Hellsing Manor

October 9, 1595

Captor

"Milord?"

There was a skittish pause that betrayed more of the speaker's true feelings than his tone did. Lord Richard Hellsing turned peevishly from the bureau to face the leader of his men.

"You sound as though you bear ill news, Corbin." Though he stood in his brother's ornately furnished study, Richard acted as though he owned all the manor house. Arthur was dead, buried, and cold in the ground by now. The fact that the property was now Integra's was a moot point. He couldn't believe that Arthur had even left the family home, much less the leadership of the society, to his young daughter.

Under Richard's icy scrutiny the dark, rotund man crumpled, soon shifting from foot to foot. "We… we are unable to find the girl. She must have found some exceptionally clever place in which to hide."

Every inch the displeased noble, Richard let Corbin stew in his own juices before he chose to be furious.

"She has had all of thirteen years in this world, and you cannot find her? The faster we finish the brat, the simpler it will be for me to convince everyone her death was an accident. We've ruled out painting it as a fever death- all the court knows she never took sick. The more time this takes, the harder it will become! That idiot Dornez will be back any day from his errands in the north- he came away as soon as he was told of Arthur's death. You think that we'll be able to do something under his nose? With him watching his new charge?"

Richard knew that though he would still not be above all suspicion if Integra died, the process would be much easier with the zealous Sir Dornez out of the picture. He would present himself to the Queen as a grieving uncle and brother- and without reasonable evidence it would be next to impossible to convict him. His ambitions could be reached if he acted quickly and bought the silence of those who helped him. And then he could have the helm of Hellsing and its mission, dismissing or doing away with the members that opposed him. It was ridiculous that a child was getting what was rightfully his.

"I understand."

"I don't believe you do. You've looked everywhere?" For emphasis, Richard sent a solid fist newly ornamented with Arthur's signet ring plummeting into the hard desk.

Corbin nodded, trying to assuage his employer. Richard was not a large man, but he was intense and intimidating. His ostentatiously rich clothing and arrogant stance did not put anybody at ease, and nor did anything else about him.

"The cellars? The attic? All of the passageways? I know I provided you with the plans of the house."

Fearfully, Corbin's hands went up in a gesture of confusion. "We have searched everywhere, milord. Painstakingly." The note in his voice was desperate.

Candles flickered gently in time to their breaths as the men stared at each other. Slowly, Richard began massaging his temples, running his hands through rumpled hair that was brassier than Arthur's had been. Finally, he muttered, "Check the grounds. She couldn't have disappeared for a day and a half without turning to them."

"Yes."

Squinting in thought, Richard saw past Corbin. "You know where that decrepit chapel is, correct?" He vaguely remembered his father speaking of the place, though he hadn't ever visited it himself. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. Yes, it was worth checking.

Corbin said, "Of course. I saw it on the plans."

"Go there. It could be where dear Integra has been holed up."

"Yes, Milord."

The nobleman paused.

"I will go with you."

Master

Huffing from exertion, I reached the solid front doors of our chapel. It was a foreboding place, but I still did not know what help it would be to me. It was my last resort for now, anyway, until I figured out what else could be done. If I lived in London, this would be easier- I could sneak away to the court. But from Kent, things were more difficult. I didn't think that Uncle would remember to look here, though. That bought me time until Sir Dornez came and saw that something was amiss, but I couldn't count on that yet. But I had no intention of dying and letting go of the responsibility that had been trusted to me.

Shaking my head as I went inside, I murmured, "How could he?"

No, it was not a question of that. Father had suspected the worst out of Uncle Richard and I had seen it happen. Arriving five days ago after the funeral held in London, he had played the doting, concerned relative to guests who had come to see me. That lasted up until the day before this one, when my last well wisher left- it was also when Uncle declared that he would be moving into the manor to help me oversee it, got rid of most of Father's loyal help, and installed his own servants. While at first I bided my time in my rooms, I decided that I would be better off running. But I could not wait forever. Whispered conversations I'd overheard were enough to tell me that his intentions were to kill, not merely to use me as a pawn. I had expected that Uncle would react harshly at some point, but I would not have thought him capable of outright murder.

Clenching my teeth, I brushed twigs and prickles from the silk stays of my pearl-gray mourning dress. Likely enough I looked awful, having traipsed through woods for the day, but I was alive. Hungry, dirty, and chilled, but alive. I glanced around the stark empty chapel. It was larger than I had remembered, but all of its benches and trappings had been removed before I was born. We hadn't used it in years, but Father had never had the heart to destroy it or build a new one- we went to Canterbury for services. The windows were two-toned blue stained glass, the floor wooden, and dust had settled copiously on every surface. In the back were the spiraled stone stairs to the crypt.

Father told me to come here to the crypt, I thought resignedly.

Walking softly, for somehow I felt the building deserved some reverence still, I heard the floorboards creak. I reached the stairs and crept down them as quietly as I could. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw the shapes of tombs eerily looming above the flagstones. The space was larger than the room above it, and the air smelled flat. It was obvious that the bodies had long stopped decaying, so there was not even a hint of stench. Curious, I studied some of the stately effigies. They weren't as worn as I would have expected. Here and there I caught features similar to my own- deep set eyes, oval faces, or straight and narrow noses. A gallery of dead Hellsing family members welcomed me. Were they supposed to be my saviors?

My steps traced a circle around the outside edge of the hall. I stopped when I reached a riveted wood and metal door. It would not have caught my eye otherwise, but somehow it looked newer than everything else I had seen. The metal was tarnished and a little blackened, but it was not rusted. The wood was not new and fresh, but it was not as old as the wooden floor above or the chapel's doors. Though it was possible that since this door was underground, it wouldn't have been as weathered, and since it was part of the crypt, it would not have been so used.

I wiggled the handle. It was stiff and felt very solid in my hand. I frowned and tried again. After some coaxing, it gave way and the door swung forward with an uninviting groan. I couldn't see anything: the room, however big it was, was as black as tar. There was some light from the open door, and I could barely make out a form in the rectangle of weak illumination. Inching closer to inspect the thing, I blanched when I realized that it was a male corpse.

The thing looked dried out like the mummified bodies of the ancients I had heard of. Leathery skin covered his body and his face was tautened into a permanent leer. Long white hair covered the head and hung to the floor, matted and grayed with dust.

"Mind if I share the crypt with you, sir?" I asked wryly.

Being in the confined little room in the darkness felt safer than being upstairs or even in the proper crypt, however silly that was. I think it was because it was enclosed rather than open. Sitting down carefully, I noticed that the man had been restrained in life, to the death, with thick leather straps that held him to the wall. They crisscrossed his body intricately. His hands had been chained above his head. I shuddered at this- it all looked like deliberate torture, which the Hellsings were capable of… but why in our abandoned crypt, of all places? Scowling, I brushed a finger against the softened, aged leather. Death did not frighten me. Neither did this scrawny body. It was spooky, nothing more, and I wondered more at where it came from than what it could do to me.

Eventually I began to feel too tired to remain awake- even curiosity and ambition couldn't keep me up forever. Against my better judgment, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

Captor

The chapel's door gave in far too easily for a thing that hadn't been used in a generation or more. Richard smiled wolfishly as Corbin opened it almost effortlessly. After four hours of searching the Hellsing grounds, he was becoming more impatient. Night had fallen and an autumn chill was in the crisp air; he wanted to go back inside, have a well-prepared dinner by the fireside, and forget this business.

Corbin glanced over his shoulder at Richard and the two men he had enlisted to help, all armed, one bearing a fat tallow candle. They shuffled their feet, at the edge of forest where ground had been cleared for the little church. Richard was plainly pleased.

"I'll go first," he said.

Moving aside wordlessly, Corbin bowed. "Very good, Milord."

Corbin might have thought this whole thing was wrong, had he not been getting so much money. So a girl would be dead. A dozen probably died everyday in London without there being too much pomp.

"Shall we wait here, sir?"

"No," Richard said. "I want this done."

"Well enough." Corbin motioned his men forward.

The step Richard took into the chapel echoed, reverberating among the normal night sounds. He did not care. If Integra was here, she would have nowhere else to run. There was one entrance.

Master

Dozing off for long had not been part of my plan. I awoke sometime later; my body told me it could have been night by now, but I had lost all sense of time since coming inside. Annoyed with myself, I sat back and listened intently. I thought I had heard something disturb the quiet. I would be lucky if it was just a mouse or a rat.

There it was again.

Repeated heavy clunks against wood, blunt and hollow sounding. Footsteps. I strained my ears to catch the muffled sound of voices. My uncle's distinct tenor floated down to meet me. There was no mistaking his voice though I didn't know what he was saying. I went cold. This was the first time I felt fear rather than blind determination, and the reality of what I was attempting struck me hard.

The intruders traveled above my head until I heard them reach the stairs. The rhythm of their steps became more eager as they thudded down. I had nothing to do other than rise to my feet. They would search the crypt until they saw my open door ahead of them.

As I had expected in the back of my mind, I was completely alone.

"I really don't want to die tonight."

Captor

It was Corbin who saw the little door, open halfway, leading into a darker room than the moldering crypt they were creeping around in. "Lord Richard!"

"I see it!"

"She isn't down here," reported the largest of Corbin's men. He looked askance at Richard.

Richard turned to meet his eyes. "But there were footprints in the dust upstairs, with none doubling back. She has to be in there." He waved a hand in the door's direction, looking savagely triumphant. Snatching their candle for himself, he went forward and strode into the room. The other four hurried to match his pace.

When he saw Integra, his smile broadened into a grin. The child was disheveled, tired, and wan. This would be laughably easy. She glared at them stubbornly as Corbin and his cronies blocked the door. Richard leisurely handed the candle to Corbin without taking his eyes off of Integra.

"I wouldn't have believed this of you," she snarled, "Uncle."

Her naiveté amused Richard. "Surely you know the Hellsing family is of ruthless stock!"

"Being ruthless has nothing to do with being so ambitious that you'll kill your own kin."

Richard drew a wicked looking dagger. He preferred rapiers for their finesse, but killing Integra would take none. Her opalescent blue eyes widened, but behind them was something hard and obstinate. Just as well- her stubbornness would make everything more interesting. She backed up against the wall.

"Milord… Milord- what's behind her, on the wall?"

As he had all day, Corbin sounded nervous. But Richard begrudgingly cast an eye to the wall Integra was cowering against. On closer inspection, the shadowy shape behind her was a grotesque corpse. He laughed mirthlessly.

"Just a body, gentlemen," he said coolly. Rounding on Integra, Richard pressed closer to her, dagger at her face's level. "This will not be quick, niece. You caused too much trouble for me to be merciful. And now you have nowhere left to run." The hate in her expression surprised him, but it drove him on to be pitiless. Lashing out suddenly, he left a deep gash on her cheek. Stiffening, Integra thrust her chin up at Richard, causing some of her blood to trickle gently down her chin and onto the floor. Some dripped down onto the corpse.

"You're going to go through with this," breathed Integra. "Very well."

Her eyes narrowed in a look of revulsion as she moved to strike him. She landed one snapping, stinging slap on his face before he snatched up her wrist, hard enough to break it if he truly cared to. Whimpering slightly, Integra struggled against the grip.

"You determine how much pain you will experience," Richard remarked conversationally. He twisted her wrist to drive the point home and she writhed in pain. Twiddling the dagger in his other hand, Richard took a moment to watch her, then pinned her up against the wall. "Mayhap I should bleed you to death. A cut here, a cut there… but not enough for you to go completely faint."

Master

The first gash he gave me was on the wrist he was holding. It was not a deep cut, at least not deep enough to completely sever my veins, but it was enough to set me to bleeding copiously. If Uncle went on like this long enough, I would die, but it would take time. I gasped at the startling pain. Then I pursed my lips, not wanting to give him, or any of his henchmen, the satisfaction of hearing me.

"That's right. Go down like a true Hellsing, a warrior stoic."

That was ironic from his lips. According to him I was not enough of a Hellsing, someone unworthy who was robbing him of his birthright. Over my heavy, controlled breathing and the panting of the men, I heard my blood pattering slowly to the stones below. It was surreal: the time between each set of drops seemed to stretch. Wet and viscous, they made thick splatters when they fell. The sensation was odd- my wrist was wetly warm, but the trails on my arm were cooling fast. What could I do? How could I fight four grown men at once? Running was out of the question. They would have me before I reached the stairs if I even got out of this room.

"I would have to say that I'm more of a Hellsing than you are," I retorted.

Uncle moved to further his work, to give me another cut on the other wrist. I winced, waiting for the sharp blade to slice flesh, waiting to feel that drawn-out tearing. When I did not, I looked up at him. His eyes were on the floor- on the corpse- not on me. Gradually, I became aware of a sluggish ripping sound and followed his gaze.

It was moving.

The body was moving.

Wrestling against its bonds and the chains, trying to kneel to the ground. A long tongue snaked out of its mouth, just as dried as the rest of it.

The men began to panic. The burliest one closest to the door cried out, "What the bloody hell is that?"

I knew the answer when I watched the thing trying to get to my blood. Some must have fallen to its mouth before, because though it hadn't yet gotten to the floor a tiny bit glistened at the corner of the crusty lips like a garnet.

Captor

"Good God," Corbin stuttered.

Richard stared, revolted. "My brother never said a word. I don't know, either." He seemed unable to move, caught in a mixture of disgust and fear. "Just- just get rid of it. Give Integra an escort for her trip to hell."

None of the three seemed particularly eager to get any closer than they were. Richard made a noise of anger as he pinned Integra to the wall again. This living corpse did not concern him. It was probably just some alchemic experiment gone wrong- some result of Arthur and his friends' scholastic forays into the occult.

"Your father must have done this, and left the mess for you to clean up!"

The corpse lurched to the ground, finally free of its chains, showing an inhuman strength: the bolts of the shackles had been ripped clean off of their chains. Using its hands to drag itself, it slithered towards the blood, slurping it up noisily, arching its back and groaning in what had to be pleasure.

"A vampire?" said Corbin, stunned. His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped the candle. His two men were sneaking towards the exit.

"Kill it! Take off the head or get the heart!" bellowed Richard. As a Hellsing he was all too familiar with methods of vampire killing. But what could this have been? Why wouldn't someone have gotten rid of this one before now? In a lightning quick move, his dagger was at Integra's throat. She closed her eyes as she felt the cold metal pressing into her tender skin. "You know something."

"No… I-I- just-"

"Why else would you have-"

The nobleman had barely formed the words as he fell silent. Integra's eyes snapped open. Richard had turned to face Corbin, only Corbin was no longer standing. His body was nearly halved on the floor, blood gushing from it. One hand bore his sword, barely tipped with blood. He had, before trying to rush the fiend, passed off the taper to the man behind him- who cowered, petrified.

And the corpse was no longer just a corpse. It could have been a living man for all they knew, pale, of course, with the same long hair. But by the weak light, his eyes were a blazing blood red. As Integra and Richard watched, in two clean strikes he had beheaded both the remaining men. Their bodies fell with loud flumps, the candle rolling off and guttering out. With relish, the vampire first lifted one head, and then the other, to drink from them. Each swallow he took seemed to revive him further.

Sneering, Richard snatched up one of the swords, charging a monster he could now barely see. Integra slumped down to the floor.

Master

I watched as the vampire disarmed Uncle easily and let his sword clatter down unconcernedly. He advanced towards me, plainly not seeing Uncle Richard as a threat as he frantically scrambled for the sword.

My voice trembled only a little. "If you are going to kill me, have the decency to do so quickly." Integra, I mentally wheedled, you're mandating to a vampire. It does not have a sense of right or wrong, much less decency. Your uncle doesn't even have that.

To my immense surprise, the thing chortled raspingly and shook its head, meeting my eyes. "Sir Hellsing," it murmured, kneeling to my level in an act of respect so I saw the top of its head and not its boots, "Have you sustained any injuries?"

My jaw went slack. I stared at him in consternation as he continued speaking, and I barely heeded the pulsating throbbing in my wrist. The voice was deep, smooth as silk.

"What is your bidding, my master?"

Sir Hellsing? My master? This was a vampire- one of my family's ancient enemies. How had this come about? Mind reeling with questions, I did not know which to ask first- if they could even be answered anymore. I saw the glint of sharp teeth through his curtain of hair. As I glanced up, I saw that Uncle had snuck up behind him, and now had the vampire's neck at sword point. I did not think it would make any difference. True enough, the vampire had him fastened to the floor before I could even make a remark.

I was staring as it happened. The vampire bit Uncle's neck lightly, drawing pricks of blood. He seemed to be waiting on killing Uncle.

"Your blood stinks. It reeks to high heaven." There was a loaded pause. "You are unfit to be this family's head."

"No! Hellsing is mine!" Uncle struggled fruitlessly. The vampire's mouth widened in a maniacal grin. "It is mine! I'll not let some brat-"

"You won't hurt her."

The words were matter-of-fact and chilly. In one flash of a move, there was a snap and Uncle Richard's neck had been broken. I gave a shivering sigh, but I felt relief, not remorse. I supposed I should have been afraid for my safety, but seeing as this powerful creature seemed to be pledging itself to me… or seemed to have been pledged to me… understandably, I took a while to find words. Neither of us moved. My instincts were screaming to find a way to have it killed, but I was intrigued. Whatever past generations of Hellsings had done, this was probably the ripest fruit of their labors. Still, I felt distaste towards this vampire which I had always been taught, even though he had just saved my life. Nevertheless, I could not find it in me to be hostile.

"What- what can I call you?"

He was still gazing at Uncle's body, hard expression unreadable. "Alucard. That's the name your family has given me." Alucard ripped his eyes away from the strangely clean kill he had made of my last living relative. Deprecatingly he smirked. "I can't even try to have his blood. The other three were not so horrible, but…"

He broke off, probably remembering that the subject was not one I would savor. "Apologies, Master- it's been a long while since I drank."

Wearily I shrugged. As long as he would not try sampling the rest of me, I could keep the matter from my mind.

"It is unnerving all the same that mine was the only blood you completely lapped from the floor," I remarked with dark humor. He chuckled softly.

Inhaling, I stood and found that my surroundings tilted dreamily, and I reached out with my good arm to grip the wall. If Alucard had been human, I might have said that I detected concern in his face, or from what I saw of it. He came forward and made sure I would not fall, but I did not want to need him there.

"He was going to be malicious," Alucard said. "You lost more blood than I thought."

"You would know."

He ignored the jibe. "Have you something you can use as a tourniquet?" Gently, unpredictably so, he brought my wrist first to his eyes to inspect the cut, and then to his lips.

I went rigid, flatly, I said, "No." It was more in answer to what I thought he was about to do than to his question.

I felt him smile. "I would be a poor servant of the Hellsings indeed, if I could not occasionally control my hunger, Master. Let me clean the excess blood from your arm and the gash. I can help staunch the bleeding for now."

Whether or not I could trust Alucard seemed to be beside the point, and in any case he took my silence for permission. I wondered who had made him our servant… how… when… and above all, why. His tongue was cool as he did what he had stated- and nothing more. If it was a gamble to take more of my blood, it was a poor one.

"Thank you." Was I thanking a blood drinker?

He bowed his head, still smiling, though more enigmatically now. "We should get back to the house, should we not?"

I nodded cautiously, unsure if the room would reel more than it was, if I moved. "You remember where you are… were left?"

"Your crypt. I recognize it." He offered me an arm. My pride told me not to take it, but I knew I would probably need him to make it home without toppling over. I had never done well after being bled, anyway. "Master- their bodies will need to be disposed of."

God, let them rot here, I thought.

"We have ways of taking care of things like this," I said dismissively.

And no, I added silently, I don't believe I need to feel worse about the fact that you just murdered my uncle.

Monster

Alucard found the cool night air more refreshing than he could have dreamed. It was almost beyond memory for him, but as he and Integra emerged from the chapel, and she steered the way along the overgrown path through the woods, he felt himself coming back. At her side he was becoming rejuvenated. It had something to do with his blossoming blood lust, but more to do with his interest in this slip of a girl who was now his master.

She was a fierce little thing, not wanting to give into death even when it seemed inevitable. He respected her for that. And she was stubborn: If you are going to kill me, have the decency to do so quickly. Also brave, for having the courage to order around a monster when she did not even know his loyalties.

The heady taste of her was something he would never forget, though he wouldn't allow himself to seek it again, or he would try. It was no wonder her blood had woken him after all these years- it would also strengthen his ties to her as time went on. Already he was able to read some of her thoughts, her emotions. They amused him: now her mind was a mess of confusion.

Yes, they would do well together.

Master, he thought. It's a harsh world… but between the two of us, we should be more than fine.

She craned her neck to look up at him, moonlight falling on her face. "Did you say something?"

Alucard smiled slowly. He had not meant to project that to her. Until now he was not certain he could, yet. His old powers seemed to be returning quickly indeed. Now he would play with her, just a little bit.

No, he innocently told her with his mind. I didn't say anything.

Shocked, she turned her face away. Her grip on his arm went tighter. "I… I thought that was you."

Yes. I'm glad you aren't questioning it too much.

"Can you do this with everyone- all humans?"

Not everyone, no.

"Is it because… of my blood?"

Alucard paused before answering her. I think it certainly helped. But that is not all.

The girl carefully sidestepped a large stone that had settled in the path. "I… I'm not sure I like it very much. So it… it only works with your… er… master."

Laughing, he still would not break the silence with words. You probably won't. I might tend to abuse it.