big one called Sam, is following a deer track maybe a hundred yards away. He's walking with his head down, not paying much attention, and I don't think he's seen us. He's naked. Now why you'd want to wander around naked in these woods is beyond me. I can only imagine the horror of getting a bunch of mosquito bites on your dick. It'd probably make it all swell up.

Hmmm. That might be a good thing. Make your dick look bigger. Girls like monster dicks, right? I file this idea away in my mental "inventions" category. In addition to a game designer, I also plan on being an inventor. And a sure-fire way of enlarging your dick would probably rival the invention of the PC for money-making opportunities. It's really not that hard a stretch to see me kicking back with people like Bill Gates and Dean Kamen. What I can see of Sam though, it doesn't seem like he'd have too much need of an invention like that. Still, between the insects and the branches reaching out to snag something precious, running around naked doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Is he drunk? Have the Quileutes become nudists? Is this some secret Indian initiation rite? The only person stupid enough to wander around naked in these woods is one who had to have lost his clothes… Suddenly, I flash back to the shredded clothes I'd seen over by my grandparents' house.

Werewolf. It has to be him. And where there's one werewolf there have to be more.

Don't wolves usually run in packs? The whole damn Quileute tribe could be a bunch of werewolves. It makes perfect sense. All those bonfires the tribe sponsor, the way they stick to themselves.

Sam follows the forest path, his shoulders slumped. He's must be tired from running around the whole night. Well, now I feel stupid. Back when I was talking to Colin on First Beach, he was likely just yanking my chain. He knew all along what was going down. How can you be a werewolf and not know vampires are around? Don't these supernatural creatures all protect each other's backs?

My mind races with the implications. Indians. All of them. The whole tribe's gotta be in on this. I wonder if the girls are werewolves, too. Why not? Gotta make puppies to keep the bloodlines going, right? What about that guy, Jacob's father−the one in the wheelchair? I bet he uses one of those little doggie wheelchairs, the kind that just supports the hind quarters, like a little cart with wheels.

All of a sudden, Sam stops. He raises his face to the wind, sniffing the air. I hold my breath; has he smelled us? But no, he looks across the road where Bella's truck had gone. I can hear a rumble coming out his chest. My jaw literally drops as he shimmers and shakes, and two seconds later, a huge, ginormous motherfucking wolf stands where Sam was.

"Holy shit," I gasp. This wolf is huge, like horse huge. His ears prick up; he looks toward where our van is, and I freeze. Then with a wave of his huge bushy tail, he bounds into the forest and disappears. You know, it really is amazing how accurate I have been about the supernatural creatures overrunning Forks.

"Solomon." I reach over and poke his shoulder. "Wake up. A werewolf just came by."

"Huh? What?" he says, pulling his hat off.

"Werewolf. Just took off thataway."

"Werewolf?" he asks, scratching his neck. "I thought we were doing vampires."

"We are, but apparently there're werewolves around here too."

"Well, I gotta charge extra if we're doing werewolves, too."

I don't have any more money to give him. "Okay. Maybe I can deal with the werewolves later. But we need to do something. We're getting nowhere just sitting here."

"All right," he says, firing up the van. "Let's go see if we can find the rest of these vampires."

We spend most of the day driving around town. We follow Jasper's Camaro when we come across it as he and Emmett hit the True Value hardware store. Solomon pulls the van over a bit down the street.

"That's two of them?" he asks as we sit in the van watching them cross the street towards the store.

"Yeah," I answer. "Jasper and Emmett. Emmett's the big one."

"They look pretty normal to me," he says skeptically.

"Of course they do. That's the whole idea; get everybody to accept you and then, bam!" I slap my fist into my hand. "The havoc begins."

We follow them when they leave the store, but we lose them in the mild traffic of Forks. Score one for the Camaro versus Solomon's bitching rig. Why is it the bad guys always get the coolest cars?

It isn't until the afternoon when we spy Emmett's jeep coming from the direction of Bella's house. "There they are," I say, spotting Edward and Bella in the front seat. "That's Emmett's jeep." I look over at Solomon. "This time we're gonna follow them all the way." No more of this crapping out and waiting, I decide. We've been doing that all day, and it hasn't gotten us anywhere.

They take a dirt road not far off of the highway. This time we creep up the road, pausing every now and then until we can't hear the jeep anymore, and then we park.

I get out of the van and look around. It's nearing dusk, and under the trees it's pretty dark. We can hear the far off booming and rumbling of thunder. Solomon gets out and goes to the back of the van, opens the door and grabs some items out of the back. When he closes the door, I can see he's got the picket fence stakes in his hand. It makes me swallow hard.

Solomon is obviously not a physical fitness enthusiast; twenty minutes into the hiking, he's sweating and starting to turn red. A few more minutes pass as we follow the trail, and he sits down on a log. "Hold on a minute, kid," he pants. "Give me a chance to catch my breath."

"Come on," I insist. "We're going to lose them."

His head is hanging down as he gasps for air. "Tell you what. Why don't you go scouting ahead and come back for me in a few minutes?"

"Okay," I agree, eager to catch up with Edward and Bella. "I'll be right back."

I follow the path up a bit. It seems like the thunder is getting closer. There are some sharp cracks of noise that don't seem to correspond with any lightning.

I'm getting closer to a large clearing; I can see the light start to grow beyond the tree line, and Emmett's jeep is parked nearby. I turn back to go tell Solomon, and I'm nearing where I left him when I hear some serious bush rattling. "Solomon?" I call. "You okay?" I ask, picking up speed.

"Oof. Ha! Stay back, Eric!" he calls from the center of a thicket. There's some loud grunting and then a couple sharp whacks. "I got one!"

Got one? I push through the bushes. There's one of those picket fence stakes in the ground, and it's covered by a puddle of ashes.

Solomon is wiping his forehead with his arm. "One of them attacked me. Lucky I had my stakes handy."

"What are you talking about?" I ask in utter confusion.

"A vampire came at me, so I staked it. See? It turned into ashes." He points at a grey pile on the ground.

It's getting pretty dark, but I bend down to look at the ashes. They're all grey and powdery, still settling in the light breeze that's ruffling the branches.

I glance up at him; he's standing with his hands on his hips. One of his hands is all gray, and there's a big lump in his pants pocket. I look back down at the ground. There's a freaking cigarette butt mixed in the ashes. "What the hell…?" I pick the butt up gingerly. Sure enough, it's a Camel.

I stand up. Suspicion washes over me. "What's in your pocket?"

"Listen, kid. I just saved you from a vampire."

"Shut up!" I yell. All of my frustrations and worry are coming to a head. "Show me what's in your pocket."

"Jesus, we've just been-"

"Stop it!" I roar. Finally, I've got his attention. He's standing and staring at me. "Your pocket. Now."

Shamefacedly, he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled, lunch-size, brown paper bag.

"Give that to me," I snarl and snatch it out of his hand. I look inside. It's obviously the remains of someone's ashtray, a dirt grey pile of ashes littered with cigarette butts.

"Hey, listen, I was just trying−," he starts placatingly.

"Just trying what? To con me? Christ!" I throw the bag of ashes on the ground in disgust. "What, do you think I'm joking around here?" What an asshole. I can't believe I paid two hundred dollars for this. "I've got fucking vampires running around my home town, and you're playing games?" I'm really shouting now.

He starts shouting back. "Of course, it's a game! What do you think-we're serious?"

"We better be! Vampires are running around Forks, and you're -"

"Grow up, kid. There's no such thing as vampires!"

I stare at him in utter disbelief and frustration. He hitches up his pants, which are on the verge of sliding down right off his legs, having long ago given up the fight to try to cover his massive belly. We glare at each other, caught in an impasse.

From behind my left shoulder, a silken, feminine voice carries. "What's all this talk about vampires?"

I whirl around. There's a woman I've never seen before standing at the crest of a nearby rise. She's got brilliant red hair, and she's barefoot. Even in the deepening dusk, I can see a flash of crimson in her eyes. She's pretty in a scary, feral kind of way. Her skin is pale and unmarked, but she's got twigs and bits of leaves stuck in her flame-colored hair. Her eyes hold all the mercy and empathy you'd see in the eyes of a jungle cat, which is to say, none. I'm so surprised I can't think of anything to say.

"What do we have here?" She takes a sniff, tasting the air. In the blink of an eye she moves from the top of the crest, which is maybe fifteen yards away, to right beside us. Solomon takes a step back, he is so shocked.

"Hunting vampires, huh?" she purrs, circling us. "How's that going for you?"

My instincts are screaming at me to run. This woman has taken the air of menace the Cullens try to hide and amped it up by a thousand. The hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up, and I can see Solomon's eyes are getting very wide. Maybe now he'll get a clue. She glances at me out of the side of her eyes as she passes behind Solomon, and her red eyes promise death. I have no doubt-this is a vampire. A really ferocious vampire. She looks Solomon up and down. "Mmm, juicy," she murmurs.

She moves instantaneously from our left to behind my right shoulder. She runs her nose just above the back of my shirt. "Fragrant," she whispers menacingly.

I have no idea what to do. I'm scared if I start running, her predator instincts will kick in, and she'll chase after me. What do the survivalists say? Attacked by bees? Run. By bears? Play dead. Nobody has any survival tips for encounters with vampires. Solomon obviously has no clue either. I can only hope as the bigger man, he'd be the more attractive meal. But then my heart sinks, because Solomon and attractive don't belong anywhere near each other.

From out of nowhere, Solomon pulls a gun. I don't know if it was in a pocket or his waistband, but his hand is shaking as he points it at the female. "You leave m-m-me alone," he stutters.

Leave me? Uh, I believe the polite thing to say would be, "leave us alone." I should be in fear for my life, but I can't even believe what a shithead this guy has turned out to be. At least maybe now he'll believe in freaking vampires.

"Oh, fatso," she says, shaking her head. "Go ahead and shoot."

"I will," he says, backing away. "I swear to God."

Fearlessly, she steps forward as he steps backward, pacing him. "Come on. I dare you."

With a grimace, he pulls the trigger and the gun goes off. I close my eyes and turn my head, afraid to look. The shot echoes in the forest, ringing through the trees, the fading to an eerie silence. I look up and nobody's moved. A wisp of smoke rises from the barrel of the gun. Then she turns her hand up, and in the palm of her hand is a bullet. She caught the fucking bullet.

A wicked, nasty smile spreads across her face like an oil stain. Her red eyes almost start to glow, and a rumbling, animalistic growl starts to emanate from her. Crouching like a tiger preparing to spring, she takes another step toward Solomon, who is now paralyzed in fear.

I, however, am totally pissed. Maybe it's because I've been threatened too often by vampires lately, but all this−it's like too much. When is it going to end? I'm just getting tired of these vampire games.

I pull the crucifix out of my shirt. "Hey, lady," I yell as she advances on Solomon, who is absolutely terrified. There is a wet stain growing in the crotch of his khakis.

I wave the crucifix at her. She straightens up from her crouch and looks at me. Her shoulders shake once, and then she giggles. I shake the crucifix again, and she starts giggling louder and louder. "Oh, you have got to be kidding," she says, laughing. It's the crucifix; I swear it's like laughing magic.

Suddenly, her head whips around. "Victoria!" a male voice calls sharply. A male with sandy-colored hair dressed in hiking clothes is standing on the rise. "What are you doing?" he barks. "She's going to get away. Let's go!" he demands.

She glances back at the rise, the merest shadow of resentment crossing her face. "Gotta run, boys. We've got a pet to catch," she whispers. Her face stretches in a crocodile smile. "Later." A moment later, they're both gone; the only trace of their passing is the swirling of leaves.

Gradually, the leaves settle to the ground. Solomon looks at me, dumbfounded. Useless. Absolutely useless. We've lost Edward and Bella's trail for sure. "Come on, let's get back to the van," I say, resigned to missing them again. "We should probably leave. Those two may be back."

Solomon jumps when I say they may be back, and then he starts running back towards the van, crashing through the bushes like a runaway bull. I take off after him, and it's easy to keep up despite the fact he's going as fast as he can. He starts huffing and puffing soon enough, but suddenly he slides, tripping over something on the ground and falls to the forest floor.

I go and grab his arm to help him up. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he pants. "I slipped in something." He looks back to his feet. That's when a wave of horrific odor rolls over us. His loafer is covered in the biggest pile of dog shit I have ever seen.

"What is that?" he says, horrified and finally smelling something worse than himself.

There's only one canine I've seen big enough to make a pile that big. "I'm pretty sure that's werewolf shit."

He looks at me with a wild look in his eyes, and I can tell he's a man on the edge. He gets up off the ground, and his shoe and shin are smeared with shit. He takes off again, jogging back to the van.

We arrive at the van, and he grabs a rag from the back, wiping his soiled leg before jumping in the driver's seat.

"So where to now?" I ask as I clamber in the passenger side.

"Shut up," he says. "Don't say a word." His face is stern and set.

Well, okay. We ride back to my parent's house in silence. He pulls up to the front door and says, "Get out."

He hasn't turned off the van. I open the door, slide out and pause. "Aren't you coming?" I ask with my hand on the door.

"I'm out of here," he says, shaking his head.

"Out of here?" I can't believe he's going to run. "You're supposed to help me get rid of the vampires."

"This is way too fucked up for me," he growls, shaking his head. "You're on your own."

"But−but I paid you two hundred dollars," I sputter.

"Forget it, kid." He takes a wad of cash out of his pocket and throws it at me. It flutters to the ground at my feet. "You need more help than I can give you."

"Coward," I mutter, slamming the door shut.

"Try the Vatican," he yells through the open window as he drives away.

Yeah, sure. I bet they're just waiting for my call. I pick up the wadded bills as his single tail light disappears down the driveway. I sigh as I turn toward the front door.

I don't think Van Helsing had to put up with this shit.

Thank you to all my readers and to my reviewers, bunches of flowers.