Moonlit Midnight

Chapter 9

When Celas awoke she was surprised to feel that she was feeling much better.  Other than the remaining tension behind her ribs she was refreshed and full of energy.  Part of that, though, might have been the wide chest pressed up against her shoulder blades, and the arm draping his raise.  She was fairly certain she hadn't fallen asleep this way.  Normally she would have protested—she knew she should be protesting—but Garret was warm against her back.  She squirmed a little, like a giddy child, to feel firm muscle scrape against her.  It felt good, and though she knew the euphoria was merely another side effect of her…condition…there was nothing she could do about it; she decided it would be best to draw comfort from whatever she could.  "Garret…."

Her senses tingled, and Celas raised her yet lazy gaze upward.  She was dragged fully awake but the sudden realization that a man was standing over her.  She jerked away from Garret and sat upright, her eyes widening.  "Ballerant!"

Ballerant stood over them, dressed in the same white shirt and khaki pants he'd worn the night before.  His pale eyes were all but glowing in the darkened warehouse, and Celas squirmed beneath them.  He didn't look angry, but watching him reminded her of the night before, and it sent cold shivers through her.  "Listen, Ballerant—"

His hand closed around her throat before she realized he'd moved; she had no chance of loosening that powerful grip.  It only lasted a moment, as almost immediately Garret jarred to life and punched the vampire squarely in the face.  He was sent tumbling with nothing more than a weak cry, but he righted himself quickly, and would have moved upon Celas again were it not for the menacing figure at her back. 

Celas pushed shakily to her feet.  "Ballerant, wait," she pleaded.  "I'm sorry, but I—"

"She's dead," Ballerant snarled, lip curling as he glared the pair down.  His eyes were gleaming and vengeful.  "My master is dead, and you didn't—"

"You didn't do anything, either," Celas snapped back before he could finish.  She had already sworn to claim responsibility for her part in the while ordeal, and if anyone should do the same it was this man.  "You weren't even there—Lorenna was your master, not mine!"

The vampire's fists clenched, and Celas felt Garret step up to her side protectively.  It spread a feeling of warm gratitude through her—Garret was taking care of her.  She could feel him at her side, closer than Alucard would usually stand.  More…tender than Alucard would ever be.  And she felt better than she had in days until Ballerant spoke again.

"You betrayed your master, too," he hissed venomously.  "Don't you think Hellsing will kill him, now?  Just like they did Lorenna."

"Stop it," Garret intervened, taking another threatening step forward.  "Cant' you see she's had enough?  Get the hell out of here before I—"

But Celas held up a hand.  "No, wait.  Both of you, please stop."  She sent Garret a pleading glance, who didn't look pleased but relented.  She then turned her attention back to Ballerant, who was shifting back and forth discontentedly.  She licked her lips.  "You…were there?"

"Yes.  I saw," Ballerant replied bitterly.  "All of it."

"Then you know I couldn't do anything.  I'm not a high level vampire—there was nothing I could have done."  Her voice trailed off at the end; she knew it was no excuse, but it was better than anything Ballerant could some up with.  All the same she added, "It's not our fault.  We couldn't have stopped that thing.  Not even Master could."  She shuddered.  "Please, let's not fight.  I…didn't want Lorenna to die."

It was a strange admission for her, and Ballerant must have realized, as his expression sobered.  She was defending a vampire, one that had in all likelihood killed thousands of humans over the past century.  But she felt not resentment towards her, only a sickening feeling of guilt, and loss.  Across from her, Ballerant looked away.  "You're right," he murmured distantly.  "It wasn't your fault."

Celas nodded.  Though she knew it wasn't the best response—he was still blaming himself, which bothered her somehow—she was satisfied.  "Thank you, Ballerant."

"Now, why are you here?" Garret interjected abruptly, his eyes yet unblinking and focused on the other.

"I came for her," he replied without considering, and for a moment Celas flushed in embarrassment.  Before she could carry that thought too far he continued.  "Alucard once asked me to look after her, and because…."  His fists tightened.  "I may need your help."

"Our help?"

"But Lorenna's gone," Celas said quietly, and his attention snapped to her.  She went on regardless.  "She couldn't do what she came to do.  Doesn't that mean you're leaving?"

"No.  There's still…something I need to do."  There was a strange gleam of determination in his eyes, and she wasn't sure she liked it.  "I won't expect you to come with me, but I do expect you to help.  If you're a real vampire, that is."

"Hey," Garret again tried to intervene.  "There's no need for that.  Whatever you want, just—"

"Garret, please."  Celas laid a hand on his arm to quiet him.  Though her instincts were telling her she didn't want to know Ballerant's intentions, his eyes were intense on hers, and she couldn't bring herself to turn away without hearing him out.  "Is it…Hellsing?" she asked carefully.

"Not Hellsing."  He stood a little taller now that she was really paying attention.  "Mithril 6.  I know I can't ask you to betray your people."  He said the word with a hint of disgust.  "But I will fight Zimmerman and his Sanfeld.  I can't let our efforts here go completely to waste."

Celas lowered her head as she considered his words very carefully.  Though she was grateful that he had not called upon her to betray anyone else, the thought of fighting Jacob, after what she'd seen in oxford, was not all that favorable to her, either.  She didn't owe this man anything.  He and his master had come by their own will, on a mission they knew was foolish.  It shouldn't have concerned her.

"I'll help you," Celas said very quietly, trying to make her voice strong.  "But I'm not doing it for you.  It's for…my Master.  His…love, and his child."  Her fists curled stiffly at her sides.  It was a pale, pathetic atonement in any case, to speak vengeance for the unborn long after it was lost.  At this point, however, she wasn't sure what else she could do.  Even if Hellsing rejected her completely after this at least she would have done it for Alucard.  If she could only gain back a tiny portion of his favor….

"Celas."  Garret touched her shoulder gently.  "Are you sure you want to do this?"  His eyes flickered briefly to Ballerant.  "I don't know what this is all about, but I don't think you owe him anything."

"It's all right," she quietly assured beneath both their heavy stares.  "I'll do it.  What do you want me to do?"

Ballerant considered her a moment, as if determining whether or not she was up to it.  "I'm going to kill Zimmerman and Sanfeld, and I'd suggest destroying that light weapon of theirs.  They can always make more, of course, but that takes time, and shipping another one here might be difficult.  But that thing could hurt Alucard, even if it probably couldn't kill him.  It's in your best interests to get rid of it."

Celas nodded knowingly.  "I understand.  I will."  She took a deep breath.  "When?"

"Tonight.  The institute is still shaken from what happened, and now that…they consider their mission complete, they'll be careless."  Ballerant paused again.  "But before then, we should feed.  It won't be easy."

A cold shiver slid up Celas' spine at those words.  "Feed?" she echoed nervously.  Despite her convictions, her courage faltered.  "Um, I think I'm okay, actually."

Both men stared at her, baffled, and she laughed in anxious embarrassment.  "I mean, they usually take good care of me at Hellsing, so I'm not hungry."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ballerant snorted.  "I know you didn't eat last night.  You must be starving, especially being in Bright Midnight."

"It'll give you strength," Garret added.  "You'll need it for tonight."

"But I…."  Celas gulped, shifting her weight from foot to foot.  It was difficult to think straight with both of them watching her so carefully.  Her hand curled stiffly against her aching stomach.  "I've never fed properly," she confessed diffidently.  "I've never killed a human by taking their blood.  That's why…."  She trailed off solemnly.  That was why she hadn't been a real vampire—even now, after having taken Varjak's blood, she still wasn't complete. After tonight she might…not even exist, and if she killed anyone now that sacrifice might only be wasted.  "I…."

Ballerant took several steps toward her, ignoring Garret's pointed stare.  When he took her by the arm she shivered at the feel of his wide, rough hand.  "We need you strong," he told her with deliberate seriousness.  "A child of Alucard in Bright Midnight—you have no idea what power you possess.  We'll need it if we're going to fight them.  Do you understand?"

Celas started to speak, to tell him not to patronize her, but the words were lost somewhere between her throat and the bright, piercing shade of his eyes.  "All right," she murmured.  "But…I've never…."

"We'll help you," Garret promised from the side.  "I know you still think of yourself as human, but if your Master were here I'm sure he'd agree—you need to accept—"

"I won't expect you to accept anything," Ballerant cut him off.  His hand was still tight around her arm, making her blush.  It felt like they were fighting over her.  "You have to do that on your own.  All that matters now is making sure you're strong enough to live through this.  I'm sure that's what your master wants."

Ballerant released her and stepped back, allowing Celas to take a new breath.  She bit her lips.  Ballerant was using her; he wouldn't be doing this if not for needing her help.  And Garret was using her even more selfishly.  She was surprised to realize she didn't mind.  She'd been used by Hellsing, after all, to hunt and kill her own kind.  Used by Alucard and Lorenna to distract Integra from their betrayal.  Used by Integra to betray them in return.  She was alone now, and all that mattered was putting her mistakes right.  Even if she couldn't save her kind, her Master, his lover or their child…there were still things she had to do.  For Alucard, and herself.

"I'm sick of being afraid."

Both men watched her expectantly.  But she didn't explain, raising her head with a gleam of determination.  "I'm a vampire, so I guess I gotta drink blood."  She took a deep breath.  "You'll help me?"

"Sure!" Garret replied enthusiastically.  "Though we should probably get you out of those clothes, first.  And into something more appropriate, of course."  He offered his hand, which Celas took, and began to lead her to the other end of the room.  "Elena's just about your size, so I don't think she'll mind if we borrow some stuff.  She took that kid out earlier for his first hunt—it'll be a birthday for everyone."

"Yeah."  Celas closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself.  "I guess so."

The room was so dark that Integra could only just barely see the trail of smoke from her cigar curl up towards the stone ceiling.  She couldn't admit to liking it here, surrounded by cold, dry granite, with only the dull flicker of a single candle's light to settle over the rises in her features.  She watched, as she had done all evening, the dim orange stain that danced, imp-like, over the sleeping form of a half-concealed legend.  He was utterly oblivious to its warmth on his pale cheek.  Not a breath stirred his silent figure, leaving her alone to disturb the unmoving silence.  If she ceased to breathe for a moment it was almost as if the room were empty.  She had no comprehension of how much time she'd spent here, brooding as she had of late; had perhaps even forgotten where she was until the chamber door swung open with a rusty creak.

"Lady Integra."  Walter closed the door behind him with a groan of old metal.  "I hope you have not been down here all day."

"A few hours," Integra replied carelessly.  "I did get some sleep, Walter, rest assured."

"That is good to hear."  He came forward slowly, as if being mindful of spilled water on the floor.  "Though I'd have to insist you rest some more.  This is hardly an appropriate setting for our lady commander."

Integra snorted derisively.  "Indeed."  But she only took a long breath on her cigar and made no indication of moving.  Her heavy gaze was still trained on Alucard's coffin.

Walter frowned slightly and ventured further into the room, until he stood just over his master's shoulder.  "Is there something I can get you?" he offered, if only for the sake of asking.

"No, Walter, I'm fine."

"I see."  Another brief silence followed, and Integra almost dismissed him outright; the sound of his breath in the room was ruining the effect of her many hours of solitude.  Before she could lift her voice he spoke again.  "He hasn't been conscious since then?"

"Not that I can tell," Integra replied evenly.  Then she added, "I don't think so, no.  If I didn't know better I'd say he was really dead."  Another breath of smoke rose.

"Oh, I don't think it's as bad as all that."  Walter set a hand on her shoulder; it was too heavy, but she couldn't bring herself to shrug it off.  "He's had plenty of blood.  He was exposed to a lot of silver, but something like that can't harm him too seriously."

"You're talking as if I'm worried," she warned.

"Of course not, Milady."

Integra changed the subject abruptly.  "Any word on Agent Victoria?"

"None so far, I humbly admit.  We have patrols out in the city but I'm afraid she knows most of our procedures.  She may be bale to evade us for sometime, if she so wishes."

Integra nodded vaguely.  "Good.  She had better run far.  I wouldn't want to have to kill her."

"I'll make sure she returns home safely," Walter promised.

"Very well."

Alucard still had not moved.  Integra continued to watch him, frowning around her cigar, as if expecting him to rouse at any moment, even if she knew better.  She was on her feet suddenly, and two short steps carried her to Alucard's side.  Her every movement from then on was smooth and deliberate: the removal of her left glove; the retrieval of the small switchblade she kept tucked in her coat pocket; the careful incision drawn across the tip of her thumb.  A few drops welled at the mouth of the wound; her blood looked an odd shade in the dull dungeon candlelight.

Walter didn't say a word as she lowered her hand, spreading the warm fluid across Alucard's bottom lip with one swipe of her thumb.  The vampire's nostrils flared slightly, and a moment later his tongue flickered out to collect the coppery taste, leaving no trace of it behind.  There was something unsettling about watching him move and react when there was no breath echoing from his lungs.  With a bitter smile she lowered her hand once more, so that the vampire's lips could move clumsily against her slit flesh, encouraging the flow of blood.  Her eyes thinned as she watched the weak feeding. "I spoke to Jacob earlier," she muttered without meaning to.  "He said I've been keeping myself chaste for Alucard's sake."

A brief, disconcerted frown flickered across the old man's face.  "He said that to you?"  His tone indicated he hadn't thought the man capable.

"Something like that.  Implied it, in any case."  She withdrew her hand, indulging in a vaguely morbid fascination when his lips parted as if to draw her back.

"And…your answer?  If you don't think me too bold…."

She snorted.  "I told him to get the hell out, actually."  She watched Alucard a moment more before returning her hand, allowing him to suckle at the wound until it had more or less closed.  "He's wrong, you know.  It had nothing to do with Alucard.  Nothing."  But the response came out too late to be as effective as she'd hoped, and a faint scowl twisted her mouth.

"I see."  He sounded sincere, calm, but somehow it only darkened her mood.  "In any case, you have no need to explain yourself to me."

"I'm not a child—don't patronize me."

"That was not my intent."

At last Integra drew her hand away from pale, cold lips, concealing it in her glove.  She could still feel the tiny wound throb lightly with the beat of her pulse.  "Alucard is my servant," she said firmly, her eyes cool and deep as she stared at the slumbering vampire.  "Virgin or not, he will obey me when I call on him.  That is how it's always been, and always be.  If I have avoided taking a husband it is because my dedication lies in my duty."  She smirked.  "Or they simply aren't good enough."

"I'd imagine so," Walter replied, and though he was smiling there was something patiently parental in that expression.  It was getting on her nerves; she'd been plagued by enough memories of her father for one day.  "Shall I dismiss myself, then?"

Though Integra had been hoping for him to all along, she suddenly felt that there was nothing more for her to do here.  "That's not necessary," she replied stiffly, turning away from the coffin.  "I'm leaving now."

"Hopefully to obtain some rest?" Walter suggested, his arms folded behind his back.

This time she thought it better not to protest.  "Yes, I suppose that may be best," she conceded as she passed the elderly man on her way to the door.  "Don't let me sleep any more than three hours.  I should at least be around to help Jacob pack his things."

"So…you're sending him home."

"I am.  He and his institute have been here long enough."

Integra paused before she left the room, setting her hand lightly on the doorframe.  In the dull candlelight she could have sworn she saw his lip curl in a smile.  Mystifyingly, she returned it.  "Insufferable bastard."  And with a derisive snort she exited at last, Walter just behind.

Celas chewed her lip anxiously as she set perched on the edge of a shadow-blanketed fire escape, her eyes continuously darting between the mouth of the alley and the darkened line of windows across from her.  The night air made her shiver, and inexplicably set her heart to racing.  It sucked goosebumps to life along her bare arms.  Under Garret's insistence she had changed her clothes—black jeans that clung low to her hip and a wine red, sleeveless top that exposed more of her neckline than she was used to.  Not that it exactly bothered her—she had a few similar outfits which she would sometimes wear in a fit of fashion consciousness, but with her work she hadn't had time for that kind of leisure.

She was afraid.  The harsh streetlight attempting to filter into the alley could only slip through brief cracks on the mass of moving people, casting strange, gyrating shadows against cold concrete.  She could not draw her eyes from them.  The fluid, constant motion of living bodies captivated her attention in a way she had never believe it could; she was suddenly aware that she hadn't taken a breath in some time, and her eyelids had not fluttered once.  The pair of bodies surrounding her was just as still and silent, and she could feel the anxious tension stretching between them.  Theirs, however, was excitement—she felt as if she could pass out from the pressure against her chest.

Somewhere below was her meal—alive and moving, completely unaware of his or her coming death.  A few times her gaze leapt and fastened upon a certain figure among the silhouetted figures, wondering if that one was perhaps her target.  She found herself measuring them.  Some were too old, or too gangly, and she was bizarrely disgusted by the drunken men and scantily clad women.  Something about each burned into her mind, and when a young man—late twenties, not very handsome but well toned—walked past, she stirred at last on her thin perch, her fingers clenching.

Beside her, Garret chuckled.  "I saw him, too," he said, startling her.  "You've got good taste.  Though I would have preferred a woman."

Celas's head snapped up.  "You mean…he…?"

"You're the one that spotted him."  Ballerant moved suddenly, dropping off of the railing to the alley below.  "The night is still young—if we do this quickly, we can make it to Hellsing and be done with it before dawn."

Celas gulped, the fear obvious in her face as she met Ballerant's expectant stare.  "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered breathlessly, to no one in particular.  "It's just so…my God, I'll have to—"

"It's all right," Garret assured with a light hand against her back. "Come on now; you're ready for this.  You need this."

He gave her a shove, and Celas could only manage a quiet gasp as she dropped the dozen meters to the ground.  Her landing was light; Ballerant offered no assistance to steady her, and she didn't need it.  A moment later Garret was beside her again.  She couldn't bring herself to believe this was happening, even as Ballerant led the way out into the streets, as Garret slung an arm over her shoulders and guided her to follow.  She was about to take a life.

"You don't have to worry about a thing," Garret assured quietly in her ear.  "You won't even have to kill him, if you don't want.  But you'll need to drink something if you're going to last all night."  He gave her shoulders a squeeze.

Celas nodded, t he close quarters only adding to the anxious tension in her gut as they continued down the sidewalk.  But despite Garret's subtle warmth against her side and shoulders her focus was entirely on Ballerant.  He was only a few meters ahead of them, slipping effortlessly through the crowd as if it were parting before him.  His movements were smooth, almost elegant, and she couldn't take her eyes from him.

All at once Ballerant disappeared from view, and a cold chill spread up her spine as Garret urged her to the mouth of a narrow alley.  Anyone who might have noticed probably would only imagine they were a dating couple seeking privacy.  By the time they were out of sight Celas could already hear a man's weak struggles and shallow breath.  She gulped dryly and continued forward.  In the dim light of the alley she could just make out two bodies—a pair of eyes fell on her, wide and desperate, making her skin crawl.  But greater than her apprehension was the excitement curling in her stomach at the sound of his quiet, choking murmurs, the thickening scent of blood.  When Ballerant moved aside, revealing a pair of fresh wounds in the man's neck and the thin trails of red fluid from them, I was all she could do to keep from pouncing; anything, to satisfy the sharp hunger that rose in her throat.  Garret let her go; she stepped carefully forward beneath the horrified gaze of the man she'd chosen.  She couldn't make out the color of his eyes in the dark.

Celas hesitated only a moment more before she leaned forward, curling her fingers in the man's cotton shirt as she fastened her lips around his throat.  The first taste of blood sent a thrill down her spine, filling her with a warmth unlike any she'd felt before.  It was thick and sweet; she shivered in morbid delight as she began to drink in earnest.  She as dimly aware of Garret's hand stroking her back in encouragement, of Ballerant released their victim's wrists.  For a moment the man grabbed at her shoulders, squirming in weak attempts to escape, but soon enough he'd given up.  His breath hissed against her ear as if in pleasure as his life was slowly drained, as his flesh grew cold.  It caused her to shake even more, and with a gasp she abruptly pulled away.

Ballerant steadied her as she stepped back; at least, she had to assume it was him, as her senses were lazy from the satisfying meal.  She heard the human resume his weakening protests as Garret took her place.  She…had taken blood from a human—a living human—and she had enjoyed it.  And though it spread a dull grief through her she was already aching.  "Ballerant," she hissed tremulously, tugging at his shirtfront.  "I…I need more."  She could only pray that her sudden desperation was  a result of Bright Midnight's effects on her.  "Please, I'm still so—"

Ballerant tilted her chin up, and before she could realize what he was planning his lips were on hers.  They were heavy with a coppery taste, and without thinking she kissed him eagerly.  Pressed tightly against his chest she sucked the blood from his lips and mouth; a soft, contented murmur rose from her throat.  Even when all the stain was gone she stayed, surrendering to the tension that had been lying in wait within her body the past several days.  Ballerant, with his welcoming mouth and hands firm against her back gave no objection.

When at last Ballerant started to ease Celas away she whimpered in protest, trying to draw back to him.  But he was strong as ever, and soon enough she was blinking up at Garret's disapproving stare.  She gasped and stumbled back several steps.  "Ballerant…I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have…."  She covered her lips and turned away in shame.  "I'm sorry.  I'm not myself."

Ballerant coughed lightly as he ran a hand back through his hair.  "It's all right.  I understand."  Seemingly just as embarrassed about the whole thing as she was he took a step back.  "Let's…find one more.  By then we'll have plenty of strength between the three of us."

"O…okay."  Celas stared as Ballerant turned to leave; she had to admit there was something alluring about the tall, straight line of his back, the confidence in which he carried himself that reminded her of….

A hand came down on her shoulder, and she jumped in surprise.  "Come on," Garret said shortly, giving her a pat.  "You're not full already, are you?"

"No…."  Celas bit her lip, feeling suddenly guilty.  "I'm coming."  The truth was…she was using them both.  They were doing this to help her, when really all she wanted was….

Celas glanced behind her as her peers moved on, her gaze falling to the crumpled body in the alley's shadows.  Her tongue flickered briefly over her lips.  "Master…am I a real vampire now?" she asked quietly.  "Will you be proud of me?"  She turned quickly before she could let herself hope for an answer, departing into the streets once more.

[Sorry not much happened in this chapter—the next one is the conclusion ^^]