I do not own Hellsing or any of the stories, characters, plots, etc. thereof.
This is my first Hellsing story in a very long time. I hope you all enjoy. Please RR. I enjoy feedback and constructive criticism is welcome.
Soft tendrils of fog curled around the train as it slowly pulled into its final stop in London. Midnight riders groggily stepped off, small luggage dragging behind them. They were a disheveled group, wondering whether the extra commute was worth the extra two thousand to their salaries.
A polished heel stepped down from the train; its companion clothes, a perfectly pressed traveling suit. Eyes behind green tinted glasses scanned the station. She adjusted her gray skirt and sniffed the air, smelling the oil and smog that accompanied trains. Fog settled around her feet.
"Madam, are you the one with the large parcel? Eveline George?" a man wearing a blue uniform asked, approaching the woman.
"Yes, that's me," she said not looking at the station worker. His upper lip twitched.
Good-for-nothing snob. Bloody bitch if you ask me, he thought.
The woman's head snapped towards him, a slight snarl wrinkling the pale skin around her mouth. A few strands of black hair came lose from the perfectly formed bun on the back of her head with the force of her glare.
"It's a big one isn't it?" the worker said, taking a step back. "The truck will take it to the hotel."
"I'm at the Belleclaire. Make sure it arrives before dawn," she said and walked away, her small hat box swinging next to her leg.
The worker watched her long form leave and odd chill creeping up his spine with the fog.
############
"Seras. What are you doing?" Walter asked.
He eyed the pile of books haphazardly strewn about the small woman. She glanced up from the large leather volume, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. Inwardly, he sighed knowing he would pick up the mess.
"If you promise not to tell master," she said.
"I doubt there isn't much he doesn't know, but I promise," Walter said. "You're rather lucky he's handling that vampire across town."
"I'm researching master. Before he was dead of course," she stammered.
"Now why on earth would you want to do that?" he asked pulling up a chair next to her. He began straightening the piles of books.
"I was thinking about my family and how much I miss my cousins and such. I was wondering if master had any family as well. Anyone he misses," Seras confessed, her voice slowly softening towards the end.
"Before you destroy the entire library, I will tell you he married twice, had few sons, and perhaps a daughter. Unfortunately, I don't believe any of their offspring have survived," he replied and picked up a large pile of books, groaning slightly.
"Let me help you with that," Seras said. She began to slowly place the books back on the shelves. She lowered her eyes as another possible connection to her master dissipated. He would never be human even before death.
###########
Alucard smiled as his bullet entered the skull of the vampire. It slumped to the ground, its body beginning to dissolve into nothingness.
"Pathetic creatures for you have no purpose in this world," he said.
Turned from the fallen vampire and slowly walked out of the crumbling warehouse where it had resided. The cool night air washed over his skin. He stared into the half moon hanging in the sky like a crooked smile.
A beautiful night, he though with a grin.
A shudder went through his skin. He felt a grating against his soul as another's power struck him. His head snapped towards the city and he stared at it over his red glasses. The feeling subsided and disappeared as if it had never existed.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Perhaps a change to end the monotony."
###########
A knock at the door.
"Mrs. George?" a voice called through the door.
She kicked away the skirt of her traveling suit and quickly threw a long, red silk robe over her slip. Waving her hand, the thin layer of fog over the floor scattered and disappeared. She walked over to the door and swung it opened pointing to the middle of the room.
"Place it there," she said.
Two men, red under their heavy burden, heaved a large rectangular package covered in a white cloth into the room. They dropped it to the floor with a loud "thump," and Evelyn lowered her eyes.
"Bloody, what is in that thing?" one man said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Home," she said.
One man stared at the gap in her robe where one pale shin was revealed. She snapped it shut and pointed to the door.
"Thank you, gentlemen but please leave. I need to find dinner," she said with her husky voice.
"Of course, ma'am," the other said, nudging his staring partner.
The door slammed shut behind the two men. She walked over to the mirror and stared into it. She peered over her green shades, a slight sliver of red iris appearing, and smoothed down a few stray hairs.
"I am rather hungry," she said to her reflection.
############
Eveline sat on the corner barstool, feeling the stares of the men. It was a place too rough for the likes of her the patrons believed. The pub was dark, the wooden stools and tables worn and scratched. Neon lights pathetically blinked in the windows, casting warped shadows on the floor. Some eyes were suspicious, others angry, and some stared hungrily with the hope that she was there for something in particular. She smiled to herself and stared at her pale fingers wrapped around the glass in front of her with the contents untouched.
Then he appeared next to her.
"Hey, love. Looking for a good time?" he asked.
He had a strong face marred by tiny scars. His head was shaved and glistened with sweat. As he walked towards her, his heavy boots reverberated on the floorboards. She smelled the liquor on his breath and her insides became giddy at the prospect.
"No," she responded to his question.
His head jerked as if he had just been slapped.
"You're in an awfully nice dress not to be looking for anything," he said.
"I'm not looking for anything," she said without looking at him.
"What's with the shades?" he asked.
"I don't like looking at ugly men," she said coolly.
"Stupid bitch," he spat, suddenly no longer interested.
"It's better than being a poor, impotent man like yourself," she said, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
The man growled and walked away. She felt the rage rolling off his back like a stench. His eyes stayed on her as he sat in his corner in the back of the bar. Eveline waited another twenty minutes before leaving a single bill on the counter and exiting the bar. Outside the door she listened and heard the heavy clomp of boots. Further down the street, she saw a man turn the corner.
She walked slowly towards the alley as the booted man exited the pub door, turning into the darkness just the screen slammed shut. His footsteps followed her and halfway down the alley, he finally yelled.
"Oi, you stupid whore!" he called.
She stopped, turning slightly on her stiletto to see him before righting herself and resumed walking.
"Hey, stop!" he said and took a step forward.
A pool of shadow dislodged from the wall and slithered beneath his feet. He stepped into the shadow and fell, disappearing into the dark hole with a yelp of surprise. She closed her eyes for a moment as the shadow reappeared in front of her. The man slowly rose up from it shaking, his eyes wide and mouth trembling.
"What did you see in there?" she asked.
He opened his mouth to speak but only a choked gurgle came out.
"Was it that bad?" she said with mock sympathy.
She gripped his shoulder with one hand and snapped his head to the side with the other, exposing his neck. With a growl, she bit down onto the soft flesh, tearing a bloody hole through to his jugular. His body began to jerk as blood poured out of him, spurting around her mouth. The viscous liquid slid down her throat, warm and tinged with liquor. She remembered the last time she had drunk wine. Years ago around a well piled dinner table. As his last dying convulsions ended, his body was still in her arms. His memories forced their way into her body but she shoved them back.
A sudden, searing pain bloomed in her chest. She pulled back and looked down to see a silver blade protruding from her chest, gaping at the wound as blood dribbled from the side of her mouth. Pain radiated from around it, spreading to her limbs. In that moment of hesitation, another entered through the back of her skull, penetrating the middle of her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Her black hair fell from its carefully done bun in tendrils around her and her glasses tumbled from her face, sliced in half.
"God is mighty, and he will smite thee demon wench. I am here to destroy all of your filthy vampire kind in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen," a thick Scottish voice said behind her.
She turned slightly, peering through her strands of hair. A tall man approached in a white trench coat, his glasses glinting in the dim light, a smile plastered across his scarred face. Her eyes landed on the white collar peeking from above his black shirt.
"Priest," she murmured through blood. Flexing her back, she felt the blades slowly ease from her body and fall with a clatter to the ground, along with the retched sting of holy magic.
Eveline stepped into a narrow shadow in front of her and felt her body expand. Each molecule darkened and spread into a million pieces as she disappeared with the shadow and slipped soundlessly into the night, leaving the priest searching for her in the alley.
##############
Alucard slipped through the door of Hellsing Manor, passing through the wood silently. Inside, multiple officers stood watching the door. They barely glanced at Alucard as he walked by. He ascended the stairs and walked down the darkened hallway, phasing through the door of Integra's office.
"My master," he said with a grin.
"What is your report on the vampire," she asked, not looking up from the paper in front of her.
"He has been dealt with. Just a minor creature hardly worthy of the trouble," he replied.
"Good. You might want to find Seras. Walter said she was tearing apart the library," she said, glancing over her glasses.
He had already slipped through the floor, heading towards the lower levels where he knew his fledgling would be. As he passed through a hallway, he spotted Walter carefully arranging a vase of flowers.
"Good evening, sir. How was the mission?" he asked.
"Uneventful, Walter. There are no more true nosferatu," Alucard said.
"Perhaps you have destroyed them all," Walter replied casually.
"Seras was tearing apart the library?" he asked.
"Yes. Apparently, she was missing her family and wondered if you had any. Though, I wasn't supposed to tell you that," he answered placing a tulip next to a daisy.
Alucard blinked back the sudden onslaught of memories. They were a nuisance, occasionally rising through him like a tidal wave. He heard children laughing, smelled the sweet perfume of his wife's hair. His mother's green eyes would stare at him sternly while his daughter's green eyes gazed expectantly. She was the one who always waited for him at the door. She bared no resemblance to her mother and was entirely his daughter. Too many sons had made her a favorite.
Blinked again and the memories drowned within a deep, murky pool.
"My family is long dead. I do not why she would concern herself with them," he said, his voice giving no indication of his internal conflict.
"I think she is looking for a talking point. Maybe you could exchange stories?" Walter said. "Of course, your's are probably long since faded."
Alucard began his descent again. "Yes, yes they are."
He stopped in the dungeon hallway and stepped through the painting blocking his room from the next. Descending the stairs, he stepped into the darkness and reached for his coffin. Slowly he opened it and settled inside, suddenly fatigued.
The lid closed, he laid a hand over his eyes, forcing away the emotions slowly gaining a foothold in his heart. Minutes of his life flashed in his mind, things long forgotten but always there. Suitable only for humans, he thought. He pulled his gloved hand away and saw the smear of red staining the fabric.
He stared at the lid of the coffin, packing away every memory into its own box in the darkness of his mind. As he began to drift into a dreamless sleep he heard the sound of giggling and the patter of small feet. He threw open the lid and looked around the darkened room. A shadow, the mere outline of a tiny form, disappeared into the darkness.
"Stop it," he told himself. An ice cold chill raced through his heart and he settled back into his coffin.
Monsters do not dream; they do not remember.
##############
Eveline's pale hand slowly swung open the lid of her coffin. She sat up and dusted off the few stray pieces of dirt that had managed to squeeze their way seems of tiny cloth bag next to her. She could smell the faint scent of the dirt and could see forests in her mind.
She climbed her way from the dark wood box. In her night gown, she padded over to the window and glanced out. The sky had faded into a dark purple, the ending of twilight. Dropping the curtain, she slipped her gown from her shoulders and walked to the large bureau against the wall. Briefly, she touched her chest, still feeling a slight sting from the priest's blade.
It's been a long time since I've seen Iscariot, she thought. Their presence in the city reassured her that her target may be near.
"It won't be long now," she said aloud. Fog began to creep along the floor. "I will find you this time."
She swung open the doors of the bureau determinedly. Inside was a menagerie of dresses, blouses, and skirts of every possible era, color, and shape. She chose a simple green dress that ended half way down her calves and rose to her collar bone. Around her waist she secured a black sash. Briefly, she curled her lip at her reflection, disdainful of 21th century fashion. In her mind, ladies had stopped being ladies somewhere near the 1920's.
Swiftly, she pinned her hair back into two braids secured on the back of her head before placing a pair of green tinted glasses on the bridge of her nose. The shadows crept around her and she melted into them, sliding through the window and down the side of the building as full darkness overtook the city.
As her heart became one with the shadows that stretched through the city, she briefly imagined that she could feel him. His heart no longer beat, but she knew the sense of him and watery green eyes above a wide sneer followed her as she drifted down into the street.
I know you're here, she whispered and the darkness carried her words into every darkened corner of London.
###############
Alucard lifted his head and turned, hearing the faintest voice. A bullet tore into the side of his face, leaving a mangled mass of flesh.
"Master?" Seras said, firing harcannon into a group of oncoming ghouls.
As his face slowly reassembled itself, he turned his guns onto the pack, firing a round of bullets into their heads. Seras seemed to forget the minor incident and returned her focus to the ghouls as Alucard remained silent.
###############
Evelyn materialized from the shadows outside of a small, but tidy, pub. A bleary eyed man leaning against the door jumped and dropped the bottle he was holding. He blinked, unsure of where she had come from.
"Geez, were you there the whole time?" he slurred.
"Yes, you merely had too much to drink," she replied, stepping towards the door.
"I like your dress," he said with a slight burp.
"Thank you," she said as she stepped into the room.
The bar was warmly lit with gentle Irish folk music playing in the background. A soft haze filled the room from the smoke drifting from lit cigarettes. Patrons laughed and joked in wooden booths separated by wooden planks. In front of booths was a long bar where a smiling bartender catered to his many guests. The booths were filled, so Eveline took a seat at the bar, facing towards the rest of the room.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asked. He rubbed down the space in front of her. She grinned, thinking of the hundreds of similar men she had seen.
"Glass of red wine," she said.
She tilted her head down and examined the room over the rim of her glasses. A couple sat in the booth directly across from her, their heads close together in secret conversation. The woman laughed and laid her hand on his leg. In the booth next to them, was a group of six young men in jeans and sweaters, laughing as their friend chugged a large pint. Her ears picked up a gwuaff of laughter with the slight lilt of a Scottish accent, and she craned her neck slightly to see into the last booth on the corner.
There sat the priest in his white coat. His long legs rested under the table at awkward angles and his blue eyes were bright with laughter. Next to him were two women: one in the clear habit of a nun and the other strangely in a priest's uniform. They sipped from their glasses, speaking earnestly to one another. She felt a slight ache in her chest with the memory of the priest's blade and grinned.
Like warriors after battle, she thought. Indeed God does work in mysterious ways.
Her eyes remained fixated on the priest's face as she waited.
###########
Anderson felt her eyes on him before he saw her staring. It wasn't an unusual event; he knew he was considered a handsome man and many did not spot the collar immediately. Those that did still stared out of curiosity.
First, he felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck then he lifted his head from his companions and looked around, spotting her sitting on the corner of the bar. Though sitting, it was clear she was tall, easily close to six feet, and very thin. Her arms and legs were long, slightly too long for her body and would appear almost gangly if not for the easy poise she carried them with. She was conservatively dressed in a green gown and boots, an oddity in such an establishment. Black hair was pulled up, framing a pale face wide, thin lips set onto a long, narrow face with an aquiline nose. He could not see her eyes behind the green glasses, but he knew she stared.
He glanced at her for a moment before returning to his companions. Still her eyes remained on him. Occasionally, he would glance up to see her slender finger tracing the rim of her wine glass. Briefly, Anderson wondered if she would come over.
"…but vee managed to git him before he ran out the door. Are you listening?" Heinkel asked.
"Aye," he responded and returned to his drink.
The chill of eyes still remained and his gaze shot back to the woman but found only an empty bar stool.
"What's wrong?" Yumie asked.
"Nothing," he responded and downed his scotch.
An hour later he walked out of the pub, his eyes slightly bleary, Heinkel and Yumie opting to remain for a while longer. He hummed a hymn quietly to himself and he turned down a small street to head towards the rectory he was housed in for his time in London.
"Excuse me," a husky voice called. He caught the slightest slur of an accent in the relatively neutral voice.
Turning, the woman in green stood behind him, her hands clasped in front of her. She was as tall as he had thought.
"You know I am a priest my child," he said lightly.
"I was aware, father. I have seen many priests," she said.
"You are in need of help?" he asked, his hand moving slightly towards the blade hanging on his belt, hidden within his coat.
"You are Iscariot?" she asked as if inquiring about the weather.
"Aye, lass. And who are you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. He felt his heart begin to beat faster.
"I believe we can help each other. You see I'm looking for a vampire," she said.
"That's rather dangerous," he said, his hand wrapped around the hilt of a blade.
The woman grinned. Her smile was wide, overtaking her face and creating a somewhat manic expression before falling into a simple smirk.
"I'm well aware of how dangerous vampires are, but thank you," she replied.
"I don't know what yea plan is or even if I know which one yea seek," he replied, easing cautiously towards the wall
She tilted her head to the side, following him only with her eyes.
"Last I heard, they called him the No Life king," she spat out the words as if they tasted bad. Her voice rising to a pitch.
For a moment, he tried to understand whom she was referring to then it dawned on him, feeling like a slap to the face. Anderson stopped in his bafflement at hearing the name. He eyed the young woman, unsure of whether she was a threat or insane.
"You mean Alucard?" he said.
It was her turn to look confused. Her eyebrows arched and she moved her mouth as if trying to find the words.
"Alucard? What a strange name to go by. Not very hard to figure out either," she said quietly. She brought a hand to her heart, appearing weak for a moment. Then she smiled, her entire face brightening.
"You know where he is then?"
"Aye. I know the monster sleeps and wish nothing more to kill him in it," he said.
"Then we can help each other," she said. "I'm staying in the Belleclaire. I want you to come by tomorrow night. Ask for Eveline George."
"Are you mad? Who are you and what do you want with Alucard?" he said, taking a step forward.
She quickly skirted backwards, walking swiftly away with her eyes on him.
"Find me tomorrow and I will tell you," she said. Quickly, she turned and darted away, disappearing around the corner.
Anderson chased after her around the corner and came face to face with a red-faced Mayumi.
"I thought you left," she said. He saw no sign of her in the darkened street.
###########
Alucard sat in the library in the large, leather chair. He flipped the pages of a book of medieval portraiture until the page he desired appeared. The image was of a blonde woman in royal attire and by her side, a little girl with black hair similarly dressed. The image was not exact and they were rendered without a significant amount of detail. Though it said the artist and subjects were unknown, he knew who they were. He had commissioned it for them.
While under Integra's father, he had ample time to explore the castle and its contents. One evening, he had come across this book in amusement, recognizing several of the figures, and found the portrait.
He ran a finger over the girl's tiny face. In his mind's eye, they were as clear day. His memory untarnished by age. His wives locked in their youth, his daughter forever a child though he knew she had grown up and died long ago. As long as she remained a child in his mind, she would never fade from the earth. Even history books did not speak of her or knew that a daughter had existed.
"Go with God, my child. The dead should remain dead."
His gloved hand closed into a fist, slowly ripping the page from the book. He tossed it into the glowing embers where it blackened but did not burn.
#############
Anderson's heart beat faster the closer he got to the door. A short doorman led the way, nervously glancing back at him. He knew the he was probably speculating what devious things a priest would be up to entering a woman's room so late. The strange woman's offer had lingered on his brain. His mind screamed for caution, but her desire to find Alucard piqued his curiosity to insatiable levels. He needed to know.
And if she was a threat he would just kill her.
"Mrs. George. Father Anderson is here," the doorman said as he knocked on the door.
Faintly from inside. "Let him in. Shut the door behind him."
The man swiped a door key and allowed Anderson in. He was acutely aware of where every one of his blades were.
The room was dark with only the blinds open to allow in moonlight and a small lamp glowing on a side table. In the middle of the room was a low table and a single chair situated in front of it, facing towards the door. She sat in the moonlight, the light highlighting her hair no longer pinned up. She was dressed in a long gown of dark velvet. The collar was cut into a square dip, the waist in the empire style, and wide bell sleeves that fell open to reveal a layer of green beneath. She could have stepped out of a medeval portrait, but despite the oddity of it, she seemed completely at ease in the garb, commanding the room with an air of authority.
"Thank you for coming, Father. I knew you would," she said, folding her hands in her lap.
"How did yea know I was Iscariot?" he asked.
"I suppose you were so quick to throw those blades you did not get a chance to ask my name. Two nights ago, the man in the alley," she said. She removed her glasses to reveal a pair of red eyes, the color of clotted blood.
Instantly, Anderson had a blade in his hand with one quick movement.
"Vampire," he hissed.
Eveline raised a hand. "As if you didn't speculate before coming, and if we are going to continue this conversation I suggest you refer to me as a nosferatu. Vampires are base, unremarkable creatures."
"I should send yea soul to hell now," he snapped.
"But you wont because I intrigue you and you want to know why I'm here," she said calmly. She had the tone of a skilled manipulator, someone who was well aware of the power she possessed.
"Alucard."
"Yes. I have searched centuries for him..." her eyes widened as her voice drifted away with her mind to another place. He saw her hands tense into pale fists and her eyes widen. "Where is he?"
"Why do you want him? To kill one of your own?"
"Revenge. What else?"
"What could he have possibly done to you?" Anderson asked, his mind a whirl of theories.
"I am very old, Father. You could say it's a family matter," she replied, her voice low.
"Is he your master?"
Her eyes narrowed. "He will never be my master. Not any more."
It was like a bolt of lightening had hit him as the word family echoed in his ears. He didn't know how the resemblance had not registered with him before. The shape of her body, her eyes, the mocking smile. She was the perfect shadow of him, right down to the arrogant way she held her head. Sister? Cousin?
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Vlad Dracula is my father. I am his daughter."
This will get darker. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know your thoughts.