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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.


9. Chapter 9 Where I Attack

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1996   Review this Chapter

Great courage is required to stare down a coven of vampires. –From The Diary of a Vampire Hunter by Eric Yorkie

(*)(*)(*)

Danny is missing. My stomach churns violently every time the thought hits me. My sweet, child-like, younger brother is lost somewhere out there. I feel like puking when I think of him alone, scared and lost out in the woods. Danny is missing, and nothing in my world will be the same until we find him.

From the bus stop to our house is not that far−it's easily walked in twenty minutes. I've combed the whole road looking for Danny. I found his jacket, but there's no other trace of him. It's like he's just vanished. It's getting darker, and I can see the headlights of Jen's car as she drives up. She stops across from me, and my reflection in the car window disappears as the passenger window rolls down. It squeals as it's lowered, like nails on a chalkboard.

"Get in," she says hoarsely, reaching over to unlock the door. "We'll check the highway."

The overhead light comes on as I get in the car, and I can see her eyes are red. She's been crying, and I feel like I'm going to start crying, too. I just want my brother to come home.

"Was there anything on the machine?" I ask, hoping the bus company called or somebody saw him and knew to call us.

Jen sniffs. "I called them. They had a new driver on the route today. Danny told him he always got off here, and the guy let him go."

"Jesus," I say in disgust. Yes, Danny comes off as fairly independent, but ask him a few simple questions and you'd realize he's just a kid. I'm hoping he just wandered a bit down the highway, because any other answer is unthinkable. My mind shies away from speculating; it's just too frightening.

We come to 101. The black top stretches quietly either way. "Which way first?" Jen asks. We both look left and then right, then left again. "Right," we both say together. It takes us toward town, and I think Danny's more likely to head that way.

We travel for a few miles that way before we turn around and go a few miles in the other direction, searching the side of the road for a lone figure walking. My heart almost stops when I see a man by the side of the road, but it's just some old geezer walking his dog. I don't think Danny would travel that far, even if he is fairly strong-he doesn't have that much stamina. It's now getting totally dark, and the temperature is dropping.

We're way south of where we live when I tell Jen, "Turn around. He's not here. Mom should be home by now. We have to go tell her."

"Oh, God, I can't believe this is happening," Jen says, starting to tear up. "Why didn't you have your fucking phone?" she asks bitterly.

"Why did you assume I'd get the message?" I spit back at her. She's so wrapped up in her friends. If anything happens to Danny, I will never forgive her.

I don't want to think about anything happening to Danny. I can't even think about anything happening to Danny without tearing up, and I've got to keep it together. Yes, he's a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's a little brother- that's like his job description. But his joy and love is purer than anything I've known. When Danny loves you, he does so without any doubts or reservations-he loves you completely, unashamedly, nothing held back, with his whole heart. It's humbling, because there's no way anyone could deserve that kind of devotion.

We better find him quick. He is out there like a lamb among lions.

We pull into the driveway to our house, and Mom's car is already there. Mom greets us at the front door. She catches sight of our faces as we walk up the steps. Her hand goes to her throat. "Where is everybody?" she asks.

Jen bursts out crying in reply.

From there, things get totally surreal. Dad comes home. The cops are called. Mom and Jen go out searching again while Dad and I wait for the cops to show. Deputy Mark Curran turns up to take the particulars, asking a bunch of seemingly irrelevant questions. It's like watching a bad crime show on TV, except the horror doesn't end when the hour is over. It just keeps going on and on.

More cops come tramping in and out: big men with heavy boots and hats, their waists thick with utility belts. The house shivers with tiny tremors as they stomp from room to room. Jen is on the sofa crying. She and Mom have already had one scream fest until Dad stepped in. Aunt Jess and Uncle Dave show up and take Mom into the bedroom. She is a total mess, incoherent with fear and grief.

The Newtons bring over a tray of cold cuts, and it sits untouched on the table for hours until somebody tells the cops to help themselves, who then devour it like sharks. They fill up the dining room to bursting. Mike sits with me for a while, but it's an awkward silence; he doesn't know what to say, and I don't know what to tell him. How can I tell him how every cell in my body is thirsting for Danny? There's a huge hole in my stomach, and it's physically painful. I cross my arms over myself, pressing against my belly, trying to make the pain go away.

The adults finally chase me upstairs to go to bed, but I know sleep is miles away. On my dresser is the picture Danny had drawn me of the vampire queen. My fingers trace over the black crayon outlines on the paper, and the tears build behind my eyes. I don't really know how to pray, but I'm willing to try. Please, God, please, please.

I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I listen as downstairs gradually empties out, and the night settles into an uneasy, anticipatory silence. The wind is up tonight, and the house is making tiny creaks and groans like it's in pain. My thoughts go round and round in unending circles, and in the unforgiving darkness, I finally allow myself the thoughts that I would not face earlier. Despite the unbelief of everyone around me, I know there are nightmares in these woods. I try to push the thoughts away, but they just comes back stronger. Vampires. I flip over to my side. Outside, the moon is chasing shadows across my window. Werewolves. Every encounter, all the weird things I have seen and experienced in the last few weeks come rushing back at me. The vampires I saw with Solomon-they've been in the woods all week. I shake my head-why would they take Danny? Why not Danny? He's warm-blooded like anyone else. There's no proof that they took him. Isn't that almost proof in itself? How could he just totally disappear?

I bolt upright in bed. I know what I have to do.

The house is dark and quiet. I creep downstairs and past the den where the TV is on. I sneak by, and I can see my father asleep in his chair, twitching. Even in sleep, he looks worried and tired. Silently, I enter my parents' bedroom. My mom is on the bed asleep but thrashing and murmuring uneasily. On the near wall, suspended on parallel pegs is the samurai sword. The scabbard is a beautiful, graceful arc, black lacquer, honorably scratched and scuffed with age. The handle of the katana is over a foot long by itself, wrapped in suede strips and battle-ready. It was used by generations of my family to best their enemies. I bow my head in a silent prayer that my ancestors smile on me now.

With both hands, silently and reverently, I lift it from its pegs, careful not to let its straps catch. I leave the house without a sound, and sling the sword over my back. The strap crosses my chest like a bandolier and behind my back, the handle rises higher than my head. I am armed.

I grab my ten-speed bike from the side of the house and silently wheel it down the driveway for a while before mounting it and beginning the ride to north Forks. I am going to beard the lion in its den.

I know it's foolish for me to try to face the coven down. I know I'm risking my life by going to call them out. God knows what they'll do to me. But I have run out of time. There is no one I can persuade to believe me, and if I'm going to get Danny back alive, it has to be now, before they have drained him dry.

The streets are mostly deserted, and I pass in and out of the pools of light of the infrequent streetlamps. The night is quiet, except for the peepers in the woods and the whirring of my bike tires on the road. I catch the smell of wood smoke every so often. Good, let the woods burn and chase all the werewolves and vampires out of them. As I speed along the roads, I raise my sleeve to wipe my face every so often. I'm scared, I admit, scared for myself, scared for Danny. I'm going to face down the Cullens and demand my brother back.

I head down the Cullens' dirt driveway and come to the yard of the house. The lights are blazing out of nearly every window despite it being nearly four in the morning. I drop the bike to the ground and face the house. I pull the sword and strap over my head and hold the scabbard in my hands. It makes a lethal-sounding snick as I pull the blade free. Light runs along the razor edge of the sword, dancing across the steel like a living thing. The blade is gleaming and deadly. My hands are shaking, but I raise the sword over my head and assume the classic wide-legged samurai stance.

"Cullens!" It barely comes out; a mouse could have yelled louder. I take a few deep breaths, remembering Danny's picture is in my pocket. It burns, giving me courage. I can see his face, smiling like when he gave it to me.

"Cullens!" I yell. "Vampires! I demand the return of my brother!"

There is no movement in the house. I haven't come all this way in the dark to be ignored. It makes me angry, and the fear bleeds into fierce determination. I bend down and grab a fist-sized rock. I throw it against the house, and it sails through the porch to hit the wooden door with a solid thunk.

I resume my stance. "Come on, you bloodsuckers! Come out and fight me! I want my brother!" I demand desperately.

I can see figures stirring inside the house. Alice is first out the door, and she comes to stand on the porch, holding onto a column. Jasper is right behind her, his sharp eyes searching behind me, looking for allies. There are none. It's just me−one small, desperate man−but I am willing to fight to the death, if that's what it takes.

Rose and Emmett are next, looking curiously at me. "Eric?" Rosalie calls curiously across the yard. From behind, Emmett wraps an arm protectively around her shoulders. Dr. Cullen and Mrs. Cullen are last. They emerge from the door and stand at the top of the stairs, as still as statues. The porch light behind them throws their faces into darkness, but I can just imagine their strange, feral eyes looking at me.

This is it. I have roused the sleeping dragon.