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The Kitchen , Hellsing Manor-
After supper, Walter retired to the solace to be found in a large, soapy basin of dishes in the sink. While some servants loathed dishwashing, he found it oddly soothing- a way to sort of go on auto-pilot and shut out the events of the day, like a zen exercise. The fragrant water also did a splendid job of warming up his hands which were beginning to develop a mild case of arthritis, especially as the long, winter months progressed. He rolled up his sleeves and dove in, busily scrubbing the remains of both lunch and dinner. From behind, he heard the clicking of boot heels and felt a familiar presence.
"Hallo Mr. Dornez-can I help you?" the blonde vampire asked.
"You can dry if you like." Seras nodded and moved a little to her left to get the dishtowel and begin to aid him.
"How goes the research?' he inquired. She polished a ceramic gravy boat- anything silver was off limits.
"Finding way too much about zombies and Haiti than I'd ever hope to. It seems that if Section XIII, or any of its crack-pot friends are trying to build up an enslaved army, it's really quite simple- whether they use the natural or chemically enhanced method, the result is the same, and the damage is done. By the time the victim snaps out of it, the change is so great, that they really can't recover. The problem with the chemical version is that the system becomes bonded to these acids and such so the host's body becomes dependant on it. The only thing that will help a ChemZombie survive is creating a mild version of the poison that they then have to take their whole life."
"Like giving a junkie morphine instead of heroine to get by?"
"Yeah, something like that-pretty sick, huh?" Seras plunged her hand into the bubbling water, but then let out a yelp of pain and pulled her hand back up.
"Knife?" She shook her hand and revealed the sizzling palm- contact with silver still had that effect on her.
"No, Sterling- I think a teaspoon." She giggled a bit. "The mighty Draculina done in by a rather dull spoon." Walter grinned , in spite of his pleasant mood, Seras knew that he was still shaken up by the violence of the last few days. She could detect a pale, violet bruise lingering near his collar-a memento from Mr. Williams, or now the late Mr. Williams. While a snapped neck would be merely a deterrent for an immortal, it would have been fatal to a human. If she had not stopped the fiend, Seras could have been attending an additional funeral.
"Walter." she stated. The man paused and looked at her-her eyes were filled with concern and warmth.
"I'm really glad that you're all right- are you in any pain?"
"I'm fine, thank you. I should have been on my toes more-we both knew that something was not right, I should have acted on my gut feeling." He plunged his hands into the water, and felt a few , little fingers intertwine with his. The girl smiled at him and gave a squeeze.
"You did fine, Walter, just fine."
Elsewhere- The Catacombs, Maximilian Villa
The vampire paced up and down the ancient corridors, kicking up dust at his feet. He had seen his master just a few short hours ago- there was no need to worry about her; she was probably just detained in a meeting. He had attended these panels and discussions with Integra this afternoon-they dragged on and rambled into each other. She was fine. The idea of time did not concern Alucard, after all, he had an abundance of it, but it was the fact that he could not reach out and touch her telepathically nor speak to her mentally. It was if a great, dull wall had come between them, muffling all communication and contact, smothering their bond. This got him nervous. If he could not reach her within the hour, he would go searching for her first, then hunt. A dry laugh echoed in his head, then another, and an additional one bounced off the stone and bleached bone walls.
"Perhaps, she's gone off and found a human lover..." A voice like dead leaves in a breeze whispered.
"Maybe she's a sleep in the arms of the Bishop..." another suggested.
"They could be rutting on the alter..." a sensuous one purred. Their chuckling grew bawdy and dense.
Alucard furrowed his brow and barred his teeth.
"Not funny, little ghosts." The skulls that lined the catacombs began to laugh and tremble.
"Can't help it, sir," one broken head stated "We know by far too much to suspect the worst of human nature-especially here."
"It's a dungeon of torture and pain." a deep voice boomed.
" A prison of memories and might-have-beens," a softer one proclaimed.
" Here lies a den of sin and vice.," Another hissed
"No, it's a brothel filled with rape and fear.," a female tone quivered. It was however, the tiniest, weakest voice that truly disturbed the creature.
"This is a bad, bad place.," a child's timbre explained.
The vampire took in a calming breath and exhaled-he wanted to smash the dead walls and put all of these souls to rest, but it wouldn't be enough. Whatever was holding them here was by far more powerful than the stones and iron, the marble and glass of the actual house- something dark and extremely powerful held its grip firmly here .No wonder the loa wanted to be present, and its servants knew what kind of power could be harvested in such a dire home. A shuffling could be heard down the hallway and Alucard's ears pricked up. The steps were light, and definitely made by someone on the slight side.
"Master?" he called mentally. There was no answer. He repeated it with more concentration, still no response. Finally, Alucard spoke.
"Master?" The steps drew closer in time with the beats of his heart.
Meanwhile-
The notes of "Carmen" were expertly played , each one passionately stirring up the image of the gypsy and the crowds in Sir Hellsing's mind. It had been years since she had seen the opera, but recalled it with fond memories. She sat to Maxwell's right, on the divan behind him and the piano. Supper had been filling; the rich sauce was quite superb-the wine had complemented it very nicely. Speaking of which, she was now on her almost third glass. The Port was warm and sensually smooth. Usually, she held her liquor well, though she was beginning to feel rather sleepy. She angled her head back just slightly, but could feel gravity take over and pull her down further.
"Would you like to play?" the Arch Bishop asked. Integra raised her head and eyed the piano. It had been a very, very long time since she had even touched a musical instrument-it would be rather pleasant, a treat she did not get the enjoyment of very often...
"Why not?" Maxwell exchanged places as she rose and took the bench. She first stretched out her fingers and began the delicate notes of Fur Elsie- a child's song really, but she felt that she had to start somewhere, and it would be easier to present an elementary piece well -done, rather than a more advanced level half-done. It struck Sir Hellsing as rather odd that her fingers had now been so used to pulling triggers and writing documents instead of creating things; the making of music was pleasing, enjoyable . Her one note turned sour, and she faltered. She attempted to re-try it , but failed. The Bishop came to her side.
"Perhaps, if you moved your two fingers like this-," he directed her ring and pinky a little more to the side."You will be able to put more pressure on it and tap the note. Sometimes, one has to push in a new direction to obtain harmony." She continued the piece under his guidance. His eyes were soft and tone instructional. As much as she hated to admit it, he was a decent teacher. Slowly, he sat down beside her, and suggested a piece.
"We could play something that requires four hands- you play the top notes, while I can hit the bottoms ones." While the offer sounded innocent enough, it was his closeness that made the woman uneasy. Her instincts guided her off of the bench and to her feet. The room spun a little, yet she was not drunk- her body felt so light, as if she was made our of tissue paper, or gauze.
"I think I should go." Integra stated. Enrico gazed at her gently.
"Sit down for just a little longer- you look so tired." As if her legs had a mind of their own, she strode back to the couch and sat. The man was on the bench, close, yet not too close, still civil, still calm.
"When did you first learn to play, Sir Integra."
"My mother taught me when I was small. I used to enjoy it very much and continued for quite some time. Responsibility , I'm afraid, crushed my inner Mozart."
"Before my final years in the Seminary, I studied violin and classical guitar extensively. I was also the canter for the High Masses. My duties also left me less and less time to devote to my passions."
"We all have our sacrifices to make." For a moment they looked at each other with some level of understanding. They were both people whom had to slough off so much of their own lives for the sake of others, that it was natural for some of the regrets to surface now and then. She refused to call this moment a 'bond', but none the less, an understanding it was. The man inched nearer.
"I want you to stay." he whispered, low and pleasant "Talk with me, let me find out who you really are." The timbre of his voice was sweet, soothing, like warm honey. Her limbs felt heavy and a heat flushed across her cheeks and neck- such interest, such manners- so this is what it was like to be wooed...
"Snap out of it! " A tiny voice of reason decreed in the back of her head, but the wine and winding music left her dazed. The divan was so warm and inviting- she could feel the essences of cherries and roses making her mouth water-it was like being seduced from the inside out. She gazed at the Bishop for a moment and he appeared softer, more handsome than she had remembered- pale skin, long, Raphael waves, deep, emerald eyes... a spell was being woven and she was wrapped up within in its strands.
Within an instant, he was inches from her face-she could feel the breath on her chin and his lips started to graze over her cheek. His hair smelled like orange water and a heavy lock of it spilled onto her shoulder. Hands brushed slightly over her own and the space between them closed.
"Aren't you tiered of being cold?" he cooed "Don't you crave to be understood, loved, appreciated?" Maxwell pulled on the pin at the base of her neck, and her hair spilled downwards like a golden waterfall. He caressed a few strands and gazed lovingly into her face.
"I, I" She could not think or speak. It was if a wet blanket was smothering her mind and her voice was hidden somewhere deep inside. His nose rubbed against hers, and a hand tilted her chin up to meet his mouth in light kiss .She was shocked- she began to squirm, but she was uncoordinated and felt herself slide downwards, being pulled under.
"I don't care .." a small sultry voice in her heart whispered, "Let this happen, let these frozen years finally thaw...take this icicle chastity, warm me to the core..." Integra did not recognize this facet of herself and panicked This was not her-it was not her heart talking! Maxwell's hands slipped over her waist .his own form starting to cover hers. His lips found hers and pressed; his teeth pulled at the damn of her mouth until it spilled open, the flavour of the Port thick in the kiss. Integra attempted to push him off, shoving with dulled strength. He laughed.
"Poor girl-you have no head for wine.." The horror that she was now flat on her back rekindled her voice.
"Off-get off me!" she commanded.
"You are in no position to make demands, my dear. Have no fear, I still only want talk, but isn't this more comfortable?" Integra reached up a hand to slap at his face, but it came across as a mere pat; her body was quite drugged
"Bastard, you poisoned the wine!"
"Poisoned-not at all, just think of it as a mild sedative to make you more, responsive.I want to play a game with you, Ciccolina, to get to know my betrothed better."
"What? Are you daft!?" He hushed a finger to her lips.
"I'll ask some questions- if I like what I hear, I'll reward you, perhaps with a little kiss..."
"Some reward..." she spat. His weight settled more firmly upon her and his grip tightened.
"If I think you're lying, or I don't like what I hear, I'll take something from you-perhaps your gloves or glasses, or more precious things..."He grinned sadistically, and for the first time, Integra felt genuinely threatened.
"Sick dog- I should fuc- " her threat was cut short by a sharp pressure on her wrists and she winced.
"Now, now-remember what I said about language- a fine lady as yourself should not use such phrases. Now where do we begin? When is your birthday?"
"What?"
"Birthday- everyone has one-when is yours?" She had no choice- until she could regain her strength, she answered.
"October 29th."
"A Scorpio-quite fitting." He pecked her forehead. For a thin man, he was very strong. His lips settled close to her ear, while his hands wandered over the front of her.
"Are you armed?" he asked.
"No." His hands continued to grope near her stomach- not sexual, but searching. They plucked the folded dagger from the front vest pocket. Maxwell pulled the weapon up and displayed it to her, with a disapproving shake of his head.
"Not good." he reprimanded, and tossed the dagger well out of reach. He plucked Integra's glasses of her face and stoked her cheek.
"You have really beautiful eyes." Sir Hellsing cursed at him, but it didn't phase him in the slightest-he found it quite amusing. "I want to get a little more personal. How do you keep those beasts of yours at bay- magik? Rituals? Certainly , having such beings in the household must be dangerous-how do you control them?" His grip was like iron and his tone grew darker.
"Trade secret."
"Not funny- do you perform Black Magik, or are there more base ways to tame the beasts..." Enrico let a hand slip down her torso, the fingers digging through the cloth. "Do you feed them your own blood- are you a witch?"
"Why? Are you going to burn me at the stake? Do you like playing inquisitor?" The Bishop's eyes hardened and he began to undo her vest, nearly popping the buttons off. His hand had positioned itself over her heart.
"Proud woman-I am concerned for your soul!"
"Have concern for your own!" Next, the ascot was slowly unraveled-he pulled it free as a child would undo a ribbon from a favoured gift.
"I know what my soul is like, Integra, I merely wish to preserve yours-after all, a husband must love his wife like Christ loves the Church." Tapered fingers toyed with her shirt collar opening button after button.
"Don't ." she warned. Her attacker placed a feather -light kiss on her throat, then another.
"You don't command them with your wiles, do you? Sexual rewards may be quite enough to keep man, or beast, by your side." He nibbled the curve of her neck and Integra winced as she felt the air hit her chest and waist. Greedy hands groped and slipped under her armor of lace and wire.
"A bit smaller than what I usually like , but very well-shaped."
"Toss off!," Integra hissed Enrico arched a brow and cast a naughty glance.
"With or without your help? But let us be serious again-are you still really a virgin?" he breathed,"or is it just merely a title , hmm?" The nails raked against tender flesh and the woman bit back the pain-she would give him nothing, not a drop of satisfaction in his torment.
"I am." He laughed at her reply.
"Oh really, perhaps, we should test your statement." She felt his hips roll against her own and hands began to slip up the sides of the skirt. She damned herself for not changing, as fingers crept like worms on her thighs. They paused for a moment at the tops of the hose, fingering the lace.
"Nice, very nice." he stated,"Tell me, do you allow your servant to touch you like this-do you wish it was him instead of me right now?" She turned her face and swallowed. The hose began to roll downward and he caressed her flesh underneath. "Do you allow him to hold you, please you, make love to you?"
"No." Suddenly, he jerked her upwards, face to face, a look of fury blazing in the Bishop's eyes.
"Liar. You held him in the garden, kissed him took company with him that night!"
"He's my beloved but not my lover." she retorted. Her body was still deadened, but Integra fought out of his grasp as best as she could. Enrico snagged her left arm and brought her down again with a sharp thud against the side of her hip. Like a predator on wounded prey, he dove.
"Integra, Integra, playing hard to get as always..." He smothered her mouth and the woman could feel a panic that froze her blood-she had been shot at, clawed, bitten, nearly killed dozens of times, but her virginity had never been jeopardized. His fingers poised mere inches away from doing irrevocable damages, when finally she broke.
"Don't, please, don't." she whispered, voice quivering. The Bishop licked the side of her face and pressed upwards.
"Don't do what?" Lust dripped from every syllable.
" Please don't do this...Enrico. Please, please." The sound of his name being said with such fear was sweeter than any concerto ever composed. He removed his hand from her lap and gingerly pulled the skirt down . The Bishop covered her torso, cradled her in his arms and kissed her gently, as one would soothe a child. In spite of her bravery, a few renegade tears had slipped from her eyes. Enrico brushed them away and put his lips to her ear.
"I told you one day you would beg underneath a man... All ll I ask of you is to love me, fear me, do as I say, and I will be your devoted slave. I will care for you like no other, love you all the days of my life and make you happy..." Her eyes burned with an unholy rage.
"Sick, you're a sick, horrible.." her words were silenced by his mouth.
"Shhhh...That's just your pride talking, cara mia,No more games tonight-think about my offer in the morning." He placed her like a limp rag doll on the divan, and smoothed her hair. The whole experienced felt unreal, like a twisted dream. He crouched down and whispered a good night, leaving the woman to regain what scraps of dignity she could in the dark. With numb fingers, Sir Hellsing re- buttoned her clothes and her spirit regained it sharpness. A quote from Winston Churchill entered her mind-
"A dark night can make for a rather bloody sunrise."
Oh, yes- the dawn would be very , very bloody indeed...
Ciccolina- "Honey Bunny", "Honey Lamb". There was also an Italian adult film star of the same nick-name who actually ran for government office back in the late 1980's. She had some excellent views on health-care, child care and more modern marriage laws- I believe that she represented for the modified Socialist Party- I'm not sure if she won or not, but it seems that she had a lot of intelligence to match her other er, talents...