Eighteen year old Integra Hellsing leant against a pillar and cursed her butler for forcing her to attend yet another of these blasted dances. Hadn't she gone to one just seven short weeks ago? Didn't she have more important things to do? But no, Walter had decided yet again that Integra didn't spend enough time around people her own age and bundled her into a car, completely ignoring her protests and her orders. He was just a butler! What gave him the right to ignore her?
Sighing heavily, she lit one of her fathers' cigars. The young Knight felt her nerves settle as the nicotine smoothed her rough edges. She exhaled a steady stream of grey smoke as she surveyed the ridiculously large congregation of the young gentry. Some pretentious tit had decorated the ballroom with bouquets of flowers and silken drapes. Her "peers" strutted like peacocks, all dressed to the nines in whatever they had decided the latest fashion was. Some of the young men had cigarettes but she was the only one with a cigar. Integra settled comfortably into judging and criticising the future leaders of the country as she puffed out smoke.
"You guys really do this a lot, don't you?" His accent stuck out like a sore thumb. An American amongst the received pronunciation of the English nobility surrounding him.
"Oh yes, James. At least every other week I should think." His companion replied. Tall, dark and smooth as butter, Lord Henry Marston set many a heart racing. "It's as much for politics as it is for fun, though – you know, laying the groundwork for familial ties."
"You Brits are always so well prepared." James Quincy laughed.
His sharp blue eyes scanned the ballroom. Lots of pretty girls in fancy dresses and young men in suits or tuxedoes were either twirling around the floor or talking quietly over glasses of champagne. His gaze zeroed in on one girl in particular. Long platinum blonde hair fell loosely around her shoulders, hiding her expression. She was dressed in what looked like cream satin and to his surprise held what appeared to be a cigar between her fingers. The swirling smoke prevented him making out any more details.
"Hey Henry, who's that girl over there? The one with the cigar?" He asked curiously. There was something familiar about her.
"Hmm? Oh that's Integra. Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing." Henry said absently. He was focusing on the more . . . available female company. "I'd stick to easier pickings if I were you. She never dances with anyone – rumour has it her butler forces her to attend one of these every so often."
Hellsing? That's where I recognise her from, he thought triumphantly.
"Oh really? Ten bucks- pounds says she'll dance with me." James wagered confidently.
"You're on. There's no way she'll say yes." Henry countered. "I've known her since we were children and she refused me a dance."
"Yeah but I've got a trump card." He grinned when his friend and fellow student raised an eyebrow. "She actually likes me." Or at least she used to . . .
Integra checked her watch again. Walter had promised – promised – she could leave at eleven. It was barely past ten. Another hour of having to listen to such pointless asinine chatter would surely turn her brain to mush. To her surprise, she almost wished Alucard were here. At least that particular thorn in her side would keep her entertained. She inhaled another breath of the fragrant smoke of the cigars she had started pilfering from her fathers' hidden supply. Integra wasn't quite sure why she had started to cultivate the habit, but she was at a point where she needed the nicotine at least three times a day to prevent herself becoming a twitching mess.
"Do I have the honour of addressing the Lady Hellsing?"
Integra's eyebrow twitched. American accent. Too stupid to get her title right. The night had just gotten worse. Possibly slightly childishly, she blew a stream of smoke in his face.
"My title is Sir. I suggest you get it right." A few sarcastic comments and an icy blue glare through grey smoke usually had whatever puffed up male peacock that disturbed her running with his tail between his legs.
"My apologies Sir Hellsing. My name is James Quincy."
Now that caught her attention. She'd known a James Quincy as a child. He had been American, like this boy, with dark hair and blue eyes, like this boy, but this boy couldn't possibly be the same James Quincy.
James caught the slight narrowing of her eyes and grinned. So she did remember that summer.
"You might remember I spent a summer with you and your father when we were children."
"I might remember spending a summer with an American boy, but the James Quincy I knew couldn't possibly be you."
"Oh?" James' eyes twinkled. So she was going to make this difficult was she? Bring it on.
"Indeed." Integra replied dryly. "For one, I'm sure he would've contacted me if he was in England and for another, he never called me by my surname."
James examined her face curiously. Had he hurt her feelings by not calling to tell her he was in the country? He couldn't imagine she'd take too well to learning he'd been here for a year already.
"I apologise. I wasn't sure you'd remember me. As for your second objection, I thought you might have outgrown your old nickname. Teggie."
Integra smiled as she ground out the stub of her cigar. So it was the same James Quincy. Maybe the last hour of her torture wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Not bad Quincy."
"When was I ever bad to you?"
"Do you want me to list all the times you pulled my hair or pushed me in the mud?"
"Hey I was just a kid." He protested laughing at her serious expression. Knowing her, she could probably list several instances – he remembered her having a scarily good memory.
"Dance with me." he blurted out.
One elegant platinum eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"Dance with me." he held out a hand to her. "It's not the first time, Teggie. Dance with me."
She could try to explain to him that letting herself be twirled around the kitchen floor at age ten was different to agreeing to dance here, in public, at age eighteen but she wasn't sure he'd understand.
He could see the indecision in her iceberg eyes and it puzzled him. The child he remembered was never indecisive – whether she was right or wrong she was always one hundred percent convinced her way was the only way forward.
"Come now, Teggie, don't tell me that you've fallen into being one of these helpless petals?"
Her eyes flashed dangerously and her hand smacked into his.
"Fine. You can dance with me. I only hope you've improved."
James grinned. Poking at her rather large ego was a sure-fire way to get her on the floor.
Alucard quietly phased through the wall of the garish ballroom, searching for his master. He was surprised when he failed to spot her against a wall. She never danced at these things. Alucard was proven wrong when a long sweep of platinum blond hair swept across his vision. The vampire had to restrain a growl as he noted the young man's hand at the small of her back. His master never danced. So why was she dancing with this arrogant youth? And why had she not broken his leg for daring to touch her?
Alucard swiftly wove his way through the crowd, seemingly oblivious to the admiring looks some of the young women in the room sent his way. There was no time for such frivolities tonight, even if it would irritate Integra. He tapped the young man on the shoulder when he really should have been tearing his arm off.
"May I cut in? Thank you." Before the boy could form a protest, Alucard was waltzing his master away.
"Alucard! What on earth are you doing here?" Integra asked sharply. The one time she was enjoying herself at one of these dratted gatherings and her monster had to come and spoil it!
"My apologies for interrupting your . . . flirtation, Master." Alucard growled the word past a curled lip, his ire rising further when Integra blushed. "Walter informs me that there has been a vampire attack. Your presence is required."
"Of course." With a brisk nod she was back to being the fearsome Sir Hellsing, already gaining a reputation as an Iron Maiden. "Please tell me you brought suitable transportation?"
Alucard led her from the dance floor to collect her coat, grinning toothily at her. Integra restrained a groan. She hated it when he took her through the shadows.
She refused to shudder when his arms snaked about her waist, holding her flush against his chest. She refused to give him the satisfaction of any reaction at all.
"Hold tight, Master." He hissed in her ear. Was it wrong of him to feel satisfaction in the knowledge that he was holding her closer than her dance partner had? Or simply natural for a being as territorial as he was?
Integra reluctantly gripped his shoulders as he whisked her away in a cloud of shadow.
"Well, damn." Quincy muttered as Integra was spirited away by the tall dark stranger. A further blow to his ego came when she didn't protest or even look his way. He made his way off the dance floor and returned to Henry's side. James watched miserably as Integra's face brightened and she left with the dark stranger.
"You did better than I expected you to, James." Henry commiserated him, slapping him on the shoulder. "You got her to dance with you."
"Only for a few minutes. Who was the man she left with?"
"Ahh, one of the great mysteries of our time." Henry joked. "No one actually knows. He turns up even more rarely than Integra does. Just sits in a corner and ignores all invitations to dance. He won't even tell anyone what his name is. It drives Lady Anna quite batty. Speaking of . . . she's going to furious tonight. First you then the dark stranger both dance with Integra instead of her."
"Integra seemed to know him." James grumbled.
"Sir Integra is no small mystery herself. It's got to be hard growing up alone in that huge mansion. Poor thing took her fathers' and uncles' deaths quite hard."
"I remember hearing that they'd died within a week of each other." He remembered hearing that there had been something of a shadow over Richards' death, but his father had refused to tell him what had happened in any detail.
"Three days. It changed Integra. She sort of . . . hardened – she cut herself off from those of us that she used to be friendly with. Can you imagine being left as head of the family at twelve? Poor girl's been raised by her butler ever since." Henry mused. "Your winnings, by the way." He continued holding out a crisp ten pound note. James took it with a scowl and headed for the bar.
"Well done Major. Head back to HQ and ready a full report for the morning."
Integra replaced the phone in its cradle and rubbed her temples wearily. All she wanted at that point was to be out of the stupid dress and tucked up in bed. Trust a vampiric emergency – the one thing she'd hoped for countless times to avoid her dreaded social excursions - to cause her to have to wear the ridiculously uncomfortable garment for longer than expected. How do people wear these things all day? She wondered idly.
Integra stood and stretched languidly. She had shed her high heels hours ago, but the jewellery Walter had insisted she wear with the dress remained. Her bare toes curled into the thick carpet and her fingers twined together above her head. The young woman sighed contentedly as she rolled her shoulders and prepared to leave her office.
"Oh, Sir Integra, I forgot to ask. Did you enjoy yourself earlier this evening?" Walter asked innocently as he cleared away the tea.
Integra glared at him, but before she could begin her diatribe Alucard butted in.
"She did indeed Walter. She was even dancing tonight."
If Integra didn't know better, she'd think her pet vampire sounded bitter over the few minutes she'd let Quincy lead her around the floor.
"Really, Sir? Who was the lucky young man?"
"It wasn't like that!" Integra protested, hoping she wasn't blushing.
"Really Master? You had me quite fooled." Alucard drawled the words, but there was an undercurrent of viciousness that set Integra on edge.
"Do you remember James Quincy, Walter? The boy who stayed with us the summer I was ten? That was the "lucky young man" I was dancing with. And as for you Alucard – what business is it of yours who I dance with?"
Suddenly Alucard was standing in front of her, the ends of his hair brushing her forehead as he leaned into her personal space.
"Any mating of yours could produce my next master. I would hate for you to give me to a weakling." His voice was as sharp and chill as a winter breeze. Integra felt it fan the flames of her anger. How dare that monster talk to me that way?
"My choice of "mate" is nothing that you can influence Servant. A dance with a childhood friend does not necessarily lead to bearing his children! Even if it did, that boy was a Quincy. I dare say the child of a Hellsing and a Quincy would be able to keep you in your place. Don't tempt me into thinking that place is to be locked up in that dungeon again!"
"Don't test your theory."
Integra frowned. Did he not want her spending time in Quincy's company or did he not want her to lock him away for another twenty years?
"You could do so much better my Master."
Alucard let himself phase through the floor even as the last syllable of his sensual whisper permeated the air.