Best of the American Cryptid Hunter: Part 9 - Transylvanian Terror Part 1

 

A Sunday Morning Revelation

The capture of the Jersey Devil was a brutal, exhausting affair. Even with the net guns, the creature's raw power and aerial agility pushed us to our limits. The team was battered, bruised, and frankly, a little freaked out. We needed downtime, a chance to lick our wounds and regroup before the next inevitable foray into the bizarre.

Thankfully, Smith, in his infinite, cryptic wisdom, agreed. 

We were granted a week of R&R at the Containment Facility in Arizona. The facility, a sprawling complex carved into the desert landscape, was part research lab, part maximum-security zoo for the unexplainable. It's a place where captured cryptids are studied, contained, and, in some cases, even... cared for.

The week passed in a blur of medical check-ups, debriefings, and uneasy camaraderie. The Jersey Devil was successfully contained, its screeches echoing through the reinforced corridors, a constant reminder of the dangers we faced. Gary spent most of his time tinkering with his gadgets, trying to enhance the net guns. Billy retreated to the facility's library, poring over ancient texts and folklore. I found myself wandering the containment areas, staring into the eyes of creatures that defied logic, wondering about the nature of the world we lived in.

Then, on the last day of our "rest," Smith introduced us to someone... unexpected.

"This is Father Estaban," Smith said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "He is a... Vatican Priest."

Father Estaban was nothing like I'd imagined. He wasn't ancient or frail. He was a man in his late thirties, with piercing brown eyes, a strong jaw, and an aura of quiet intensity. He wore a simple black cassock, and a silver crucifix hung around his neck. But it was his hands that caught my attention. They were calloused and scarred, the hands of a warrior, not a priest.

"He belongs to a... holy order," Smith continued, "that deals with... threats of a... supernatural nature."

Father Estaban stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over us. "You hunt cryptids," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But not all cryptids are beasts of flesh and blood."

He told us a story, a chilling tale of a creature that had been plaguing remote villages in the Transylvanian region of Romania. It was ancient, malevolent, and tied to a dark chapter in human history. The locals whispered its name in fear: Nosferatu.

"It is not a vampire as your legends describe," Father Estaban explained, "but something far worse. An unholy entity that feeds on more than blood. It corrupts, it twists, it defiles. It is a plague upon the soul."

The Vatican, it seemed, had been fighting these creatures for centuries, operating in the shadows, protecting the world from things that most people couldn't even imagine existed. Now, they needed our help.

"My order," Father Estaban said, "is small. We are skilled, but we are few. We require your... unique talents."

He looked at each of us, his eyes lingering on me for a moment, as if he sensed the darkness within. "Will you help us, Captain Hedges?"

My response was immediate. "Yes," I said, meeting his gaze with a nod. "We will help you defeat this evil, if we can, or die trying!"

But I knew we couldn't face this alone. "However, I think we need to invite the Canadian Team to go with us. Kodak and Grey Wolf should be notified. Their shapeshifting talents, like my own, might become invaluable to us, especially if we encounter gargoyles. And the traditional tales about the Loup-Garou are found in French-Canadian and European folklore."

I explained to Father Esteban, "The Loup-Garou is also called a lycanthrope or werewolf. A Loup-Garou is generally believed to be a person who can change into animal form, often as a wolf. In French-Canadian folklore, the Loup-Garou is often a dog. It may also take the form of a calf or small ox, a pig, a cat, or even an owl."

"And there's something else," I added, turning back to Smith and the rest of the team. "I'll also call Gideon in on this one. He'll know what to do. You see, I know what it is you want us to do, Father. We're going after Count Dracula."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

"His real name," I continued, "is Judas Iscariot. When he went to hang himself, God cut the rope. He fell into a great chasm and was cursed to forever drink the blood of those he betrayed until Christ returns. Count Dracula made a pact with him, so that he can rule Transylvania and battle the Turks."

I paused, letting the revelation sink in. Then, I continued, "Gideon and Michel are here on this earth as Angels in earthen vessels to help protect mankind until Jesus returns. 

They took over when Samuele and his angelic brothers, who were known as the Watchers, betrayed mankind by taking human women, the daughters of Adam and Eve, and creating the Nephilim and other cannibalistic horrors upon mankind."

I met Father Estaban's gaze, my expression intense. "You'll find I am well versed in the Christian Religion, for I am a Templar Knight of Jesus Christ, and I led the team that found Goliath's body and his head. The skull still had the stone embedded in his skull. We also found his father's and brothers' tombs as well and delved deep into them, uncovering their secrets, and we delivered them to the Vatican vaulted tombs for safekeeping. So now one could try and use their DNA to recreate them."

Father Estaban's face, which had remained impassive throughout my revelations, finally showed a flicker of something akin to awe. He stepped back slightly, his eyes widening. "Templar Knight... Goliath's remains... Angels among us..." He seemed to be piecing together a puzzle, his previous certainty shaken.

"This is... more complex than I anticipated," he admitted, his voice softer now. "But if what you say is true, Captain, then we face a darkness that goes beyond anything my order has encountered. We will need all the faith, and all the strength, we can muster." He paused, then met my gaze with a newfound respect. "Lead the way, Captain. I will place my trust in your... unique knowledge and experience."

As Father Estaban spoke, I turned and walked away, pulling out my cell phone. The first call was to Gideon. Then I called the others. It was going to be a long prep, getting all the teams together for one big operation. I just hoped everyone was on board with what I was going to plan out for the mission, most of which was going to be made up on the fly. The fate of the world, it seemed, rested on our shoulders. But as I made those calls, a chilling thought crept into my mind: was I leading them into a holy war... or a suicide mission?

To be continued next weekend...