Can you believe it? This is actually the sequel for Crimson Flow and I'm posting it now.
I decided to not further keep you in suspense over what I intended to write (since your reviews were so kind and sweet I just had to update) and just write the few chapters this story has. Hopefully they will remain few and not grow in length like they usually do when I'm the author.
Warning: Possible OOC, drama and some rough scenes. No one said reincarnation was easy.
I.
"It's a good night, right, female officer?"
She started slightly and his smile twisted into something distinctly mocking. He was teasing her.
"I crave for blood on this kind of night."
It was without hesitation that she shot, puncturing his shoulder and hoping that the bullet would do its job for once. She had seen more than enough for one night.
Unfortunately for her, the stranger merely laughed, a condescending sound that sent chills down her spine, and didn't even spare time to regenerate his shoulder wound...it seemed so easy that Seras started wondering if she finally was losing her mind.
No living creature could withstand a bullet and still stand.
"Not...a human!" Faster then she gave herself credit, she spun on her heel and into the -somewhat comforting- darkness of the forest.
Lights and shadows swirled and the world collapsed around her only to rebuild itself - albeit fuzzy on the edges of her awareness - a few moments later. The forest was gone, replaced by the bleak scenery of an abandoned church with stone walls and age eaten wooden benches.
Except it wasn't so abandoned at all as Seras was currently in the arms of a vampire, a malicious creature with beady eyes that looked almost red and a smile that bordered somewhere between insanity and cruelty...it wasn't hard enough to guess what he wanted.
"Let me go." Was that her voice? So pitifully weak that she could barely hear herself speak.
The vampires' elfish features contorted into another one of those smiles - enough to make her blood run cold.
"I won't make you into a worthless ghoul. Flowing within your body...such a warm and delicate taste." His fingers rubbed against her collarbone lingeringly and his expression was at once vicious. He snickered and she felt burning rage bring her limbs into action.
"You. I...will shoot. Your...head will be pierced." In a final effort to disobey that hypnotic gaze, Seras brought her gun up and pressed the barrel into the vampire's forehead, all at once abhorring that triumphant grin that revealed long, pointed canines.
"I shall grant you pleasure. Eternal pleasure..."
Her captor didn't get to finish that statement because the door was ripped apart, bits of wood and small splinters flying everywhere with the power of the blast.
"That should be enough."
Had she enough strength to move her drowsy body, Seras would've trembled at the sheer power resonating from that deep voice. It was him...it was the same man she had met earlier in the forest!
"Who are you?" Panic. The vampire's arms tightened around her and Seras watched the red clad man smile in satisfaction.
She wished she could see his eyes beneath the amber tinted glasses her wore...the way his rough voice washed over her, intoxicating her senses, Seras could already guess that he was certainly very handsome underneath the wide brimmed hat.
"My name is Alucard, special institution Hellsing's subordinate." His lips curved upwards even more and he added as an afterthought. "From the trash cleaning division."
"Trash you say?" The vampire snorted loudly. "Special institution? Are you serious?"
"No. You're a maggot that is worse than trash. " The raven-haired vampire lifted his head and laughed mutedly, the light coming from outside serving to reveal the scarlet color of his eyes. "What's with that outfit? Even the carnival doesn't have such stupidly dressed guys..."
It almost seemed like the earth trembled with the force of Alucard's steps as he advanced towards them. Offhandedly Seras noticed that her two feet would surely fit into one of his large boots and that there would probably remain some space to spare; his wide shoulders, imposing stature and large hands also served to convince her that the newcomer would have no problem crushing her without even breaking a sweat.
"What are you doing?" Alucard's voice brought her out of her musings and Seras once more felt the arms of her captor tighten -painfully so- around her as it became apparent that this Alucard was also two heads taller than the vampire and considerately more so than her. "While dressed as a minister, without even knowing what shame is...what trash is around you."
"Is it alright to be dead? Bastard!" The sharp hiss, and the fact that the bastard of a vampire had done it close to her ear, rattled the young woman's nerves enough for her to almost jump in fright when an entire army of ghouls rose from in between the benches and turned to face them; growling and making noises Seras would rather not identify.
They cocked their guns and she realized -with no little despair- that she even recognized some of the ashen, once human, faces.
"Captain."
Alucard didn't seem fazed in the least bit. "A weakling who makes ghouls as its subordinates. A coward who doesn't have capability to do anything by himself, nor have the consideration to do so."
His cloak billowed behind him and the words took an echoing resonance; the bloody sky and pale amber moon, clearly visible through the windows above, only seemed to enhance his next words.
"There is no place for the likes of you even in hell."
She woke with a shuddering gasp and her body reacted of its own free will, rising so abruptly that Victoria struggled to keep the bile back. The taste was sickening, almost metallic, like her throat had been repeatedly scrubbed with sandpaper.
Something stung the back of her eyelids; one look in the mirror would probably reveal her eyes to be swollen and alarmingly red - a sure sign that her nightmares could still make her cry even when she believed that no tears were left anymore.
In the back of her mind an inner voice was whispering that she really should have been sleeping, that it was most likely the middle of the day (strange, normal people usually said night) and that soon the sun would be setting...thus bringing with it, yet, another phone call with the brief information for her next bodyguard assignment.
She didn't listen to it...she rarely did these days.
After all, experience had taught her that it would be difficult towards impossible to fall asleep again. Victoria was sure that his face would appear as soon as she closed her eyes; taunting her, haunting her, sending her on a roller coaster of emotions powerful enough to coil that feeling in the pit of her stomach again and again.
Obsession.
She stood on shaky legs and padded softly to the small bathroom she owned, with every intention of taking a scalding shower and purging the memories from her skin where they still clung tightly. Like shadows that persisted to stay.
The water was burning and Ceres hissed through clenched teeth, letting her head fall back to expose her slender throat to the onslaught of hot water. It was blissfully numbing and soothing at the same time. It chased away-unwanted images and almost forgotten sequences of a life she could barely remember.
A life she couldn't think of without his face materializing within the deepest bowels of her mind.
Ceres sighed in the back of her throat and leaned on the tiled wall behind her, sinking in a boneless heap with a weariness that betrayed her youthful years and usually positive countenance. Curling up around herself, she allowed herself to shed the last vestiges of remaining tears.
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't right to her...the fates were probably mocking her from somewhere just out of her reach. Dreams woven to recreate memories of a past life that she couldn't remember, faces she could scarcely associate with names, his face, his name, his countenance...
Everything was set to drive her insane.
It was succeeding...unfortunately for her.
Ever since early childhood, ever since her parents had died in that car accident that had sent her into an almost catatonic state of despair, she had had these dreams. These memories of a person who wasn't her and, yet, resembled her to a point where denial was unconceivable. She had tried all man made remedy to get herself rid of these self-induced hallucinations - as her former psychiatrist had oh so kindly put it for her. At one time Ceres had believed that they might even be some hidden trauma present as a result of her families' abrupt deaths.
Then again she had never wanted to believe that she was either possessed or driven to madness by a second personality (wasn't it wonderful to know how many types of trauma one could get after suffering emotional shock?). No, she had always known that - above all - she was not insane...she was not some sort of person to talk to herself and she certainly wasn't a person who wasn't in control of her own mind and body.
Beyond the disturbing flashes - which had become increasingly frequent over the years - there was nothing wrong with her. Not mentally or psychically.
So she had abandoned all the worldly methods, trying instead to live with her newfound memories. To make sense of them.
It had been then that he had appeared in her dreams. She had only been fifteen at that time and the emotions his mere presence in her mind brought were both exciting and terrifyingly vivid in their intensity.
They still were. Always arousing her senses when she slept and leaving her hollow in her waking moments. She couldn't have a life anymore because nothing satisfied her or made her feel complete like he did.
She couldn't date because no man rose to meet her standards. Because all of them lacked one thing or another.
She couldn't stand the thought of letting anyone touch her because any man wasn't him. Their touch always left her cold and Ceres couldn't actually remember wanting to go past the kissing stage with her college sweetheart.
She couldn't love because she already loved him. An encompassing, all-consuming love that flared to life despite the fact that she hadn't even met him in this existence. Actually, he hadn't been all that wonderful in her former life either - one had to wonder if maybe her soul didn't have masochistic tendencies. But...nothing mattered because her heart was his. Still. Unnervingly so.
Splashing some water on her face she made a brisk job of washing her body and hair, feeling as though the heat that had been welcome a few moments ago was close to suffocating her if she spent one more moment here.
It was always like this. Every time she thought about him her mind was sure to go into overload. Ceres didn't even want to think about the way her body reacted to him...no. She did not want to think about that.
Ceres grabbed an oversized shirt from her laundry basket, finding a small semblance of comfort in the way it hung of her small frame covering her all the way to mid thigh. It was loose and almost fell of her shoulders; it dangled and covered her hands, it obviously belonged to a man and smelled of faded ginger and flowery scented detergent...Ceres didn't mind.
Clothes were some of the few memories she had left from both her mother and father. The only thing to make her feel as if she wasn't so terribly alone in such a spacious apartment.
It was a ridiculous thought of course...
But they made her feel normal.
Pushing the depressing thought aside before it could cloud her mind, Ceres sat down in front of her boudoir (once it had belonged to her mother but Ceres didn't think she'd actually mind) and began the tenuous task of brushing the tangles out of her hair.
All without thinking too much about anything in particular.
Brush.
Tick.
Brush.
Tock.
She pulled the comb a little harder, purposefully ignoring the ripping of a few stray hairs and the stinging of the delicate skin of her scalp. Pain was no a foreign word to her and had - probably - never been a rarity either...if she was to heed the flashes of insanity she was forced to endure every night.
No. Every minute of her day. They only came during the night vividly but they were always there, in the back of her mind, in her waking hours.
She would dream about that faithful night when he had turned her into an eternal being that feasted on blood and death. A creature like him, if she would've allowed herself to fully accept her predatory nature. Truly this dream tended to repeat itself the most and was always the most detailed of all.
That night had forever remained ingrained in her thoughts. Like how utterly and terrifyingly good looking he had been bathed in the soft glow of the full moon. Like how his arms had wrapped around her and held her safe - striking contrast to the undead monster that had held her hostage before - and how his eyes had been the deepest shade of crimson she could remember seeing.
How they almost seemed understanding, strangely tender and filled with something akin to pride. Perhaps at that time he had admired her bravery in front of death, or perhaps she had just mistaken the muted emotions swirling in those ageless depths. After all, if there was one thing she could trust, was that this man was utterly and completely insane.
Understanding him had been like understanding a puzzle that had lost a few pieces.
Then there were tidbits and snippets of her previous life - strange moments that were so foreign and yet so familiar to her. Quick flashes that blurred in multitude.
Integra, the only woman with enough strength to actually command her master's respect and allegiance, had been more than intimidating the first few times they had clashed. The iron willed woman who controlled the beast.
Walter had been the only one who had treated her with respect and gentleness, quickly occupying the place of a surrogate father when nothing went according to plan. The gentle spoken man who always had a good word for her...as well as cupcakes and hot tea. Food she couldn't eat and drinks that tasted strange and bitter as opposed to her newly acquired food source.
Peter Ferguson had been one of the first ropes to sanity. He had understood her hesitation and fears...her fear of killing. The man who had commanded the respect of an army and had died in an honorable fashion serving Hellsing.
Ceres sighed and set the brush down, absently tracing the gold and rust lines weaving to create an intricate pattern.
She would, sometimes, dream about her death (well, the one from which she hadn't actually risen afterwards) and her final moments in his arms because, if she were to honest with herself, it all started and ended in his embrace - and surrounded by fires burning deep within his soul. The memory was rather blurred - intense nonetheless - but if she wasn't mistaken he had called her a nuisance.
Contradiction on two legs. When she had 'lived' she had needed to brush and improve her skills and abilities. When she had died she had been a nuisance.
Damn her former master. He had always loved toying with her.
Sigh.
Sometimes Ceres just wanted to curl beneath the thick covers and forget all about it. Everything. Her dreams. The outside world. People who had known her, her entire life...with those pitying glances; those abhorrent whispers that spoke of how much she had fallen since she had been a small child with wide, bluer than blue eyes, honey colored hair and a smile brilliant enough to outshine the sun.
In a way she had indeed sunk low enough to disgust even herself. The person that suffered so much because of mere dreams was a sickening comparison to what she had been before...pitiful.
He would despise her if he saw her in this infinite moment of weakness. It wasn't a question but a statement. He had always been the strong influence in her dreams...
...whether he was killing ghouls or taunting the woman Ceres had come to remember as his master. Even more familiar was the image of him mocking her past self with well-placed barbs and stinging remarks that spoke of the withering faith he had in her from the very beginning.
The young woman paused for the barest of moments...and finally raised her eyes to the Victorian style mirror, watching her reflection through the silver tempered glass. It was exquisitely beautiful in its simplicity - a wedding gift from her father to her mother; a masterpiece carved of dark fruitwood and adorned with pretty, flowery motifs all around its tall frame.
The dying sun painted it in soft shades of cinnamon and pale yellow ribbons and it only served to enhance the ancient feeling floating around it...something she couldn't quite put her finger on but one that seemed to surround her as well at the moment.
It almost brought a fresh bout of tears to her eyes just thinking about it this way.
She hadn't really changed had she? Even now - Ceres blinked rapidly to dispel the mist - she couldn't really find too many differences from her past self...there was hardly anything noticeable to separate Ceres Victoria Ashcroft from her counterpart from five hundred years ago Seras Victoria.
Their names were so very much alike. Their appearances were eerily similar if one discounted the age difference...and some minor details.
Her finger glided down the smooth surface of the mirror, taking in the unruly strawberry bangs that almost completely covered her eyes, the gentle slope of her nose, the fullness of her red lips (a complete contrast to her unnaturally pale complexion) and the stubborn chin and strong jaw that depicted a dangerous temper when provoked.
Even in body she was alike with her former reincarnation. Hourglass figure that consisted of a generous bust, small waist and flat stomach and gently flaring hips that continued with long, toned legs and small feet. Her hands were fragile but the skin of her palms was calloused and slightly rough from years of holding various weapons; she was moderately muscled but still so small and seemingly defenseless.
No differences if one chose to overlook the blonde wisps of hair falling over her shoulders and stopping mid-back. Ceres licked her lips and moved a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
The eyes...her eyes were still the same as her dream self-possessed. A deep soulful blue usually the shade of the clear summer sky.
Clearly enough they were her most cherished physical feature and Ceres, although not vain in her intent, had always prided herself with their ever-changing color. They would be cornflower with a ringlet of alice blue when she was happy, excited, and appreciative of simply content. They would darken to cobalt when she was angry, upset or in a frothing rage and turn to steel blue when she was stubborn and determined.
Ceres supported her chin on her interlaced hands, silently trying to observe her eyes' current color and determine her mood, which wasn't hard considering that she had gotten used to seeing herself in such a state almost every day when she looked into the mirror.
Midnight blue almost bordering on a color so dark it was black. The color of sadness and desolation, of wistfulness and regret. Haunted. Her eyes betrayed her weakness, her momentary frailty. He'd probably love to see the way she pinned after him...even in this life.
Surely it would give him something humorous to remember for the rest of eternity.
'If you don't drink that blood, you will get weaker and weaker police girl.'
She was not weak. She had been human then...she was human now.
'Female officer. If you are going to shoot anyway, shoot through the heart and head. They didn't turn into ghouls because they wanted to...once they've become such, there is no way for them to become human again.'
'Their redemption comes the sooner you kill them.'
"Alucard..."
The syllables rolled of her tongue with eased practice and the young woman jerked in slight surprise when the phone rang; a shrill sound that made her want to mutinously glare at the contraption and then throw it out the window.
Curse her taste for old things with an aura of mystery. Such included her master too...
That, that...thing called phone (she should've chosen a visa phone when that nice clerk had suggested it to her) should've been dead, buried and out of commission.
"I wish..." Ceres muttered testily and stood up, stretching lazily - pushing her depressing thoughts at the back of her mind. They had occupied enough of her time as it was anyway.
The phone beeped - clear sign that the person on the other side was persistent enough to leave a message - and she rolled her eyes, mentally counting what she knew was bound to happen.
3...2...1
"You are not answering your phone again Ceres Victoria. Is this any way to treat an old friend?"
And there you had it. The obnoxious, lecherous leader of the Wild Geese (why oh why had he been reincarnated the same time as she again?) reborn to take the place of a surrogate mother.
Had she forgotten to mention he was a predictable twit? Because every time she chose to let the speaking machine do its job, he would huff and puff and sound gratingly annoying...of course the effect was wholly ruined by the thick French accent and a flair for drama.
Really now! What were the chances that Pip Bernadette be born under the same name, possessing the same heritage and running an elite bodyguard agency known as the Wild Geese?
A million to one.
"And since I see that you continue to ignore me..."
'I do believe we've hit jackpot ladies and gentlemen.' Then again this was her former lover and college sweetheart she was talking about. If it wasn't midnight memory lane with Alucard, it was daily guilt trip with Pip.
"I'll just get to the pleasantries quicker."
After all she met him every night, and sometimes day, and he hadn't the slightest clue what they had been to each other in their former lives. Not the blooming feelings, not the kiss and definitely not his death.
Ceres felt a pang of regret at keeping everything to herself but it was quickly pushed away as she thought about the several ways he could react - one being a suggestion to see a psychiatrist and the second a full memory comeback and thus a desire to rekindle things again. And she wasn't intere...
"So how are you tonight? I bet you're just out of the shower and wearing that sexy chemise that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination."
Pip purred the words sexily. Ceres blinked, registered what he was saying and promptly hit her head on the top drawer of her wardrobe. The action was followed by a string of profanities that would've made even his ears ring.
What in the seven hells?
"Your hair..."
Vaguely the blonde registered faint snickers and coos coming from the phone. The Wild Geese!
It was with record speed that Ceres vaulted over the bed and grabbed the phone, debating between teaching her dear friend some new and very interesting words - in several languages - and beating him into the ground. The second was impossible but that first one had potential...
"One more sugary praise out of you and I'll make sure that you will not be able to have children. Ever." The words were growled out with enough gusto to send the men into peals of laughter and Pip into mock defense.
"Now, now Ceres! Violence is not the answer. It was the only way I could make you come to the phone."
"You've got me to come and you've signed your death sentence forty years earlier." She replied with a bat of her eyelashes and extra sweetness in her voice. "The mission from tonight better be worth getting yourself neutered."
More muffled laughter and some cheers from the men.
"This is outrageous!" His French accent was so accentuated Ceres felt the urge to giggle. She blamed it on the lack of sleep and hoped that she wasn't going to act like an idiot the entire night. "I tell you, if you weren't one of my best agents I would fire you for impertinence towards your superiors."
Pip's voice was haughty. Victoria's first and only thought was that Alucard would definitely disagree before she batted it away with a frown.
He was not going to rule her thoughts...now!
"Is there an actual reason why you called Pip? Other than annoying me that is."
Pip made a noncommittal in the back of his throat and the sound of shuffling papers reached her ears, along with muffled thanks and a curt dismissal. The silence only lasted for a few moments - while Ceres guessed he was double checking the details of the mission once more - and when Pip spoke his voice was serious and crisp.
"We have a mission tonight. One of the important officials, Sir Alexander Watkins, has requested we 'accompany' him tonight for an important meeting. We are to assemble at nine hundred hours in front of the Blue Lagoon and keep watch for any suspicious behavior. Human or not...we have clear orders to supervise and shoot anything and anyone that seems suspicious."
Ceres hummed softly; clear sign for Pip to continue and the latter cleared his throat before continuing.
"Sir Watkins will be arriving at ten hundred hours and will be accompanied by two bodyguards, enough to keep him safe should anything happen, but also enough to guarantee his safety before we interfere."
"Any idea why he would want to accompany him to a club? I was not aware Sir Watkins would ever wish to frequent such a place."
Ceres rubbed her sore calf and stretched her legs slowly, trying to work the chinch out of her muscle.
The mission surely was strange. The Blue Lagoon was a well-known club throughout London for cheap prostitutes, drugs and easy meals for vampires. Freaks were the main undead that came to mingle with the crowds to take their fill of human blood for the night...they were numerous too, so any attempt at something stupidly courageous could very well end up with having your throat ripped open.
It was a gamble for such an important politician to mingle with the lower crowds and make an appearance - even unofficial - in such a crude place. Why...the women there were more than half naked and some even had the gall to drape themselves on men (even women). Ceres didn't even want to remember the time she had went there with Pip and the Wild Geese - the women and men were shamelessly engaging in intimacies that would've better remained behind closed doors.
"Didn't bother to ask. As long as he pays in cash and gives us the bonus his men promised us, he can do what the hell he wants. I'll probably go blind and need eye surgery after this but..."
"The pervert has spoken." Ceres rolled her eyes but there was good-natured playfulness in her voice.
Yet more snickers.
The blonde sighed. The Wild Geese - mercenaries or bodyguards - were great, loyal men whom she had learned to love like brothers and close friends...but sometimes, really, they could be such pains in the ass.
Apparently Pip agreed because he ground out a shut up and mumbled something not quite complementary under his breath.
"Pervert I may be, but at least I've more decency than to act like that in public. Your instructions for tonight, and they're not mine mind you, are to dress accordingly for the club. Skimpy, revealing...just to blend in. Apparently Sir Watkins' men were prepared because they gave us strict instructions..."
They might've known that she was grinding her teeth by now because Pip let out a nervous laugh, followed by a few polite coughs and murmurs from somewhere next to him.
"And they expect me to hide my weapons...where exactly? Clothes for this type of club don't exactly cover much if I remember good."
One of her companions cleared his throat and in the silence on the other end, Pip's snort of laughter rang in her ears. "Then wear something that's not so revealing Cherie. They'll surely understand what's good for the job and your guns are definitely good for saving their pathetic asses."
Ceres felt her muscles unwound almost visibly and audibly. She sighed and fiddled with the cord of the ancient phone, considering the possibility of not going through with the gruesome death she had planned for Pip. He could still be useful. Somehow. She'd think about it later.
"Thanks. I really didn't want to go in clothes that could very well pass as underwear."
"Now cherie, who said any of us minded those clothes? If you feel the need to be free from those constricting clothes then..."
"Good day Pip! I'll see you in two hours."
This time Ceres wasn't so sure that the receiver of the phone wasn't broken. With her tempestuous personality and the fact that she was seeing red, it simply couldn't be guaranteed.
Humph.
"Men." She threw the doors to her wardrobe open violently and winced as the hinges creaked and threatened to fall apart.
"First Alucard and my stupid memories..." The words were punctuated when she threw a jean skirt and white sleeveless shirt on the bed.
Mumbling.
"Then Pip and the Wild Geese..." A pair of boots flew out shortly afterwards, landing miraculously next to the bed.
More mumbling.
"Next thing I know, Alexander Anderson comes back from his grave and decides he wants to pump me full with silver again...or slice me into bits since I can die a lot easier now.
The thought brought with it a dark, unpleasant shiver and Ceres rubbed at her arms, feeling melancholy crash down on her once more.
She circled the bed and stepped onto the balcony, ineffectively trying to banish the loneliness and depression from her mind. A gust of wind brought with it the coolness of the London nights and the smell of freshly cut grass and summer; Ceres leant against the balcony door and cocked her head upwards, enjoying the breeze playing with her hair.
The full moon was rising, pale and ethereal as she always remembered it to be and Ceres hesitated, biting her lip in thought. Finally the temptation was too hard to bear and she allowed a stray thought to mingle with the others.
'It's a good night, right, Alucard?'
First chapter done and finished! This chapter is dedicated to Anime Goddess Sakura who starts school earlier (on Monday to be more precise) but I sincerely hope all you who read this enjoy what I came up with.
Can you guess what happens next? (grins)