This story takes place in an alternate universe. Alucard is strolling by his favorite park one night when he begins to hear his favorite song; a melody that he's not heard in years. Definitely not a Mary Sue, but it does deal with another character not in the series as his love interest.
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The night was perfect. Clear of clouds, not chilly, but instead breezy, she could not ask for more. Readjusting the bag on her shoulder, she walked to her favorite bench, the one under the lamp, the one with the perfect lighting. The river tonight looked beautiful. Calm, dark waters lay ahead, and she picked up her pace as she walked. She did not want to waste a single moment tonight. Not every day in London proved to be so pleasant. With that thought she remembered the night she had to dash home under the rain hoping that nothing in her bag was getting wet.
Amaya looked down at herself and smiled. "How long have I had this skirt?" She wondered. The long, black, Spanish style skirt had been in her closet for as long as she could remember. Some things were just worth keeping.
Looking ahead again, the bench lay right in front of her. She crossed around it and sat, letting out a sigh. She knew she had to meet that deadline, so pulling out her sketchbook; she went back to drawing what she thought the advertisement should look like. She turned up the volume on the music player and forgot about the rest of the world. The park remained empty, quiet, and peaceful. She became so absorbed in her work that she didn't notice the new darkness. It was as if someone covered the world in a sheer black sheet. Amaya continued to draw and look at her paper. For all she cared, the Loch Ness monster could have decided to tour the River Thames and she would not have looked away from her drawing. It was no surprise she didn't notice him.
What drew him in was the music. He had to know where it was coming from. This song he'd not heard for ages, even though the original recording laid collecting dust in the armoire. So he followed it. Why he decided to take a walk tonight of all nights was beyond him. He could just have done the same thing he had been doing for years after a job; sit in his chair and stare at the wall, mind wandering, and nail slowly making an indentation on the wood it raked. But tonight he didn't. Why? Well to hear who was playing his favorite song in one of his favorite parks in London, that's why. It intrigued him. People of this day and age didn't bother to waste their time on a rare composition of music hundreds of years old. Except for this person.
He walked on and stopped a few feet behind the bench. "Female, hmm?" He thought as he looked at the skirt that flowed beneath her. Long, dark hair, and from the look of one arm fixing the hair away from her face, tan skin belonged to the listener. He knew he made no sound. He could stalk right behind her and she wouldn't notice. Instead, he did something that actually caused him effort. He began to make noise as he walked. Her head rose for a moment; she'd heard him. He walked around to face her. When she looked up he stopped breathing. Bright blue eyes met his and she reminded him of tropical water. She had kohl around her eyes. "No wait, they call it eyeliner now. Yes, that's it, eyeliner." There was no other paint on her face though. She brushed a strand of hair away from her face and he saw her nails were beautiful, long, well taken care of. Then she smiled and said hello. Not British then, and not American either.
He knew he couldn't just stand there staring and almost gaping like a fish, and remembering who he was, began to speak.
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Amaya thought it odd that it seemed like the footsteps she heard came out of nowhere. They didn't gradually increase in volume as they came closer. Instead, it was as if the mute button had been released and the action now had sound. It didn't bother her too much. She attributed it to the fact that she'd been spacing off anyhow. A project always did that to her. Amaya didn't do more than stop for a moment. If the person was going to talk to her, they would, if not, they'd go along their way. But the person did stop. When she looked up from his shadow –it was definitely a man- she noticed the shining shoes, the perfectly-tailored suit, the immaculate, but long nails, the pale skin, and finally, his face. The face was pale as well, but the eyes were dark, she could fancy them being a dark crimson, but was that even possible? His hair was long, loose, but not a strand lay out of place. He smiled at her, and she saw perfect teeth. The canines looked somewhat longer than the others, but that happened to a lot of people. He was handsome, very much so indeed. Her eyes flipped to his shoulders for a moment and she noticed they were broad. He was lean and his frame did not look frail in the least. He took a step forward, and in the light she saw that his eyes were indeed crimson. She liked that unlike most men she encountered, this one did not seem to be undressing her with his eyes, in fact, he'd kept them on her face this whole time. Since neither one had yet spoken, she broke the silence and said hello.
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"I'm sorry to be a bother, but you just happen to be playing my favorite song. I'm Alucard." He said smiling.
Well it's not the pickup line I expected, but I guess every guy has their own. No way he knows what this song is. But, I did say hello first, so I can't just blow him off now.
"Oh, well that's good to hear. I don't know many people who know this song, much less the composer. I'm Amaya.
He wanted to kick himself. He didn't want her to think he was flirting with her. It was the one thought on her mind. It was so clear it was hard to not pick up. He hadn't wanted to sound that way. He'd just have to prove her wrong then.
"May I sit?" She moved her bag and motioned him to take the space it had occupied.
"Bernard Armanti." He said, looking out onto the dark water. She looked directly at him, and when he turned his head, he saw that she was grinning. "So you do know who I'm talking about!"
"Well of course I do, I did say it was my favorite song." He grinned back at her and she blushed lightly.
"Yes, right."
Amaya rubbed her hands together. He looked at them and saw that they were dirty, but it looked like graphite on her hands. That's when he looked at what was on her lap and held back a gasp. It was a perfect rendition of the inside of St. James's cathedral in London. He hadn't seen such talent in so long. The rendition brought back a little memory of him and Da Vanci laughing over something he'd drawn one day. Alucard could still hear the laugh floating around in nothingness. Motioning with his head he said, "That's perfect you know". She blushed and smiled even more. "Well, what'd be perfect is if I could focus on the work that I have and not go back to finishing other drawings. Then maybe I'd get paid. But I always seem to go back to the drawings that I want to do, not the job that's assigned to me."
"Well you don't seem to me like someone who's starving, so, I'll wager that you do both. I don't want to keep you from your work any longer as it is, so I'll be leaving now."
The instant the second part of the sentence came out of his mouth he regretted it. He didn't want to leave this girl. He wanted to sit here all night and talk to her.
"Oh, you're not keeping me from my work. This is the first time I've had company out here. Stay if you like, that way I can talk to you and have an excuse to keep working on the cathedral." With that she crossed her legs on the bench and took up her sketch book once more.
After seeing the drawing, Alucard could not bear to leave the girl without finding out more about her. She intrigued him like nothing had for decades. How does a woman who looks like an island princess end up sitting on a bench alone drawing in London; a city undoubtedly far away from her origins? Beauty, creativity, elegance and culture; no, she certainly would not be dinner. And she'd invited him to keep her company! He most certainly would not waste this chance. At the same time he felt completely silly. Here he was, the Count, giddy because a young woman had told him to keep her company while she drew. He liked that she hadn't thought anything strange with his appearance. And she'd certainly taken her time to look at him from head to toe. The nails had not made her raise an eyebrow, his eyes had not made her back away, and his smile had not made her cringe. She certainly had proven to have confidence in herself and her surroundings. And her name, he really liked her name. It was a name from the old world. He didn't think he'd like her less if her name had been Sandy, Casey, or even Britney, but he was glad her name had been Amaya.
So he proceeded to ask her where she was from, and while listening to her, arranged an answer in his mind in case she were to ask him the same. It would have to sound normal, and more importantly, true.
She was from Cuba, of course. What else had he expected from the island princess? He rather liked this, this talking to someone who didn't know who he was, or how much money he had, or who wondered about so many things of his past that women normally nagged him with at every chance. To this woman he was Alucard, and nothing more. Just someone she had met one night while minding her own business.
He continued the conversation, letting the time go by without care. He liked looking at her face when she spoke, at how expressive it was. She had so many funny and interesting things to say. He liked laughing at the things she said, and liked making her laugh at the same time too. Rearranging a bit of the truth, he told her of famous places and quirky people he'd met, and of things that transpired between them.
He could see himself doing this again with her. She was telling him about her friends in Cuba when her watch began to beep.
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She bit her lip and silenced the watch. "Oh I'm sorry, but it's about time for me to leave. I set up my alarm to tell me when I've spent long enough here. It's 10:30 now. If I normally don't set it, then I'm bound to spend the entire night here and not get much sleep for the next day's work."
The disappointment was immediate in his eyes, but was soon replaced by acceptance. "I understand, at least allow me the pleasure of walking you home. Even though I'm sure you've done it before, I don't want you to have to walk home by yourself tonight. I live just a few streets down anyway, it wouldn't be a bother."
Amaya considered it for a moment, and then nodded. "That would be nice, just let me gather my things."
The walk home was quiet. A few words were exchanged here and there, but mostly silence reigned. Not a bad silence, just silence. Neither one noticed that as Amaya said they were getting nearer, they walked closer and closer to each other. The streets were desolate, the night breeze still very much active. Amaya's skirt danced in the wind, and her hair wanted to join her skirt. Alucard didn't mind his hair flowing freely around him now. He was trying his best to look as humanly as possible. Some lights were on, and from a few open windows the television could be heard, but none of it bothered them. He had insisted on carrying her bag, even though there wasn't much in it. Finally, she stopped walking.
"Well, here I am. Home, sweet home." He looked up at her building. He knew that in this part of town homes weren't very cheap, so he assumed she must be very good at her job on the design firm. Red brick lined the walls, and the trim on the windows was white, clean. Two small bushes at each side of the door adorned the building. Red flowers grew at the base of the ceramic pots. The place was easily 20 stories high. Wide windows made the building look even larger. They were still immaculate in the dark, and reflected the other buildings surrounding her's.
"Goodnight." He said, and walked away. Before she was completely through the door he called her name. She turned and saw him smiling at her, "It was very nice to meet you." With that he turned and didn't look back. She stayed there leaning against the front door of her apartment building until he turned a corner and she couldn't see him anymore.
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"I can't believe I just did that", were the first words out of her mouth when she got to the seventh floor and stepped inside her apartment. She'd never spoken to strangers, never invited them to sit next to her, and certainly did not let them walk her home at 10:30 at night. So why him? Why did that pale motherfucker get special treatment? She knew why. He excited her. He knew the song, the song that no one she knew could recognize if they heard it anywhere. He didn't try anything with her. He didn't try to kiss her, even though at some points she desperately wanted him to. He talked about things she wanted to hear, not about thing that men thought she wanted to hear. And he had liked her work. He didn't think to compliment her on her looks, but he certainly took note of her work. She knew he thought she was beautiful. The initial stare told her that. The man was a complete gentleman. He had walked her home and hadn't asked her if he could come up. On the contrary, as soon as they'd arrived he left. "But what if he has someone waiting back for him at his home? She thought. Really mulling over the thought in her head though, she didn't think he had anyone waiting for him back at home. It was the eagerness that they'd shared ideas with that told her so. He sounded like a man who hadn't had anyone to really speak to for a very long while. Yet it was so odd. He was handsome, he looked like he had plenty of money to dish out for a night downtown, and he had so many pretty things to say. So why did he seem so desperate when he realized she knew about so many of the things he was talking about? For this she didn't have an answer. It's not like he was much older than her. Only 28.
She put the bag down on the couch and stretched. What a day. Looking around, Amaya didn't know what to think. Would he be there tomorrow? Would he like to see her again? The egotistical bitch in her told her that of course he'd come, he'd not seen something so good looking in ages! But she sat on the bitch and shut her up. She really didn't know if she'd see him again. Like he said, he normally didn't take many walks around town. His job with special security kept him busy for many nights. Amaya walked over to the fridge and took out the bottle of wine. "One shouldn't drink alone," she thought, "but what the hell, tonight's a night to drink and think." With that, she sat at her counter with the wine glass in her hand, completely unaware of eyes watching her outside.
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Alucard sat on the ledge of a window on the building across from her's and watched her move around the apartment. It was a place he could associate with her. Well furnished, dark, elegant, and teeming with life. Good thing she'd left the curtains open. Everything looked like it belonged to her. There was no sign of anyone else living with her, no one to come when the sound of the door opening made its way through the house, no one to greet her and ask how her day was. No, this was a woman's apartment. Prints hung on the walls as well as various paintings. The color theme was set in the darks; browns, reds, and blacks were the predominant colors. The walls were dark as well, but there was contrast. The specific colors he couldn't see because the only lights she had on were the ones in the kitchen. He would kill to know what she was thinking. He knew it was about him. If only he could know what. There was no way he could know unless he was in the same room as her. Without being invited there was that monstrously large barrier between his mind and hers. He drew his hand to him, almost unaware that he'd punched the wall behind him. Shaking his head, Alucard growled and pushed himself off the window's ledge. He would just not think about it tonight anymore he decided.