Chapter Twenty-Five
"I will leap into my grave laughing because the feeling that I have five million human beings on my conscience is for me a source of extraordinary satisfaction." ― Adolf Eichmann
It was almost lunchtime when Heinkel returned to the orphanage. After extracting a promise from Lorenzo to watch over Ana and the children in her absence—accompanied by the threat of death if anything were to happen to them—she left the hotel to meet with her most trusted contacts and gather what information she could (which wasn't much).
Unsurprisingly, even her oldest friends were reluctant to speak with a traitor. If not for her formidable reputation and the many battles they'd fought together, Heinkel had no doubt they would have handed her over to the Holy Father at the first opportunity; the knowledge that she would have done the same in their position didn't make the rejection sting any less. By the time she knocked on Ana's door, Hellsing's newest recruit was in a foul mood.
It opened to reveal a young woman with dark hair and a crooked smile. "You must be Heinkel. I'm Luisa, Sister's assistant. Come in, come in."
Before Heinkel knew what was happening, she was following the girl down the hallway, her companion chattering away in heavily accented English. "I've heard so much about you, but I never thought I'd see you in person." She paused, eyeing Heinkel critically. The blonde stiffened, expecting the other woman to comment on the scarf she wore, but she only said, "You're taller than I expected."
Heinkel was saved from having to respond to this by the sound of approaching footsteps, accompanied by high-pitched laughter. A pair of children rounded the corner, staring at the newcomer with wide eyes.
Luisa began scolding them in Italian, but the twinkle in her eye made it clear she wasn't angry. When the children scampered away, still giggling, she turned her attention to Heinkel. "Have you eaten yet? We're about to have lunch."
Heinkel opened her mouth to refuse, but her stomach chose that moment to snarl like a wild animal. She kept her chin up even as her face flamed, refusing to be embarrassed.
Luisa chuckled. "Well, I guess that answers that."
Ordinarily, Heinkel wouldn't let anyone—even a noncombatant—get away with laughing at her, but her empty stomach was impossible to ignore. Not to mention that Ana wouldn't take kindly to someone being threatened under her roof. Besides, the other woman's obvious sincerity made it difficult to dislike her. She rather reminded Heinkel of a certain vampire…
The former Vatican agent scowled, pushing away all thoughts of her errant partner. I must be so hungry I'm not thinking straight.
Heinkel walked the rest of the way in silence, her companion filling the quiet with stories about the children and praise for Ana's cooking. If Luisa noticed that Heinkel's thoughts were elsewhere, she didn't comment on it.
The dining room contained a massive table, the wood darkened with age, and rows of mismatched chairs. Each seat was occupied by children of varying ages and sizes; a baby wriggled in a highchair, chubby hands outstretched as he babbled.
Heinkel froze, cursing her own stupidity. Luisa's friendliness had disarmed her: causing her to forget how hideous she looked. She couldn't uncover her face in front of the children; one look and they'd run away screaming. Why had she thought it was a good idea to come here again? Heinkel didn't belong in a place like this; she would only cause trouble.
I should have taken the first flight to London.
Still, it wasn't too late to leave. Ana didn't even know she was here— "There you are, Liebchen." Damn it. Her foster mother stood in the doorway, looking entirely too pleased to see her. "Come eat with us." As the baby began to cry, Luisa bustled over, soothing him with practiced ease.
The children were staring at Heinkel now, their eyes drilling into her like lasers. Some whispered to each other, curious about the stranger in their midst. She swallowed, trying hard not to fidget under their scrutiny. Why should she care what a couple of brats thought? Suddenly, her stomach felt like a rock.
"I'm not hungry."
She couldn't help remembering when she'd tried this same tactic at age twelve, after some of the other girls locked her in the storage closet. Ana had insisted she come downstairs, adamant that the meal wouldn't be the same without Heinkel's company. The memory made her chest fill with an unexpected warmth.
"Don't be ridiculous." The older woman's tone was brisk, but her gaze was sympathetic. "Sit down." The steel in her voice made it clear that this wasn't a request.
"You're the guest of honor." Luisa added, gesturing to the seat at the head of the table. "Sister made her special lasagna just for you!"
One of the children Heinkel had seen earlier—a little girl with russet hair and gray eyes—spoke up. "Please, Miss? Sister said we can't have any unless you eat with us." The other children seconded her enthusiastically.
Heinkel hesitated. She wanted to refuse, but Ana never asked her for anything; and the thought of homemade lasagna made her mouth water... "Fine."
The children cheered, Ana squeezed her shoulder in silent thanks, and Luisa grinned. "I'll be right back."
The girl who'd asked Heinkel to stay smiled shyly at her from across the table. "I'm Natalina. I like your scarf."
"Thanks."
Heinkel tried to keep her voice level so the kid wouldn't sense her irritation. (She'd come here to see Ana, not to be gawked at by a bunch of brats!) Not that she cared if she hurt the girl's feelings, but her foster mother certainly would. While Heinkel would be forever grateful for everything Ana had done for her, she would never understand the older woman's love of children.
Kids were the kind of unknown variable Heinkel preferred to avoid at all costs—messy and unpredictable, a liability rather than an asset. And yet, they possessed an unsettling ability to worm their way into the hearts of others; even Anderson, seasoned warrior that he was, had a soft spot for them. The thought of her old mentor made Heinkel's throat tighten.
When Luisa returned bearing a dish covered in foil, the aroma of freshly baked lasagna made Heinkel's stomach growl. Some of the children giggled, though they fell silent when she glared at them. Feeling Ana's eyes on her, Heinkel hastily looked away.
Steeling herself, she untied her scarf, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the table. The silence was so excruciating, it took everything Heinkel had not to flee the room right then and there. In London, people feared her regardless of her appearance, but things were different here. For some reason, the thought of these children treating her like a monster was almost unbearable.
Finally, Natalina broke the silence. "Does your face hurt, Miss?" There was no disgust in her voice, only curiosity. Her gray eyes were solemn as she waited for Heinkel's answer.
She barked out a laugh at the unexpected question. "Sometimes." Girl had guts; she'd give her that. Luisa began to apologize, but Heinkel cut her off with, "I don't mind." And she didn't—there was something refreshing about the way the kid met her gaze without fear. To Natalina, she said, "The name's Heinkel. You got that?"
