A Blast from the Past
Chapter Four
The sound of songbirds out the window lulled the sleeping woman into a false sense of security. Behind closed eyelids, said eyes were roaming, seeing something other than the blackness of her closed eyes. Her usually steely eyes opened to stare at a thatched rooftop, thickly woven against the heavy rainfall that usually plighted the countryside, a humble backwater town known only for its fishing business. Due to this many travellers often passed it for trade but usually they were left to their own designs. A humble town overlooked by an impressive castle that had long since been abandoned by some sort of nobility, but that was not what was important. What was important was the mop of blonde hair that bobbed through the archway of her bedroom doorway, pushing back the somewhat worn tarp that was all that offered privacy in the small thatch house.
"Good morning mother!" the young boy bubbly announced, a bright grin on his young face still slightly rounded from young adolescent age, "I made breakfast!"
There he was, the only thing to soften her gaze that had turned harder as the months had passed since her husband's death. Slowly pushing herself from her bed, nothing more than several moth eaten furred skins on the floor, Avelina pulled her son into a sudden embrace, holding him close to her breast.
"There you are Thomas," she sighed heavily with relief, "I had the strangest dream, no…I suppose it was a nightmare," the last she all but muttered to herself.
"Are you okay mother?" Thomas struggled slightly in her grasp but looked up at her with large, blue concerned eyes, his father's eyes.
Letting her grip loosen, she smiled down at him lovingly, stroking his cheek lightly, "that I am. Now then let us see what you have decided to make for breakfast today."
She had grown used to her son making breakfast every morning, something he had started doing only a couple of weeks after his father died. Avelina had a theory as to why, due to the lack of money coming into the household she had been forced practically into slave labour, working double shifts at the docks unloading the nets of fish for pittance. Often she would come home in the young hours of morning, Thomas having already gone to bed after feeding himself with the small amount of food they had, and all but crashing to her pile of furs asleep before she hit them. It was wearying but necessary. She would do anything to keep her son happy and fed.
Entering the main part of the house, the kitchen was but a small stove in the corner and a pot filled with water Thomas had probably refreshed from the river that morning while she had still slept. A small wooden table resided in the centre with several chairs to which she dropped herself into, looking at her son with a small smile as he excitedly dashed forward with a plate and small bowl. It was a simple meal really, dried bread and slightly thin porridge but she ate with gusto to Thomas' approval. The quality of food had not been high for a long time, something she hoped to improve one day. Although she never showed it in front of her son, she hated that he felt he had to do these things, that she was the one being looked after not the other way round. What a pathetic mother she must be. Having finished her breakfast, Avelina realised her work shift would be starting soon if the rising light on the kitchen table was anything to go by. Pushing back her chair, ruffling her son's hair, she made a mental note to cut back his locks that were starting to get as long as his chin. As always Thomas looked slightly disappointed that she was going so soon but he hid it quickly, grinning once again and notifying her that he was going to play with some friends today.
"That is good, you need to play with children your own age more," she teased, tapping his chin, "I finish at sunset tonight and I've been promised a full salmon to bring home," she didn't miss how his eyes brightened, "so tonight we shall dine like kings!" Avelina added dramatically.
"I cannot wait!" he quickly hugged her before dashing out.
With a fond smile, Avelina dusted off her hands before quickly changing into her somewhat stained, thick woollen dress, as brown as the thatched straw above her head. Fish grime was just so hard to get out of wool after the first few hundred fish had been hauled out of the sea, and that was just in the first hours of the day.
It seemed like a normal day that made Avelina put her nightmare behind her, after all it really couldn't be anything else but a fevered night dream probably brought on by her overworking herself. As if vampires and witches were real. Passing by the main town centre, she caught sight of the two crusaders that were stood by a priest. Said priest was reciting passages of the bible, calling people to arms against the heretics, and the table before him where people edged towards or quickly away from; a roster to be signed for six years of servitude under God in his army. They had been there for almost a week so they would soon be leaving. Several men, usually the young and headstrong had already signed up eager to please and receive the glory promised. Others were criminals who were promised redemption rather than chains or worse; a hanging. Avelina had had an impulse to sign up, even going so far as to begin writing her name down. The glory did not interest her at all, nor did the promise of redemption. What was important to her were two things. Avelina believed God would protect her son if she fought in his name, destroying the heretics before they could swarm over their land. She also believed that the rewards given to those who fought and came back alive from their six years would set her son up in good accommodation, steady food and a healthy life much better than what she could offer him now. All that mattered was her son. But they had laughed in her face, slapped her hand away before she could write in her name and sent her away with scorn in their eyes.
Glaring at them as she passed, they barely noticed the simple widowed wife as she passed, it wasn't until she was almost out of the town centre that alarm bells suddenly began ringing. Avelina froze in her spot as did every other soul in the town, staring up at the small bell tower that had never been used before. A bell tower only to be used when the town was under attack. The priest had finally stopped his shouting, and to her shock he was being herded away by the crusaders towards their nearby horses. Did they intend to simply leave them unarmed?! They were only a small town with only a few armed guards, hardly defaceable! There were no high walls, no turrets, no army, nothing. That's when the smoke began to rise in the distance over the thatched rooftops and Avelina's blood ran cold. She recognised the direction it was coming from.
"Thomas…" her voice was almost breathless, he had gone to visit friends who lived by the eastern edge of town where the smoke was coming from, "Thomas!"
Grasping the skirt of her dress she ran until she almost stumbled, cursing loudly she hurriedly searched for something of use. Noticing a stunned guardsman, an old man who looked like he had seen more hoes on the fields than swords in battle like the one he held in his hands. Without a word she snatched the iron blade from his grasp, the man not even complaining as he merely stumbled back and fell to his knees praying to God. Now was not a time to pray. With a deft swipe of the iron blade that had been kept surprisingly sharp, probably as the guards men had nothing else to do other than sharpen their blades, she easily cut apart the skirt of her dress until it was almost at her knees, split up the side. With much better access for her legs to stride as she ran, Avelina took off running towards the smoke that was starting to fill the streets along with the sounds of shouting and screaming, her grip tightened on the blade that felt like it had been there since her birth.
"Thomas!"
"Thomas!"
Avelina almost leapt from the confines of the sheets that were much softer and finer than any animal fur, reaching for a blade that should have been at her side. Instead she met thin air. In fact the room she stood in was nothing compared to the thatch house or even the muddy streets of her hometown. The floors were dark wood as were the walls, but a thin layer of rich dark crimson carpet lined around the bed and leading to the door. In fact the bed was like nothing she had ever slept in, for one it was held off the floor like one of those that you would see in a noble's household, with thin sheets and bedding that looked like they should not have been as comfortable or warming as they actually had been. That's when she realised it had not been a dream after all. This really was happening. Avelina had only just began to unwind her tense body when the door burst open, successfully tensing her again as if expecting an attack. Likewise the same could have been said of the people that entered.
At the head was her predecessor, the signature blonde hair somewhat hastily brushed and the leather eye-patch that had been quickly added was still being adjusted by a slightly wrinkled hand. It was still a strange idea that this woman who was physically older than herself was actually younger than herself. Beside Integra Hellsing was also one of her vampire servants, the young blonde haired girl with startled and confused crimson eyes. She almost looked doleful with those large eyes but that would not trick Avelina. The true monster lurked behind those eyes like rivers of blood. And yet oddly…she appeared dressed in little more than her small clothes, a shockingly tight small shirt pulled over her bust and what looked like a pair of trousers with the legs cut off just above the thighs. Overall Avelina was shocked with the amount of skin on show; the world really had gone mad.
"Are you alright?" Seras asked slowly, crimson orbs checking every dark shadow in the room expecting some unseen assailant to appear from one of them, her hands twitching lightly like a cat, "I heard you shouting…"
"Shouting? More like bloody screaming," Integra added somewhat gruffly clearly annoyed at having been roused at such an hour, it appeared to still be early morning judging by the lack of sunlight outside the window.
And yet Integra did not explode with annoyance like she would have in front of anyone else. It had only taken a quick look at the woman stood in the middle of the room to know something was wrong. Long blonde hair askew and wild from her sleep, grey eyes almost shining with the intent to cause destruction from anger and…fear? Her overall appearance made her look like a cornered tiger ready to fight her way through anything and everything, coiled and about to strike. Integra had to remember this woman was not just any other human, she was a Hellsing. The first Hellsing and a dangerous woman to top of it off.
"Calm yourself Avelina, no one will hurt you here," Integra responded calmly, very much like the animal tamer that dared not try to whip a particular testy big cat for fear of it striking back.
A moment passed before Avelina did indeed relax, letting her hand drop from where her sword usually resided, noting instead it lay propped up beside a bedside chair. Instead she ran the hand over her face and through her mess of hair, Integra noticing a faint look of pain passing as her hand rubbed her face tiredly.
"Nothing you could do could hurt me more than I already am," Avelina muttered quietly before lightly inclining her head, "forgive me for disturbing you, please go back to rest."
It was clear nothing more was to be said on the matter by the finality in her voice. Integra merely nodded her head in acquiescence leaving a very confused Seras as she headed back down the corridor. As sharp as the young vampire was this was a matter of Hellsing's and the subtlety of reading people that seemed to run in the family. Relaxing herself, Seras scratched the back of her head nervously.
"W-Well then I suppose I'll leave you to it, sorry for barging in and everything."
"Just be gone quickly vampire," Avelina almost spat, turning steely eyes back on Seras who actually flinched, "I have little patience at the moment."
Without another word Seras quickly shut the door and darted down the corridor, breathing a sigh of relief to be away from the woman that put her on edge.
Left to the darkness of her modern day room, Avelina fell back to sit on the bed, bouncing lightly but taking little notice. Why must her mind taunt her so with memories of a past that she could never return to? What the witch had done was cruel beyond measure but perhaps she deserved it for all she had done in the crusades. The truth was there was no redemption for them and the things they had done. And that knowledge haunted her across the hours she sat there staring out of the window into a foreign land, watching the sun rising on the horizon, a sun that even felt different to the one she knew. From the darkness though something did watch her, more crimson eyes that were faint enough to not be noticed, a hidden presence not even the experienced hunter could pick up as he held his presence there so faintly that he was not actually there. A gift thanks to Schrodinger during the War.
'Most interesting my little Crusader, already on tight strings the destruction you could wreck with those human hands bathed in holy righteous light, but in fact dripping with the blood of thousands,' Alucard hummed lowly in his mind thoughtfully, eyes darkening for a moment, 'how truly interesting.'
The British Museum was dark from having been closed the previous night, a lonely night-watchman on his patrols over the antiquities centuries old. His flashlight darting this way and that over priceless and age-old discoveries throughout history. It would only be a few hours before the staff would begin to pour in ready to open up for another busy day in the heart of London. In fact he was eager to be done with his shift, thinking only of the steak and kidney pie that was awaiting him in his lonely, one bedroom flat that he could only just afford on his job. Really they should pay him more for the ridiculously late hours he worked. Something cracked under foot startling the man on his patrol.
Flashing his torch down to the floor expecting to see some scarp of litter the cleaners had missed, he instead noticed a piece of old stone. Frowning in confusion he knelt down and picked up the crumbling stone. Strange, it didn't look like normal stone. It reminded him of the ruckus he had heard had happened earlier that day. Some doolally story about one of the statues coming to life and a gunfight having ensued in one of the foyers. Although he had noticed a bit of fresh paint when he started his shift that night, he doubted very highly they could cover something like a gunfight up in a couple hours, not to mention how incredulous the idea was of a statue coming to life. Maybe someone had actually broken the statue and to cover it up they had come up with some crazy story to set tongues wagging. Hell it could have even been a publicity stunt. Turning his flash light around the floor he noticed several more pieces of stone, some slightly larger chunks. Smirking, he shook his head, clearly they hadn't done as good a job at cleaning up the broken statue as they had thought.
Something glinted in the darkness, catching the gleam of his torch faintly. At first he thought nothing of it, just the light catching off glass cases like usual. Until he noticed it move. Frowning, he turned the torch upwards, noting again even more broken stone crunching under his feet. As the light fell on what had caused the glint, his eyes widened just as the blade swung for his neck. He didn't see it, only heard the faint rush of wind like a breeze before he knew no more. A dull thump accompanied the clattering of the torch hitting the concrete flooring, the beam lighting up a growing puddle of crimson as heavy footsteps clattered across the concrete floor, clinking lightly with metal on metal.
