Chapter two, The Devil Came Down to Louisiana
"And I see storms on the horizon" –The Cruxshadows from the song, Citadel
"I think you'll get a kick out of this," said Pam as she tossed a newspaper article onto Eric's desk. What she had read in the article was frustrating. The media was all for blood and gore—especially when it had a vampire involved. And this particular article, in fact did. "The media is all over the series of murders."
It was an understatement. The media was going crazy over the murder cases. They were already spouting claims that the murderer was found. Someone killed a vampire. What was most troubling was the realization of one thing; Hellsing had sent one of their dogs to discard a vampire that had nothing to do with the murders.
"Even more blood in Bon Temps."
Eric casually snatched up the paper that Pam had thrown down upon his desk without bothering to acknowledge the tiny seamstress who was in the process of pinning the clothes she would alter for him.
His entire being exuded nonchalance, but anger danced in Eric's ice blue eyes.
"Hellsing in Louisiana?" he remarked in an aloof tone as he waved the petite tailor away.
Though annoyance briefly twisted her features, she didn't ignore the command. She was clearly dismissed.
"I will admit, I did not expect an ignorant, archaic, vigilante organization to have such…audacity. Do you know who their agent is?"
Pam eyed the seamstress as she walked away before she reluctantly dragged her gaze away. She gave Eric her full attention. Her arms crossed over her chest and stuck out a hip. "That's what the reports are saying. A friend of this Vasquez that was murdered found the warrant for his death. I never realized Hellsing began handing out warrants," Pam replied as she gazed at her pink nails.
"As far as the agent goes, there's been no such luck. A rare few that have lived long enough to see this agent describe her as short and pale. Obviously a female." She paused and flicked her gaze back to Eric. "Doesn't Hellsing's jurisdiction end in Britain? I hadn't thought they could influence outside of country."
When the petite vampire was certain she was too far to overhear Eric and Pam's conversation, she knelt down to pack away her supplies. An unnecessary sigh escaped her as she snapped the antique wooden case closed. Once, she never would have kept her head down and mouth shut, but that was long ago. If she wanted to remain off Hellsing radar, she had to be utterly unremarkable.
Reason didn't stop the curiosity from driving her mad, unfortunately. The seamstress carefully fathered up her belongings and slipped out the back door like the good little girl she had to be.
The sheriff fixed a glare on the news article, as if it were all the paper's fault, before he dropped it onto the marble desk.
"They don't. Find me that assassin," he demanded. "After all, she is under my jurisdiction now."
Pam couldn't help but let out an irritated sigh as she shifted her weight to her other leg. "And where do you suppose I begin? The last time you had me out on a search, you cost me a pair of pumps."
She stopped herself before she could say, "Find her yourself." She wasn't sure how she managed to, but the good news was she did. Eric was in no mood for such snide remarks.
Eric cast his gaze around the room before he remembered he had dismissed the smaller vampire. "That seamstress has a history with Integra Hellsing and her organization. Find her, and bring her to Miss Stackhouse if she seems disinclined to tell you what she knows." Call it a premonition, but Eric somehow doubted that Pam would dislike this request quite as much as she disliked her trot through the bayou mud.
"Eric, you are the Sheriff here, not I. Shouldn't you be doing this? After all, she is your seamstress," Pam replied in Eric's native tongue. She hardly looked pleased to do this. The last thing she wanted to do was talk with Sookie Stackhouse—and wrestling with Eric's little vampiric seamstress sounded even less fun.
"I need you to do this," replied Eric in a tone that made it dreadfully clear that his request was an order.
"I have to make a call," he suddenly added flippantly. He turned to head back to his office. Though he teased his progeny, the Sheriff wouldn't have trusted anyone else with something so important.
Eric's expression was serious again once he settled himself behind his desk. He leaned back in his chair as he waited for Hellsing to accept his video conference.
Pam stared flatly at Eric for a few moments before she gave a frustrated sigh. She vanished from Fangtasia.
Isabella parked her bike and practically ran to the door of her shabby little apartment. She had the key in the lock within seconds and ducked inside as if the Devil, himself, was after her.
Close enough. It was Hellsing after all.
There weren't many people that Isabella feared. Except Hellsing. She preferred the Devil she didn't know.
She quickly darted around her cramped apartment, tossing only a few select items into a bag. She paused momentarily to wipe her brow with a slim wrist.
The Devil had reared its ugly head, wearing the mask of Hellsing. There was no way that Isabella was going to wait around and see the destruction that was bound to follow.
Isabella gave a startled yelp as the door of her tiny apartment was kicked in. She whirled around, fearing facing the worst. She was vaguely relieved as she saw a none-too-pleased Pam standing there in the entranceway.
"You know, if you're going to be running from someone, you might want to do a better job in making sure you're not found," Pam said bitterly. Her hands rest at her hips, an elegantly formed eyebrow raised.
"Eric wants to see you. Now."
Sir Hellsing's office was dark save for the glow of the open laptop on the spacious, dark wooden desk. A figure sat behind the desk, booted feet resting dangerously close to the expensive device. The ringing of the video conference program was just about unbearable.
Tala growled and nearly bit through the cigar she was savoring in her attempt to cancel the call. Her eyebrow ticked in annoyance as her fingers flew across the keyboard to find the user that dared call her. Luckily enough, she knew a bit about hacking into computer systems.
A bonus for Hellsing. –If she didn't blow up the computer first.
VAMPKILLER01 writes: Who are you?
A wicked grin split Tala's face as she hit the ENTER button on the keyboard. She leaned back again as she waited for a response. She watched the outlined red type-symbol blink against the now blackened screen.
Eric's lips twitched into a frown as he scanned the screen before him. This didn't match any of the descriptions he had of the stern, proper Sir Hellsing.
He quickly typed in a screen name and entered the chat, regardless.
Valr* writes: I am someone who would like very much to speak to the lady of the house.
Tala grinned even wider and quickly made sure no one else was around. Integra was…elsewhere, and Tala could truly care less about the woman's location.
"Oh, but at the moment, I am the lady of the house," she mused and drummed her fingers on the keyboard, thinking.
VAMPKILLER01 writes: This is she. Now, who are you?
VAMPKILLER01 writes:Your game is not amusing.
Valr writes: This is no game. I am deadly serious, I assure you.
Valr writes: I am the Sheriff of Area Five in Louisiana. Your loose cannon is murdering on the payroll.
VAMPKILLER01 writes: That is their job. What did you expect? A tea party with crumpets?
Tala couldn't help but snicker at her wit. The slam of the office door startled her, causing the carefully balanced laptop on her lap to be knocked over.
"Sir Hellsing!" she chocked as she swallowed the cigar. Her eyes welled up with tears as the red embers burned her tongue and throat. She quickly righted the computer.
"What is it you are doing in my office?" Integra Hellsing demanded. Her cold, ice blue eyes seemed even colder than usual.
Tala grinned like the cat who ate the canary, and proceeded to turn the computer around to show her little chat with the Sheriff.
Integra's eyebrow raised skeptically. "Vampkiller01?"
"Hey, it was the only thing I could think of."
"End the conversation as quickly as possible and continue researching the reports from the area. I would have thought you'd use your own quarters this time."
The disappointment in Integra's voice was brutally, painfully clear.
"Basement. No wifi."
Integra said nothing to the affects of what the dark skinned woman just said. She merely watched with narrowed eyes. Over the years of working with her, she had grown to like the woman. It was refreshing to have her back for once. Though it pained her to deport Tala again so quickly after having her arrive on such short notice.
"Once you have finished your research, you're going down to Louisiana. If I recall correctly, you know the area fairly well."
"New Orleans, really, but yeah," Tala clarified.
Integra paused slightly, miffed that she was interrupted. "I do not trust your outlandish daughter with something like this."
The sound of a bullet ricocheting caught Integra's attention. She didn't appear worried. It was cartoonish in nature, the sound.
"New message," said Tala as she turned the computer back around.
Valr writes: I was mistaken in assuming you might be professionals. You truly do not deserve your reputation. Next time, it would be prudent to be certain you are killing the murderer rather than the first vampire to cross your path.
Another cartoon bullet ricochet.
Valr writes: Please have Sir Hellsing contact Eric Northman if she would like to settle this. I understand that England is still persecuting vampires, but we won't tolerate your interference here.
"Tala," began Sir Integra Hellsing, slowly. "Will you ever grow up?"
"That is a negative, Mum," replied the native, using the British slang term for ma'am.
Integra did all she could to keep herself from rolling her eyes.
VAMPKILLER01 writes: KK TTYL BAI
VAMPKILLER01 writes: loser :[
Tala smirked and closed the laptop before getting up from Integra's desk. "Research is done. There wasn't any more than what we already have. So, Miss Hellsing. What is it you really called me here for? –Oh, and give Eric Northman a call."
Integra lightly shook her head, a shadow of a smirk breaking the cold expression to her face. "Mr. Northman was the reason I called you in. You are one of the few I can trust in serving as my eyes and ears overseas. You are not frail like humans are. You know how to control vampires and your…pyromaniac friend. I need you in Louisiana. You need to work out some form of agreement with the Sheriff in catching this monster. Do you understand?"
"Ah, so Valr was Eric Northman…." Tala grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Fine. Consider it done. Give him a call and let them know I'm on my way."
"I believe he already knows there will be more of us coming."
"They haven't found me. I wasn't hiding from you," Isabella muttered under her breath. If she were any less worried, she would have been annoyed that Pam did find her so easily, but now her pride wasn't important.
"You're wasting time, anyway. I can't tell you anything useful except that anyone Hellsing sends won't be…discrete. Go walk around the town and you'll meet him." Her expression curled with distaste at the thought.
"Listen, girlie, you can either make this go smoothly and come back with me, or I'll have to force you," Pam replied in an irritated tone. She let out a heavy sigh as her patience began to wear thin.
However, her interest in this Hellsing was suddenly peaked. For as much as she wanted to ask more questions about it, it wasn't for her to do. That was up to Eric.
Isabella could dissolve into fog or mist, or even teleport if she had to, but she didn't fancy letting Pam know she was an undesirable breed of vampire. Whiole she might be able to evade Louisiana's vampire population with relative ease, she doubted she could avoid all the vampires in America.
"I'm not getting anywhere near Hellsing's bitches, but I'll talk to Mr. Northman," she agreed with great reluctance. She gathered up the few things she had packed and started towards the door.
Morissa's expression was murderous as she hopped down from the table and stood at Kalandryn's side. "Master will be displeased if you share such classified information," she sneered and tossed her head.
The silver haired man ignored the petite woman and instead, settled his gaze upon William Compton. "By now it probably is no surprise on who we are. You, being a creature of the night, will understand exactly who we are. We are the Hellsing Organization. We have been brought in to investigate a rogue vampire that we suspect has fled from England to here." He glanced to his 'partner.' "She tends to jump to conclusions."
Sookie gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Understatement!"
"Sookie, please," Bill said and held out a hand to cease any further protests. Not that the gesture worked well anyway. However, Sookie remained quiet, much to Bill's surprise.
Kalandryn turned his attention back to the waitress and the vampire that protected her. "Do pardon my lack of manners," he said smoothly and bowed deeply at the waist. "My name is Kalandryn, and my hot-headed companion is Miss Morissa Dracul."
"Dracul? Like Dracula-Dracul?" Sookie asked as she sized the short, fine boned woman.
Sam stood idly at the back of his bar. He didn't seem to know whether he wanted to kill Morissa or laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.
Lafayette, thankfully, summed up the situation perfectly from where he peered out from the kitchen. "I think it's a bit fucking late for manners, honey."
After a beat of silence, he couldn't help but ask Morissa, "What the hell sort of vampire is you, anyway?"
Morissa, having torn her murderous gaze away from the waitress, turned to face the short order cook and smiled sweetly. Her fangs glistening in the amber lights in Merlotte's. "The kind only told in horror stories, honey."
"Not every vampire is created equally," explained Kalandryn, his voice bright though he appeared somewhat disturbed at being called 'honey.'
Sookie looked a bit confused. "So…. Are you like, Bride of Dracula or something?"
"Sookie, please," Bill urged.
She sighed and reluctantly moved off to the side. She fumbled around in her apron for her cell phone. She pulled it out and flipped it open before punching in Eric's number. She drummed her fingers against her thigh impatiently.
"Come on, Eric….. Pick up."
"I think short, pale and freaky needs to be on a leash," Lafayette muttered to himself as he ducked back into the window. He threw his apron down on the counter as he crossed the kitchen to leave. The excitement was over—for the most part—and even if Sam managed to get the place open again that night, he doubted if any customers would return.
Kalandryn's hand flashed out and gripped Morissa's arm as she moved to murder or maim the cook. He cast the petite woman a sharp look—something that seemed so very unlike him to begin with, and it silenced the vampire's protests. She backed down, face unreadable.
To Lafayette's departing form, Kal called out, "We try to! However she manages to escape!"
He smiled widely, his entire form becoming warmer and friendlier. His rather intimidating height and build hardly seemed to be a threat anymore. His face—though harsh looking with the scarlet tattoos upon his cheeks, softened.
He kind of reminded Sookie of a giant teddy bear—all except for his pointed incisors. While shorter than a vampire's, it was a clear signal that like his short, pale and freaky friend, he was inhuman. –That is to say if melting the bullet wasn't enough of a clue.
Isabella reluctantly stepped back into the parking lot of the seedy looking little nightclub and trudged towards the door. She looked like she was walking to the gallows, or, considering her size, a time out. In truth, this was the very thing she had been avoiding when she moved to the States.
Pam pushed ahead of the little seamstress and lead her into the back of Fangtasia. She barged into Eric's office without knocking.
"I've brought the little brat for you," she replied, uncaring if Isabella overheard. "You're lucky I found her this quickly."
Her eyebrow raised. "Your phone's ringing."
Eric snapped the laptop closed with annoyance, just as the phone started to ring. His pale eyes widened as he read the caller ID.
He would be his unlife that Sookie was standing in the eye of the tempest, again.
"What can I do for you, Miss Stackhouse?" he purred, his earlier frustration melting away. If he was right, he wouldn't need the useless little vampire after all.
"Eric, I need your help," Sookie began. Eric could sense the hesitation in her voice through the phone. "I was attacked in Merlotte's—and—and—Hey! That's my phone!"
Sookie's voice crackled and fizzed as the phone was roughly seized by an unknown assailant.
"You must be Mr. Eric Northman, the Sheriff of Area Five, are you not?"
Eric's eyes narrowed at the unknown voice.
"It would be wise if you stayed out of Hellsing affairs. You and all your…vermin. If you do not cooperate, we shall retaliate. Do you understand, Mr. Northman?"
Morissa looked up to Kalandryn as he spoke on the phone with the notorious Eric Northman. She grinned, her carmine lips parting just slightly.
Tala gave Integra a long, flat stare before she sighed and nodded. "Okay, but there's a problem with that."
Integra raised her eyebrow. "That would be…?"
"How in blue blazes am I supposed to get there? I can't simply appear in another room like I can here—the distance is far too great! And traveling through death, well, that's easily out of the question. It's too dangerous and it'll probably take years to do. So I ask you again, how am I to get there?"
"My, my. I thought you were an esteemed necromancer. Skilled in the art of voyaging great distances through the twisting rivers of death."
Tala didn't look amused. "Well if you want me there ASAP, then that mode of transportation is out of the question. So, again, how am I supposed to get to Louisiana?"
"You fly." The way Integra said those words, so simply and coolly, it left Tala stunned.
"Fl—Flying? Are you serious? That would take even longer!"
Tala couldn't hide her bewilderment towards Integra's suggestion. Planes were slow and cumbersome—not to mention a pain to handle.
"Do I look like a fucking pilot to you? Do you even realize how bad airport traffic is? –Not to mention airport security? It'll take forever!"
"And once again, you underestimate the power of Hellsing, Tala—or should I say Shadowed Wolf."
Tala visibly cringed at the name. She whirled around to give the all familiar voice a frigid look, if not a punch in the face. "Not you."
"Oh, I missed you too, my love," Alucard said mockingly as he stepped fully into the room. He gave Tala a half bow, grinning madly.
"Fuck off."
Integra stood from her desk and stepped around it. She snapped her fingers. The sound startled Tala. She didn't know if that was Alucard's newest cue to cease fighting or what. She was about to open her mouth when a red headed man sauntered in, snapping his heels to attention.
"'Alo! Ye mus' be de lass everyone 'as been talkin' aboot! Me name's Cowan. Laren Cowan, but ye c'n jus' call me Laren!" the red headed vampire greeted and bowed at the waist to Tala. He was grinning widely, a friendly expression that was plastered to his deathly pale face.
Tala forced a smile and nodded faintly, pretending she understood the words that flew out of the vampire's mouth. In truth, she couldn't understand a damned word that he said. His accent was unnaturally thick and he spoke so quickly that even Alucard seemed to have trouble with understanding him. The native shifter couldn't help but grin as the Vampire King's smirk faltered as he tried to grasp what was being said.
"Mr. Cowan—" Integra began.
"Laren, please. Jus' Laren. Miss always insists on callin' me by me las' name. Tis Laren."
"Laren," Integra amended, annoyance playing across her face. Unlike her companions, she had no difficulty understanding the Scottish vampire.
She risked a brief glance to Tala to take in her reaction. (And Tala was as lost as ever.)
"You will be escorting Miss Ohanzee and Alucard to Bon Temps, Louisiana in the United States. I want you there in under five hours, do you understand me?"
Laren's face brightened at the challenge. "Aye, aye, Miss!" Laren replied enthusiastically. His disregard for Integra's formal title struck a nerve in Alucard, and he only just managed to keep form lashing out.
"Ah'll get 'em dere in a blink o' de eye, Ah will! Jus' wait an' see!"
"I want you there in five hours," Integra stressed as she caught eyes with the excited vampire.
"Miss 'Ellsing, Ah c'n 'ave 'em dere in a wee bit o'er two hours, Ah can!"
Tala gave Alucard a worried glance. She would rather be damned to another five years being in the close company of the vampire than have the psychotic Scottish vampire fly them all the way to America. She highly doubted they'd make the time limit.
Alucard merely shrugged and followed after the frantically gesturing Laren.
"C'mon naow, ye slow pokes! Tim's a tickin'!"
Once more, Tala's gaze slid to Alucard. "Doesn't he mean 'time's wasting'?"
Alucard gave a rare chuckle. "I haven't a damned clue."
The two followed the rambling vampire as he lead them down various corridors until they finally reached Hellsing's newest edition—an underground hanger. Tala's jaw just about dropped as Laren rolled open the massive doors, the big, industrial lights flaring to life from where they were suspended from the high ceiling. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she walked through the massive area.
"You've missed a lot while you were away," Alucard said, breaking through her astonishment.
"Yeah…. No shit…."
"C'mon! No' too much far'der!" came Laren's cheery voice from a few paces away. It echoed several times before his voice became a low drone. Tala fought back a cringe.
"Is he ever serious?" she asked Alucard as she reluctantly followed afer him.
His low laugh joined the constant drone of Laren's voice. "Never."
"Surprised you haven't killed him yet."
True to Laren's words, their escort was indeed, no much farther. Tala was in utter awe as they were dwarfed by the massive, black aircraft that sat ready. Her jaw dropped as Laren grinned back to them like a proud new father. He patted the SR-71 Blackbird lovingly.
"You're drooling, Tala," Alucard commented and pushed her jaw closed with a gloved hand. "It's not polite of you to drool."
"But—how? I thought those were retired in 1990!" Tala exclaimed as she stumbled towards the plane. Her legs went weak as her chest vibrated due to the low, ironically soft drone of the engines.
"Nawh! Miss 'Ellsing pawned me darlin' aft'r Ah crashed me F-18 a few years ago."
Laren's last comment—though Tala could barely understand him—didn't settle right. "You…crashed an F-18?"
"Well, Ah wouldn' say 'crashed,' really. 'Owevah, time's a tickin' an Miss 'Ellsing wants ye in America A.S.A.P. C'mon, den! Ge' in! Time ta go!"
"I'm not getting in the plane with you."
"Come, come, now Tala. Surely he isn't that bad," Alucard taunted as he outstretched a hand for his onetime lover.
"I hope you burn in the lowest pits of hell."
The vampire grinned widely. "I do believe that's my line, my sweet."
"Yeah? Well, now it's mine."
"We don' 'ave time fer ye lovebirdies! Let'sa'go!" Laren called out form the cockpit. His green eyes were narrowed just slightly as he waited for his two passengers to climb in as well. The hatch closed and the massive gates began to open to reveal an angled runway that lead up towards the enormous backyard of the Hellsing estate.
"Attention! Dis is yer Cap'n speakin'! Lock all seatbelts an' put on yer oxygen mask-t'ings. We shall be takin' off in jus' a few ticks. T'ank ye an' enjoy yer flight."
Tala rolled her eyes and gripped the harness tightly as she was buckled in the same seat as her former lover—even though there wasn't any love.
"We're all going to die."
"No, just you. We're already dead," Alucard replied as he snaked his arms around Tala's waist. She hardly heard Laren's countdown as her face flushed from the contact. With her dark, mahogany skin, the color to her cheeks was hardly noticeable. Before she knew it, she was sucked back against Alucard as the SR-71 Blackbird rocketed to the sky.
She swore loudly, spouting curses and swears in a multitude of combinations—some of which earning her an eyebrow raise from Alucard. Her shouts suddenly ceased as the plane continued to accelerate to its maximum speed. It broke the sound barrier with a thunderous cracking boom, rendering the shifter unconscious.
*Valhalla Etymology;
From Old Norse Valhǫll, from valr ("dead warriors"), and hǫll ("hall")
I had a lot of fun with this chapter, and I have high hopes for chapters to come. I would like to thank Ra9wer, for the comment! I have not forgotten about my other story, but sadly I haven't had inspiration with it recently. It will be continued eventually.
I have a request! Get more people to read! I like comments! Even mean ones! (Crazy, right?) So comment please! Review, or whatever! Please share where you think the story is going to go—your reaction to pieces! Which of the characters from Hellsing or TrueBlood I need to work on in order to find their voice, or share which of my crazy made-up people you like, are intrigued with, completely utterly dislike (and please state a reason too) or what made you laugh!
I am here to entertain you with my zany mind of strange ideas. If there is something you would wish to see happen, let me know and I'll see if it can be worked in!
Oh, and another side note: NO Isabella is not a play on Bella from Twatlight. Isabella happens to be one of my favorite names and was inspired by the Abney Park song, "Sleep Isabella." It just came on my playlist while I was writing for her and the name just stuck.
Well, that's all I have to say for now! Please review! Make me feel like I entertained you, even in the slightest! 3 Thank you for reading! Also, one last thing, I hope that the page breaks-being the horizontal line, help in dividing up places and such. Sadly I am unable to figure out a more...pleasing look.
Peace,
Unearthed