Chapter Twenty-Seven

"As soon as the idea was introduced that all men were equal before God, that world was bound to collapse." — Adolf Hitler

Hellsing Manor, London

The city had been quiet since Heinkel left—too quiet, Integra decided, punctuating this observation with a puff of smoke that wafted in Seras' face, causing the draculina to sneeze violently. Although she hadn't done it on purpose, Integra couldn't help smirking at her subordinate's discomfort.

That's what she gets for refusing to use the door.

"I've never understood how you can smoke those things." The vampire remarked, wrinkling her nose at the scent of tobacco.

The head of Hellsing sighed, resisting the urge to throw an ashtray at her unexpected visitor. Maybe that would teach her not to appear without warning. Then again, maybe not; after all, this tactic had only served to amuse Alucard (mainly because Integra had never managed to hit him—though not for lack of trying).

"What is it, Seras?"

Integra tried to keep her tone level, but a combination of constant worry and a succession of sleepless nights had robbed her of her usual self-control. While she had it on good authority that the London Slasher had claimed at least two victims since her near-capture—despite her efforts to remain circumspect, the woman was no master criminal—the last death had been nearly two weeks ago; and such a long period had never elapsed between killings since they'd begun four months earlier.

Although this should have been good news, the abrupt halt in the murders only heightened Integra's unease. After all, if the witch saw no need to seek out fresh victims, that could only mean one of two things: either she'd given up on resurrecting the Major—or she'd finally succeeded. Merely considering the second possibility made her skin crawl.

Seras fidgeted, seeming all too human as she avoided her master's gaze. "I'm sorry for bothering you. I just…needed to talk to someone; and you were the only person I could think of."

"I see," was all Integra said, trying to decide if she should be honored or offended by the vampire's honesty.

The implication of her words finally dawning on her, Seras' eyes widened as she attempted to backtrack. "I didn't mean it like that—"

Integra cut her off with, "I know. Now out with it; I don't have all night."

While she wasn't in the mood to listen to Seras' problems, being a good leader meant addressing her subordinates' concerns. A great leader must listen to her people. Remember that, Integra. Integra had rolled her eyes at the time, but now she would have given anything to hear her father's voice once more. It had been almost twelve years, and yet the wound caused by Arthur's death refused to heal. Maybe it never would.

Unperturbed by her master's brusque tone, Seras saluted. "Understood!"

Though it was also a leader's duty to be dignified, Integra barely managed not to roll her eyes at her subordinate's enthusiasm. For God's sake, this isn't the bloody army.

Hands clasped behind her back, Seras gazed out the window, where a yellow moon cast a smoky light over the city; the vampire was silent for so long that Integra's patience had nearly run out when she finally said, "Greta's been looking everywhere for Heinkel."

"Greta?" Integra didn't recall a recruit by that name, but then again, she'd been far too busy to get acquainted with the new hires.

"Her cat." Seras explained. "She's been following me everywhere—with Heinkel gone, it seems I'm the next best thing."

Seras seemed surprised that the animal had taken a liking to her, but her commander wasn't; after all, Hellsing's resident vampire was so soft it was almost laughable. Even Integra had trouble believing this girl was a member of the undead; and she'd witnessed Seras' lethal abilities with her own eyes. Where was Alucard when you needed him?

The thought of her former servant made her scowl. She was better off without that idiot causing trouble and destroying things. Not to mention, Seras' sire took particular pleasure in circumventing her orders and generally being a pain in the ass. Integra didn't miss the No-Life King one bit…so why did she keep thinking about him? She was saved from answering this question by the sound of something scratching at the office door, followed by a plaintive meow.

Seras frowned. "I'm positive I shut Heinkel's door…" When the cry came again—louder this time—she apologized. "I'll take her back—"

"No need for that. You may as well let her in."

Integra didn't know what possessed her to make the offer, but it was too late to rescind it. Seras opened the door to reveal a very indignant cat, who twined herself around the vampire's legs as though they'd been separated for days rather than minutes. The draculina stroked Greta's head, crooning to her in a low voice as the animal purred.

I thought cats were supposed to be dignified.

Satisfied that she hadn't been abandoned, Greta turned her attention to the rest of the room. Tail in the air, she padded towards Integra's desk, apparently unperturbed by the cloud of cigar smoke which surrounded it.

The head of Hellsing eyed her warily, hoping the cat didn't decide to sharpen her claws on the drapes or deposit a hairball on the carpet. To her relief, after a cursory inspection of her new environment Greta curled up on the windowsill. Integra wasn't particularly fond of animals—even as a child, she'd been too busy to have time for a pet—but didn't mind Heinkel having one so long as it didn't interfere with her work. (Not that it would have mattered if she had minded.)

After all, it was a small price to pay to keep the former Vatican agent happy; and the happier Heinkel was, the less likely she'd be to stick her nose places it didn't belong. Dorian was the only one displeased with the arrangement; and thatwas because Greta disliked him almost as much as her owner. Integra would never admit it, but she found the animal's aversion to the butler rather amusing. Maybe it was true what people said about pets inheriting their owners' traits…

But back to the matter at hand. They weren't going to get anywhere like this, and Integra had a call with the mayor of London to attend to (mostly to berate him for ignoring her advice to close the waterfront).

"You're worried about Heinkel, aren't you?" She couldn't help snorting at Seras' expression. "Don't look so surprised. You aren't exactly subtle, you know."

The draculina sighed. "I know Heinkel can take care of herself, but I can't help being concerned for her. Rome is a dangerous place, and without anyone to watch her back…"

Integra thought about pointing out that Seras was too soft-hearted for her own good but decided against it. Some people would never change no matter how much you lectured them. "You're underestimating her. If she survived the Blitz, she can handle a few papists." Both women knew that was as close as the head of Hellsing would ever come to complimenting the former Vatican agent.

Seras was silent, considering Integra's words. Though she'd never admit it, that was one thing Integra liked about the police girl: Seras may have been flighty and at times, more than a little tiresome, but the draculina also had a serious side—especially when it came to her work. She may not look it, but Alucard's offspring was actually quite reliable (in stark contrast to her sire).

"I suppose you're right." Seras admitted, though it was obvious she wasn't completely convinced. Still, Integra was inclined to consider the conversation a success—especially since there hadn't been any tears. She never knew what to do when other people cried (it had been over a decade since Integra last wept).

"Of course I am." She extinguished her cigar, already mourning its loss—but one needed both hands free in order to properly admonish the imbecile who'd allowed the Nazis to escape. "Now get out of my office and take the cat with you—I've got work to do."