The Bird of Hermes (Part i):
The TARDIS thrummed into existence in a dark room, a slight hint of smoke from recently extinguished candles lingering in the air. The brakes moaned in protest as it finally ground to a halt, cementing itself outside the vortex at last. The Doctor's long dark hair partially obscured his face and eyes after a long time away from a decent barber. He smirked at the irony, having all the time in the world. Stepping out, he instantly started assessing where they were; and more importantly: When.
"Judging by the architecture, seems like late... Amy?"
"How can I know, I'm not even out yet!" An attractive red-haired girl replied from inside the cavernous time machine. Amy Pond strode out, wearing her usual bright red jumper. "Oh, this one's just easy, Doctor. Late Victorian period. From the design of the furniture I'd say somewhere between 1892 and 1894.
"You're learning," The Time Lord smiled, impressed, "What gave it aw-" His voice stopped abruptly on seeing where Amy looked. A simple printed calendar hung from the lavishly yellow-painted wall: November 1893. All the days, save for a few at the end were crossed out. The 28th day was encircled, marking a long-awaited event. The crosses stopped at the 27th day. In the darkness that could only mean one thing: They had arrived at the exact right day, for whatever lay in store. "Looking at the size of this room this house seems fairly large. Wealthy family. Or group. Or order! There seems to be a suspicious amount of wooden spikes lying around for it to be an ordinary house... Or... Stakes?" Picking one up and holding his sonic screwdriver to it, it silently let out a familiar green glow in its torch setting. Carved into the wood, too small to see from a distance, were an intricate series of patterns, and words. "I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death." The Doctor read the words aloud. "There are dozens of these. They're blessed. Look at the crucifix in the middle! It's made out of even smaller words. Someone really wants some demons dead!" Before he began lecturing her about ancient symbols, Amy cried out, alarmed.
"Doctor, look out!" A petite, dark-haired woman had appeared behind The Doctor, brandishing a stake similar to that which The Doctor was examining intently. She cried an indistinct Latin verse, aiming a strike at The Doctor's upper left chest. Before he could react, the spire hit home, The Doctor collapsing, his still-glowing screwdriver falling to the ground. Drawing a detached bayonet, carved like the stakes in verse and symbolism, she prepared to slice his head off. "No!" Amy shrieked, her instincts taking over, screaming at her to save her beloved companion. The small, pale woman screamed, dropping the knife and The Doctor's limp body as Amy landed on top of her. They wrestled on the floor for a few seconds, their arms a blur of scratching and frenzied punching. Amy couldn't win. She now saw the face of the dark-haired woman, no older than a teenage girl. The girl retrieved the glinting bayonet, the knife seeming to leer at Amy as she preparing to deliver a killing strike to her neck. She suddenly gasped, briskly replacing the sharp killing implement.
"Warm blood... Must be a human..." She reaches to The Doctor's body. Feeling his wrist, she noticed his dwindling body heat around a growing pool of blood. "Oh god... I couldn't have... But the light... It could only be one of his spells..." She broke down sobbing, releasing Amy and screaming hysterical apologies to her. "I didn't mean to! He... He made green light from his stick! He appeared without coming in! He... He... I didn't mean to kill him!" While she bawled her heart out Amy held strong, wanting to avenge her companion's death but still wanting to comfort the crying child. Disillusioned, distraught, and in desperate need of comfort, she pulled the girl into a hug.
After several minutes of silence, they broke the embrace. Amy seemed to be coming to terms with what she just witnessed. "What... Why did you... Kill him?" The girl stood up carefully. Looking around their surroundings for the first time, Amy noticed that this was a bedroom. The ornate four-poster bed was covered by drapes, which the girl parted, sitting on the bed and beckoning Amy to join her. Lighting a candle, the room filled with a dull light, and the drapes around the bed lit up, reflecting the light with what could only be silver. The dark-haired girl opened her mouth.
"My name is Abigail van Hellsing. I am the 17 year old first daughter of Lady Caroline van Hellsing. For as long as I have been alive, our town has been plagued by a demon more powerful than you can imagine. He forbade the citizens from leaving our town. He kills all those who stand against him. And every year... We must offer him a pure maiden... A virgin, of dignified lineage. His powers include being able to appear somewhere at will, and conjure light and perform magic. Your friend... I mistook him for the vampire. He can change form, and it was dark! I thought I could free us once and for all from this curse. But... But instead I killed some... one..." At this she began again to sob, but held back her tears, her wet eyes glistening in the candle light. "My family. We formed and lead an order, known as the Hellsing organisation. We work to free the town from the treachery of the dark god, and usurp him from his throne atop Castle Golgotha."
"Why is he- what do you mean a vampire?" Amy interjected.
"Count Dracula. He is an immortal, he has lived in the castle longer than anyone can remember, possibly since medieval times. Our small town had a high disappearance rate yet nobody noticed as those taken were mere peasants. The Count never bothered people, always hiding in his shadowy stone dwelling. This was until one day, when Charles van Hellsing heard a woman scream, and rushed to her rescue. By the time he got there, the screams were already faded. He could see two shapes far in the distance, going up the hill faster than any mortal could- into the Castle. He told the townsfolk, and a group got together to find the lost woman, and kill the Count if necessary. They appeared at the gates of the castle, but there appeared to be no one in- that is, until a drained, dismembered carcass fell from the battlements. Then the count appeared. It was a massacre. Dozens of townsfolk lay dead, my father Charles the last to die, fighting until his last breath. One person was spared. Told his demands and left to flee. This person was Lady Caroline van Hellsing, my pregnant mother. She vowed to avenge all who died; by slaying Dracula. Her wealth was poured into forming our organisation. We planned to strike... Tonight."
Amy, after travelling with The Doctor for a while, was beyond becoming dumbfounded at these sorts of things, but wanted to help however she could. Abigail ordered her; "Go downstairs. Knock for James- sixth door on the left corridor. I need to get back to the armoury to prepare." Amy noticed the fear and impending despair etched in Abigail's eyes.
"You're just a girl! You shouldn't be fighting supernatural creatures. You should be enjoying life. You live in a mansion for God's sake! Live your-
"I have no life." Abigail interrupted. "I'm next. Tomorrow is the day of offering and... I'm the one he requested. If we don't strike now I'll be a bloodless carcass tomorrow. I want to die trying to save my town from the demon. I have to go. Sixth door on the left." At this she sped off through the large oak door which lay ajar, brandishing and twirling the stake as she went. Failing in an attempt to catch up, Amy took a final glance at The Doctor's pale face, in a final moment of reverence; before strolling solemnly down the gilded staircase to find a corridor stretching out for what looked like miles in the darkly lit mansion. Counting to the sixth door on the left side, she took a deep breath and knocked. She the man who answered the door looked nothing like she expected- a rugged, war-hardened old man.
The man answering the door looked no older than Amy herself, his blonde hair shining in contrast to the red tinge she had. He wore a suave white suit, a small red and black shield on the shoulder. His arms were much thinner than she expected, yet the long, thick sword he wielded in his hand suggested strength, and his lean, muscular physique stamina. He noticed Amy's defencelessness, apologising for his lack of courtesy and inserting his sword into a smooth wooden shaft resting on his back. Amy snapped out of her mesmerised state of sustained innuendo at his attractiveness and realized she hadn't spoken for almost a minute.
"Um... James?" She enquired shyly. The man nodded. "Abigail sent me."
"Ah, you must be a recruit. It's quite late, but I'll try to get you in on some basic slaying techniques before dawn. Come on in." Amy strolled into the room sheepishly, and nervously shivered as she touched the cold steel of the sword handle held out to her. Grasping it, James began to explain some simple swordplay. She found herself looking at his lips most of the time, only occasionally snapping back to existence to pretend she was listening.
"So is Abigail your sister, or...?" She asked shyly, suppressing a giggle.
"Heh, no. We were just good friends growing up. She's an only child. The Hellsing family name will die with her. She was the one who got me into leading our forces. We only have a few dozen soldiers, but we know Dracula will be at his weakest a year since consuming more blood. We're more prepared than the rabble killed at the start of his reign. We lay siege to Golgotha tonight, in a few hours. Then the only one left will be either him or our town."
An intricate four dimensional pattern danced, twirling and morphing. The colours incomprehensible to the human mind flitted through multiple planes of existence through the innumerable number of neurones in The Doctor's head. The abstract pattern was accompanied by a symphony of tones. Their wavelength gradually got more rhythmic, eventually coming to a loop of a few simple noises, strangely familiar to a human moan. The shapes and colour eventually blended in, with time, to become a simple arrangement of curves, lines, and drab colours. A moving pinkish hue overlaid on a brown, wooded background. It was this time The Doctor realized that his eyes were half open, snapping to consciousness with a jolt, which resonated several times throughout spasms in his lower body.
"Who are you? Why are you on-" The Doctor swiftly leaned up to feel a burning pain that set his upper chest exploding with fiery pain. He did not know what surprised him more- The nude form of a middle-aged, raven-haired woman straddling him or the pointed length of bloodstained wood jutting out of one of his hearts. The woman opened her eyes, noticing his upright body, and fell of him in shock.
"You-you're alive?" She gaped. Ever the gentleman, The Doctor averted his gaze, pointing at a pile of clothes on the carpeted floor.
"Put some clothes on, and we'll talk," he grunted, wincing from the pain of his impaled heart. He stood up, and shook grasped the hilt of the stake behind his back. A useful survival perk in Time Lord Physiology was being able to stop one heart if it was damaged, minimising major blood loss. The hole was a couple of inches in the entry side with the hilt, and about one in the place it had jutted out. It should heal within a few days with sufficient energy, and the heart would work again within a week. Until then he would have to be stuck with a painfully lacking supply of oxygen. How human. He smirked until he saw the horrified expression on Caroline Hellsing's face; as she came to terms with what she just saw.
"You were stabbed in the heart. Nobody could survive that. You... Are you the prince of darkness himself?"
"No. They call me The Doctor. I'm a traveller. I recently came here."
"You came to the wrong place. Nobody's left here for 17 years."
"A minute ago... did you think I was DEAD? And yet... You were on top-"
"Don't. Tell. Anyone. About that." She hissed maliciously. "Its... I haven't been satisfied by a living man since my husband died. I have to keep to my social class as a widower, no matter what malevolent creature besieges us."
"Tell me more, why can nobody leave?" The next few minutes were spent with Lady Hellsing explaining the plight of their organisation, about Dracula, and how they were about to strike.
The large metal bell towered above the Hellsing mansion 80 yards up. At the bottom of a perilously thin spiral staircase of stone; a raggedly-dressed peasant boy grasped the rope, staring intently at the grandfather clock. The gothic styled hands fell closer together minute by minute, the pendulum swinging away the seconds as they gradually blurred together. The boy admired the brushwork that decorated the wooden frame. It displayed a tapestry of great battle, with gods looking down upon them. A single link unified them, a bond between Earth and Heaven. This link was a black dove, flying above a single couplet. After working as the servant and bell ringer for several months now, the boy could vaguely remember what the inscription on the clock face said:
The bird of Hermes is my name
Eating my wings to make me tame
The long and short hands finally met at the 12. It was midnight on the 28th November. It was the time to strike. Grasping the frayed, weathered rope connected to the bell, he pulled with all his strength.