Another week, another chapter! (I'm trying. Promise.) Thanks to everyone who commented!
Laugh of the week, paraphrased: "I don't understand why Alucard is a woman and Walter is like that in this story." - Because I can. That's why.
Anyway, have fun!
Chapter 27: Of Wolf & Man
Târgoviste, Romania, 1458
Vladimira's stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten all day, after throwing up in the morning. Sighing, she pretended to arrange her dress and brushed her belly. She couldn't help a smile passing over her face. Alexandru was away, fighting a battle she would love to be part of. But they were expecting envoys, and she hadn't been able to hide the sickness that gripped her in the mornings. So far, he hadn't related it to anything and she was glad about it. She would be sheltered to a point it became ridiculous, as soon as Alexandru got wind of it. So she would hide it as long as she could, despite her guilty conscience. Lies were the root of all evil.
There was a discreet knock on the door. "Come in", she called.
Stanislav entered, followed by two soldiers – the guards she had kicked out to have a bit of peace and quiet only half an hour ago – and a bunch of servants.
Stanislav bowed. "Princess Vladimira, the Turkish envoys are here."
The servants, hovering nervously behind him, looked distinctly uncomfortable hearing her be called "princess". Everybody knew that disrespect could be a death sentence, just like lying and crime was. They had to be new. Vladimira didn't recognize their faces.
She nodded and stood up. Her back felt sore from all the sitting and reading new laws. Soon she would make another public appearance. Maybe after that she could finally get some time to herself. A hunt and a little training were just what she needed.
"The Turkish envoy," a voice with a Turkish accent announced. "Radu cel Frumos."
Mira felt her body freeze before she could even think of greeting anyone. Radu had grown up a lot. He was powerfully built, with a thick black mustache and hair down to his shoulders. A soldier. He smiled at her and for a moment she could see the boy he had been. Her little brother. The traitor, who had sided with the Turks that mistreated them, the sultan's dearest friend, the man who continued to wreak havoc on her country. He was accompanied by two Janissary soldiers casting wary glances around.
"Welcome." Her voice sounded strange in her ears, like a rusty iron gate swinging shut. It was a dead sound, not even cold, just... devoid of any emotion. A layer of ice had formed inside of her and grew fast, until it was filling her completely. It was trying to contain the hot rage burning in her stomach. They were not strong enough to take on the Turkish army just yet. Mehmet II. knew that. That was the only reason to send Radu. They wanted her to make a mistake.
"Thank you for receiving us so fast, sister."
"I'm not your sister." Her voice didn't have the slightest edge, not a hint of anger or – a bad joke – sadness. She just stated a fact. "What is your business here? You won't have come the long way to chat about old times, I suppose."
Radu waved away his bodyguards. After a moment's thought, Mira nodded at Stanislav. He didn't seem happy to leave her alone, but obeyed. Radu and Mira stayed back, just the two of them.
"It's been a while," she said softly and sat down again, crossing her legs in an especially careless manner. A twinge of pain shot through her stomach, but she managed to ignore it.
Radu looked around for a chair and found none. "Is it going to be like that? I don't understand why you hate the Turks so much. They treated us well."
She almost let a hysterical little laugh slip. Instead, all that came out was a quiet sneer. The ice was melting with increasing speed. "Only in your memory."
"Why did you disobey like that?" She didn't even dignify that with an answer. Radu pressed on. "Sister, there is no need for bloodshed."
She inhaled slowly, deeply, and then exhaled. "Please do not call me sister again, envoy."
"But you are!" He put on a wide, fake smile. "You're my sister. Just like Mirce-"
"Don't. You. Dare." Mira jumped to her feet and strolled up to him, her steps feeling stiff and unnatural. "Don't you dare to pull him into this. You stopped being family when you betrayed us." She didn't give him time to protest. "The past is in the past. No matter what we might have been, deceit and treachery make it meaningless. That is just what you are to me now. Meaningless."
His jaw set in a firm line she knew well. "Am I?"
She turned around and walked back to her throne. "Da. You see, I have a high respect for family and friendship. But once a friend betrays me, I do not know mercy. It's simple, really."
"Then it will be pointless to pursue this conversation. May Allah protect you. I will pray for you."
"I do not need your puny God's help. And spare your prayers. Fighting is prayer enough."
She waited for Radu to leave, which he did. But not before he said: "Then you will bear the weight of all the lives to be lost." The door slammed shut and Mira felt the tension leave her body. She could capture him right now, impale him on a stake. The satisfaction would be enormous. But no, that would be silly. Politics were such an unnerving game.
Stanislav would know what the Turks wanted in the first place. This would cause problems in the future, she knew. Until then she had to take care her own kingdom was save from traitors and deceivers. Mira stared at her throne, and its twin, equally empty.
"Mama!" She spun at Iulia's voice. Her five-year-old daughter crashed into her at thigh level and buried her tear-streaked face in the fabric of her mother's dress. Mira's contempt and rage dissipated and were replaced with worry.
"Iulia, what's wrong?" She knelt down and took the sobbing girl into her arms. For several minutes, Iulia didn't get anything out except incomprehensible babbling and more sobs while she clung to Mira's shoulder. The queen needed every ounce of willpower not to shake the fragile child to get an answer. It could be nothing, just a child's usual distress, but she knew it was not.
"What happened?", she asked again.
Iulia whimpered, but managed to speak clearly. "It's... it's Father. He's... he's hurt."
Mira leaped to her feet just as Stanislav stormed in without knocking. "Princess! You need to come with me immediately."
She didn't ask, just picked up the wailing Iulia and followed her old friend and mentor through the dark hallways of her castle. The servants fearfully cleared the way, mumbling among themselves.
Alexandru lay on a bed that seemed way too small for him. With numb hands, Mira put down her daughter. "Stanislav, take care of her."
"Yes, milady."
The bedside was surrounded by maids and servants, all curious and chatting quietly. Their presence was a sacrilege. She heard a female voice whisper "He should be put down. Spare him the suffering." Crimson rage swept over her vision. Whoever said that would end up on a stake.
"Everybody out!", Mira snapped.
The room cleared as if the pox had suddenly been discovered in its middle. Stanislav was the last to leave, casting back a worried glance and closing the door. Iulia's crying vanished in the distance. But Mira could hear her words, just before they were gone.
"Is tată going to die?"
They had taken off most of his armor. He looked so vulnerable. Mira slowly approached the bed. Alexandru's eyes were closed. His skin was so pale it seemed to be transparent and covered in cold sweat and blood. Mira winced when she touched his burning forehead. He groaned and moved a little, then lay still again.
His right leg was covered in bloody bandages and strapped tightly between two straight wooden sticks. They had obviously tried to correct the multiple fractures, but even so, bone and flesh were horribly twisted and mangled. He would never be able to walk properly again, let alone ride or fight in a battle. If he survived at all.
Mira knelt down beside the bed and took her husband's limp hand, putting it on her stomach. A new wave of pain hit her just now. She gritted her teeth. This was not about her.
"Don't leave us alone. Our son needs you," she whispered. She rested her forehead on his side, hot and cold at the same time. Fighting was prayer enough. He had to fight for his life. "I need you."
Fighting. Fighting was all that counted. Praying, begging, it was useless. God did not help the weak, those who beg for mercy. She would never beg for mercy. Not when the sultan dragged her into his bedchamber. Not when she got whipped or locked up to toy with. Not when she lost her only friend. Not when Radu betrayed her. Not when Mircea and her father were murdered. Not when Alexandru lay in his bedside, hovering between life and death. He had to fight for his life. Fighting was prayer. When she left behind Castle Poienari, alone, behind her the corpses of those she had loved, she did not pray. She fled and kept fighting.
For paradise. For Jerusalem. For God. In the end, when everybody had fought, everything would be right. The dead would arise into paradise. Only those who died fighting. Fools who begged for mercy could die and rot in hell. And at the end, God would descend. That was Jerusalem. That was the end of her prayers. Praying through battle was the only way. At the end God would come from the heavens, before the miserable, wretched humans, He would descend.
"Did he, mad queen?" Mira was dully aware of being dragged along, her knees scraping the dirt. Clothed in the rags of her armor, to be spat and laughed upon. "Where is your God now? Where is Jerusalem, your Paradise?"
Mira closed her eyes. Bodies, piled up, dismembered, lone heads on piles, bodies hanging from the trees. She could smell the sickening stench of blood and rotting meat. Death. Everybody died. Died for what she believed in. For her prayers, her paradise, her God. The God that had forsaken her.
The soldiers pushed her to her knees in the pool of blood, her hair getting soaked in the icy liquid. She could hear the ax being set down, as the next body was discarded like the rag doll it had become.
She was no different. Just a puppet to be laughed at by God. They were all dead now. Those she loved. Those she should protect. Her enemies. Her allies. Herself. She killed them.
"You are incorrigible," said the soldier. The hangman raised his ax. She could hear shouts.
"Kill the she-devil!" "Whore!" "Butcheress!" The blood was glowing on the dirt, scarlet on brown. It would all be over soon. What did she lose everything for?
The blood moved closer to her. Tempting. Mira lowered her head and immersed into the bitter, metallic taste, turning sweet. So sweet. She was dead. Everyone was.
London, September 22nd, 2016, 4.45 am
Mira felt herself surge, drifting upwards from the black depths of an ocean to the water's surface. There was a voice, calling her. No, not calling her. Calling her partner. Her best friend. She opened her eyes. Alexander Anderson was there. The man that was so much like her beloved Alexandru and yet was not him. The man by whose hands she had wanted to die. The only one that should be allowed to kill her. But it was not he that spoke.
He pulled the bayonet out of her body. The pain jerked her awake. Her daze, the memories faded away like the phantoms they were. Her body healed the damage. He would never beat her like that. But that was not the point anymore.
"If anyone kills Alucard, it's me." Alexander let her go without resisting, too busy figuring out what was happening. Mira straightened up and suppressed a growl.
Walter. What the hell are you doing? I'm busy.
She didn't get a reply, not even a sarcastic one. Walter's shape was dark against the bright moonlight, a young man with his black hair in a ponytail, a strong, agile shape, all black, with glowing red eyes. The wires glistened around him in a pale shade of blue. Yet the body did not really seem to fit him. It never had. He would forever remain a child. And a child was like he acted.
"Walter?", Caitlyn stuttered. "What do you mean? Where have you been, anyway?"
The red eyes turned to her, a menacing glow, the sign of a monster stalking its prey. "Excuse my late appearance. I've been busy, milady."
"B-Busy?" Caitlyn read him. She saw something Mira was still unable to understand. This had to be part of the plan. Walter was here to keep Anderson from killing her. The fight should not be over that fast because the Major was still out there... Mira almost laughed. Curse that woman and her plans, her good heart... But in Caitlyn's thoughts was only fatigue, confusion and anxiety. No relief. No confidence. She was lonely. Very lonely.
This was not meant to be. It could not. "Walter... what do you want?"
He turned to her and jumped off the wall, barely a shadow, landing gracefully on the rubble. "What I want? You really are a fool in your old days, aren't you?"
It was quiet. There was the sound of ghouls stumbling over rubble, of fire burning and a soft breeze stirring up the dust. It was quiet and cold in her.
"You," Mira whispered. "You of all people. How could you betray me?" She was thirteen years old. The sultan dragged her to his chambers. Radu watched her. He didn't care. He had long chosen to become one of them. He had chosen to abandon her.
Mira shrieked and lunged at Walter in blind fury. The wires glistened as they moved, wrapping around her. She didn't feel the pain. She wanted to tear his throat out for his betrayal.
Caitlyn was shivering with cold, confusion and hopelessness. She saw herself, leafing through some of the thick books in the library. Folders with occult information, history, even diaries. One of them belonged to a Julian Hellsing, one of Abigail's grandsons. Caitlyn had shuddered at what he had written. Other than his brother Samuel, the heir to the Hellsing's responsibilities, he was worried about Mira and what she could do.
"You can't force a vampire into submission without a decent binding. And the spell cast on Alucard is the best there is. That's what Samuel claims. Grandmother taught us so.
But she also told us how she defeated the vampire. She won the vampire's respect in this defeat. Samuel doesn't want to see because he has the same problem. Grandma taught us power is corrupting. Its addictive. Even a saint won't be able to resist forever. Once they have power, they want to prove themselves. Everybody wants to be respected. And no mean is out of the question to do so."
Caitlyn wrapped her arms around herself. The soft wind seemed icy, ripping through her clothes like claws. Pride went before, ambition follows him.
"You betrayed your country?", Caitlyn asked quietly. "You betrayed us to them?"
"Oh, no, they caught me and gave me a brain wash." Walter's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You really are naive, Caitlyn. You don't really think I'd side with scum like them?"
Mira was still clawing at the net of wires slowly cutting her to bits, but now her thoughts seemed to gather again, enough to bring her fury under control, if not stifle it. Suddenly she started to laugh. It was an unpleasant, hysteric sound that made Caitlyn wince.
"Foolish boy. You envious, scrawny child."
Walter snarled, not able to maintain his self-righteous grandeur. "That scrawny brat will cut you to pieces in a minute! What's so bloody funny, you bitch?!"
Mira laughed even harder. "You didn't change. You didn't change a bit in all those years. You're the same pretentious, jealous brat." She grinned and shot a glance at Caitlyn. The girl looked more lost than ever. "You always wanted to fight me, didn't you? All those years you wanted to prove you were better than me and stronger. That's all this is about. Showing off. Just like the Major, just like everyone."
Walter had been bent forward, the wires stretched to a breaking point, the stance of a predator about to pounce. Now he straightened up and relaxed as a cool smile crossed his features.
"Maybe," he said softly. "Maybe. But I never wanted to kill you, you know?" He paused, pensive. His eyes wandered over Caitlyn, Mira and eventually over Anderson. The man seemed to wonder if he should interfere. Mira should have killed him already. Instead she let herself be defeated by this pathetic echo from her past. What a joke. Should the Catholic intervene – Walter would finish him off in the matter of minutes. He didn't really care. The paladin had no part in this. He didn't matter. Taking him out without need would make an unnecessary fuss.
"We were partners." There was a significant pause. "Friends." His eyes flashed in fury, though his face remained cold and distant.
"So that's why you sold us out to them," Caitlyn said. Her voice was astoundingly calm, considering she was pale as a ghost and shaking too bad to even stand straight.
Walter looked at her and his face softened. "Don't be silly. This has nothing to do with you. You might be a bit dreamy and naive, but you're neither stupid nor a bad leader. Especially considering you were thrown into this unprepared. Either way." He returned his gaze to Mira. "This is only between us."
"No, dear friend." Mira's shape flowed back into the woman with the chin-long hair and red duster. A pale, black-haired, red-eyed Abigail van Helsing. The woman who slew the monster. Because monsters could only be defeated by humans. "You betrayed Hellsing to those we should destroy. And that means I have to destroy you as a traitor to the master I serve. You're nothing more than a target."
Walter made a disgusted sound. "You're the one to talk about betrayal."
Caitlyn stared at them. She shook her head, not in defiance, but overwhelmed. She had always wondered why Mira behaved so weird around the paladin. Of course Walter could not have missed it. And the worst part was: She knew what he felt. She had experienced it herself. It was an awful feeling and she had wanted to wreak bloody vengeance more than once. Her good heart and naturally pacifistic attitude had won. But what could you expect of a child that never knew any other way? Even more, a vampire was a beast. Nothing else.
Every piece fell in its place. So many things she had wondered about. Caitlyn looked at the horizon, a faint gleam of sunlight cutting through smoke and darkness over the remains of a once proud city. The Major was sitting up there in his castle of an airship, enjoying the show. They needed more time. She could sort this out. No more of her friends and allies else would die tonight.
This was the most unkindest cut of all. Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, quite vanquish'd him.
"Integra's mother died in childbirth, didn't she?", Caitlyn asked. Only weeks ago she had discarded the idea. Reading people was her talent. She had become careless and arrogant. But vampires were not simply people. They played by different rules. "Not long after she got Arthur to lock Mira up. Weird coincidence."
Walter smiled sweetly, as if that was the best joke he'd heard in weeks. "Strange indeed. And unfortunate. I made her a tea like any good butler would. After such a labor she needed rest. Maybe there was something she was allergic to? She was very weak from the beginning. Arthur wasn't even surprised. Heartbroken, yes, but not shocked." Walter waved a hand. The wires glittered and rustled softly, like deadly leaves in a breeze. "The past is over. It should be let go." He shot Mira a glare.
Caitlyn nodded, her lips a pale line. Her eyes were locked on something only she could see. Maybe it was just the nothingness of existence itself. And suddenly the vampire queen realized Caitlyn was hoping for the same thing she did: That it was all an act, a part of the plan Walter had devised all by himself, without telling anyone. Walter was still her partner. And her feelings – how foolish! - hadn't changed. Another human stupidity, the same that had brought her into submission over a hundred years ago. Then again, five hundred years ago, suppressing feelings had not helped her either. If she was to learn she was cursed, Mira would not even have lifted an eyebrow.
Either way, she had her orders. Time was what they needed. If she was to fight Walter with all her power, it would be over in the matter of minutes. Seeing how she could easily dispatch the Major and all his lackeys alone, it did not make sense to buy time like this. But she was only a servant. She did not question orders.
Caitlyn began to laugh. Mira winced. Walter stared at her open-mouthed. "What the-?"
Caitlyn's laugh was less than pretty, with an edge of hysteria, but none the less genuine. She sounded like, in her eyes, the situation was the funniest thing in the world.
"My admiration, Major," she exclaimed, spreading her arms in the glare of the zeppelin's spotlights. "I'd applaud if that was what you wanted. You really are a genius, Max. I can call you that, right?" There was no answer. For once, the Major gave no witty reply. Even without seeing into the panorama windows, they knew even he was stunned.
Caitlyn brushed a auburn strand out of her eyes. Her hand was steady, as if she was just relaxing on the beach. She started to pace up and down, like a teacher explaining an especially difficult problem to his class, one that agitated him a great deal. She was talking loudly, louder than Mira had ever heard her speak more than a few seconds at a time, and not stuttering once.
"In 1944, Mira and Walter went to Warsaw, to destroy a top-secret German project titled "das Letzte Bataillon". They succeeded, or at least it seemed as though they did. The Major, his lead scientist, and of course his lupine bodyguard escaped, somehow managing to beat Walter without killing him. For an organization that unscrupulous that seems strange." She looked at Walter and smiled. "They recruited you back then. But only days later an unsuspecting Mira turned you into a vampire, out of her own affection and loneliness, rendering the deal redundant. That's good, right? Traitor turning to good and all? Well, over forty years pass. Arthur becomes a father, his wife dies. Thirteen years later he gets sick and dies, only one year before his daughters falls ill and perishes as well." She preceded Walter, who let out a sharp, indignant snarl.
"I'm not saying you had anything to do with it. I'm merely summarizing the facts. Integra was supposed to free Mira, but she failed to do so. Maybe it was your own fault for saving her from her uncle too early." She ignored Walter's frustrated growl and went on, her hands in her jacket pockets.
"She died, and for almost fifteen years nothing happened. Of course, Arthur knew you wanted your partner free, so the seal could only be broken by a member of the Hellsing bloodline. The mercenaries, that fat guy – was that you too? No? I thought so. Anyway, Hellsing was literally revived, with a 16-year-old, clueless orphan as its leader. Don't want to know the odds for that to work out. Mira is free, yay, everybody's happy." She paused, a hard line appearing on her forehead, like she was thinking of something she would not speak aloud.
"Then Mira meets Alexander Anderson and something happens. And you get jealous, because he's suddenly more interesting for her than her... boyfriend or as whatever you see yourself. And Max, strategist that he is, finds out about it, through some spy we overlooked. I'll just assume it wasn't Walter. What would a real vampire want from rip-offs like Millennium, after all? No, once the battle starts, you lure him to you, maybe with the werewolf?" She looked at Walter and seemed to have her conclusion confirmed. "And you tell him he will get the chance to fight Mira once she has defeated Anderson." She broke off, breathless from talking so much. "Not treachery in a technical sense, that's right. Just a crime of passion."
"Ye're telling me, tha' this whole thing is aboot tha' vampire and she-" Anderson looked to Mira, to Walter, to Caitlyn, then again to Mira. It would have been funny to see him that flustered, if the situation hadn't been so ridiculous already. "Thas ae joke, richt?"
Walter narrowed his glowing eyes. "Maybe you should look after your protegees, Judas Priest. I have the feeling they could need it."
Anderson tensed. "Whit did ye do?"
"Walter-", Caitlyn said, her voice sharp with anger, finally overriding her horror.
He pointed to the far end of the zeppelin, where smoke was flowing from the hull. His deadly web rustled as he moved. "I didn't do anything. That is, I even helped them. But I'm afraid I was rather late. I know, inexcusable for a butler. My apologies."
The paladin's eyes flickered between the two vampires. This was his one and only chance at defeating her. When this was over, she would gather her powers again and he would have lost. The kids could protect themselves. They should, at least. But now a nagging feeling had settled into his stomach, making him nervous and gnawing at his concentration. He had been a father to them and it was his responsibility to take care of them, even now. If not logically, his heart told him so. They were his children, in a sense.
Mira shot him a grim glance. "I'll be waiting. Once this... annoyance is taken care of, we shall continue our duel, at the same premises." There was a cold fury in her features, but also hurt and disappointment. The paladin and the vampire queen looked each other in the eyes for a moment. Then there was a flutter of pages, gleaming in the softening dark, and Alexander Anderson was gone.
Caitlyn was praying. She wasn't even making her appeal to God, not thinking of specific words or phrases. It was just a vague plea to an even more vague force above, a force that was hopefully benevolent, not just some indifferent, threatening being, amused with their struggles.
Mira would have laughed. They were the same.
The little human was hoping for the leader of Iscariot to fulfill his part. After all the betrayal, the lies, the deceit, the slaughter, her innermost feelings had not changed. Wavered, yes, but they now stood fast and stern again. After all this, she still trusted him, against every reason.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see.
Such a foolish girl. So vulnerable. So human. Like the countess always wanted to be. Like she had pretended to be.
"Monsters don't love," Mira said and leaped at Walter.
Airship "Deus Ex Machina", main corridor, September 22nd, 4.30 am
Heinkel wiped blood off her face. It didn't change a thing about her appearance.
"Well, that was disappointing," she said. She smiled, but the ice never left her eyes. Yumie surveyed her friend from the corner of her eyes, but didn't dare to show her worry too openly. Heinkel was going to rip somebody's head off when she was in that mood. Not a big surprise. Yumie herself felt a surge of crimson, hot rage, thinking of Vicky's untimely and violent death. Just an innocent girl, slaughtered by that tattooed bitch. The vampire's death should have been a lot worse than it had been.
The wicked band together against the righteous and condemn the innocent to death. It is mine to avenge; I will repay. In due time their foot will slip; their day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them.
Well, they would take repayment in their own hands. They were the earthly agents of divine punishment. That was the way of Iscariot.
Yumie sheathed her katana, most of the blood already flown off the blade. The lotus effect Father Renaldo had proposed to include was working well. She leaned against the wall, watching her friend change the clips of her guns.
"You think Enrico will make it through this?", Heinkel asked absently.
"He's tougher than he looks," Yumie said neutrally, as she let her gaze wander over the stretch of corridor behind them, the way they had come.
It had been a close call, more than once. All those vampires in a narrow corridor against only two humans. But it hadn't done them any good. The arrogant provost lieutenant Lauch (Yumie still wondered why Heinkel kept laughing about the name) had vastly underestimated them. The vampires, with their blind blood lust and lacking a decent strategy, had begun to mow each other down on accident, not expecting the Chaos Girl's speed and skills. The biggest threat for the paladins turned out to be the ricochets. Only vampires could be so colossally stupid as to use automatic fire in such confined space.
The fire bursting out from the fallen bodies, a yellow and bluish flame in no way natural, had added to the chaos. It took only seconds for the corridor to turn into an inferno. Even now the steel floor was too hot to touch or walk on, and smeared with black. It was impossible to make out how many of the remaining vampires had been dealt with. Not that it mattered.
As much as that took the fun out of fighting, at some point, after about three or four minutes at the most, they just dashed around the corner and waited until the chaos cleared. They had planned on putting down any remaining enemies, but as it turned out, except for one vamp fleeing past them in a panic, there were none. On the contrary, the spray of bullets and the fire had not only consumed all of the attackers, but also some newcomers checking what the fuss was about.
Smoke stung in their eyes, the air smelling of blood and fire. Their pumping blood calmed down a bit, now that there was no immediate danger to expect anymore.
Yumie's breathing had been even the whole time, controlled by her will. But even will, anger and adrenaline couldn't suppress a twang of pain in her stomach. Yumie let her breath flow out quietly, her arm settling on the thick bandage in a protective motion she felt only when it had already happened. She could feel the thick gauze under the rough canvas of the mercenary's uniform. The clothes were actually quite practical, she had to admit, and the men had stitched her up well. Maybe her body only felt hot from the exhausting fight, but she was certainly not imagining the seeping feeling where the bandage was.
"You okay? Did they get you?", Heinkel asked. Yumie brought out her best smile, not bothering to look what others would call sane or normal. She was still thrilled from the fight, despite Yumiko whimpering in fear and pain. During the fight, she had woken up and insisted to take her part in this battle. Yumie hated to do this to her protegee, but she was also glad about a break from the pain. Nevertheless, she had to get Yumiko back to sleep and take full control again. Protecting the girl was her job, her whole purpose. It was the reason she was in existence in the first place.
"I'm fine," Yumie said, but didn't look at her partner. That was too risky. Heinkel knew her too well, she would have seen a lie. It had just been a standard question. Partners looked out for each other.
She sounded doubtful either way. "Okay." There was a question mark at the end of the word.
"Okay," Yumie said firmly, pushing away from the wall while murmuring to Yumiko. But as tender as the girl was, she was also incredibly stubborn.
"Enrico is not as fragile as we thought. At least he's back to his senses now." Yumie spotted the scorched remains of a plan on the wall just between the burned and the clean part of the corridor. They walked up to it, careful to avoid the sprained parts of the floor.
"Uh-huh," Heinkel confirmed, looking at the plan. "Though he scared me a bit up there."
"He's got Lisa to cover him," Yumie mused. "And if it really was like she said, he somehow managed to fight his way out of this crowd of monsters."
Heinkel nodded, but still didn't sound happy about the answer. Yumie understood. She thought the same. They had this conversation just for entertainment reasons. And because sometimes it was necessary to check all points of view.
"He's injured, though. A few broken ribs at least. And a bad hit to the head." Heinkel shot her a glance. "Aside of that, what was that about the vampire bitch in the mansion?"
Yumie snorted. "Thanks, Mum, I'm fine," she snapped and turned around abruptly. "Let's go to the command center and see what's going on."
Heinkel made a show of shrugging as if it was no big deal. But she couldn't hide her worry. She didn't want to lose anyone else. She would rather give her own life than see any more of her family die. Life was all about sacrifice. The only important question was, if the price had been worth it.
They followed the corridor. Everything looked basically the same, with a varying number of curves and doors, but always with the same metal plates covering floor and walls, vibrating softly under their feet. The plans and signs showed them the way. It was ridiculously easy.
The command center should be right ahead. Enrico and Lisa would probably be there already. Enrico was not the kind of person that let things like revenge be taken out of his hands. He would take the Major down personally. It was only square. That fat, grinning bastard had it coming.
The Chaos Girls didn't meet a single vampire on their way. They heard their heavy boots pound in the distance, sometimes even just around the corner, but never saw anyone else. Nobody bothered to turn on the lights either. All hallways were draped in a mild dimness, not dark, but also not lighted enough to show many details. There had to be a fire, somewhere at the back of the zeppelin, from what the vampires said to each other. Nobody seemed the least interested in them, or even searching. They passed a big hatch that had to be some kind of entrance and eventually reached a crossroad.
"Did we run in circles or something?", Yumie asked, frowning. There was a scorched, stinking part of hallway just a few meters in front of them. Heinkel shrugged.
"Awesome." She shook her head, her gaze falling on the signs on the wall. "They still got a telegraph?", she murmured. "Seriously?"
There were steps approaching from the direction they had come. The Chaos Girls spun, their hands at their weapons in less than a second. Red eyes glowed in the dark, way off the ground. Whoever it was, he was a lot taller than the vampires, maybe even as tall as Anderson. His steps were measured, as silent as a cat's, just audible enough for them to notice. He approached them slowly, showing off he had the time. Eventually, his shape became a little clearer. It was a man, as tall as Anderson and probably as strong, but more slim than bulky. He wore a dark green military coat down to his ankles, the collar turned up to hide the lower part of his face. Most of the rest was covered by a cap on his thick, silver hair. A few curly strands hung out under the hat. Red eyes gleamed in a tanned face, immobile, without expression. He seemed to scrutinize them, but it was hard to tell. His eyes were strange, not just their lifeless expression. The color was not the red of vampires, more a pinkish-red, with a faint gleam, like an albino animal in the headlights of a car.
The Chaos Girls were frozen in their position, weapons readied, but not yet drawn. Heinkel recognized the uniform from history lessons: The coat of the German Africa-Corps. Of course he was one of them. The question was how strong he was. He didn't really look like a vampire. There was power radiating from him, an aura of feral strength and age, touching their most primal instincts.
The man extended a hand, making them almost lunge at him. Attacking was always better than defending. One motion could cost your life. But they stayed where they were.
The man's palm was turned upwards. He bent his fingers, one, two, three times, waving them to him, beckoning. A challenge. He wanted them to fight him.
Heinkel and Yumie exchanged a glance. They didn't need words to understand. This conversation was merely for formal purposes.
Can you fight?, Heinkel asked, clearly referencing the injury from earlier.
Yumie had still her hands full with the terrified and agonized Yumiko, but replied with an almost invisible nod. Her eyes flashed in annoyance, just to prove her point. Of course.
They attacked at the same time, without a warning. Yumie's katana sliced the air where the man's head should have been, faster than most humans could have even imagined. Heinkel's bullets hit home in the man's chest.
Then he was gone. The paladins stopped, back to back, looking around in the dim corridor. Every sense was scanning the surroundings, their nerves tingling. There was nothing. It was as if the tall albino had just been a hallucination.
"Where did he go?", Yumie whispered, her eyes wide in the twilight. She had seen her fair share of monsters, but this was new. Smoke curled around their legs. No, not even smoke. Fog.
"Yumie!" Had Heinkel reacted only the fraction of a second later, they would have been dead. But she didn't. She tackled her friend aside, against the wall, out of the way of a blow that ripped a hole into the floor.
They crashed to the ground, Yumie's stomach crying out in protest. Never stop. Being stationary can be deadly. They got to their feet again, balancing on the edge of a crater of ripped and dented metal, leading way down, to a different part of the zeppelin. The red-eyed man stood at the other side. He had lost his hat and silvery hair spilled over his ears. He beckoned them again and then vanished into the crater.
The Chaos Girls looked at each other, both out of breath and visibly shaken.
"If he's a vampire, I'm a poodle," Heinkel eventually said. They looked down the crater, but could see nothing but a fuzzy white fog. The hole went way down, to stacks of crates and...
"Is that a submarine?", Yumie whispered.
Heinkel shrugged her shoulders, grim. "Could be a trap."
"Probably is," her partner confirmed. "But we can't let him run around either, can we?" They looked each other in the eyes and came to a conclusion.
Yumie went first, her katana swung over one shoulder. The fall was not far. She landed on a stack of crates only three or four meters below and got to her feet again. Heinkel followed a moment later.
"Whoever built this storage wouldn't get a license in normal businesses," Heinkel joked, just to keep her senses alert. She had never seen such a big storage before, not on something mobile. The room was supported by thick steel beams, with holes to reduce weight. It spanned what looked like at least half a kilometer and was a good thirty or forty meters high. Crates were everywhere, still with the original labels from World War II, stacked high as houses, some lying in a mess. Even a whole submarine rested in the ship's belly, complete with the red, white and black flag flying from its side. The perfect place for an ambush.
Worse, they both had the distinct feeling their opponent didn't have the need for an ambush. He could kill them easily if he chose to. They had to end this before he did. The ground was covered in mist. "You go right, I go left?", Yumie asked.
"Sure." They both went ahead, spying in every direction, until they reached the edge of the pile.
It exploded under their feet.
The crates shattered like twigs. Heinkel managed to jump to the right, landing safely on a smaller pile. She would have loved to shoot at the attacker, but she only had a limited number of bullets and no idea if her partner might be in the way. The man stared at her from these weird animalistic eyes, then he vanished, leaping to a higher level where he was out of sight. Heinkel swore and looked for Yumie. Was she okay? Despite her tough words, she was injured and not as agile as usual.
Yumie had landed almost on the ground, between shattered wood and... "Gold?" She got to her feet, shaking off pain and weariness as best as she could. The crates had spilled their fill all over the floor: Gold. Coins, bracelets, necklaces, even teeth. In between were bits of silver, from a different stack.
All the things they stole from the poor people in concentration camps. Heathens or not – this was simply wrong. Those bastards even bragged about it. They would pay for their crimes. Iscariot took care of that.
Yumie spun at a noise, seeing Heinkel land in the pile of gold, tangled in what looked like the man's long coat, speckled with blood. Yumie ran to her partner, who was already sitting up, trying to tear free of the fabric. There was blood running from her nose. The blonde paladin cursed, rubbing her head. Her hazy green eyes cleared, but only slowly.
"Crap... what...", she murmured, rubbing her head.
A white shape rushed over them and landed far away. There was an ear-shattering drum sound from above. The submarine wavered, four large dents in its metallic side. The paladins froze.
On top of the submarine, a giant white wolf emerged from the fading mist. It was as big as an elephant, with thick snow-colored fur, a snout like an industrial shredder and burning red eyes. Its claws had dug into the metal like it was paper. The aura of wild, primal power was not compressed in a human form anymore. It was making the air vibrate. That's it, Yumiko said suddenly, making her protector wince. That's Father Anderson's force of nature. She sounded strangely calm.
The wolf lifted its head and let out a deafening roar, making the whole room shake.
"He's- He's a werewolf," Heinkel stuttered, her eyes wide. They couldn't move. They had seen a lot, killed many things, even one or two werewolves, but none of them had been like this. The had been just rip-offs, like Millennium was a rip-off of real vampires.
The wolf lunged at them. Yumie let out a childish, startled squeak and dodged, shoving Heinkel in the opposite direction. The glistening teeth missed them by inches, tearing a shred out of Heinkel's coat. They both stumbled, rolled over the floor, and got up again, one on each side of the beast. There was a wild scent to it, of primal desires and deep forests and blood.
The wolf swung his giant triangular head from side to side, trying to determine which one he should devour first. The paladins took that decision from him by starting to run, both to his back. There was no way they could hit the heart in such a position, but Heinkel shot at him either way, aiming for the eyes. The wolf roared, blood gushing to the floor, and suddenly was a man again, white fur and mist rising from his arms and cheeks. Now that the coat was gone, they could see more of him: His face was dominated by a stark jaw, neatly shaved, and a slender, muscular body, with the muscles of someone actually using them to fight. In any other case he would have been "hot as fuck", as Vicky liked to say. Had liked, Heinkel corrected herself. Fury washed through her. This bastard had helped and maybe even been friends with the bitch that killed her student. She dodged a blow that seemed weirdly casual and emptied her magazine into his chest, aiming right for the heart. He didn't seem to mind, despite the silver bullets. Instead he catapulted himself backwards, his feet ripping a hole into the hull of the zeppelin as he charged again. Hot wind swept into the room. Heinkel dodged him by an inch. She could see Yumie getting ready for a deadly strike from behind.
The werewolf spun, impossibly fast, his leg swishing through the air at the charging paladin. Yumie saw it coming, and wanted to dodge. Pain shot through her stomach, a fierce agony that paralyzed her controlled motions. She stumbled, the green-clad leg about to hit her head-on. Her last thought was: This can't be.
The expected impact never came.
Instead, Yumie was flung aside by another force hitting her from the side. She crashed to the ground, crying out in pain, rolling over piles of gold and silver and coming to a rest on her belly. Time seemed to slow as she lay there, unable to move, in pain and under what seemed to be a malevolent force locking her muscles.
Heinkel had pushed her aside, out of the way of the werewolf's strike. The beast had been playing them all along. He could have killed them in the matter of seconds, but for some reason he hadn't. Maybe he just wants to die, Yumiko said. Her voice was soft, curious, disconnected from everything, even Yumie. He wants a worthy death in battle. If he's stronger than you doesn't matter.
The kick caught Heinkel in the ribs. Yumie could hear an awful shattering sound, blood erupting from her friend's mouth. She was thrown back, right through the hole in the wall, and vanished in the night.
Falling, the paladin heard her own voice, four years back. The day I fall is the day I die. She thought to hear her partner's voice and wanted to tell her to take care. The battle wasn't over yet. Then everything went black.
Do I even have to not apologize for my cliffhangers?
Nothing to explain this time, wow. I'll try to keep my weekly rhythms, fingers crossed.
Feedback, guys?
