Guilty Partner
A dull throb in her left wrist prompted Integra to open her eyes. Slowly, she sat up, and looked around, scanning the room for her servant. He had long since gone, but left the pot of tea and untouched plate of cookies. Sir Hellsing examined her wounds; the pin-prick marks were only slightly raised, but pulpy red, two dark cherries against copper . Carefully, she ran a fingertip over them-they were sealed, but stung. A bit of ointment would ease the ache.
"Looks like it's long sleeves tonight," she said to herself as she washed up and bandaged the marks. Her stomach growled and she still felt a bit dizzy, her attention turning to the cooling tea and vanilla wafers. She grabbed a few and quickly ate, easing the light feeling in her head. Her day was not completed by a long shot; the concert was in about forty minutes and any moment, the Bishop could be at her door. She started to dress, reminding herself to carefully pack a gun and additional bullets for later on in the night.
Elsewhere- The Catacombs
The splitting of wood cut through the deathly silence as the axe came down again and again with vicious force. Her long, blonde tendrils flew freely about her face, and her usually cool, blue-grey eyes burned like sulfur. Angelique threw her weight into each strike, cleaving the blade into ebony wood. However, in spite of her valiant efforts, every time the wood split, the casing seemed to re-knit itself , sealing up the damage. She cursed and dug the tool in almost to the hilt - a few mere cracks surfaced, it was like chipping away at the Wall of China with a chisel. Nervous skulls chattered around her like magpies.
"Ah, stop this nonsense!," one exclaimed,"The vampire will kill you!"
"Don't' touch his grave!," another pleaded. Angelique paid no head to these annoying, little spirits and continued her task. A warning echoed up from her feet , a broken skull chided her.
"You'll be sorry..." Mrs. Le Chat scowled at it and punted it away with her foot. She raised the axe again and smashed downwards.
Elsewhere- The Conservatory
Nervous chattering, laughter and the chords of , "Christmas in Killarney" started to pound on the piano.
"ALRIGHT!," a pleasant, but determined voice boomed. " We're goni' ta go over these last two songs, get dressed right quick and get on tha' stage by no later than seven-thirty, are we ready?" the priest asked. While his musical skills were amateurish at best, Father Anderson took to the role of substitute music teacher as well as he could. There was no sign of Sister Yumiko all bloody afternoon and it left him with no choice but to continue the show without her. His gut churned with the idea that perhaps Maxwell was starting a love nest of some sort; A Japanese Sister, a German-English Virgin, and an Italian Novice- what was this , the World Axis harem?! His fingers pounded in frustration down on the keys, as he wanted to personally spank the man as he did when he was a naughty child. However, he could not let these little ones down- they had worked so hard and wanted this so badly. They deserved their chance to showcase their abilities. He went into the gating rhythm of the song and focused on the next line of music, the notes seemed to jump a bit too much for his liking, but he was merely playing the piece, not re-composing it. Besides, the exercise in concentration kept his mind of the request the Arch Bishop had stated this afternoon -
"Tomorrow night, after the ball, you will not be performing the Midnight Mass, but come to my office for assistance with some contracts.We will then go down to the Sacred Rose where I will need a witness, and a blessing." He merely stood and looked at the man curiously. "Oh, and Father Anderson, please bring a copy of the New Testament , and Sacramental wine."
Lord Almighty, he really was planning to marry the Hellsing Heir. Something was dreadfully wrong; that woman could barely stand to be in the same room with him never mind agreeing to marry him. He must be holding something very nasty over her head to have her agree to this union. The scheme reeked of power-mongering.
"Once again, the Bishop uses the Church for his own purposes rather than HIS." Andrew thought bitterly. While he refused to feel too much sympathy for the Protestant, she did not deserve to be tied into this web. Maxwell may have learned the letter of the law, he knew nothing of its spirit. While 'treason' would be too harsh a word to describe how Anderson would de-bunk this plan , 'tampering' seemed to be the perfect fit...
Elsewhere- Hellsing Manor.
With no word from Lord Andrew, the entire family was put on edge. The troops were anxious and even the Maharajahs expected to hear the worst . Edward kept his emotions calm, though his fear swirled underneath, like a frozen river concealing whirlpools. Lady Emma was worried, yet bore her fears with a graceful faith.
"He has been in much worse situations than this." she stated. "I'm sure that he will come home, with Integra, safe and sound." It was his wife that truly had the hardest time.
"I feel like I shouldn't even be performing tonight.", she said tearfully. Seras aided her in the zipping up of her dress, a lovely diaphanous , peach gown that resembled a Roman toga ,with wide panels of fabric trailing over her shoulders like a cape. Meena wiped her watery eyes, smearing her make-up. The little vampire dabbed a tissue over them, and gently reassured her.
"There, there, Miss. I'm sure Master Andrew can take care of himself. He'll be home with the whole family before you even know it. You've got a huge audience tonight, so I suggest a nice, calming breath and a clear mind." The woman inhaled deeply, released slowly, and squeezed Seras' hand.
"Thank you.", she said after a few moments. The vampire left her to finish her hair , and paced back to the barracks. As much as she longed to go out and see the Christmas Concert, with the current situation, she thought it best to stay in for the night. After all, without her master present, she was the only supernatural being in the manor. If any attacks were to take place, she could bare up the front line without taking too much damage. The lower areas of the barracks bristled with uneasy energy. A few Indian soldiers sat around smoking cigarettes, while a handful of enlisted Hellsing men played cards. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, but the atmosphere now felt anything but festive. Seras sighed and pulsed out a mental question .
"Honey, are you down here?," Nothing. Either asleep or out, the Frenchman's presence could not be felt. "Bloody Hell." she cursed and made her way back up to the kitchen. She plopped down in the rear,near the servant's tables and pillowed her chin against her fist. The night was going to be long and though she understood her duty fully, it would have been nice to get a chance to go out and celebrate like a family.
"Excuse me, Miss?," a young voice asked. The creature looked up to see the wide, inquisitive eyes of Adam, the young butler-in-training. "Have you come upstairs for supper, Miss Victoria? "
"Oh, it's a bit early for me, but thanks anyway."
"Would you like a mug of hot coco while you're waiting? Mr. Dornez told me that you usually get a cuppa with milk and B Positive, is that right?" Seras could not help but smile; the request would usually have set most people into fits of disgust, but some of the staff could be very considerate for household members special tastes. She grinned showing the tips of her fangs,
"That would be lovely-thank you."
Elsewhere- The Gardens of Maximilian Villa
Alucard felt ill to his stomach as the stench hit him, a wave of nausea threatening to gag him and spill out the blood from his gullet. To the mortal nose, there was no scent, no scent at all coming up from the great, stone fountain before him But, underneath the soil, mold, and the subtle essence of limestone, a great, dark putrid smell rose up. It surrounded the structure, seeping into the frozen ground. Within the pool of the fountain, was only water, frozen solid by the weather, but the source of the stink came from under the pool. The vampire took out his Jackal, aimed the massive pistol at the base and blew a hole clean through the bottom of the marble. A foul liquid gushed out, viscous and light green in colour, producing a thick steam that rose up from the earth like fumes from Hades. He waited until most of the stuff had pooled out on the ice before igniting it. The liquid burned like kerosene or oil, but the statues of the triumphant angel and her beasts stayed intact, lit brilliant amber by the glow. Silent, empty eyes watched as flames flickered and danced around her wings and the gaping mouths of her pets. Alucard removed his hat and did a deep bow.
"Fear not, my lady, you will remain standing,." he said chivalrously. A sudden gnawing sensation bit at his gut, like tiny teeth. He realized the intrusion into his personal space and hissed.
"Someone's near my coffin- dammit!" He morphed into a great, black flurry of bats and raced back to the main villa, dashing downwards to the catacombs.
Meanwhile-
As the concert played down stairs and the merry chatter of guests could be made out , the only thing Sister Mariana could hear was her own ragged breathing. Cautiously, she padded down the hallway, clinging to the shadows on the walls, praying not to be found by anyone. She had finally broken her bonds after hours of attempt and was eager to get out of this terrible place as quickly as she could. The girl was freezing and half-starved-she hadn't eaten since the other day and her body ached with the various bruises and whippings that had been applied to her flesh again and again. Angelique had been gone for nearly the whole day, and her husband was no where to be found. Escape was the only urge keeping her up-right at this point.
"Please, please God, don't let me run into them now-I'm so close, so close." she silently pleaded. Suddenly, he head began to spin and the world grew black. A sharp thud impacted her temple, and the floor underneath her spiraled downwards. When she came to, she half expected to be greeted by the cruel smile of her mistress, instead, a pair of blue eyes, soft with concern peered into her own.
"Are you alright?" a low, feminine voice asked. Mariana focused and could make out the shape of a blonde woman with glasses and a long, deep-blue dress. The lady leaned into her and steadied her neck and head.
"You fell and hit your head on the banister, you're lucky that you didn't fall down the stairs. " the girl tried to rise, but the woman calmed her down.
"Don't move just yet-you may have hurt yourself more than you think. Are you dizzy?"
"No, but please, I have to get out of here!!" Desperation sparked her voice.
"Shhh, calm down, let's get you up slowly-here take my arm." The young nun grasped on to the woman's upper arm, attempting to get a grip against the velvet. They rose slowly and her aid led her down to the right of the stairway.
"Here, come into my room, sit down." She was guided to the bed and collapsed against it. The woman put on the lamp and gasped at the state she was in; a dark bruise coloured her cheek where it had made impact with the wood, but numerous others alighted her arms , neck, breasts ,and thighs in various shades of pain. So much abuse was visible, because so much flesh was revealed. The girl wore a skimpy pink pair of lace shorts with ragged black, net stockings, a severe leather corset nipped her waist and pushed her round breasts upwards, while her hands and forearms were cased in the same smooth material. Sir Hellsing gasped.
"My God, who did this to you?"
"The Bishop, and Angelique...", her voice trailed off, weak. Integra pursed her lips in fury; she knew that Maxwell was a sick, perverted bastard, but she was practically a child- how far could the depths of his depravity sink? Thunderous applause echoed in from up the stairs.
"The children," Marianna breathed," Are the children alright?"
"Yes, yes, they're fine." Integra soothed. "It's intermission form their concert. I came up here to grab a smoke, but it appears I have none. I'm lucky to have found you though. What's your name?"
"Marianna."
"You will stay here- no-one will bother you, I'll lock you in if I have to." The girl began to cry softly. Clumsily, Sir Hellsing stroked her hand.
"Thank you, thank you.", she wept. Tears ran down her face and her nose began to leak. "I remember you now, you were at the opening night's ball. You were dressed in grey and had your servant with you-the dark, tall man. Maximilian wants you, you know that, right?"
"Unfortunately, yes, I know..." Integra huffed. The girl grasped her hand desperately, and her wide, brown eyes locked into Sir Hellsing's.
"He plans to harm you, he has a talisman, a charm. He practiced all sorts of dark, evil things to bring you close, you mustn't stay here- you have to leave!" Her voice was now bordering on frantic and her body was shaking. To be this agitated in her current state would be dangerous.
"Rest now, I'll see if I can get you something from the dining hall later, but right now, you need your rest." Integra left the woman to regain her strength and turned sharply on her heels. The animosity that burned in her chest was dormant lava now ready to explode. Instead of turning into a raging berserker, Integra composed herself and devised a battle plan like a seasoned general. While she knew the alters were destroyed, where was this talisman that the nun was raving about? Wherever the hell it was, Integra was determined to find and destroy it. She descended the staircase regally, back straight, eyes looking past the sea of elegantly dressed party-goers and pin-pointed her target- the Arch Bishop and the wine table. She casually plucked two bottles of the strongest liquor from the line up, ignoring stares and eyebrows at her brazen behaviour, then strode over to were Enrico was pleasantly chatting with a pair of elderly ladies decked out like Russian nobility in drapery and fur. She cast a grin that made the Bishop pause, glass en route to his lips. There was something down- right wicked and wanting her eyes, it sent chills racing up and down his back. The rest of her looked pretty thrilling as well in skin-tight, midnight -blue velvet.
"Hello Bishop, are you enjoying the night?," she asked Integra cast a charming smile at the two women who bowed slightly and excused themselves, no doubt sensing her desire to speak with Maxwell privately.
"Where were you - you seemed gone such a long time?," he inquired. Sir Hellsing stepped up, nearly brushing her nose against his.
"I stepped out for a cigar, but it wasn't what I wanted." Enrico looked amused.
"Oh really, and what is it that you crave tonight?" A step closer bridged the space between the pair.
"You." A light flick of her tongue brushed his earlobe, barely noticeable to the collective audience, but Maxwell nearly dropped his glass. "Now, please..." She purred. For a moment, Enrico's heart stopped in his chest. He began to exit with Integra following with the bottles of Amontinaro in tow. An elderly rabbi with greying locks and Yeshiva beard paused him for a moment.
" Arch Bishop, would you like to continue your statement on Religious Unity for the Israeli Press now, or-" A quasi-friendly hand waved him off.
"Later, sir, later. I have pressing business." Sir Hellsing bit her lip and refrained from saying that the only pressing matter he had was lust building in his trousers.
"Be nice- happy thoughts...", she reminded herself. They disappeared up into the deep darkness of the hallway and into the Bishop's boudoir.
Elsewhere-The Catacombs
Alucard stood looming, leering over the entangled body of the witch. She had dared to touch his resting place, his sacred heart, his home away from home. He felt little pity for her- she merely got what she deserved. His familiars had seeped out of the coffin and engulfed her body, binding it in thick, inky tentacles and myriads of scurrying centipede legs, twitching and brushing against her throat and torso. She gazed up at him with bitter anger.
"Madame, you are an idiot.," he stated, "I am so tired of such nonsense in my after-life."
"If you are going to kill me, then go ahead- stop talking and complete the task, monsieur. " The vampire couched down, a twisted smile of daggers protruding from his mouth and his eyes rimmed with bloodlust. "Wound you, but not kill you, that sounds like more of a fitting fate, don't you think. This way, you can never harm your own children again." Angelique spat in his face.
"Bastard! How dare you- I know what I am- Murder, Witch, Harlot, but I do not turn on my own!"
"Have you talked to your husband about who will become the zombies, Madame? " A sensation tickled at his mind.
"Hoy! Alucard, where are you?" It was Lord Hellsing- approaching rapidly.
"Catacombs, be careful, I have company." His presence drew closer and closer until he heard a scampering of feet descending the staircase. Lord Andrew, unkempt, and lip bloodied, progressed forwards, pistol brandished. Behind him, Sister Yumiko followed hesitantly, a bundle wrapped up in a blanket cradled in her arms, with the stink of rot surrounding it.
"It's alright Sister, he won't hurt you." Andrew promised, As he drew closer, he made a face at the writhing mass of pulpy flesh and insectoid appendages securing the battle-worn blonde against the wall.
"Lord Hellsing, this is Mrs. Le Chat, the woman in league with Maxwell in the zombie attacks on Hellsing Manor. " Lord Andrew scowled and raised his gun. Yumiko drew closer, disgusted by the un-natural sight, but brave. Angelique's eyes went wide in shock as she got a better look inside the bundle.
"PAUL??"