Passover
The winter wind whipped through the bony boughs of the trees and a thin, frozen rain began to splatter the windowpanes. Maxwell had sparked a small blaze in the fireplace and joined his companion on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee, and a small bowl of lump sugar. So far, the supper had been pleasant- the meal filling, conversation and wine light. Though he kept a small distance from her throughout the evening, it appeared that the woman was gradually closing the physical gap between the two. She settled in to his left, and pushing a plush pillow to her back. Silence was gently broken; they spoke of their various duties, their families, or lack thereof, and of the convention.
"The other day, I was able to have a few words with the priest from Georgia." he stated. Integra took a sip of her drink.
"He seemed rather pleasant."
"Indeed, in fact, his whole family was- Father Sasha brought his wife and two daughters along with him." Sir Hellsing placed a cube of sugar in her coffee.
"The Russian Orthodox and the Greeks are able to marry, the same goes for the Protestant vicars and ministers, the Rabbis and even some of the Buddhist monks take on matrimony- it still seems odd that in this day and age that the Catholic Church looks down upon such unions for its members."she stated. The Arch Bishop huffed for a moment and set down his cup.
"The Church has its own reasons. Usually, it is quite difficult to serve two masters- personal duty pulls at pious needs. I have known several priests, bishops, and even cardinals care for their families and adhere to their duties quite well, though." His eyes set upon her, attempting to read her emotions and decipher where the conversation was leading to. "After all, did you not claim to never wish to marry because it would interfere with the running of your organization?"
"True , very true. That, I do believe, we have to discuss in further detail. I have been delegating more power to my cousin, Andrew, but the main decisions and the overseeing of the budget, military operations, and all records fall upon my shoulders. I prefer to keep our businesses separate."
"Of course, though, I would be happy to aid you in the funding."
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary."
" Do you want to continue working full time after the children are born?" Integra laughed softly.
"My, my, you seem so eager for decedents. And just how soon would these fictional children come into the picture?"
"I was hoping for a family in the next two years- enough time for us to travel freely and settle ourselves into each other before starting domestic affairs."
"Domestic affairs- you sound like you are forever talking business. The answer is that I will continue to run my business as I see fit, and we will raise our family as best as we both can, Maxwell " It was the fourth time she had actually used his surname during the course of the night. While it was not said in the intimate whisper that he desired, nor did she use his first name just yet, it was an improvement over her usual icy tone. He inched closer.
"Contrary to what you may think of me, I do believe that we would make excellent parents." Integra cocked an eyebrow and leaned into him slightly, the russet gleam of the fire catching the cross at her throat.
"Really-pray tell."
"Both of us are intelligent, cultured, well-organized, good disciplinarians, and I think that they would be very attractive creatures- like their mother." The Bishop smiled on the last comment, and Sir Hellsing fought the urge to choke up her café. "Not to mention caring- you do have a nurture's touch under all your iron- Father Anderson told me how you helped that little girl from the choir the other day."
"You would have done the same, I'm sure." Silently, Integra doubted her own words there-after all, if it meant Enrico could have her body and soul, he would have been glad to cut the child down in a heartbeat.
"Remember, thoughts like that to yourself, even if they are true... you are a pleasant and sweet girl tonight, even if you do want to strangle him right about now..." her inner-voice proclaimed. Damned inner voice.
"While I'm not so good at conducting myself in a large group of them, I do very well with children on an individual basis- tell me, do you have any nieces or nephews yet?"
"No. While I'm not sure if Andrew and his wife wish to start a family any time in the near future, I will be happy to be an aunt if they decide to become parents. Hopefully, Edward won't even be thinking about fatherhood until many years from now. Andrew's a fine, fine man and while I still don't know her as well as I would like to, Meena is a good woman and an accomplished musician ."
"A concert pianist, yes?" The Arch Bishop inquired.
"Yes." The conversation ceased and for a few beats, the pair sipped their beverages and listened to the embers crackle and pop. Flames rose then simmered down into their bed of wood and stone. The burnt wood smelled rich and heavy, with the accompanying essences of smooth coffee and the irresistible lavender-vanilla combination. Enrico studied her for a moment- the sharp line of her profile, the outline of her figure clad in lace and velvet against the rich green tapestry, and her hair glowing gold with the energy of the blaze.
Her fingers, long and tapered, sat on the edge of the china. It was so odd to see them un-clothed; usually so much of her was covered, but tonight, it was as if all of her secrets were being physically bared for him to see. While the display of graceful throat and cleavage was lovely, it was her hands that fascinated him. Some of the fingertips were calloused and scared, the nails short, clean, and manicured. A thread-thin line of raised, scar tissue alighted the two knuckles across her middle and ring finger on her left hand, and the pinky appeared a bit off, tilted away a little from the rest of the fingers. The right hand was flawless, and a silver insignia banded her ring finger. Integra caught him inspecting the heirloom .
"It was my father's ring, upon his passing it was given to me-it's been in my family for almost two centuries, even before Abraham settled in England." She held it up to the light and the silver glowed orange in the dying coals. Maxwell squinted and read the fine, detailed writing etched into the metal.
"The inscription's German- it says,'God is with us'. " Integra smirked.
"Did you think that HE only works well with the Vatican?" Enrico smiled slightly and ran his fingers lightly over the other hand, tracing the ancient injury with his pointer. At first, Integra wanted to yank her hand away, but instead let him linger on top of her for a moment.
"What happened to you?" She raised it up and rotated it slightly, displaying the marks for him to see.
"I broke it when I was nineteen, punched right through a plated, glass window-nearly severed these two fingers off. Let's just say I let my temper get the better of me..." The man chuckled lightly.
"Perhaps, it's your father that protects and guides your right hand. Were you close to him?"
"Yes... He was a decent, noble man. Always working, always busy with the organization, but loving, very loving. " Enrico toyed with his cup.
"I speak to mine a few times a year- for close to a decade, we had no contact- a few letters here and there, funds- of course, but no real, human contact. We have grown a bit more amicable as the years have passed-my angst ran out as I assumed more responsibilities here."
"What of your mother?" Maxwell turned from her eyes.
"I care not to speak to my mother or step-mother, I have little use for either of them." Sir Hellsing could sense that she touched on a raw nerve.
"I see. I'm sorry."
"Don't be- you don't know my history, my life's past. All I can ask you is to be a part of my future." Deep sea-water eyes gazed up into hers, a moment of connection. Integra cleared her voice and placed her cup down.
"I must be leaving, it's getting late and I want to go back to my room." She began to rise, when her companion did the same.
"I would ask you to stay with me, but I can see that you're not yet comfortable, perhaps, another night?" His voice raised with hope.
"Fine." Gently, he took hold of her hand and pecked it. In spite of her own personal war raging behind her heart, Sir Hellsing let the back of her hand linger on his lips. Her hand then slipped out from his grasp and stroked the side of his own, feminine fingers caressing and slipping through the spaces of digits. While completely chaste, it was still as if she was stroking a fire, stirring up cinders of want and need; her nails brushed against the thin skin, causing the Bishop to pull in a little breath. She smiled into the face of her advisory, and quickly brushed her lips against the meat of his palm. The action was so sudden that the man did not know how to respond; when he went to reach for her, she turned and was already a pace or two ahead.
"I will see you tomorrow .," she stated in her exit. She left him to smolder with the remains of the fireplace.
Once outside, Integra made her way quickly down the hall, back towards the safety f her own room. She rubbed her mouth few times and attempted to not imagine what dark, sticky thoughts the Arch Bishop would be having right about now.
"He definitely wanted you to suck on his fingers." a small voice proclaimed inside her mind. She heard the scurrying of tiny feet and looked down- a black rat with multiple, ruby eyes glanced up at her from the shadows-one of Alucard's familiars. While he usually preferred the centipede for more subtle observations, this rodent form was becoming one of his favourites, used on a regular basis. "He would have gladly dipped his hand in the sugar bowl if you would have licked it off."
"Hush." she snipped.
"It wouldn't have stopped there, oh no, he would have wanted you to move on to his chest and belly and other more... sensitive areas."
"Lord, stop it, I don not want to even think what that man wants, nor do I care. I'm doing what needs to be done in order for you to undermine the operation at hand, not to disgust me with his personal filth!" A shrill laugh came from the creature.
"Fear not, master, I'm out hunting as we speak- this is just a mere speck of me, ready to assist you at any time. And by the way, you look lovely with rage burning in your eyes... perhaps when you get back, I should tell you what else he's doing to get you nice and riled up for our night together..." Integra fumed and quickened her step.
"I swear, I'm having Walter get a cat when we get back home!"
Elsewhere- During the In-Between...
Andrew glanced down at the screen of his laptop- his eyes skimmed the report and he gulped as he saw the number of children used in the experiments- 643. These children were 'adopted', given the false hope of a family, love and a new life only to have it come to an end in a way that no one could have predicated. He released a heavy sigh and rested his head back against the head cushion of his seat. The plane hummed along through dense clouds and he could hear the metallic patter of rain bouncing off the steel. The last time he had been to Switzerland was for a Doctors Without Borders benefit with his wife almost two years ago- this trip would not be as pleasant. Lord Hellsing glanced at his watch- they would be touching down soon and the real work would commence. He hoped that Captain Rumianni would be arriving on time- while he felt at ease with the remaining troops, Seras, and the Wild Geese as domestic defense, there was something comforting about having extra help aboard just in case an incident was to happen in his absence. Besides, nothing beats the tactics of a mad man, and Ari was about as looney as they get...
Elsewhere, Hellsing Manor-
She let out the most adorable, little squeak as he brushed her neck with kisses. The pair were tangled up in each other on the couch resembling half-wrapped Christmas presents; a shirt lay in a crumpled pile, while a thick belt snaked around it, and two pairs of boots lay on the floor as Miss Victoria's military uniform slowly came undone.
"Ohh, you still got clothes on underneath..." the Captain complained as he peeled his sweetheart's top away-instead of a satin brassier or the see-through bra he was silently hoping for , she wore a simple, covering camisole. His fingers started for the lacy straps, when Seras pushed his hand to the side.
"Be good." she warned with a smile. He nuzzled her cheek.
"I am- besides, I've got my shirt off-you should do the same, much too hot in here." He continued to peck and cuddle her, hands attempting to slip up the sides of her curves.
"Ah, stop that-it tickles!" she squealed. The little vampire laughed, revealing full teeth. Her tormentor persisted until she began to do the same, attacking his bared ribs, digging her fingers into his most delicate spots.
"Hey, no fair! I got shot there back in '99! Nooo!" The pair nearly rolled off and onto the floor. The teasing escalated and with a final push, the Frenchman came crashing down with the fledgling on top, her ample bosom pushed up into his chin. Pip's grin was broad and resembled a very, naughty child's. He savoured her sweet, candied perfume and thought of steaming caramel and whipped cream.
"I could get really used to this..." he breathed. Seras shifted her weight lower to remove herself from the risque pose and gazed into his eyes.
"My face is up here..."she stated. He flashed a mock-innocent smile. She tapped his nose playfully. "You can be very trying at times, mister." Strong arms wrapped around her waist, thumbs rubbing slowly in the small of her back.
"I know...", he replied, increasing his pressure on her skin.
"But completely worth it." She patted his cheek and then kissed him. Their affection deepened and she ran her fingers through his smooth hair, breathing in its lush scent and the deep, musky tone of his being. She traced her fingertip across the thick line of scar tattooing his left shoulder and felt the agitated pulse of blood rapidly pounding under the canvas of muscle and skin. Her mouth was warm and inviting and the Captain had gotten accustomed to his tongue navigating around the sharp edges of her fangs- the first time he had kissed her passionately, he pulled away with a mouth full of blood. By now, he had gotten comfortable with dealing with her unique physique and could not imagine kissing anyone else for the rest of his life. The pair were quite lost in each other's embrace when a sharp knock came at the door. They ignored it, continuing to merge and coo and delve into each other's arms. The door creaked open slowly.
"Darling, I think someone's coming.." she stated . Her consort paid no mind and licked her throat.
"Give me about twenty minutes and we both can-" his lusty comment was cut off by the shadow of a man standing over them. It was on his blind side and his girl's hair was covering his good eye. Crap! Was it her master?!
"I swear to God I didn't do anything-she's still a virg-" he cut off his frantic rambling when he saw that it was not the head vampire ready to disembowel him, but a short, stocky Indian man with a huge, handlebar moustache, a long, olive , military-looking coat and an impish smile plastered across his face, making his dark eyes twinkle.
"My dear friends, please pay no mind to me, I was only looking for this Captain who has been appointed to guard the manor- I hear he is a fierce solider with a noble heart- and wandering hands...is that you, young man, or shall I go elsewhere?"
"Um, yes, that would be me." Pip sounded , attempting to peep up from Seras' form. "Could you please give us a moment, to get presentable?" The man bowed.
"Of course, Sir." However, the man did not move.
"He's not leaving..." Seras sing-song whispered. Pip arched his brow-what the Hell was this guy waiting for?
"Pay not mind to me at all, Sir. I am but your humble servant, Ari Mahal Rumianni waiting for your command. What is your wish , O' honourable Captain? Shall I gather up my forces, or collect arms?"
"Could I have my shirt please?"
Elsewhere- Hallway of Maximilian Villa-
Something twisted and stirred in the inky corner of the hallway. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be no more than a slip of a shadow, a mere play of the light against the wall. The form danced across the space, passing against the drapes making its way down towards the bedroom of the Arch Bishop. It snaked and slithered , slipping silently under the door, spreading like a gossamer mist. Unaware of the force surrounding him, Maxwell lolled on the couch, his head tilted back against the frame, his long, long hair spilling over the back. His eyes were half-closed and he basked in the dying heat of the fireplace. He had unbuttoned a few notches of his collar, and his whole body relaxed. A look of contentment settled on his features like an eastern idol- he had just spent a wonderful evening in the company of his intended -the pillows held her lavender essence captive, as if she was still present in the place. The heat and the wine had left him drowsy, drifting off into the soothing dark. His thoughts began to turn towards Integra- the smooth honey of her skin and the burned gold of her hair. The image of her slender fingers drifting against his face filled his mind and though it was wishful thinking, he could almost feel her hands gliding across his jaw. His pulse quickened , and desire started to flow and stir up in the chalice of his heart. His back arched and his body grew tense, aroused. He moved his lips to breath her name and fell into the depths of his own wants. The mist began to curl and surround the man, tickling his cheeks and slipping under his shirt, making the Bishop gasp.
"Beloved..." he moaned. Teeth and claws clicked in the dark...