Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning Hellsing

The extract had come through his door that very morning, in an envelope made of something resembling parchment. That was all it was; two extracts from Lady Gregory's Cuchulain of Muirthemne, with some words scrawled underneath:

Then Aoife gave him the arms of a champion, and bade him go to Ireland, but first she laid three commands on him: the first never to give way to any living person, but to die sooner than be made turn back; the second, not to refuse a challenge from the greatest champion alive, but to fight him at all risks, even if he was sure to lose his life; the third, not to tell his name on any account, though he might be threatened with death for hiding it. She put him under geasa, that is, under bonds, not to do these things…

And Cuchulain said: "It is a pity your mother not to be here to see you brought down. She might have stretched out her hand to stop the spear that wounded you." And Conlaoch said: "My curse be on my mother, for it was she put me under bonds; it was she sent me here to try my strength against yours."

And Cuchulain said,My curse be on your mother, the woman that is full of treachery; it is through her harmful thoughts these tears have been brought on us."

Underneath were the simple words, drawn out in runic letters, Which matters more, Collum, the blood of Hellsing or the words of Helen? Bring us the former, since you were bound by the latter. The Children of the Goddess require the Daughter of the Goddess.

Helen had been his mother's name. Thirty-two years later, he remembered what she had said partly as a joke, but with some warning in her voice, when she had read to him from books of fairytales from her homelandon rainy days in the school holidays. She had said that he must do nothing to cross them, superstitious woman that she was; nothing, or it would be the end of him. Her words had stayed with him, even when she had died suddenly and abruptly a few days after he had gained his entrance into university, from a stroke…or so qualified doctors said. The look of abject fear on her face had certainly made him think otherwise, but he had been young then.

Well, he was older now. Even when she was dead, his mother's words held him in thrall, and all his fears came back again.

As he read Lady Gregory's words again, Collum knew that whatever he chose to do now, he was a dead man.

Although Integral could not feel the pain that surely accompanied the needle that Trevallion was using to sew the skin of her wound back together, she could still feel the movement of the implement against the small amount of scalp that the doctor had shaved off, and it was far from pleasant. Despite Trevallion's skill, she was positive that this was surely one of the most uncomfortable things that she had ever endured, next to having Walter pry pieces of glass out of her hands when she was fourteen – she supposed it was some sort of poetic justice for smashing a decanter against a table in a fit of temper. Closing her eyes and thinking of England might be one way of getting through a wedding night, but it was hardly an option here.

She settled with looking at the bookcase beyond Trevallion's chest leaning over her, a dark and solid construction, as was much of the furniture in her private reading room, which was where she had chosen to have her head sewn up again. She listened to the faint hum of the light that shone down from above her on Trevallion's task, and to the sound of Walter breathing as he stood behind her chair, and to the sounds within her own body. She concentrated on the feel of having her hair pulled back and out of the way by a hastily commandeered Alice band, and the press of her suit against her back and her legs, and the hardness of the wood she could still feel through her gloves.

Instead of thinking of England she thought of Ireland. She thought of what Bernadette had told her, of the being that Anderson had called a changeling. She thought of his phone call at about three o'clock, telling her about the death of that tourist in suspicious circumstances, and the disappearance of a young woman.

She tried not to think that Sinead's disappearance, and the situation surrounding it, bore a disturbing resemblance to the dream she had had last night. A harpist on a lonely country road, spirited away, leaving behind her car and her personal belongings, but taking her instrument…if it was a coincidence, leaving out the matter of the demonic looking horse, it was a very convenient one. Integral did not like to rely upon, doubt or otherwise be troubled by her dreams. Dreams could not be trusted.

She thought of what Seras and the mercenary might be doing now. Her stomach rumbled. She was surprised to find that she was feeling hungry. Had she eaten anything today?

"Are you nearly done?" she asked at last, doing her best not to sound petulant.

"Just about, Sir Integral. Be patient."

"And by the way, while you're here, you might as well take the blood sample. It saves you coming back tomorrow."

She couldn't see the doctor's face, but she could hear the frown in his voice. "I hardly think it's an opportune time to take your blood, Sir Integral.

"On the contrary, it's a perfect time. You're making far too many home calls for my liking these days, Trevallion."

"Well, hopefully after this they'll be for less serious reasons than sutures," the doctor replied slowly, his hands never ceasing to move out of her line of sight. She felt the smallest of tugs in her scalp, and had to work hard not to squirm where she sat. She heard the sound of scissor blades, and the tug was gone. "There, that should do it. Now, be careful while washing, otherwise you might tear them by accident. Keep the area clean, and-"

"I have had sutures before now, Trevallion. I know not to touch." She was joking, but she could see Trevallion's frown and decided to play along. "I will be careful, doctor. Heaven forbid you need to be called back to stitch me together once more."

"Heaven forbid indeed." Trevallion had by now dropped the needle and the remnants of the thread into a sterile bag and was pulling off his first pair of gloves to put another pair on. She closed her eyes and focused on rolling up her left shirt sleeve; she had seen the preparation of the syringe many times before, and it wasn't a particularly inspiring sight.

"Are you ready, Sir Integral?"

"Of course, doctor. Do it." Integral watched the needle pierce the skin of her arm with a certain weary resignation, and the chamber of Trevallion's syringe begin to fill with the familiar deep redness, going through the same routine that she endured twice per year. Walter watched the procedure as narrowly as she did, as if afraid that Trevallion would spill even one drop of her apparently precious blood on the carpet of her study.

Paradoxically, blood was as important to the survival of Hellsing as it was to the two vampires attached to it - Integral needed to keep Alucard bound to her by a sanguine contract, and the healthier the vital component was, the better. At the same time, it was vital that the doctors in service to the organization check constantly for any signs of the hereditary blood disease that had killed the knight's mother in her late twenties, when her daughter was barely seven. The price for being the 'Virgin of the Order' was that she kept her body as pure as possible, as well as her blood.

It all comes down to blood, in the end…

It was curious; when she was younger, a mere child, she would have moaned at the pain of the needle's entry and exit from her body, yet now she would barely have even felt such a minuscule wound had she not been partially numbed from the local anesthetic Trevallion had given her. She knew what real wounds were; she still had stitches in her throat and stomach to testify to that, which still pained her faintly when she moved too harshly. There were times when she longed to have her walking stick back, though of course she would never admit it.

"How do you feel, Sir Integral?" She roused herself to smile up at Trevallion; he was one of the very few who had the right to address her by name, even if the honorific was still used. Since her knighthood, practically nobody called her only Integral…except, on occasion, her vampiric servant, whether to vex her or to woo her in his own twisted manner.

"Relatively well, doctor, all things considered. How do you think that my blood will look this time?"

"I'm certain it will look as good as always, all things considered, including your little indulgences." He definitely sounded testy now, as he pulled out the needle and quickly dabbed the point of entry with cotton wool. She knew what this was about: all of her doctors nagged her incessantly to stop smoking, protesting the ill effects that it would have upon her health. She had somehow never decided to tell them that she rarely if ever actually inhaled the smoke and would simply hold it in her mouth, savoring the taste of it; she would not pollute her blood and lungs any further than they might already be. She looked up at Walter now where he stood beside her and she was certain she saw his mouth curl and his eyes crease. He knew all about her habit that was not a habit, for he had spent some time teaching her the technique when she first started; the foundation of the lessons being that if he couldn't stop her from smoking outright, at least she would be doing it in a manner which caused the least harm to herself.

"Trevallion, I do not believe this is the time or the place to be discussing my partiality for cigars." As soon as his fingers had pressed a bandage over the sterilized pinprick, she pulled her arm away from his, rolling her sleeve back down and standing up. "Do you have enough blood?"

The doctor looked up from where he was transferring the contents of the syringe into a clean glass bottle. "This should be more than enough, Sir Integral, but you shouldn't be walking about at once. I always tell you-"

"And I never listen," she cut in calmly, as she took her jacket from Walter and put it on. "Let me not keep you any further on your last house call, doctor. I'm sure that you're eager to get home after depositing my blood."

Trevallion's eye brows rose in amusement. Others might have taken offence at her tone, but he had been treating her since she was a little girl and he knew her moods almost as well as Walter. "I take it that your latest venture is not going as well as could be hoped? Is Iscariot bothering you again?"

She waved her hand impatiently. "No, no. It's research that I'm doing. My findings are becoming something of a pain." Especially when they turn up in the middle of the night, smash my windows and steal my hair and part of my scalp.

Her doctor nodded, and quickly packed up the rest of his instruments. He picked up his coat his bag, and then turned to Integral and smiled in farewell, bowing his head slightly as he always did.

"Good night, Sir Integral. May God and Her Majesty be with you."

"And with you, Dr. Trevallion."

Walter coughed as the doctor exited the room, gesturing towards the desk on which the telephone from her office had been set up. "Sir Integral, there is a call from Officer Victoria. I put her on hold while Trevallion attended to you; I did not think that you would wish to be disturbed."

"Good thinking, Walter." No, it would certainly not do to have a phone conversation while her blood was extracted. Trevallion was one of the best, or he would not have been her doctor and one of the medical investigators of Hellsing, and she trusted him implicitly, but it would not do to casually discuss the status of a mission in front of him, especially when he was darning her scalp.

Collum Trevallion sat back in the seat of the car as the driver closed the door. One of the many advantages of being employed by an English knight was that you never had to drive to appointments with them; they would always send a car for you.

It would make what would happen all that much easier. Better that he was not driving. They would come to take it soon, he knew. Why they wanted Sir Integral's blood he could not fathom – their kind never could stomach blood - but want it they did. They would come for it, to take it from him. They knew just as well that he would not give it to them, and what would happen to him as a result of it. But of course, they did not care about that. All they cared about was what his mother had told him in the family living room, when he had been ten and curious about his Irish heritage. All that mattered to them concerning him was that his mother had told him that, if he wished to live a long life, he should never cross them. Essentially bound by honor to obey them when still only a child, however unwittingly, they had been waiting to make the best use of him. And what better use was there than being in the employ of a knight; and more than that, her doctor?

His hands clasped his knees. He tried to stop them from trembling. He would not be afraid.

Now he was caught. Thanks to his mother's ill fated words he knew that he couldn't disobey them, but neither could he betray Sir Integral's trust. He had sworn his loyalty to her and her alone. She was in danger, but he would not add to that danger willingly. He would do his best to warn her with his death, rather than complying with each new order as it came, working against her further and further. It was only blood now, but what might they desire next? He could not place the knight in such danger, or tear himself apart over his conflicting loyalties. The letter was in his bag, with the extracts and words he had been sent, and hopefully it would be taken to her when he was found and she could find out something of what she was up against. She needed to know what her foes were.

Collum sat back in his seat, and thought briefly – only very briefly. He had no reason to regret all the things that he had done in his life. He had served a good cause, he had tended to two generations of the Hellsing family and he had felt pride in their trust. A fine way to repay that trust, but it could not be helped. His life would be over soon. He had been doomed from the moment his mother had foolishly promised his services to the Shining Ones.

He could hear laughter in his ears now, very faint, that was not his.

They were a merry folk.

Integral blinked once or twice, before replying to what she had heard. "A horse."

"Yes, Sir Integral."

"An aquatic, carnivorous horse, that drags people into a river and rips them to pieces," she repeated flatly, exchanging glances with Walter. Stoic that he often was, he now looked as baffled as she secretly felt.

"Yes, Sir Integral. It seems more at home in water than on the land."

"It seems? You mean that it's still alive? You didn't kill it?" She sometimes had some doubts of Seras's capability, taking into consideration her soft hearted nature, but was she really that incompetent?

"No, sir." Seras sounded exhausted on the other end of the line. "We thought it was best to find out more about it, rather than just killing it. We've found a way to subdue it, and we're bringing it back to where we're staying. I think we should examine it further."

"A good idea, as long as you manage to keep it secured." Strangely, the more she spoke about it, the less ridiculous the topic became. After all, she had had her study wrecked by a shape-shifter only last night, which had left its mark in more way than one. And speaking of that… "What does this demon horse look like, Seras?"

"Well, it's white, sir, and it has a very long mane and tail. Sharp teeth as well; believe me, I should know. And its eyes are bright yellow. Why do you want to know, sir?"

"Just a theory I have. I might have some idea of what it is." Perhaps it was cryptic, but she didn't feel this was the time to start jumping to conclusions. Making assumptions had cost her dearly in the past, after all. "You are all unharmed? Even the priest?"

"His pride took a bit of a knock, but he's still alive, with all his bits and pieces working. Bernadette's fine as well. My shoulder's been better, but it's healed already."

"Good. I am glad to hear it. Then I wish you the best of luck, Seras Victoria. Remember to call tomorrow, will you?"

"Most likely Bernadette will do it, but I'll remind him to." Seras's voice lowered. "You don't sound very well, Sir Integral. Are you all right?"

Integral could not help but chuckle. What a sweet person Seras must have been while she was alive, if she was able to carry all this concern over into her un-life! "I'm perfectly all right, Seras. You be careful with that creature you've captured. May God and Her Majesty be with you."

"Goodnight, Sir Integral."

Her hand was already reaching for the omnibus she had been perusing when her unwanted visitor had burst in. In doing so she caught Walter's eye, and saw his disapproval. "What? You think that I should have told her about my own little matter here? I am her employer, she is my employee; I have no reason to give her information in kind. And besides, what would I say? 'Congratulations, I believe you've just captured a mythological Irish water demon?'"

"Do you believe that what they have is a demon, Sir Integral?"

"Ever heard of a kelpie?" She paused for her words to sink in, before continuing. "A spirit common in Ireland and Scotland. A shape-shifter, its most preferred form is that of a white horse with a long mane and tail, sometimes made of weed, with yellow eyes. It tempts the unwary into climbing onto its back, and once the unfortunate passenger is seated it dives into its water source and devours them, letting the remnants float to the surface. Does it sound familiar?"

"I admit that there is some resemblance, Sir Integral." Her butler now sounded the faintest bit irritated, perhaps at being proved wrong.

"The discovery of a changeling. A púca attacks me last night. Seras and company find a kelpie tonight. Much as I hate to admit it, I believe that they are all connected in some manner. Can't you see, Walter? They're all elements of Irish fairy tales, all taking place in the modern world. Either something is trying to revive the good old days…or something from those good old days is back."

Whatever Walter was about to say was lost in the ring of the bell that generally meant someone was at the front door. He frowned, and instead bowed himself out to see who the visitor was with a murmur of apology, giving Integral the chance to dwell, for the first time that day, on another important matter.

Which was this: where the hell was Alucard? Seras and Bernadette together had contacted her four times since they had arrived in the country; Alucard, who at this distance didn't even need to use a phone to talk to her, preferring to slip into her mind, hadn't said so much as a word. She knew that nothing had happened to him – she would have felt it if such was the case – but this persistent silence on his part was disconcerting. Why was he neglecting…no, refusing to make contact? If he had his reasons, she could not fathom them.

If he would not be the one to contact her, she would contact him. As the vampire had taught her, she closed her eyes and focused all her mind upon his name, sending it like an arrowhead out into the world, hopefully flying straight to wherever he was.

Alucard?

There was no answer to her call, no intrusion into the darkness behind her lids. She folded her arms in annoyance, and repeated her mental action. Alucard?

There was success this time, if only a very minor one; there was a faint resistance to her mental voice, as if she had blown on a dying fire and in turn received a small glow, oxygen fueling heat. She expertly pinpointed where this glow came from, from whatever far distance there was in the blackness in front of her, and jabbed out. Alucard! Report!

The response nearly knocked her out of her seat.

Hellsing's get! The voice that snarled into her head without passing by way of her ears was nothing like the Alucard of today, no matter how filled with blood-frenzy he might be, but was instead the voice of the one who had pinned her to the walls of that fateful dungeon, ten years ago, without restraint and now filled with hatred as well as hunger. Your blood will gush upon the ground!

Remember to whom you are speaking, servant! She snapped back, as soon as she had caught her breath. At once the burning voice retreated in the wake of her anger, and parting it was a familiar tone that sounded calm, but very tired indeed.

Leave me, Integra. Stay away.

What-

But he had already retreated. She tried to reach out again, only to be violently rebuffed. And then Alucard was gone.

What on earth was that about?

She was still struggling to sit upright again when Walter came back in, very swiftly. "Sir Integral, I have some bad news for you. Word has come that Dr. Trevallion is dead."

She felt as if she had been mentally struck again. "Trevallion? How?"

She listened as Walter spoke quickly and urgently; how the driver of Trevallion's car had driven him to the medical centre, only to find him sitting dead in the back seat. No marks upon him, only an expression on his face that showed he seemed to have died in great pain or stress. A search of his bag, which he had still been holding, yielded only his instruments and a letter addressed to her; the vial of her blood was gone.

She demanded to see the letter, and obediently Walter brought it to her. Her name was written on it in Trevallion's hand, his writing familiar from so many medical reports she had read. She ripped it open and pulled out the contents; two pieces of paper. The first one was a letter of confession. Trevallion hadn't succumbed to the trite theme of 'if you are reading this then I am dead', but his words were depressing enough in any case. He spoke of how sorry he was, and how he would never wish to cause her any harm, but events had spiraled out of control. He pleaded for her forgiveness, though he did not expect any.

'I was forced to make a choice,' she read at one point, 'a matter of life and death. A choice, between you and them. A choice between the words that have dogged my life since I was ten, and the words of my loyalty to Hellsing. I chose you.' There was something about a vow, an obligation, that her mother had laid upon him when he was only young, something that he could not escape. 'Look at the other sheet. It is what they sent to me. You will understand then, I am certain.'

The last few lines of his letter one again blamed himself and his weakness, and then praising her and apologizing that he could not help her any further. He wished he could have been of more use to her. The last line, just about his oh so familiar signature was deeply etched and potentially chilling line: 'Don't let them take you.'

She found herself needing to breathe deeply as she looked at the other piece of paper, which was more like parchment, really. She read two extracts, two extracts about the duty and death of a boy, who was charged by his mother to fight, to never give in, and to never reveal his name.

'She put him under geasa, that is, under bonds, not to do these things…'

She found herself breathing harshly by the time she read the runic letters under the extracts. If what Trevallion claimed was true, then he had been bound by contract to do whatever some unseen enemy had wished, since his childhood – and what they had wanted was her blood, and he had refused to give it to them, and he had died because of that refusal and his loyalty to her. She felt as if she might choke at the twisted, sick wrongness of it. Who had done this? Who has done this to him?

The Children of the Goddess…

Could it be? Had those who had come to Ireland, and who had been worshipped as gods by those who came after them, survived to this day? The púca certainly had; why not beings even greater than that creature?

The Children of the Goddess require the Daughter of the Goddess…

How, how could they know that her mother had been named for one of the greatest Indian goddesses, Lakshmi?

"They will pay," she hissed, once she had quite finished reading. "By God, whoever they are and whatever they are, they will pay for what they have done to me, and to Collum. If they think that they can take me for themselves, then they are very much mistaken."

If my mother is Lakshmi, then I am Kali. And I will have my revenge.

If I have made some errors in how sutures are made, then I apologise. Considering I am the offspring of two doctors, I really know very little about how wounds are treated. The very thought of stitches makes me feel sick.

The way in which Integral smokes her cigars is how my dad use to smoke them, before he gave them up (he was never a heavy smoker in any case). Cigar smoke actually smells quite nice, and his study would often be full of the scent.

The idea of the geas(or geis, or however you wish to pronounce it) is fairly common in Irish mythology. Basically, if someone put a geas on you e.g. you must not eat fish, then if you did by some unhappy chance happen to eat fish, you'd lose your honor or maybe even die. This, in turn, has lead to some pretty daft goings on. One man and his sons were under a geas not to let anyone shout on a hill. Another man had two different geasa put on him, so that 1) he could not eat dog meat, and 2) he must always eat anything offered to him by a woman. Guess what happened when an old crone offered him some? Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Lakshmi is the Hindu goddess of plenty and good fortune. Kali, by contrast, is a rather violent piece of work. Quite often she's portrayed with a necklace of skulls around her neck, which should give you some idea of what she gets up to at the weekends. However she can also be portrayed in a milder way, holding out a hand to the viewer, as a sign for her followers not to fear her.

(Yes, I am of the faction that believes Integra's mum was Indian. I mean, her colouring is just like Wendy's in Read or Die.)

Cuchulain of Muirthemne, Lady Gregory, foreword by W.B. Yeats, London, J. Murray, 1902. Quite a good read, though she does gloss over some parts of the legends. If you look up Cuchlain on Wikipedia, there should be a link to an online version of it down at the bottom of the page.

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