General Greyson put down his phone as he quickly went to his closet to get dressed. Finding his grey sweatpants, he paired that with a black long-sleeved T-shirt before walking down the stairs. It was only 3:30 in the morning, but he figured by the time he got where he was going, it would be a more decent time. And even if it wasn't, he didn't really care.
Throwing on his black leather jacket, he climbed into his Jeep and took off down the driveway and onto the street.
The snow had stopped sometime while he was at home, leaving only a light dusting of the powder covering the streets. Greyson lived far enough out of the city that he could easily see the sparkling of the stars in the midnight sky and the drive was much more peaceful than at any other point of his evening thus far.
He pulled down the obscure road off of the highway that he knew would take him to his destination. He had enjoyed the past hour and a half of his drive, almost feeling completely reset after the day he had been having.
Continuing down the gravel road, he jerked to a sudden stop when two men with guns stepped out of the trees on either side of the road and raised them at him.
Greyson left his hands spread on the wheel as his headlights illuminated the men in black camo, trying to show that he wasn't a threat. But this whole interaction left him reeling. When he was last here less than a day ago security was not this tight. In fact, if Greyson was a betting man, he would have said that there was no security at this mansion before.
Although he was lost in his own thoughts, he wasn't startled when a third and fourth man appeared beside the driver's and front passenger's windows, their guns also raised to a ready position. The soldier on his side raised his gloved hand and knocked on the window, indicating that Greyson should roll it down.
Following the directions, Greyson slowly moved his left hand to the window button and lowered the window. Although he had all the confidence in the world of his abilities, that didn't mean that he was willing to do something stupid. He might be fast, but he was not faster than a bullet at point-blank range. He tried it before and still had the scar to prove it.
"Name?" demanded the man as he lowered his gun. But just because one gun was no longer pointed at him, didn't mean that he couldn't be killed by the other three.
"General Brian Greyson of the United States Army," replied Greyson keeping his answers clear and concise. Until he could figure out what was going on, he would keep things to a minimum. He could not guarantee these soldiers were friendly, let alone American.
"Reason why you are here?" Greyson couldn't make out a single facial feature of the man beside him. He wore a black balaclava with ski goggles overtop of his eyes to keep out any wind or blowing snow. Unfortunately, his gear and the way he was dressed did not give away any hint of who he might be or even who he worked for.
"To meet with the Head," said Greyson, trying to feel out the man. Would he respond better to hearing him call her the head or should he have gone with her name?
"Which one?" replied the soldier. 'Which one?' There was more than one Head of the House? No, that was not possible given the very definition of Head. Which meant that there were currently two Houses here?
Greyson had more questions than answers, but he kept his face stoic enough not to give anything away.
"Head of the House Gypsy," he said repeating something that he heard Natalia say once.
"Understood. One moment please," said the soldier as he stepped away from the Jeep and raised a hand to his ear. Knowing that he was communicating with someone inside the mansion, Greyson just sat quietly in his vehicle, wondering what on Earth happened. Did this have something to do with the death of Senator Dominic Banducci? But that was impossible. No one other than him even suspected that it was Natalia who had killed him.
"Head of the House Gypsy is not to be disturbed at this moment. Your choices are to either turn around and make an appointment during the day or speak to the Head of House Van Helsing," said the soldier coming back to him.
"I will speak to the Head of House Van Helsing," answered Greyson tracking his brain to figure out why the name Van Helsing sounded so familiar.
"Understood, please proceed forward to the main gate and someone will let you in," said the man as he made a brief hand motion to the two men in front of his Jeep. Once the two disappeared into the darkness, Greyson rolled up the window and slowly drove forward, his mind still racing.
"Hey Sarah," he said and waited for his phone to let out a questioning ring. "Who is Van Helsing?"
It took a moment for a mechanical female voice to come back with the answer. "Van Helsing is a fictional character created by Bram Stroker in his 1897 novel Dracula. In it, Van Helsing is portrayed as a doctor, a lawyer, and other numerous professions. He is considered to the be archnemesis of Dracula. The character has taken on many adaptations to include monster hunter and vampire slayer. Van Helsing was born in Amsterdam, Netherlands, and is of Dutch descent."
Sarah had just finished speaking as Greyson pulled up to the front gates of the mansion. He still wasn't able to see the front door, but that might be a good thing based on where his mind was right at that moment.
Four new men came out carrying semi-automatic rifles and Greyson repeated the same song and dance as he did for the first checkpoint, but this time, he wasn't paying as much attention to the soldiers as he did before. The information provided by Sarah had really left him reeling.
As he was allowed to pass through the gates, he quickly closed his window. "Hey Sarah, is Van Helsing real?" And if Van Helsing was not real, how could he have an appointment with him right now? Unless of course, monsters really were real.
"No, by the very definition of a fictional character, Van Helsing is not a real person."
Well, fuck.