Moonlit Midnight

Chapter 7

Integra waited impatiently for the trio to return, her eyes narrowed and sharp, fingers curled stiffly around a fresh cigar.  As always, Walter stood obediently beside her.  She barely noticed him; she was glancing continuously between the university and Mark Sanfeld.  "He said 'she'," she reminded him.

"So I heard," he replied shortly.

She took another breath of her cigar.  "He told me Mephistos was a man."

"He told me that, too."

Walter tried to catch her eye, but she ignored him; Jacob, Varjak, and Celas were approaching.  Her already tight expression darkened when she saw the gun pointed at her officer.  She waited for them to stop before her.  "Explain."

Jacob set a hand firmly on Celas's shoulder and pushed her forward.  "I think Miss Victoria can explain better," he said, though his gaze never left Integra's face.

Integra's eyes narrowed; she didn't like these games, and she disliked even more how Jacob was treating her officers and her institute.  Her protests were silenced when she saw Celas's guilty expression.  Something was going on that she hadn't known about.  "Agent Victoria?"

Celas flinched.  "Ma'am," she acknowledged weakly.

"Are you hiding something from me?"

The younger woman licked her lips nervously.  "Master—Alucard—told me not to…."  She lowered her head faintly.  "He's my master, so I…."

Integra scowled; she didn't believe her.  Whatever was happening, she refused to believe that Alucard would so blatantly betray them.  She blew a slow stream of smoke; beside her, Sanfeld shifted his weight impatiently.  "And where is Alucard now?"

"I don't know.  But…I think he's with Mephistos."

Integra glanced briefly at Jacob, whose face was calm and unreadable.  "And Mephistos is a woman?"

Celas hesitated.  "Yes," she confessed.  "They…called her Lorenna."

"'They.'  Her vampires?"

"…Yes, Ma'am."

Another ring of smoke.  "What does she want with Alucard?"

This time Celas didn't answer.  She shuffled her feet, bit at her lips, and would not lift her gaze.  Soon enough Integra's patience thinned.  "Forget it," she said, turning away.  "We'll return to Hellsing.  Agent Victoria will be confined to her quarters until she can be formally questioned."

"…Yes, Ma'am," came the timid response.

Integra snorted as she led them back to the trucks that had been brought them to begin with.  As she'd expected, Jacob fell into step beside her.  "Not now," she nearly snapped.  "This is no time for 'I told you so'."

"This morning Victoria asked me if I believed vampires can love," he told her anyway.  His words raised a certain degree of anxiety in her, and she waited for him to continue.  "All of them.  I suspected she meant Alucard."

"Don't be absurd," she retorted.  "Celas is only a few months changed—Alucard is over two thousand years old.  Don't even begin to compare them."  She waited for Walter to open the door of her car for her, and slipped inside.  But Jacob was nothing if not stubborn, and he let himself into the passenger seat.  She rolled her eyes.  "Jacob—"

"I was right, wasn't I?" he challenged, holding up a hand to quiet Walter's protests.  "We were wrong about Mephistos—we didn't suspect it was a woman—but she's here, and she came for Alucard, just like I said."

"I don't have time for this."  She signaled to Walter, who cast Jacob a perturbed look before taking his seat behind the wheel.  "I'm going to take care of your vampire, Jacob.  Now shut up and you can fill me in when we debrief."

---

Alucard opened his eyes; slowly, deliberately, taking in the shadowed space of stone above him.  He could feel a ripple of magic, and a voice, echoing in the back of his mind.  An approaching scent.  "They're back," he reported evenly.

"Then I've lingered too long.  It won't be as easy leaving as it was coming in."

"There is only so much I can do for you now."

"I know."  Lorenna pushed gracefully to her feet.  She reached behind her, undoing the clip that held her hair in place.  With a shake of her head it cascaded in dark waves over her shoulders.  "I know."

---

By the time they arrived again at the Hellsing Institute Celas felt positively ill.  She couldn't quell the twisting uncertainty in her gut; the air tasted thick and sour, and she shook her head several times as if that would clear it.  This couldn't really be happening.  But every time she'd convinced herself just that—whenever she managed to believe they weren't really on their way to confront Alucard—she raised her eyes into Agent Varjak's cold glare. The American hadn't diverted her attention for even a moment, and it wasn't helping Celas's nerves.  No one should ever have the right to look that smug.  She was bitterly relieved when they halted at last, allowing her to step outside and into some fresh air.

Integra had already left her car nearby and was straightening her suit.  She looked calm as always.  Jacob was another story—as soon as his feet were on solid ground he was on the move again, shouting orders to the other drivers pulling in.  One of the vehicles—one pulling in backwards—was one she had never seen before.  Integra didn't look happy about it, either.  "What's going on?" Celas asked, not really expecting an answer.  "What is that?"

"If you're real lucky, you'll find out," Varjak sneered.  She pushed Celas forward.  "Come on."

The soldiers began to start toward the institute, but Integra held out a hand abruptly to stop them.  Her eyes were narrowed and cold.  When Celas followed that sharp gaze, her insides froze.  Hellsing's broad doors were spread wide, framing the outline of a familiar, shadowed figure.  His hat and glasses had been shed, his fangs bared in a grin.  And though he looked no different than any time had ever seen him, something about the dangerous gleam in his eyes made her tremble.

Alucard lifted his chin.  "Welcome home," he greeted darkly.  "My Master."

"Alucard."  Integra's voice was the only sound in the yards, and it echoed eerily among her soldiers.  "What is the meaning of this?"

He blinked deliberately.  "What do you mean?"

Integra held out her hand, palm up, and Commander Wellerune obediently slipped a loaded handgun into it.  She leveled it without hesitation at Alucard.  "Where is Mephistos?"

Another slow blink.  "I don't know anyone by that name."

Integra took a menacing step forward.  "Do not defy me," she barked.  "Tell me where the vampire Lorenna is!"

Alucard didn't flinch, but his eyelid twitched just slightly, and his gaze flickered momentarily to Celas.  She shrank back in shame—he knew what she had done.  She curled a hand over her twisting gut and tried to pay attention for when his response came.

Alucard's fingers clenched just barely, even as the humor never left his face; he could not lie to her.  "Ahh.  That, at least, is easy enough.  She's right here with me."

Something twisted in the darkness behind him, no more than a dull flicker of absent light, and then he was gone.  Celas had done no more than blink, once, and then her master was across the courtyard in a blur of red and fangs.  She could smell the blood before she saw the soldiers fall, shredded and silent; the sound of their artillery clanging against the pavement sounded like the ringing collapse of broken marionettes.  And Alucard stood over them, licking at the blood that had seeped into the corners of his mouth.

The courtyard fell into a panic with the sounds of gunfire.  Celas couldn't see much of what was happening—a flash of crimson, a broken limb—and could hear even less, save Varjak's growling curses at her ear.  All she could think, as Alucard's laughter rose over the thunder, was she couldn't believe this was happening.  No matter what she had done—whatever betrayal—it shouldn't have come to this. 

"Master…."  She couldn't make her voice rise above a whisper, so that it was stolen from even her ears.  "Please, stop…."

Integra, meanwhile, was watching transfixed as Alucard decapitated another soldier with a clean swipe of his hand.  She knew better than to lose her wits; she had seen Alucard's power released in full, where this childish display was incomparable.  It was different, however, watching the human blood that slid over the vampire's pale flesh, the bone splinters that clung to his gloves and coat.  He was moving swiftly through groups of men in streaks of angry white and red, tearing flesh with his bare hands.  She took a step back without realizing.  Alucard was betraying her.  She clung to that injustice, that anger, to call back her courage.  "Alucard!"  She planted her feet and clenched her fists, determined not to falter.  "Damn you, Alucard, face your master!"

The vampire halted.  All around the gunfire died down, until only Alucard was left standing within the wide circle of men.  Blood coated his already scarlet garb; most of it his own, spilled from dozens of gunshot wounds that riddles his torso and limbs.  His left arm dangled, a length of mangled flesh, at his side; his jaw was slightly askew; a clump of his scalp landed with a sick, wet thud on the ground.  None of these things bothered him as he turned towards his master.  With eyes gleaming he approached in slow, measured steps.  His shadow twisted oddly in the vehicle headlights.

Integra held her ground beneath his heavy gaze, his humorous stare.  How dare he—how dare he mock her in this place.  She would have struck him had she thought it would affect him.  "Alucard," she said firmly once he had stopped, no more than a step away.  "I have not authorized the breaking of your seals."

He blinked what was left of his eyelids.  "I have not broken any seals," he replied evenly.

"You hid your intentions from me," she snapped, shaking with rage.  "I am your master—how dare you conspire against me!"

Alucard reached out suddenly, his hand closing around the front of Integra's blouse and tugging her forward.  She did not fight even as the stench of blood and decay swept over her.  She would not fear him—he belonged to her.  And she knew his words before he spoke them.  "Are you sure you don't want to taste my blood?"

Integra's face contorted, but before she could lift her voice against him she caught a shift of movement to her left, like a latch being lifted, a door being opened.  She realized what was happening too late; someone was pulling her back, tearing her from Alucard's grip.  Then the light came.  She had the presence of mind to close her eyes before the intensity could blind her; her sight flared blood-bright red, and a moment later a gloved hand had shielded her from the glare.

Celas reacted a moment too late; she threw her arms over her face and stumbled away, but her skull was already throbbing as if burned.  "Master—"  Her voice was drowned out by the resumed thunder of gunfire.  "Master!"  She tried to lower her hands, to see, but her eyes protested and were filled with tears.  Varjak was pulling at her insistently without accomplishment.  Even when the gunfire halted, when the floodlights were doused, she could still not bare to lift her aching lids.  She could only drop to her knees on the cement, pawing at her eyes.

Integra managed to open hers carefully; she was held protectively against Walter's side, and he refused to release her until he was certain she could stand on her own.  She pushed urgently away to see what had happened.  Jacob had gone too far, and if not for her full attention being on Alucard she was thoroughly convinced she might have killed him.

Alucard had dropped to one knee in the path of the light.  His coat was lifted to shield his skin, and there were deep, pulsing burns covering his face and arms where bullets had torn patches of fabric free.  He looked haggard, though his eyes were still bright and vaguely defiant.  Integra held that gaze for a long time before shifting her focus to the form he was shielding: a woman.  A slender, crumpled form huddled child-like against him.  She had suffered far more greatly from Jacob's weapon—entire stretches of flesh had been peeled away from her bones, leaving only blood and ash.  She was shaking, probably terrified.  Integra watched without pity.  "Alucard."

The vampire lifted his head, facing her with his burned and mangled countenance, his expression calm and blank.  The female had been hiding in his shadow—he had been protecting her.  Again Integra's injustice rose, and with a scowl she lifted her own weapon and fired several shots.

"Master!"  Celas' vision returned just in time for her to see the vampire's body pitch backwards, run through with silver.  He collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud; blood oozed, dark and twisting, across darker asphalt.  Almost immediately he struggled to his knees, and Celas could only watch in horror as another shot to his throat felled him once more.  Integra's face was cold and unimpassioned as she carried out her punishment, until his struggles appeared nothing more than weak, shifting movements.

"Master…."  Celas started to crawl forward.  She was barely aware of the tears flowing over her face, of their coppery taste.  "Alucard…."  She then raised her blurred gaze to Integra.  "How could you?"

Integra did not respond.  She merely handed her weapon to Walter, who accepted it hesitantly and with a somewhat stunned expression.  "Jacob," she said evenly.  "There's your vampire."

Lorenna squirmed piteously, and with great difficulty managed to push to her feet despite the missing flesh from her left leg.  "Damn you, Hellsing cowards," she snarled.  Her skin began to blacken and leak.  "Hiding behind your own enemies—"

Jacob freed his wooden dagger and stepped forward swiftly, driving it into the vampire's stomach.  She screamed in agony, writhing; she managed to last out and strike him hard across the face, drawing blood.  But even as he withdrew it was too late—her injured leg disintegrated abruptly out from under her, and she collapsed with a moan.

"Lorenna…."  Celas bit her lip and continued to pull herself along the ground.  Her progress was halted by a heel cracking down on the small of her back, and she fell onto her stomach with a choked gasp.  It was Varjak, her brain reasoned distantly.  She twisted weakly without success.  Alucard was still fighting against his own battered flesh, be it pride or vengeful determination that drove him, but he was having trouble getting his arms under him.  Celas shuddered, remembering not long ago when silver had almost killed him in the Tower of London.  "Master—"

"Get that light back on," Mark Sanfeld instructed abruptly, indicating the pair of weakened hell-creatures at his feet.  Celas gasped and went stiff; thankfully, Integra was quick to voice her protests.

"Withdraw that order," the leader of Hellsing snapped, unnoticing of Alucard's heavy gaze upon her.  "If you think—"

"Your dog has betrayed you, Hellsing," Sanfeld interrupted heatedly.  "Let us dispose of them both and be done with it."

"This is my institute, and if you think…."

Their argument faded to the back of Celas's mind as she watched her master.  He was fixed solely on Integra, his eyes blazing, the seals still in tact upon his gloves burning in angry veins of magic.  Beyond him, Lorenna was immobile; still barely alive, as her face was twisted, her hand pressed tightly to her abdomen.  And…she began to laugh, thickly and brokenly.  It was a chilling sound that halted the humans around her as she forced herself into a sitting position.

"Damned Hellsing," she chuckled, looking for all the world like a woman gone mad.  "Damned Mithril 6!  You fools!  You think by my death—by his—you will have accomplished anything?"  She laughed some more, wildly.  "Come, then!  Kill me with your coward's science!  Kill the child I carry!  But know that its life and mine are immortal!"  She turned her wild, crazed eyes on Integra.  "Know that you have no power over us, you pathetic mortal whore."

Integra's face remained unmoved.  Without a word she stalked forward, dragging Lorenna by a fistful of hair toward Jacob's truck.  The vampire continued to laugh, devoid of sense as she was lifted off the ground and tossed carelessly into the vehicle interior.  The doors were closed with a  resounding metal clang.

"There."  Integra snorted, casually plucking a fresh cigar out of her coat.  "Now you can turn it on."

Sanfeld eyed her mistrustfully, but passed the order along all the same.  As soon as he began to lift his hand, however, Alucard resumed his fight; he was able to reach his knees before Celas couldn't take any more.  She was already shaking, horrified by everything happening she couldn't help, but she couldn't bare to watch her Master beaten down again.  Lorenna may have been already lost, but there was no need for Alucard to—

"Master!"  Celas twisted, her police training finally kicking in as she threw Varjak off her.  Knowing she only had a moment before the agent recovered, she flung herself at the crouched figure.  Alucard grunted, surprised, as she toppled them both.  "Master, please stop," she begged, arms tight around his torn and bloodied chest.  "Please, that's enough.  Please don't fight them anymore…."

"Celas…."

His response was cut short by a piercing cry—the ultra-violent floodlights had been activated.  Celas could feel both of them jump at the sound of the trapped vampire's unearthly scream.  It echoed out cracks in the metal frame, stunning all those surrounding into unmoving silence.  Even Varjak and Sanfeld paled at the sound, and exchanged even stares.  Celas was frozen.  It seemed to take hours for Lorenna to die, and the whole while she screamed, long and high and cracked.  When it ended it was all at once; there was no gradual drain into silence, but only an abrupt cessation, as if cut through by a knife.  Even then, Celas could have sworn she felt the spirit pass; a chill, unlike anything she had ever felt before, seeped through her bones.  The cold was biting and intense.  "Master."

The last ting she remembered before she blacked out was Alucard's voice, a low murmur in her ear.  "Feel it, Celas.  The death of a No Life King."

---

When it had all ended—when Integra opened her eyes once more—there was nothing left of the vampire but a sweep of ash that was carried away by the wind.  She had seen a hundred vampires fade out of existence in such a way, though it never ceased to amaze her how cleanly they departed from this world, leaving only victims.  Nothing to remember them by; nothing to linger on, save a quickly fading memory.  By tomorrow she would have forgotten the radiance in crimson irises, the simple, sharp features that were a poor example of elegance.  The name Lorenna would stay in her brain a bit longer, with the strangely irritating knowledge that she had never heard Alucard speak it.

But the image of Alucard then, as she turned away from the truck and the soldiers and the ash, would never leave her.  His wounds were not healing—the fault of the silver imbedded in his flesh.  She was even surprised he was able to hold his form so well after all she'd fired into him.  But that feeling, along with a kind of dull, resigned acknowledgment, retreated quickly inside her when what remained of his lips curled.  He was smiling at her, at the dark canopy spread behind her.  It was a strange expression, different than any she had seen on him, made worse by the grotesque disfiguring of his face.  It was also eerily familiar.  Her eyes narrowed as she blew a ring of smoke.  "Proud of yourself?" she asked icily.

Alucard closed his eyes.  He was still smiling, and his hand moved idly over a few strands of Celas's hair.  It was an oddly intimate gesture that grated on her nerves.  This was not the Alucard she had come to expect, and she found it disconcerting to imagine she had misjudged him so dramatically.

"Not really," the vampire confessed.  But there was no shame, no weariness in his voice that a human would have shown.  Only a soft chuckle that came and faded as easily as the ash.  "You did everything I expected."

Integra's expression darkened.  He sounded…approving, and ancient.  And all of a sudden his expression slipped into place; that calm, patient smile reminded her inexplicably of her father.  Though part of her retreated in denial, she made no move.  "Walter," she said emotionlessly.  "Find Alucard something to drink.  Make sure he makes it to his quarters and stays there."

"Yes, Lady Integra."

She took another breath of her cigar before she realized that no one was moving.  "The mission is over," she declared to her soldiers.  "You are all dismissed."  And when still several of them shifted about uncertainly she snapped, "Go on."

At last the unit spurred to life.  Under the orders of Sanfeld and Commander Wellerune they gathered up the bodies of the dead and returned the vehicles and artillery to their proper holdings.  Each cast a wary, uneven gaze at Alucard and his vampire but no one spoke a word.  Integra could not take her eyes from it.  It may have been morbid amazement at seeing her servant so battered, maybe the anticipation, the patient anxiety that told her he could have risen at any time.  He did not stir again—indeed, she could not tell if he was still conscious.

When the majority of the soldiers had departed Integra at last turned away.  She didn't know or particularly care how Alucard would return to his quarters in Hellsing's bowels; Walter would handle it.  The American vampire was gone, and with it any reason to believe Alucard would act out again.  She should have known better, but it had been so long since she'd doubted Alucard at all that the feeling was foreign to her, and she could not cling to it for long.  She didn't make it far, however; she stopped abruptly when she came across the man who had begun this bizarre dream.

Jacob didn't seem to notice when she approached; his gaze was fixed blindly on the ultra-violet weapon being driven out of sight.  He looked pale, but it might have just been her.  Her eyes narrowed.  "Jacob."

Had she not reacted quickly enough Jacob would have collapsed.  Integra saw the subtly sway in his weight, the upward turn of his eyes, and managed to clasp his shoulder to keep him steady.  "Jacob," she said sharply, giving him a firm shake.  "Damnit, don't you do this now."

Jacob started, and slowly his eyes fell on her.  They were dull and haunted.  "Integra…."  Gradually he composed himself once more.  "Sorry," he returned, running a hand through his hair.  He took her arm a moment to maintain his balance.  "I'm sorry.  Just…sometimes it gets to me."

"I know."  Integra took a deep breath to calm herself; she didn't want to deal with this now, but she couldn't leave Jacob on his own when he was like this. "I'll take you inside."

"Thank you."  He sighed, and took the first step toward the institute.  Integra followed suit with a hand tight around his wrist—the only comfort she would offer just yet.  They passed by Alucard's yet immobile form but neither paused or diverted their gaze.

Hellsing's insides were quiet that night.  Though there were still many soldiers ambling about they did so silently, with eyes downcast.  This was not how it should have been after a successful kill, but Integra didn't have the strength to be angry; she was presently too preoccupied by the heavy weight against her gut, the lingering image of pale, smiling lips.  The inside of her office was as small comfort to her; dark, thick, and silent, filled with the lingering scent of burning cigar ash.  With a quiet sigh she slipped out of the confining suit-coat and tossed it aside in uncharacteristic carelessness.  The fresh cigar pressed between her lips was bitter, and her fingers curled stiffly around the match that lit it.  She felt numb.  Now that the mission was over, that Jacob was asleep in his room, that Walter…was taking care of the rest, she was exhausted and worn, and nothing could keep her gaze from drifting across the room to her father's portrait. 

She met her father's eyes for some time; they were smiling at her, neither condemning nor forgiving.  Such was her father's way in life and in oil.  She both loved and hated that painting with its tilted smirk and questioning gaze that offered not resolutions.  Especially since she only looked on it when she needed questions answered.

She had been a fool.  She had even expected this day to come—had imagined it, had considered and planned for the time when Alucard would betray her.  For she had always known that he was, in the end, a creature of evil: a vampire, the true undead, the soulless king who above all sought blood.  It was inevitable, reasonably so, that she should one day prepare to defend her institute from him.  It was impeccable logic.  It was almost necessary, even.  She was glad it had happened; she would never be so careless again.

Integra was met again with her father's inquisitive visage, and in her weakened state allowed a vague illusion to be pulled over her sight; for a moment it was Alucard's face there, watching her with quiet amusement, his eyes deep and wise like those of the ancient kings.  He was praising her.

Integra closed her eyes, turning away as her shoulders crept up and began to tremble.

*to be continued*