Do I really need a disclaimer?
Pan's New Flute
Chapter 7: All Ashes to the Taste
"There are apple-trees on the sides of the Dead Sea which bear lovely fruit, but within are full of ashes."
"Even as a broken Mirror, which the Glass
In every fragment multiplies; and makes
A thousand images of one that was,
The same, and still the more, the more it breaks;
And thus the heart will do which not forsakes,
Living in shattered guise; and still, and cold,
And bloodless, with its sleepless Sorrow aches,
Yet withers on till all without is old,
Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold.
There is a very life in our despair,
Vitality of poison – a quick root
Which feeds these deadly branches; for it were
As nothing did we die; but Life will suit
Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit,
Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste…
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, George Gordon, Lord Byron Canto III st. 33-34
Richter's nose bled. Profusely. It didn't help that he kept sneezing, spattering blood all over the sink and mirror in the men's. It ran down his throat, choking him and forcing him to hack it back up. He hated that. His father had done that so often. Every morning, once every couple of hours throughout the day. Sometimes he would choke on his food for no reason and clear his throat loudly. Richter hated that sound, so vulgar and gravelly. He kept expecting, in those years, to go to the toilet and find a lung floating in the bowl.
After half an hour of leaning his head back, pinching his nose with tissue, and choking on the draining blood, the mess was finally complete.
His body had been performing some very bizarre functions of late. It didn't stop with bleeding noses; his limbs would suddenly go slack and refuse to move. Sometimes he thought he saw tiny insects burrowing under his skin, though thankfully that was a rare occurrence. At times, he would look up from whatever he was doing, and his sight would turn red or yellow, as though he were looking through colored glasses. In the past year, Richter had taken at least 17 sick days. Whispers—and only whispers—went around the force that the years were simply catching up to him. Old wounds were beginning to open again, or perhaps it was just the scarring process?
It didn't matter. He would not be long at this station. He was tired of it anyway. There seemed to be a never-ending supply of fuck-ups, worthless criminals who probably needed Internet manuals for their crimes. It paid the bills, but who the hell was counting anyway? He had no need to keep the books anymore.
There was a time when Richter might have cared about his job, or at least the income, but that had passed four years earlier. Four years ago, he had someone who'd depended on his job, on whatever he could bring home. Now it was just Richter. He thought it might be about time for him to go into business for himself.
He quickly changed his shirt in his office and sat down as though nothing had ever been wrong. Discreetly protruding from his mailbox was a small, blue envelope, un-addressed, with no return. Richter locked his door and returned to his desk before opening it.
The check was for 10 million pounds, addressed simply to XE Industries. Richter would give quite a lot to know who the organization's wealthy benefactor was. Maybe when the operation came to a head, the individual—if indeed it was only one person—would reveal him or herself.
Richter picked up the phone and dialed. A nasally voiced man answered it immediately.
"Connolly." Richter said by way of greeting.
……
"Alright. We've got 13 minutes to clean the place up. Pull the bodies out and we'll take them to the coroner. This building is set to be inspected by quadrant housing supervisor in a week. Do not leave anything in the building. No blood. No weapons, linen, nothing. 13 minutes! Get to it!" Shank watched as the cleaners ran into the building. Nine hours ago they'd stormed the place, capturing the suspect and transporting her to a secure storage facility near the Woolwich dockyard on the bank of the Thames. The operation had been more than successful. At least in the eyes of Captain Dobbs. Shank wasn't entirely confident of that, however. Their prisoner was Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing. He and his team had been informed of the suspect's identity, and the matter was simply left at that. But neither Shank nor his men were stupid. He had recognized her immediately. He understood that he was involved in something very messy with the higher ups. He had a really nasty feeling in his stomach, his mouth wouldn't stop watering, and his knees felt like pudding. Sort of the feeling you get right before you throw up. Something very bad was going to happen.
"Marcus, give me a report!" Shank called through the mic.
"We're just about finished, sir. We've got—" The other end went dead, and Shank heard a loud thud. He pulled his gun and ran into the building. He heard screams and shots fired as he ran frantically up the stairs. He arrived at the top just in time to see one of his men thrown out of a room by an obscene force. Then the shots stopped.
Silently, Shank moved up the stairs, four armed men following him. The walls were caked in blood and his men lay scattered across the floor, heads falling in unnatural positions. He turned right and stopped abruptly at the sight.
Last night, he knew that both the young woman and the old man were dead. He couldn't have been wrong. Her head had been a bloody mass of brains and bone. But that same woman was now crouched on her haunches, blonde hair flecked with blood, and dribbles of it running down the sides of her mouth. Her eyes were red. That alone didn't frighten Shank much; he'd seen a lot of weird things in his life. It was the look in her eyes that made his breath freeze. She was not human. She couldn't be alive. He aimed his gun mindlessly and fired. Each shot hit her, blowing holes in her chest and her knees. He watched in horror as the wounds closed. She stood up slowly, against the rain of bullets Shank and his men fired at her. Each time, the holes healed themselves immediately, almost upon impact. Then she leaped up with a great cry and rushed the men. In 6 seconds flat, Shank's men joined the ranks of the dismembered. He was the only one left standing. The woman turned around, the feral look gone from her eyes, replaced by a sadness equally horrifying. Blood tears ran down her cheeks. He stood mesmerized, terror threatening to engulf him. He was going to die, and he couldn't even move to try and fight it. The woman took hold of his gun and crushed it in her hand, tossing it to the floor. She looked around at the carnage she had created, then her eyes moved to stare at the room opposite them. Shank had not noticed it yet, but he saw a pair of black-trousered legs sticking out from behind the door. He vaguely recalled that must be the old man he shot last night. The woman turned back to him, grasped him by the front of his uniform and pulled him to the floor. She leaned her head down to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. For some reason, all Shank could think was how weird it was that he couldn't feel her breathing on his skin. He recalled his girlfriend, laying on top of him, and feeling her warm breath against his chest. It was very odd.
Seras hesitated only briefly, the memory of Walter, and before him Captain Ferguson, Captain Gareth, her friends in D-11. All the people she'd been unable to save. How many people had she seen die, sometimes in her very arms? Without further pause, Seras bit into the man's neck, and felt like she'd stepped off a cliff. She'd never tasted living blood and wondered how she could have lived without it. Hot energy surged through her, and she eagerly drank the man to his death, savoring every drop. When he fell limp in her arms, she continued only briefly, the sudden change from living to dead blood overwhelming her senses. She dropped him and sat back, her eyes closed, head thrown back and mouth open. She could feel herself becoming stronger, feel the energy coursing through her veins like live wire. Her hair seemed to stand on end and small currents of electricity seemed to run up and down her spine. She felt physically very good.
Seras began to cry again. Not loudly or with the deep wracking sobs that had overcome her after her father's death. But the bloody tears welled up and fell between her drawn up knees. Slowly, she pushed herself up from the floor and walked into the room where Walter now lay motionless.
She had laid him out carefully and folded his arms over his chest. Panic had yet to hit her, but she knew when it did, it would have the force of a Mack truck. She sat down beside him, and took his hand in hers. Rubbing the calluses softly, studying in detail the fine lines around his knuckles and the tips of his fingers. His hands were very well-manicured. She avoided looking at his face. She thought that maybe she could memorize him in pieces. She remembered most vividly the way his hands looked when he set out tea for Sir Integra. How deadly when he used his wires. Funny that, after so many years of using such a dangerous weapon, his hands lacked scars or scratches one might expect. Then Seras realized she couldn't remember if he wore gloves very often, or indeed at all.
Then she looked at his face. She played over in her mind when Walter had first presented her with the Harconnen. How terrified she'd been then! And how very pleased with his work Walter was. He had that quirky, obnoxious and slightly scary smile when he presented to her that cannon.
Now he was dead.
Walter was dead, and Sir Integra was gone. Seras had no idea where the police might have taken her. Perhaps Alucard was on her trail? That's why he wasn't here, when Seras and Walter needed him. He knew what had happened and was looking for Integra. Perhaps he had already found her?
Seras felt the panic creeping in. Angrily, she pushed it down until it became her strength. She knew what she needed to do. Where to go. She leaned forward, kissed Walter's cold forehead and covered him with a blanket. Then she changed her clothes and left.
……
Jules watched the tele with growing dismay and a sickening feeling of failure as the newscaster spoke in front of a tall, yellow-washed building by the wharf.
"…mass chaos here in this tiny hovel. As of ten minutes ago, twelve bodies have been found inside the building, grotesquely mangled. Eleven were clearly members of the London police force, while the twelfth victim is as yet, unidentified." A brief flash of police tape around the scene kicked something in Jules' brain and he jumped off the ottoman.
"They only found one unidentified body. If they had found Sir Integra they would have broadcast it." He paced back and forth, half-listening to the newscaster for anymore pertinent information.
"We have lists of a few interrogation centers for the MI-5. Mostly old crack-houses. Would she still even be in the country?" Niall asked quietly. He sat at a computer, staring at the screen.
"Yes. We know for a certainty that the funding stems from within the UK. It's filtered through a bank account in Switzerland—"
"No surprise there." Liz quipped.
"But the source is here. Here is where there base of operations is. She's here." Jules' face had taken on a sort of frightening intensity. The room was silent for a moment.
"May I ask why she is so important to our mission, sir?" Niall said. His fingers flew quickly over the keyboard, sharp eyes scanning database after database.
"We've gotten along quite well for the past 6 years without her. Why should we need the frosty bitch now?" Liz asked, downing the last of her beer.
Jules didn't answer. He stared at the tele, as though in a trance. Suddenly, he whipped his head around to face Niall.
"Find her."
……
Alucard had no problem finding the hunters he and Integra had encountered last night. They were perfectly conspicuous on the corner of Marlboro Street, nestled in between a tobacco shop and an electronics store. Alucard had no desire to see their base, however. He wasn't even curious. And that was strange for him, he had to admit. Integra's orders hadn't included that, however. Just to find the hunters. He turned around, to find some other amusement, suddenly finding himself incredibly bored, and froze. People walked past him, bumping into his body and he didn't even notice. The electronics store had several television sets on for display in the window, tuned to the news. Behind the reporter, bodies were being rolled out on stretchers. One stumbled and the sheet covered corpse revealed itself to be Walter.
……
Seras nearly cried in relief when Alucard's voice hit her mind like a ton of bricks.
Where is Integra?
"I don't know! They just burst in. They took her, and Walter is dead."
I know. Who took Integra? Was it the Round Table?
"No, the police." A passerby gave Seras a strange look, before continuing. Seras didn't care.
Where are you?
"What do you mean where am I? How can you not know? Why didn't you come to help us? We—"
Where are you?
"I—I'm on St. Nicolas Ave, just behind the Catholic Church. I've found someone who might have some information about Sir Integra."
Alucard blended into the brick of the wall when he saw the hunters emerge from the building.
Stay put. I'll be there momentarily, he told Seras.
"I've narrowed it down to three locations, sir. One is 1523 Ellis Street. That's the old warehouse on the west side. The second is 119 Myrtle Avenue, that's on the other side of the river. Both locations are on the wharf, sir." Niall said, looking at the post-it on which he'd written three addresses.
"Good. And the third?" Jules jumped in the car, followed by Liz and Niall.
"A place called Mirsher's Ferry."
"That's the old brewery, isn't it? Down by Lexington?" Niall nodded. "She won't be there. That's temporary interrogation only. The place is used as a haunted house every year for Halloween. Dunno why the police allow it, though. The whole building's liable to hit the sky should someone light a cigarette."
"Why, what's wrong with it?" Liz asked as she buckled her seatbelt.
"When it shut down 7 years ago, something went wrong with the gas cables attached to the brewing area, whatever the hell you call it. Anyway, they still leak gas every now and then."
"Why the fuck don't they shut the fucking gas off?"
"Dunno, guess they just forgot about it."
Alucard waited until they had driven away before reappearing on the sidewalk.
"Hey! That's a great magic trick! Are you a performer? Sorry I don't have any change to give you, but—" Alucard turned around slowly to look at the innocent man, smiled widely to show his teeth and growled. The human was gaping in shock when Alucard stalked away.
……
"Look, I'm not going to rat you out. I just want to know what you saw." Seras was using her best people skills, which she'd never had, to coax the transient into talking. A tip had led her to the old man, sitting harmlessly by himself in an alleyway, with a small cat purring at his side. Surprisingly, the cat wasn't afraid of Seras, unlike most animals now. She could now count on not owning a pet of any sort.
"No. I didn't see anything, and I'm not tellin' if I did."
"Let me try." Alucard materialized beside Seras, walking out of the air like it was a doorway. The old man did not appear to be too ruffled by this. He slouched down even more, one leg apparently curled up underneath a filthy trench coat, the other drawn up against his chest. He smoked a cigar, and the stench nearly sent Seras' senses into over-drive.
"I don't care if yer a demon. I'm not sayin' a bleedin' word." He continued to pet his cat as though nothing extraordinary had just occurred. Alucard was mildly offended, but brushed it aside.
"Alright, old man, you don't look like anything I'd like to eat right now, but this looks like a nice mid-morning snack." Alucard snatched up the cat by the scruff of its neck and held it over his open jaws. After two brief moments of contemplation, the homeless man exhaled and glared at Alucard and Seras, as though they had truly just ruined his day.
"There's an old brewery on the south side of the wharf, I think it's on Engles Street, down by Lexington. That's where they took yer friend. I'm sure of it."
"How do you know? You didn't run after them, obviously." Seras demanded. The old man cackled hideously, and lifted up his long trench coat to reveal empty space where his leg should have been.
"No indeed, missy, I canna run anywhere. Me friends down in Worth told me about it. News travels fast." He waited, studying Alucard who still held the cat, but gently now, softly and absently petting its head. "Ya gonna eat that or give it back to me? I got few friends; like to keep 'em, if ya don't mind." Alucard set the cat in the man's lap. "I knew ya wouldn't eat Kelly. She's got too much hair. Same reason I 'aven't eaten 'er." He stroked the cat a while, then continued, more somber than before. "For my part, I hope ya get 'er out. With Miss 'Ellsing gone, who in bloody 'ell's gonna kill them wot's eatin' all of London?" Seras' eyes widened. She hadn't realized anyone knew about the mission of the Hellsing Organization, much less about vampires themselves. He was not a vampire, so…
"Are you a familiar, sir?" Seras asked bluntly. He laughed and shook his head.
"You think I'd still be here, like this, if I were pals with one o' you lot? No, like I said, word gets 'round tunnels. Coppers think they've been closed up these past decades. Not true. How else we s'posed to get 'round and get news 'round?"
"The tunnels? You mean the sewers?" Seras asked.
"Tha's right. Now the two o' you get lost. Yer ruining my peace." Alucard had already turned around. Seras stopped and faced the old man again.
"I am Seras. What's your name?"
"Bently." Seras nodded. He made a mocking, half bow from where he sat.
Seras ran to catch up with Alucard.
"Alucard. Alucard! Where did you go? Why didn't you come to help us? I called you, but you didn't answer. Where were you, what happened?" Alucard swung around, startling Seras into an abrupt halt. He leaned forward to stare her in the eyes.
"I couldn't hear you."
"What do you mean? What about Sir Integra?"
"I could not hear her." He stormed into a crowd of people, pushing past them, angry and, he despised himself to admit it, feeling himself a miserable failure. "I didn't even realize it until I saw the Goddamn tele. I didn't even notice—" he almost screamed the word, "that I couldn't hear her thoughts, or smell her, or bloody fucking feel her!" He stopped suddenly, causing Seras to bowl right into his back.
"Why couldn't I?" He looked at Seras. "Could you feel me? At all, during the coup?" She shook her head. He stared at her a moment longer, then continued walking. "The human hunters are looking for her as well. We have one up on them, however. I still cannot sense Integra's presence, but we at least know where we are going."
"How do we know he wasn't lying, or perhaps mistaken?"
"His story coincides rather elegantly with an overheard conversation." I'll get her back. She is not dead. Just because I cannot feel her presence or hear her thoughts, does not mean anything. She is alive. She will not be dead.
Seras was speaking.
"But, please!" She pulled on his jacket sleeve, remarkably physical, whereas she almost expected to just push her hand right through him. When was the last time she had touched him? When he turned her. That was it.
"Please." She didn't even know what she was asking for. "What about Walter?" Alucard's face remained expressionless. "I—"
"If you are seeking absolution, I can't give you that. You failed. He is dead." Seras' eyes widened. Blood red tears began to well up, threatening to spill over. "I will however say that Walter was first and foremost a soldier. It was not only his duty to die defending Integra, it was his expectation." Alucard leaned closer to Seras' face, sniffed slightly at her skin and studied the fresh blush on her cheeks and neck. Smelled the warm, living blood still surging through her body.
"It's about time." He said simply, and continued on.
It wasn't quite forgiveness, but Seras felt ready to move on. With new resolve, she ran to keep up with Alucard's long, purposeful strides.
……
Integra was not in good shape. She was soaking wet from head to toe and the air conditioning had been turned on full blast in her cell. Her hands were bound behind her back and she lay on her side. The walls and floor were white and padded, with a tiny air vent about twenty feet high near the ceiling. They gave her nothing but panties and a tank.
She came to with her hands and feet bound around a chair. Cold water was thrown unceremoniously over her. She gasped and spit, the shock robbing her of breath.
A man stood in front of her, studying her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. He began very sweetly, in a tone almost cajoling in its sincerity.
"What is your power over the vampire Alucard?" He asked. Once she regained her breath and calmed her heart rate, Integra looked up at him. He had very dark blue eyes. Her father's eyes, actually.
"You bear an uncanny resemblance to my late uncle." Integra told him. He gave a half-assed lopsided grin.
"Really. I am told I resemble a lot of people. But, I'd like to talk about your uncle." He took a drink of water, set the glass down calmly on the table. Integra feigned interest. "When you were a mere 13, you murdered him, is that right?" She nodded.
"Yes."
"But you were not alone. And you certainly did not rip his arm off. Nor did you mutilate the other members of Hellsing who were with him at the time."
"No, I didn't. I simply shot him in the head."
"The vampire Alucard did the rest, did he?" Integra nodded. "And why did he not kill you?"
"He is in service to my family."
"Ah yes, the arcane controls, the secret incantations that bind his blood to yours." He walked behind her, stood at her shoulder. "But then, if he was controlled by your family, more recently by your late father, why was he confined so securely? He obviously could not be controlled, and yet, again, a little girl of 13 was able to do what hundreds of soldiers and ancient magic could not do?" He moved to stand in front of her again, looked her body up and down, lingering on her mouth and her breasts, her slender waist and muscled legs, back up to her blue eyes and long blonde hair. "I can see why any man would be entranced by you, but forgive me if I am a little skeptical of such happening to a monster like Alucard."
Integra recalled Alucard's words to her at the time. He'd had her pinned against the dirty brick wall in that dungeon, and told her quite bluntly that she made him hard. Not an ordinary introduction to the world of sex, not by any means.
Integra had refused to answer the man's questions regarding her relationship to the vampire. Not only did she have no inclination to give them anything they wanted, she—disturbingly—did not know the answers. But she did not tell them that either. However, the idea was beginning to perplex her.
And something the vampire Sekhet had said, about Alucard having broken the bonds between master and servant long ago. What was she on about? But at the moment, Integra had other things to worry about. She supposed the only reason Alucard had not come to her aid was because he could not hear her. She refused to believe he had simply taken his freedom and run, leaving her to hopefully die in silence. And there was no hope of him smelling her, either. The men who captured her were apparently very well-versed in persuasion methods that did not involve shedding her blood. She had been held under water, burned with steam, smacked and dragged around by her hair, amongst other indignities. But not a drop of blood to lead him to her. And she really had no idea where he was anyway, if he was close enough to catch her scent. But then, he didn't really need to be in close proximity.
There was an incident when she was 15 and had gone on holiday in Ireland with Walter. She had been a "late bloomer", and had begun to menstruate that year. Unfortunately, Alucard had realized the change before she had. And he had been in London at the time. She recalled his snide words to her about catching some and bringing it back to him as a present when she returned. At the time, the whole mess had been one more humiliating aspect of growing up. But now, Integra realized Alucard had made life much easier for her, with his crude wit and cavalier attitude toward what many considered taboo. Sex, drugs, periods, killing, nothing was exempt from his scrutiny and acidic tongue.
For the thousandth time, Integra tried to squirm out of her bonds. If she could only loose one hand, she could tear out a few of her stitches and maybe bleed a little. It suddenly seemed the most important thing in the world. She stretched and thrashed around on the floor, pulling her skin as far as she could simply by stretching. Nothing happened, though.
The door opened and the man stepped into the room. He walked around, examining the room, for what she had no idea.
"I'm going to be very brief, Miss Hellsing." He bent and lifted her up into a kneeling position by her neck. "Let me make is clear to you that you are alive only because the Lady Sekhet has a use for you. I, however have very little that I want from you, so you might as well try to keep me happy. Now, all known members of the Hellsing Organization have been terminated, according to our sources." Integra struggled to speak against his hand.
"Your sources aren't very good then." He dropped her to the floor and she began coughing and gasping.
"Clearly. Who is still alive?"
"I am, for the time being, anyway." Integra murmured. The man smacked her hard, but again, no blood was drawn.
"Aside from the monster Alucard, who is alive? We've eliminated everyone, including your butler, was it Walter?" Integra suddenly couldn't breathe. Walter was dead. Walter was dead? He couldn't. She shook her head, but refused to cry.
"I repeat, who is left?"
"Why? Did something bad scare you?" Integra taunted. She was going to get out of this place one way or another. The man through picked her up and threw her against the wall. Though it was padded it still hurt like a bitch. Still, she egged him on.
"Maybe next time you should do the job yourself, instead of having incompetent lackeys dirty their hands." He picked her up by her hair and pulled her across the room. When he yanked her up, some of her hair came out in his hand. She felt a slow trickle of wetness down her scalp. It wasn't enough. Integra pulled the next bit of information partially from past conversations with associates and partially out of her ass.
"But then, you can't, can you? You know, I've met her. Sekhet. In a sense, that is. I'd wager you have too. The way I hear it, Richter, you've been having some strange medical issues of late. I suppose that goes with the territory, though. After all, you can't expect to fuck a corpse and walk away with nothing." Richter threw his fist into her face. She fell backwards and gingerly turned on her side. Almost triumphantly, she spat the blood out of her mouth, as well as a piece of tooth. She could see spots of blood on her shirt, where the stitches had torn out. She smiled and flicked her hair over her shoulder. The blood was all over her face, and across the white floor. She wiped her face on the floor, and spit as much as she could out. Three men and a woman came rushing into the room. One of the men wore a suit. He grabbed Richter around the waist and pulled him away before he would pummel Integra anymore.
"You idiot! She said no blood!" Richter stared hard at Integra.
"Clean her up." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. "Any word from Dobbs?" Richter asked. The suit shook his head.
"Nothing."
"Get the media off the fucking air. They've done enough damage, I don't want them mentioning the officers' names or the association with Hellsing. Now!" The suit left and the other three were busy trying to get Integra up off the floor. She was nearly out. Richter studied her, calmly now, his temper controlled. She was nothing. It didn't matter about the officers. Shank and the others. It was a minor setback. A little more attention than he'd wished, but nothing more. Still, he'd love to know who exactly had done that. He knew it wasn't Alucard. Alucard would have left at least one alive to give him information. And he would have been here by now. Richter was very familiar with Alucard's style. A part of him actually admired the vampire. His power, mostly. And a part of Richter despised the creature, simply because he was an enigma. Richter had never been given orders to interrogate Integra. Simply to hold her and keep her. Which he'd done. The questions were his own private curiosity. He truly wanted to understand how Integra came to hold so much power over so powerful a monster. After several of their sessions, however, he had begun to question whether Integra really understood that fully herself. He took out a cigarette and his lighter and watched as the nurses untied Integra's hands and lifted her up to inspect her body.
The suit came hurriedly back into the room.
"Sir, there's something wrong." Richter said nothing, simply waited. "There appears to be a gas valve leak somewhere in the building. We haven't located it yet, but we are working on it." Richter closed his eyes, wondering what else was going to happen.
"I guess this means I can't smoke inside." He rubbed his face hard and sniffed, stuffing the lighter inside his pocket again. "Alright. Start loading everything up. Get everyone out of here that isn't absolutely necessary. Leave behind four guards. We are moving."
Integra leapt out of the nurses' care and lunged at Richter without a word. She landed hard against his chest and they both fell to the floor. After a brief scuffle, he smacked her hard and shoved her off of him. Standing, utterly indignant, Richter straightened his jacket and collar, pulling his tie in place and glared at Integra, who was being held back by the nurses.
"Keep that bitch under tight security at all times. I don't want to know she exists."
The whole situation had become more than slightly farcical to Richter. He almost felt like he was on the Benny Hill show, running back and forth in a monkey costume. He wasn't accomplishing anything he'd meant to today, except hand over the money and set the ball rolling on new lines of production. That was it. He felt as though his time with Integra was waste. Add to that, he hated the woman in the first place. Always had. She had all this power, and refused to use it. He didn't understand why She wanted Integra so badly. But then, he didn't ask for reasons. He was simply a go-to man. That was his job right now. But not forever. Richter nodded affirmation to himself, then turned and walked out the door.
……
Integra was pulled along the hallway, her feet dragging behind her. The nurses half carried her through the building, as she seemingly could not stand on her own. Her mouth and nose were still bleeding, as was the wound in her side. It became quite clear to her, however, that outside help was not coming any time soon.
Angry and frantic running greeted Integra's company. Richter skirted to a stop, his associate close on his heels.
"Get everyone out, now! Especially her." He thrust a finger in Integra's face. "Get all the witnesses, every officer out. The gas leak is huge. The valves are unstable and liable to burst open at any moment! MOVE NOW!" He led the way down the hall, the nurses pulling Integra along at breakneck speed.
……
Alucard watched as the guards drew their guns against him. He could barely pick up Integra's scent, but she was here. Alucard ignored the bullets, preferring to leave them to Seras. She deflected them easily, her newfound strengths increasing by the minute. He felt quite proud of her. His thoughts narrowed to inside the building. Insistently, he called Integra's name.
Integra lifted her head sharply as Alucard's voice echoed in her mind.
Integra. I am outside.
Then get inside!
I can't. Literally.
Afraid of a few guards, now?
Not likely. There is some sort of barrier, an elemental, spiritual barrier around the building. As it is, I'm surprised we can communicate.
There isn't time to talk anyway. If you can't get in, you'll need to help me from outside. The gas valves are leaking like mad. I'm being escorted through the tunnels in the sub-basement.
Have you noticed how you always manage to get yourself into trouble in the deepest levels of a building? It's damned uncanny, Integra.
Cute.
What can I do?
I need you to break a few valves. They need to burst open.
What do you have in mind?
The walls around Integra began to shake violently. The sound of metal crunching against metal echoed through the halls. Richter and the nurses clapped their hands over their ears in pain against the obscene screeching. The floor cracked beneath their feet, as though through an earthquake. The electric lamps along the side of the wall blew all at once, leaving them in darkness. Suddenly, everything was perfectly still and quiet. The emergency lights came on, flashing green in the dark. Richter stood up, and gingerly uncovered his head. The nurses were no where in sight. Apparently they had run away, leaving him alone with Integra. Integra! Where was she? He swiveled around, momentarily startled to see her standing behind him ten feet away. The green light flashed across her face, accentuating her cheekbones, drawing strange shadows under her eyes and around her neck. She stared at him quite calmly, standing completely still, totally at ease.
The light flashed again, and Richter saw what she held in her hand. He had a brief moment to fumble in his pocket for his matches, not finding them, horrified comprehension flooding his mind.
Before he could react, Integra flipped the book open and struck a match with one hand. She threw it behind her, and the last thing Richter saw was white heat.
……
Seras gaped open-mouthed in shock and horror as the old brewery in which Integra was interred exploded into flame. She leapt back, clearing the distance easily without thinking, finding Alucard at her side. He stared at the destruction, intent, as though he might see through the mess and inside the inferno. There was no way Integra would have survived that. What was she thinking? Panic ripped through him, threatening to engulf his senses.
He felt suddenly very cold, as though someone had thrown his physical body in ice water. He took a moment to realize the sensation did not belong to him.
Alucard.
Integra.
I'm alright. By that, I mean I am breathing.
You are in the river.
For now. Stay where you are. Don't follow me.
I'm not following you.
I'll explain it all later. Suffice it to say, if I'm to get out of this mess, I have to do it solo. Our enemy can track you wherever you go. I don't want her to know where I am going.
It wouldn't take much to bring you a towel, Integra.
I'm in no mood for jokes, Alucard. I will give you instructions once I'm in a safe place.
Safety is not that much of a stretch. I am not a child in the art of defense, Integra.
Alucard, you will do as I command.
Of course, Master.
"I can't believe it. She's dead. She's dead, too." Seras was shaking her head in confusion.
"Integra is alive, Seras. But for everybody else, she is dead."
Seras stared at Alucard for a moment before nodding.
"I understand."
"Let's go." Alucard turned to leave, but stopped when Jules' yellow Volkswagen screeched to a halt. Jules leapt out of the car, gun drawn, followed by Niall and Liz. At first sight of the burning building, harmoniously accompanied by smaller explosions from within, Jules viciously kicked the car and punched the door.
"Goddamnit!" He bent over the hood of the car, resting his head in his arms. Liz and Niall said nothing, not knowing what to say.
Alucard sauntered over to the hunters slowly, Seras beside him.
"Did you think you were going to be able to rescue the damsel in distress with pistols and knives?" Alucard sneered. Jules whipped around, Liz and Niall's weapons already drawn and ready.
"You! You're her servant! Where is she! She is alive, isn't she?" Jules demanded. He did not bother to point his gun at either of the vampires, accepting the futility of such a move.
Alucard shrugged non-chalantly.
"I have no idea. I haven't been in contact with her since you and we parted ways." Seras made no comment.
"So she means nuthin' to you? I thought as you were some sor' of indentured servant." Liz asked.
"I was. Now I'm not. Or rather, if she is dead, I am not." Alucard breathed in deeply, theatrically. "Come, Seras. It is a beautiful time to hunt. Something you should have learned long ago, and something I have not been able to do for a few years." Jules noticed Seras for the first time. His eyes widened in recognition, but even as questions began, he said nothing as the two vampires walked away. Jules watched them for a minute, and then stared at the flame engulfed brewery in heavy silence.
"It's over, then?" Niall asked. Jules shook his head decisively.
"No. It is far from over. She is not dead." He continued to stare at the fire, thinking. "The vampires are hiding her. I want to know where."
Sirens began to scream nearby and lights flashed. Jules stood a moment long, then got into the car.
"We need to leave, as well. Police will be here shortly."
……
Richter's body hurt everywhere. Alternately, he was burning up, and then freezing cold. At times, he was both. He could not swallow, could barely breathe without the machines attached to his body.
He couldn't blink, and yet, he could not bear to keep his eyes open. In his chest, Richter could feel his heart beating, then slowing down, then speeding up. Sporadic. Erratic. Damaged.
Since he couldn't close his eyes, he let them roam around the room, the only thing on his body capable of movement. It was clearly a hospital. Clean, cheery walls decorated in the sort of heinous flowers one finds in retirement centers. The places where people go to die. That was it then. He wasn't dead, but he was dying. He had come here to die.
He heard the door open to his room, and a sterile looking doctor walked in.
"Good! You're awake. How's the morphine working? Great. Excellent. You know, you are one lucky son of a bitch. Anyone else would have gone kaboom! Like the brewery." He made explosion gestures with his hands and arms, and his face turned into a blowfish. "Oh! I almost forgot! You have your first visitor! Now, normally, critical patients such as yourself cannot have visitors. But, for this one, I'll make an exception. She was sooooooooooo incredibly excited to see you. So, I'll leave you two alone. You probably have A LOT to talk about. Call me if you need me!" The doctor made clicking motions with his thumb, and then pointed at a device near Richter's hand on the bed. It was his morphine dispenser. The doctor left the room, and a moment later, the door opened again.
Richter lost all breath. His eyes widened, and his body began to shake. He could feel his heart thudding throughout every limb and nerve. He was terrified. And excited.
"I'm disappointed, John." Sekhet purred. She was dressed in a simple, yet elegant navy blue suit, with the faintest hint of metallic shine. She pulled a chair up to his bed and sat down, crossing her legs. "I very much needed to speak with Miss Hellsing." She sighed dramatically. "And now, I can't find her, Mr. Richter."
Sekhet stood up slowly and moved toward the head of the bed. Richter watched her every move like a hawk, not that he expected he could do anything against her. She bent forward, and gently licked his ear. He closed his eyes in pain, as apparently his ears were totally burned as well.
"John, I am not in the habit of giving second chances—mmmm, your blood tastes good—but unfortunately you are the only man who can help me. No one else is quite as intelligent as you, recent mishaps an exception, of course. However, just because I need you doesn't mean I mustn't make you understand the enormity of what you have done. Make you understand my loss, as yours." She scraped her teeth along his neck, tearing off already fragile skin. She held onto his body from both sides of his chest, and her fingernails dug in. Richter finally screamed, but couldn't move. Sekhet bent forward more, and a small vial of liquid fell out of her bodice. She looked down, feigning surprise.
"Oh! I'd forgotten I put that there. These modern garments are so convenient, you know?" She unscrewed the lid, and Richter smelled what very much appeared to be alcohol of some sort. Sekhet stripped the thin sheet off his body and tipped the vial over.
"The human body is so intriguing, so susceptible to the strangest sensations. You see, John, some have called me sadistic, but really I'm just curious. Call it my love of knowledge. I'm very interested in this elemental sensation humans call pain. Because, you see, I cannot feel it for myself." She smiled sweetly as Richter lay paralyzed, unable to even writhe in pain.
……
Alucard and Seras stood side by side and watched in silence as Walter's body was enveloped in flames. All they could hear was the snap of the wood and the sizzle of burning flesh.
Seras was rock-still. But the confusion and sadness had finally left her face for good. A new resolution had filled her, and she was not afraid.
Alucard paid his respects to his friend, and wondered about his own curious state of mind, that he could grieve so. He'd lost a friend, one of the few he'd say he had. They'd all lost a clever and very talented man. Alucard supposed he hadn't given Walter much credit over the years for being an exceptional human being. In fact, when Walter was quite a young man, not even 14, but still more than deadly with his wires, he had challenged Alucard to a fight. Of course, it was no contest, and afterward Alucard had taunted Walter for his weakness and the futility of being human.
"Sorry about that, Walter."
