A/N: So Chapter two for you, shorter but another step in the story.
Rating: T For gore/blood, ghoul and/or Zombie funliness.
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever owned Hellsing. But god do I ever wish? No stealing, or I might have to pull a voodoo move on you. Loves- Me
Keeping Faith
Chapter 2: Hound
By: Tamuril Telrunye AKA. Bamvivirie
Red.
Red as blood, red as fire in the pits of hell. Sorrowful, painful, hateful eyes. Four sets, eight eyes. One face.
A hell hound, a creature from the fiery pits. Fanged jaws biting and tearing, crunching away as though it were a rare treat. Flesh and bone alike disappeared into its insatiable jaws, body diminishing to nothing before disbelieving eyes. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, terror seizing her muscle and bone. The body diminished to nothing but an arm, elbow, wrist then knuckles descending down The Hounds unnatural maw with a slurp.
And with a jolt she fled, legs carrying her up and past the Hound before she realized what she was doing. Feet skidding she managed to make it to the other side of the room before sliding out of control, feet skidding in the thick bloody pools covering the floor.
Now by and by, the human body on average does not carry as much blood as portrayed in the movies, six or so quarts sounds like a lot, and indeed when one sees thick bloody trails down a horror movies hallway one is inspired to think that there is more than in reality.
Even so, to get as much blood on the ground as she was seeing now, how many body's had there been? How many people had this demon killed?
She couldn't, noWOULDNT think on that as her grey-once-black-now-red dress soaked in the messy liquid. Horrible sticky floorboards met her fingers as she scrambled to get up, and away failing as her feet refused to obey her.
And then, a plodding of feet. Four paws, claws clicking. A snuffling and then, a slick tongue sliding up the side of her face, an echoing whine as their eyes connected.
A demon, a devourer of flesh and soul alike. Death on four paws, tormenter, war hound, taker of souls. Evil in its purest form, lessons drummed into her head from the earliest memory, melting away instantly.
Another lick and she sat up slowly. An eager whine, and suddenly the terrifying demon of legend wasn't as fearful as she imagined.
'No, not to her, never to her. She was the master, and he was her follower.' The dark voice in the back of her head spoke, a gentle nudge and she slowly lurched to her feet again leaning heavily on the Hound. She was tired, weak, and famished.
A hunger curled in the pit of her stomach, a painful ebb in her middle as she eased forward. Hound supporting her, footsteps echoed throughout the stone building met only by the occasional drip of water, the mournful wind whistling through the seemingly empty building.
Blood... Was everywhere. Bodies were less common, but still present occasional. Mangled, and torn beyond recognition, these poor souls were not given the privileged of death before being torn apart.
Her walking continued, cold darkened hallways stretching ever onward. Lonely, desolate, devoid of life in even its simplest form. Minuets seemed like long dark hours and she grasped her rosary for support. Her mind prayed for someone to be with her, but her steps felt oddly desolate. Save for the Hounds.
A sound startled her from inner contemplation, heavy breathing muffled by stone and wood. A door not far from her swung open slowly.
A man, eyes wide and frightened stared back at her. He held a gun in his right hand, raising it towards her shakily. He paused, and the Hound growled menacingly.
She didn't move, didn't breath.
And he fired.
And then she saw red, screams tearing through the air.
