Ascension.02 - Housebred Killer

Though I summoned him to meet with me, once I was healed, it appeared he was going to pick his own time--and way--of arriving.

Namely, two evenings after I called him, and phasing in through the ceiling of my father's--my--office.

Being unexperienced in his taste for the dramatic just yet, I shrieked. He dropped to the floor, more solid now, and laughed at me. "I thought you'd find that interesting."

Interesting wasn't really the word I was thinking at the moment. If I had more colorful words in mind, though, I didn't speak them. "You surprised me," I said simply. The portfolio I had been holding had been rumpled in my startled grasp, and I smoothed it out on the desk in front of me. These were his orders for the evening, delivered to me by Walter. Would have been much better if Walter had delivered them himself. But I suppose that would have been shirking duty.

"You did call me, and here I am." He bowed, with a flourish. "My Master." He took a seat at one of the chairs in front of the desk.

I didn't comment on his punctuality, or lack thereof. "You have work."

He smiled. It was a vicious smile, fangs and all. "Already? How lovely." He leaned back in the chair, setting his feet on my desk. "I'll need my weapon back, then, I suppose."

"Weapon?" It hadn't occurred to me that he needed any kind of weapon. He had certainly dealt well enough with my late uncle's armed guards without one. "I suppose Walter would know about that."

Walter did, indeed, know about that. Once called, he arrived bearing a case, which he set next to the chair where Alucard sat. "The Casull, Lord Alucard."

Alucard raised his eyebrows at the title. "Now I'm 'Lord'?" he mused.

I dismissed Walter, and Alucard had further to say on the matter of title. "Your servants, Miss Hellsing, learn quickly about the new regime."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He laughed at my naivete. "I assure you, had he met me yesterday, the circumstances would have been very different." He lifted the case at his feet to his lap, and started to brush years of dust from it. I daresay he even looked a bit mournful in this movement. "Who do you think helped to put me in my prison, twenty years ago?" he murmured.

I hadn't thought about that, admittedly. That Walter had been involved had hardly crossed my mind; but I supposed he must have. It was doubtful--even having only seen little of Alucard's power--that anyone else could have done the job. And I had forgotten, hadn't I, that Walter had been Hellsing's most dangerous soldier for years before he was ever its steward.

He opened the case, revealing the dull gleam of gun metal. He chuckled, a throaty sound. "Even in the human world, some good things never change." He set the case back on the floor, sitting back to admire the weapon. "I admit, it's a weak weapon. But I've grown the slightest bit attached to human things."

I was, I knew as I knew before, in the presence of a creature whose motivations I couldn't guess, and I began to see his danger, weapon or no. "Why did he put you there? My father, I mean."

He was playing with the gun now, pulling back the hammer and letting it snap home with a satisfying click. Certainly, it was as of yet unloaded, but it still set me on edge. My imagination was at fault, I knew; it was only because I didn't know what to expect from him that I feared. Still focused on the Casull, he replied, "Your father got scared when he realized that pets need to be fed, to learn the proper gratitude due their masters. And rather than paying the cost, he locked me up and hoped I would go away." Again the vicious smile. "But I didn't go away. Lucky for you."

I was mute. Still, he seemed to know the direction of my thoughts, and continued, "It takes a lot more than famine to destroy me." Turning an eye away from the gun, he fixed it on me. "I hope you will remember that, Miss Hellsing."

He hadn't painted a flattering picture of my father, and coming so close to his death, I didn't find it easy to hear. I turned my face away from Alucard, suddenly acutely aware of that eye fixed on me. I was overwhelmed again, by the acute pain of loss, and the duty that had so quickly followed, and it was a feeling I scarcely wanted him to witness.

I must have showed some grief on my face, despite my efforts, for his facial expression softened. His regret was almost human. "I forget how vulnerable your kind is," he said more softly, now. "We'll talk of these things later."

He turned back to the task at hand, loading the Casull. I saw his retreat for what it was, a chance I was given to regain my dignity. He fairly whistled as he went about the task of cleaning and loading the weapon. The almost-childlike glee he felt at the prospect of killing disturbed me. Seeking to reclaim myself, I asked, "Why do you do this for us? You seem to enjoy killing your own kind."

"They're not my kind," he fairly snarled. "And of course I enjoy it. I enjoy killing. I seem to be rather talented at it." The fact that this was clearly not what I wanted to hear did not deter him. "But I'm housebred. I won't get blood on the carpets." He seemed to find this, and my discomfort, riotously funny.

I failed to laugh along, perhaps because I didn't find the idea of killing very funny at all, after the past few days. I merely sat, waiting for him to finish his task.

He stood when he had finished, seeming to enjoy catching the gleam of the moonlight on the Casull. With enthusiasm rare even in Hellsing's elite, he asked, "Tell me what I'll be doing tonight, My Master."

Mutely, I handed the portfolio to him. I hadn't bothered to read the case file it contained. The orders had been passed down from the Round Table, to Walter, and then, to me; and something in that chain of command implied that my input was not desired. I hadn't been doing this for long enough to question that pecking order just yet.

The Casull disappeared into the folds of his coat, along with the scraps of portfolio; he, however, chose to leave in a more mundane way than he had arrived. I hardly expected to hear more from him once he passed the threshold of the door, but I heard, echoed in my head:

I won't indulge your youth with niceties. Never forget what I am.