Samson sat in the back seat, holding tight to his father's dæmon, Panja, for warmth and comfort. She was in the form of a thick-furred Coquerel's sifaka lemur, and was trying to stay relaxed, though Samson could feel she was uncomfortable with the close contact. He knew she was only doing it for his sake, because now he had no dæmon to hold.
He pressed his face into her shoulder fur, inhaling the scent of his father's cologne and listening to the rain and the squeak of the windshield wipers on the window. Panja smelled of home, a scent Samson felt he hadn't smelled in a long time. He couldn't remember the last time he had been home. It seemed like so long ago...
"How are you feeling, Sammy?" His father's voice snapped him back to the present. He looked up at his father, sitting in the passenger seat. It was Samson's mother who drove, as it would have been difficult for his father to drive while he was holding his dæmon. Beside him was his mother's dæmon, a bright-coated red setter, who glanced occasionally at Samson and Panja, but said nothing.
Samson leaned into Panja, pressing his face further into her thick fur. I want Grayla. He shrugged. "Okay."
His parents exchanged glances. He knew they were worried. But there was nothing they could do, not unless they could find Grayla and bring her back.
He tightened his grip slightly around Panja. As much as he wanted to go home, he wanted Grayla even more.
Wasn't there some way he could see her? Any way at all?
Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a little while...
For a moment he felt comforting warmth and the friendly pull of sleep, then he was jerked awake by Panja's voice.
Samson!
Samson's eyes snapped opened. He found Panja bristling in his arms and his mother's dæmon growling softly next to him. The car had been pulled over, and his parents had whirled around in their seats, anxious.
He raised his head from Panja's fur and looked at each pair in turn, not understanding why everyone was so worried. All he'd wanted to do was sleep and maybe dream about Grayla. He'd always heard that you could dream about the ones you love if you think about them enough before you went to sleep. He was sure he could have done that with Grayla. What was so wrong with that?
He blinked at his parents, confused. "What's wrong?"
His parents exchanged glances. "You fell asleep for a little bit," his father said. "We were worried..."
Samson frowned. Did they think he was going to fall asleep permanently, like his dog Leo had last year? He hadn't planned on it. He just wanted to see Grayla.
"I'm okay," he said. "Really. I'm just tired." And I want Grayla.
"Are you sure that's all, love?" his mother asked. "Is it...?"
"I miss Grayla," he muttered.
"I know, buddy," his father said. "Miss Hellsing said it would be hard-"
"Sir," Samson interrupted. "It's Sir Hellsing. She's a knight." He pressed his face into Panja's fur, looking up at his parents.
His father nodded apologetically. "Sir Hellsing," he corrected himself, "said it was going to be hard without Grayla."
Samson nodded. He knew that.
You have to promise me you won't give up on life, she'd said. I'm going to find her, but you have to promise me you won't give up.
He planned on taking her words to heart. He trusted her. She was she was going to find Grayla and bring her back to him. Of course he was going to wait. He was going to wait for as long as it took for Integra to find Grayla.
Then he couldn't help but feel proud of himself for his thoughts. I bet Integra would think I'm brave. He hid his mouth in Panja's fur, smiling to himself. Integra was a knight, and she had to be brave. Maybe she would think he was like a knight, too.
I bet I could be a knight someday.
He wasn't sure what he had to do to become a knight, or what Integra had done, but it had to be something noble. If Integra could be a knight at nineteen, then surely he could be a knight without his dæmon! He didn't see why not.
I want to be a knight, he decided. Like Integra.
"Sammy?"
Samson raised his head, taken out of his thoughts by his father's voice. "Hmm?"
"You know what Sir Hellsing said."
"Mm-hmm." He hid his mouth in Panja's fur again.
His father nodded. "She gave us her number and address if we needed anything," he added. "She's not one to give out her information freely, but she was willing just this once."
Samson felt an excited twinge in his stomach. He wanted to see Integra again as soon as he could. She was nice and her daemon was pretty and he felt safe with her, like nothing would ever happen to him again. And she smelled like cigar smoke, like his Grandpa Joey. He liked that smell.
Maybe I'll write her a letter, he thought, like my teacher taught me. Or I could draw her a picture. I bet she'd liked that.
He felt sleep being to tug at him again. This time in a good way.
Or both, he decided, shutting his eyes, I'll do both.
Samson fell asleep as the car started on the road again, with Integra and knighthood on his mind.
~O~
In the gold antique car heading in the opposite direction, Integra Hellsing sat in the back seat, holding tightly to her dæmon. Her face was buried in Illiad's shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of cigar smoke and rain. She took comfort in knowing her dæmon was still close to her and still a part of her. She didn't know what she would do without Illiad.
She leaned back in her seat, watching as the rain tapped lightly on the car window. She held Illiad against her chest, feeling her dæmon's heart beating in time with her own. She felt a slight pounding against her chest from Illiad's heartbeat.
I'll always be here, Integra, Illiad assured her, touching her nose to Integra's jaw.
Integra sighed contently and gave Illiad's ear a light kiss. I know you will be, she said. I know.
"Sir Integra?"
Integra and Illiad looked up at the sound of Walter's voice. "Walter?"
"Are you all right?" The butler glanced up quickly in the rearview mirror at the pair.
Integra sighed slowly. She glanced out the window, thinking of Samson, sitting on the street curb without his dæmon. "I've been better," she answered. She heard a soft sigh from Walter and the crinkle of the leather of the passenger's seat as Bentley shifted uneasily.
Is something wrong, Bentley? Illiad asked, ears forward. She shifted her position in such a way that her heart no longer beat against Integra's. The sound of a single heartbeat unnerved Integra; she clutched Illiad closer, making the dæmon jump and earning her a warning stare that said Be careful.
The seat crinkled again as Bentley moved. Integra could see the tip of his snout pointing toward the window. His breath clouded the glass.
I've never seen a child without a dæmon, he said. It's like seeing a human without a face or without a heart-they're missing something vital. It just doesn't feel right. Or look right, he added hesitantly. He shook his head, making his ears flop. What did you learn from him?
Illiad shifted in Integra's arms. Integra gently pressed her fingers into Illiad's fur. What they had learned from Samson had disturbed them in ways they weren't sure how to explain.
"He doesn't remember much," Integra started. "He remembers playing in the park with his friends, playing hide-and-seek, he said. While he was hiding he said he was led off by a blonde woman with a large gray wolf dæmon."
He said she was dressed in a black rode and spoke with a German accent, Illiad added. And he remembers that there were more people dressed like her who took his dæmon.
Samson's words came back to Integra: They all had crosses hanging around their necks, like the one on your bow.
Without thinking, Integra covered her cross pin with one hand. How could anyone wear a cross around their neck and do such horrible things to these children? She shook her head in dismay and confusion, unable to wrap her head around the circumstances of the situation.
"Sir Integra?"
Integra met Walter's eyes in the rearview mirror, having almost forgotten he was there.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
She shook her head. "I don't know, Walter. Samson told us his captors all wore crosses around their necks."
At that, Walter nearly slammed on the breaks, Integra could feel the car jerk, but instead he exchanged an alarmed glance with Bentley.
Integra didn't miss it. "Is something wrong, Walter?"
"I'm not sure," he answered, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Beside him, Bentley shifted uncomfortably. "Call it a hunch, Sir Integra, but I believe I have an idea of who Samson is referring to."
"Who?"
Walter didn't answer right away. He pulled the car up to a red light and exchanged more glances with Bentley. The foxhound's ears rose and fell; he shook his head, sighed, and looked back out toward the road. Walter's expressions in the exchange were hidden from Integra's view by his head rest and he kept his face out of view of the mirror.
"It's only a hunch, Sir Integra," he reminded her. "We think it would be better if you figured it out for yourself." By "we" of course, he meant himself and Bentley.
And how do you suggest we do that? Illiad asked, fighting her way out of Integra's arms. She padded out onto Integra's leg, steadying herself against a bump in the road as the car took off again. We can't go around asking everyone in sight if they've seen people in black robes recently. If these people have the gall to kidnap children, who knows what they'll do with us if we start asking around!
Walter chuckled; Bentley shook his head, amused. "I never said you had to go door to door," he said.
"Then what do you suggest we do?" Integra asked, pulling Illiad back into her arms.
"Try consulting your family records," Walter said. "I'm sure your grandfathers recorded something that could be of use to you."
Integra took a breath, thinking of the old, leather-bound books that resided in her father's study. They contained every piece of information pertaining to the Hellsing family history, dating all the way back to the days of Abraham Van Helsing. Could it be that her ancestors had seen a similar scenario play out in the streets of London?
There was only one way to find out.
~O~
Her father's study was located on their third floor, the last door on the right at the end of the hall. Integra hadn't set foot in the room since her father died; it reminded her too much of him. She was the only Hellsing so far who had never used the little office. Every other one back to Van Helsing had used it, but Integra was the first to refuse.
Even then, as she stood outside the doors, she felt the urge to turn around and walk away, and leave the answers she was looking for locked in the study. Illiad felt her reluctance and uneasiness, and fell into an odd pattern of jumping onto the decorative table beside the door, jumping off, turning circles around the outermost leg, and jumping back up. She whined softly, running across the table once or twice.
"Illiad!" Integra snapped at last. "For goodness' sake, enough of that!"
But Illiad didn't stop. It was as though she couldn't hear Integra, and continued her anxious pattern.
With an exasperated sigh, Integra rolled her eyes and reached for the door handle, shoving her fears and doubts into the pit of her stomach. Her fingers hadn't even closed around the knob when Illiad jumped into her arms, frantically pawing at her chest. Don't go in there, Integra! Please, let's just forget about this and turn back!
Integra yanked her hand back, shocked by her dæmon's behavior. She had never seen Illiad react like this, not even when they had been hunted by her uncle or trapped in the basement with Alucard for however brief a time. What could have possibly bothered her so much now?
She wrestled with Illiad, trying to hold her still. "I won't walk away from this if it means saving those children's lives!"
Illiad wriggled out of Integra's grip, leaping off her shoulder and landing easily on the floor behind her. You go, then, she said. I...I'll wait here.
"I'm not leaving you at the doorway," Integra countered firmly. "We either go together now, or I'll stand here and wait until you're ready to go with me."
Illiad slumped down and crouched, staring at the door with narrowed eyes. But she didn't move.
"Well?"
Fine, she huffed, getting to her paws. I'll come. She sprang up onto Integra's shoulder and sat with her flank against her counterpart's neck. She looped her tail around Integra's shoulder. But I'm staying here.
Integra nodded silently. She reached out again and closed her hand around the handle, half expecting Illiad to fly down her arm and swat her hand away from the handle, but her dæmon remained where she was. She turned the handle enough to get a click from the opened door, and felt Illiad's claws poke into her shoulder. Illiad's tail curled into a tighter loop around her neck.
Go on, Illiad urged. Or I will fly down your arm and swat your hand away from the handle. Her whiskers twitched with nervous amusement.
Integra threw Illiad a smile of her own and pulled the door opened. The smell of dust and unused books and old leather flooded into the hall. They stood still in the doorway, half expecting to see Homer and Arthur sitting at the desk in the middle of the study. There was a nearly crippling rush of grief when Integra opened the door fully and the old wooden chair was empty.
Illiad hid her face in Integra's hair. Integra had to stop herself from letting the handle slip from her hand. I wanted him to be there. She didn't know if the thought was her own or Illiad's but it was the same nonetheless.
Let's get this over with. That thought was undoubtedly Illiad's, and Integra couldn't have agreed more. She slipped into the study, letting the door shut softly behind her. The click made Integra jump, and for a moment she was half-convinced that she was locked in forever, doomed to spend eternity in a room filled with memories that made her heart ache. She leaned back against the door to steady herself. Her fingers drifted over the handle.
Come on. She felt Illiad's muzzle burrow deeper into her hair. Let's find what we need and go.
"The books stay here," Integra asserted, pushing herself up off the door. It was almost an insult to remove the books from where they had been for so many years,
Illiad flicked her tail tip, touching Integra's jaw line. If you say so. She sighed heavily, her eyes roaming the room. Where should we start?
Integra inspected the room herself. Three of the walls were lined with books, some in colorful bindings and others were in plain, dark ones. But there were only a few that were bound in dark, aging leather. Those were the ones that contained the history of the Hellsing family. They were located on two different walls: the ones straight across from Integra and the one to her left. She had no idea which ones were Van Helsing's, which where her grandfather's, and which were...
Should we split up? Illiad's voice cut into her thoughts.
"I thought you wanted to stay on my shoulder," Integra said matter-of-factly.
I did. But we'll cover more ground if we split up.
"You'll damage them."
I won't!
"I want them intact, Illiad." Integra looked up at her dæmon. "All of them."
Illiad shuffled her paws, embarrassed. Right. Of course. Ehm... She narrowed her eyes at both sets of books. Do you think we'll need all of them?
"Possibly," Integra said with a thoughtful sigh. "I know nothing of what happened before I was born."
The bastards were silent, then.
"Until two years ago, yes."
Illiad flexed her claws. Do you think something could have happened during World War II? she asked. After all, that was a rather chaotic time for the world. It wouldn't surprise me if someone tried to take advantage of that.
"It's entirely possible," Integra answered, "but then if it were that chaotic, there may not have been time to kidnap children."
Is suppose we'll find out then?
Integra simply nodded and started for the bookcase across from her.
~O~
The first book she pulled from the shelf had a gold page marker dangling from the center of book and marked with the initials "A.H." At first, Integra's heart had jumped and her stomach twisted, but it became clear to her once she began reading that the records were those of her grandfather, Sir Alydar Hellsing.
His records offered no new insight into their current predicament. In fact, there was no mention of any severed children at all, nothing aside from the usual noting of a stray vampire Alucard had been sent to deal with. In the end, his records proved useless.
"My grandfather was an incredibly boring man, wasn't he?" Integra asked, setting the book down on the floor. She had taken to sitting cross-legged on the floor rather than at the desk.
Illiad cringed. His dæmon wasn't much better. She jumped down from Integra's shoulder and stretched. My goodness! Did this man do anything besides sit around the office all day?
Integra chuckled. "It doesn't seem so."
Hmp. Illiad sat down and scratched behind her ears with one hind paws. Maybe your great-grandfather will be more helpful. He evidently did more than his son. She nodded her head toward the six other books on the shelf, their page markers labeled with the initials "A.V.H."
With another chuckle, Integra closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. She pulled a second one down, this one belonging to Van Helsing. "At least Alydar only had one," she mused, taking the fragile book in her hands. She set it down in her lap.
Well, there's a reason he only had one, Illiad answered, perching on Integra's leg to get a better view of the book. She scanned the pages as Integra flipped through them, slowly and carefully. Anything useful?
"Nothing we could use," Integra replied. "So far I'm only seeing his records of Alucard, the beginnings of the Hellsing Organization...Oh."
Illiad clambered back up onto Integra's shoulder to get a better view. What is it?
"Here." Integra pointed to a journal entry in the middle of the page, written in neat, quill-and-ink handwriting. "July eighth, eighteen-ninety-seven."
Ninety-seven? Illiad echoed. I thought Hellsing wasn't established until nineteen-oh-five?
"It wasn't," Integra said. "And by Van Helsing's hand. Alydar didn't take over until nineteen-seventeen."
And your father was born the year after?
"Yes."
Hm. So what does it say?
"Van Helsing more or less Hellsing at this point," Integra said. "The organization hadn't taken on its full form yet." She paused to read the entry carefully. "The first disappearances start the week before, on July first. In the beginning it wasn't that noticeable..." She flipped through the pages, finding that with each entry after that Van Helsing was becoming more and more agitated and irritated. Even conflicted. And frustrated. Alydar was proving to be a useless Hellsing, even before he led the organization.
How long did the disappearances go for? Illiad asked, leaning further over Integra's shoulder.
Integra shook her head, disappointed as she flipped ahead to the later entries, each one mentioning in some way the disappearances. "Six years," she said at last. "Six. Bloody. Years."
Illiad stared, wide-eyed and bewildered. And no one did anything to stop it? Not even Van Helsing? Hell, not even your useless grandfather?
A half-smile pulled at the corner of Integra's mouth as she scanned the next few lines of the journal entry. "Maybe not as useless as we thought."
Illiad's ears pricked. I don't understand.
"Look here," Integra said, pointing to the middle of the page.
Illiad jumped down into her lap to look closely at the page, squinting. She stared at where Integra was pointing before shaking her head and looking up at Integra. What?
"Didn't you read it?"
Illiad shook her head. Cursive makes my head spin. why do you think I hide in your lap when you sign papers? Even your name makes me dizzy.
Integra chuckled. "That would explain my headaches."
Her dæmon's whiskers twitched in amusement. She purred her laughter. Go on, she said, tell me what it says.
"Alydar knew that someone outside England was responsible for the disappearances. Children were disappearing from Spain, Germany, France, and Italy, as well, much like they are now. Van Helsing refused to do anything, so Alydar took matters into his own hands.
"It was still the early days of Hellsing, but it was far enough along that Alucard was under Hellsing's control. Alydar was still seventeen years away from leading the organization; that didn't stop him from exercising some power of his own when Van Helsing had his back turned. He tracked down the parents of the missing children, only in England of course, but got less information from them than you and I did from Samson."
What did he do then?
"He eavesdropped on a Round Table Conference. Or rather, what would become the Round Table Conference. In this day, it was a meeting Van Helsing had with some old colleagues of his, all who were rather religious. As Van Helsing tells it, they were discussing the effects of Dust."
Dust? Why were they so worried about that? Was it that bad?
"I suppose that depends on who you ask," Integra said with a little laugh. "I'm Protestant, Illiad, I could care less about Dust. But Van Helsing was Catholic, and for some Catholics, Dust was the physical manifestation of Original Sin. It started collecting on children after their dæmons settle."
Illiad frowned and took a minute to rub her face against Integra's ribcage. I don't understand. Wouldn't baptism have prevented that?
Integra sighed. "I don't know. I would have thought, but..." She paused and shook her head. "I suppose that didn't stop anyone from worrying."
Hmm. Illiad swiped her tongue around her teeth. So what happened next?
Integra cleared her throat before continuing. "Van Helsing and his associates were concern about the effects of settling Dust. They all had dæmons, I don't doubt that. If Van Helsing didn't, you and I wouldn't be here.
"They discussed the disappearances, mostly. Alydar, though uninvited informed Van Helsing that all the missing children were between ten and twelve, all close to the age of settling..."
All close to the age where they would start collecting Dust.
"Right. And, according to Van Helsing and his associates, there was only one way to prevent this collection, and it was the fate they were worried would befall the missing children. We know it as severing. They called it intercision."
They were silent when Integra finished, trying to process the information at hand.
Alydar never finished his investigation? Illiad asked after a while.
"No," Integra answered. "Van Helsing never let him. And by the time he could, the disappearances had stopped. There are no records of Alydar's investigation. Van Helsing burned them after he found out what Alydar had been doing."
Damn shame, Illiad grumbled. And the children?
"Nothing. No one ever found them."
Damn it. Illiad shook her head vigorously, ears flattened. At least this explains why Alydar's records couldn't help us. There was nothing to record after that and his information was destroyed. And there was nothing left once he took power.
"Business as usual," Integra muttered. She sat staring blankly at the open book in her lap for a little while before closing it and setting it on the floor. "There's something I don't understand, Illiad."
What's that? Illiad crawled into Integra's lap.
"Van Helsing and his associates were worried about Dust. Children were disappearing. Intercision cut their dæmons away. Dust was Original Sin that collected on children after their dæmons settled..." Integra had stopped making sense after her first sentence, and she knew it, now rattling off her thoughts in no particular order. "My great-grandfather was Catholic."
Catholics were worried about Original Sin in the form of Dust, Integra thought, narrowing her thoughts down to a few key ideas. Only intercision could prevent it from collecting... She sat up, a shiver running up her spine. There were two words in her thought process that stood out.
Catholics. Intercision.
They all had crosses hanging around their necks, like the one on your bow.
Integra got to her knees, practically flinging Illiad from her lap and replaced the books on the shelf as quickly as she could. She stood and made for the door as fast as possible with Illiad at her heels.
Integra? Integra! What's going on? Illiad leaped onto Integra's shoulder. I know that look in your eye, Integra. What's wrong?
"I need to see the Round Table," Integra answered. "As fast as possible!"
~O~
"But, Sir Irons, this can't wait!"
"I'm sorry, Sir Integra, but there's nothing I can do-"
"Sir, please, these children don't have four more days!"
"There is nothing I can do, Integra, not until Sir Penwood and Sir Howard come back. They're out of the country for another three days. I can't call the Round Table without them."
Damn it. Integra ground her teeth, her grip tightening on the phone. Of all the times to be out of the country, Penwood and Howard had to choose right bloody now. In the middle of a crisis, for goodness' sake! In the end, though, Integra had to admit that she had no choice but to wait.
"All right," she breathed. "We'll meet in four days at Westminster."
"I will see you then, Sir Integra. Good day to you."
"And to you, Sir Irons." She hung up the phone and leaned back in her seat.
Well? Illiad had been sitting at the edge of Integra's desk, and now crept forward, anxious for the verdict.
"We're meeting at Westminster in four days," Integra answered, taking Illiad into her arms.
Illiad rested her head on Integra's shoulder, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. What will we do in the meantime?
"Find out anything more we can on these monster, and hope that the situation doesn't get any worse. The last thing I want to see now is another child go missing. Or die." She thought about Samson, nearly lost without his dæmon.
He'll have four more days and more if he listens to you, Illiad commented.
"I know," Integra said, holding Illiad closer. "But nothing is guaranteed."
A/N: I hope I did all right with this one as far as the Dust and such goes. If there's anything that seems off, please tell me! I might not pick up on it right away since I've been staring at this for so long.
Yes, for those of you are horseracing fans, Integra's granddaddy has the same name as the horse Alydar. I liked the name and it was the first one that came to mind when I wrote him, so there you go! Although I momentarily toyed with calling him Alder, but Alydar stuck.
Reviews always appreciated!