DESCENT
Even knowing Integral as well as he did, Walter was not prepared for the gentlemen who appeared at Hellsing's door just before the dinner hour.
"Lady Hellsing is expecting us," the elder of the two men explained politely.
"I was not aware Lord Hellsing was taking visitors of any variety," Walter returned just as formally, unable to resist the slight emphasis on "Lord." He stepped back slightly, ushering them into the foyer. "I will tell her you wish to see her, Dr. Murray." He nodded a bow, then turned his attention to the younger man accompanying the doctor, who had yet to say a word.
"My nephew, John Murray," the doctor saved him the effort of asking. "Lord Hellsing asked me to bring him."
"Sir," Walter bowed again, and then disappeared into the shadows.
"Interesting retainers Mrs. Camden keeps," John commented to his uncle, who raised an eyebrow.
"That man was once the most dangerous mortal being in the country. And Integral Hellsing always has been and will be Integral Hellsing, John. I would suggest you refrain from mentioning her husband in her presence."
John frowned. "I'm not a divorce lawyer, uncle."
Doctor Murray smiled. "It seems that you've forgotten all your tact at Yale, son. I hope your discretion has not suffered the same fate."
"All the same..."
"The Hellsing family situation is precarious, perhaps, but Integral is perfectly capable of keeping balance in her household. A divorce is not what she wants you for, I would stake my life on that."
Walter slid abruptly back into view, clearing his throat to announce his presence. John looked down sheepishly, but Dr. Murray held his gaze and gave him a warm grin.
"Lord Hellsing will see you in her study," Walter said, stiff tone betrayed by the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he exchanged looks with the doctor. Arthur Murray had been a close friend of the previous Lord Hellsing and had served in the war with both Walter himself and Alucard. It seemed that his young miss had finally reached a conclusion of some sort, although what form that conclusion would take was a bit more elusive.
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Seras stared at the bag of blood on her table. Change was coming. The air in the manor was so tense she couldn't sleep, even though the weight of her limbs was like lead instead of flesh. She drew a deep breath and then let it out, and again, in and out. She didn't need to breathe and hadn't for over a decade, but for a creature without a heartbeat the rhythm of breathing could be very comforting.
The air was thick with rain, as it often was, but it carried the scent of fear and peril with it. Seras didn't know whose fear, but even she could tell that the situation was precarious.
Of course it wasn't just the air that told her so. It was her master's distraction, it was Integral's strange questions, it was Walter's eerie humming as he did his duties about the house. Something was about to happen, and the entire organization was holding its breath in anticipation.
And no one thought to inform her about it.
She knew, of course. How could she not? She'd seen her master's thoughts. She'd seen Integral there even the first time when she'd changed over. Integra was always first on the master's mind, and, though it pained her to admit it, in his heart as well. Sometimes, over their years together, Seras had thought that she could make herself as important to him as his master was. She'd never deceived herself into thinking she could win him away from Hellsing fully; even if it had been within her power, it wasn't her right to do so. Lord Hellsing had taken her in when she could have easily have ordered Alucard to get rid of her. She had wanted to order Alucard to get rid of her. Luckily, Integral Hellsing followed logic above emotion when given the choice, and logically, the faltering organization had needed new blood.
So now, after all these years, Integral was finally seriously considering Master's offer to mix their blood. She wondered vaguely what sort of logic had led the leader of an organization violently opposed to vampires to think about becoming one. Not that it mattered--if she had considered it this far, Seras doubted very much that it would be anything more than a matter of time. Then again, what did she know? Perhaps she was simply being fatalistic.
The one advantage over Integral that she'd ever had was her longevity. Master would live on after Integral's death, and so would Seras. She had hoped that in time he would come to regard her with as much respect as he did his own master. But she also knew that the only way to gain his respect would be to prove herself independent. To drink his blood and become a No-Life King herself. And once she did that, there would be nothing to tie her to Hellsing. There would be no reason to stay with her master other than her dogged affection for him. It wasn't enough; Seras Victoria was a hesitant creature by nature, but she was not without pride. It was a year of choices and changes; perhaps it was time for her to make a few of her own. But not today. It could wait just a bit longer-- after all, she wasn't getting any older.
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In all his years serving the Hellsings, there were only a handful of times Walter had found himself tempted to eavesdrop on the master of the house. This was undoubtedly the worst. It wasn't simply that Integra's decision was paramount to the fate of the organization--which it was-- but the fact that she was making such a selfish decision at all.
Walter grimaced. Selfish wasn't the right word. Self-centered was more accurate, but hardly any more complimentary. And Walter did mean to be complimentary. A woman of such courage and strength deserved more love than Integral had ever received. She had Walter, yes, and the memory of her parent's love, but he accepted that it was not enough. He would never expect her to view the affections of her father's closest friend as anything more than fatherly, and in truth it was best for both of them if she never thought to suspect them as anything more. He wasn't bitter about it. Yes, he often wished he were a younger man, but men his age did that all the time for a variety of reasons.
No, he wasn't bitter. But he was selfish. He suspected that he wanted Integra to accept Alucard's offer almost as much as the vampire himself did. She was his little miss, his darling girl, and she deserved the chance not only to be loved, but to give the love she'd had bottled inside her in return. She deserved to be happy, and in Walter's opinion, she deserved to be happy forever. And if he had to choose between giving her to Alucard or heaven, well, Alucard had sworn to Walter that he would protect Integra forever. He simply couldn't say the same of God, if such a creature even existed.
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It was a few hours past sunset when the Murrays left Integral's study. Dr. Murray looked very grim indeed, and his nephew had abandoned his jacket and loosened his tie around his neck. Walter raised an eyebrow as he showed them to the front door, but said nothing. Integra herself would tell him what he needed to know later. Her planning was forever beyond reproach.
He would always wonder later if she had planned what happened next as well.
Walter had just opened the door to see them out when a voice called out and stopped him cold.
"Just a moment, Walter! Dr. Murray," Jack Camden appeared at the foot of the staircase, slightly out of breath but hiding it admirably. "A word, please, if you would."
Arthur and John Murray exchanged glances, and the doctor shot Walter a quick look before stepping back from the door. "Of course, sir," he said graciously. "Although you must forgive me if I don't stay long--my nephew and I have a previous engagement."
"Of course, of course," Jack acknowledged, ushering them both back into the main portion of the house. "Walter, go see to Integral, won't you? She'll be wanting her cocktail soon, I would think."
Arthur gave the slightest of nods, and Walter bowed almost mockingly low. "At once," he said as he returned the way he had come and disappeared up the stairs.
Jack watched him leave, then sighed. His shoulders slumped slightly and John Murray couldn't help but notice how tired and worn out he looked. Even knowing what he did about the man's character, John couldn't help but sympathize with him. After all, no matter what else he had done, he had been with Lord Hellsing for 12 years. A woman like that could have a terrifying effect on a man.
"Well," Jack said after a moment. "I find that I don't quite know how to phrase my question politely. What's wrong with my wife, Dr. Murray?"
Arthur Murray removed his glasses and rubbed the lenses with his pocket handkerchief, deliberating. Finally, he settled them back on his nose and lifted his gaze to hold Lord Camden's. "I won't mince words, sir," he said formally. "Your wife is dying. And losing her battle very quickly, to be frank."
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Integra looked up at the soft knock at her study door.
"Walter," she said, smiling, as the butler appeared. "Come in."
She took a satisfied puff of her cigar and gestured to the seat John Murray had so recently vacated. Brilliant boy, John. She'd known it since she met him, and his success in America had only reinforced that opinion. A lawyer brash enough to be not only good but acknowledged as one of the best by Americans, who were unnaturally sharkish and brash themselves was most commendable. If that was the type of reputation you were going for, of course, which in Integra's case it was. She rather thought he would have a difficult time in British social situations, but that wasn't her concern. She'd never put much stock in fawning and simpering anyway.
Walter cleared his throat and drew her back to the present. Integra smiled again slightly and pushed the decanter of wine towards her ever-faithful retainer. "Have a drink--I'm feeling better than I have in years."
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"I see," Jack answered the doctor, looking at the floor. "I told her to stop smoking."
John found his sympathy fleeing before this man, whose tone was betrayed by the sudden relief that manifested on his face. "I'm a property lawyer, Lord Camden," he said pointedly, holding out his hand to be shaken. "My name is John Murray. Lord Hellsing called for me to put her affairs in order. You and your daughters will be well taken care of, and Miss Seras Victoria will be acting as regent for the girls until they are old enough to take control of the Hellsing organization's functions. I'll be happy to go over the particulars with you as well, if you like, although the final decision will be Lord Hellsing's."
Jack searched his face for a moment, and then, finding no compassion there, shrugged defeatedly and ignored the lawyer's offer completely. "How long does she have?"
"A few weeks, perhaps," Dr. Murray answered. "She has refused treatment since her condition was discovered, and continues to do so now. She feels that it would be unbecoming for someone of her station to show such weakness."
"'Since her condition was discovered?'" Jack asked in surprise. "How long has she known?"
"A little over six months now. I discovered the tumor during a routine exam last spring."
"I see. She never said anything."
"She said nothing to anyone," Dr. Murray assured him. "The previous engagement I mentioned earlier is with the Round Table. She has decided that they should be informed of her condition. From there we will have to seek an audience with the Queen herself."
"I see," Jack repeated hollowly. "Then I won't keep you any longer. Please," he gestured for them to follow him from the sitting room, letting them out the front door himself and thanking them graciously. "It is something of a shock, you understand. I apologize for not offering you anything to drink."
"No apology necessary, sir," Dr. Murray smiled his professional bad news smile. "I will be in contact."
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Faith watched her father shut the door behind the two visitors from her secret hiding place under the stairs. She and Hope had been playing hide-and-seek when Walter had brought them out of Mother's study. She heard the whole conversation through the vent to the sitting room.
It wasn't true, though, was it? Mother couldn't die. Mother would never die. Mother never cried or bled or made mistakes like other people did. She was simply Mother, and she couldn't die. She couldn't.
She started to follow her father back into the sitting room, to make him admit that it was all a joke and to tell her that of course Mother was okay. But she stopped short when she saw her daddy open the liquor cabinet that he had told her was Only For Guests and start drinking the expensive brandy straight from the bottle. She watched him sink to the floor, ignoring the chairs and sofas arranged throughout the room, and took three steps backwards involuntarily. Daddy was getting drunk again, and her mother was going to die.
She wasn't sure where she was going, or when she started running. Her steps only slowed when she realized that she'd gone beyond The Limit. The Limit was the section of the manor where Faith and Hope weren't allowed to go. "The soldiers live there," Mother had said. "They have guns and may not stop to see whether you're an enemy or just a little girl before they shoot you if you go beyond this limit."
Faith didn't care about being shot. She hadn't believed they would shoot her to begin with, and anyway, at that moment she understood where her feet were taking her.
"My bedroom is on the far right down on the lowest level," Seras had told her once. It was just after the Round Table had come for a meeting with Mother, and all the troops had mobilized as Faith and Hope watched from the top of the stairs, hand in hand. "If anything should happen and you have no where to go, come find me and I'll keep you safe."
Faith had smiled and nodded and promptly forgotten about it in her games with Hope and her schooling. Now the conversation rushed back into her mind and she knew that she did indeed have no where else to go.
The lower levels were creepy, but the lowest was by far the darkest and creepiest of all. It was very cold, but even Faith noticed that it was completely dry. Dungeons were supposed to be dank, although most dungeons weren't quarters for the soldiers, either. Leaving the floor damp and leaky wouldn't be very nice to the troops.
The door on the far right was large and obviously old, made of very dark metal and several latches that were for the moment unlocked. Faith squared her small shoulders and prepared to throw all her weight into the door, expecting it to be very heavy. She wasn't expecting the hinges to be so well oiled, though, and plunged straight to the floor just inside as the door hit the wall with a resounding thwack.
"Ouch," she muttered, rubbing her head and looking up to survey the room. There was a bed and canopy along one wall, but nothing else in the room beside a small square table and two chairs. Seras was sitting in one of the chairs, looking down at the young Hellsing in frozen shock. The glass of rich red wine she was holding was frozen halfway to her mouth. Almost unconsciously Faith glanced to the tabletop to see if it was one of the fancy decanters of wine her mother kept, and immediately went as still as Seras herself.
Faith and Hope knew a lot about vampires--Walter was fond of telling stories and even Mother had mentioned them on rare occasions when she was in a particularly good mood. Her school friends scoffed at the stories, but Faith had never thought to question the truth in the concept of the undead. Vampires had fangs, slept in coffins, and drank blood. She had noticed long ago that Seras had particularly sharp teeth, and she had a feeling that if the canopy on the bed was drawn down, she would find it wasn't a canopy but a coffin lid.
Because the wine in the bucket of ice on the table wasn't wine at all. It was a medical blood bag, and Seras was drinking blood.
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Alucard watched the last light of evening fading, as he often did. The regularity of sunsets was life affirming. Well, no-life affirming, possibly.
He smiled slightly; genuine but sinister nonetheless. No one ever appreciated his sense of humor.
That's why he was sure that no one would appreciate his present good mood. The mood that manifested itself during a particularly good fight, or the eve of a battle that could turn the balance of a war, when countries and rulers rose and fell, during riots and other times of uncertainty and chaos. It wasn't necessarily the chaos itself that pleased him, although the coppery fear of people during such times was as delectable to taste as blood itself. It was that those times were periods of change.
He was only young in comparison to the world itself, and that gave him a perception of said world that the vast majority of its inhabitants couldn't even conceive of. He knew the patterns of rapid change and ages of content, and knew how important monotony was to eternity.
When he had first discovered his immortality, he had dug into it full-force. He read all he could, he went everywhere he could, studied history and music and everything he could about the life he no longer had. It had almost driven him mad. All right, hell, it had driven him mad. So many centuries had given him an appreciation for insanity as well. Human beings absorbed knowledge in proportion to the time they estimated they held on Earth; to attempt to do as much when all of eternity was gaping before you was unnecessary and mentally unhealthy.
It had taken some getting used to, of course. In life he had been impetuous and always active, always doing something. Learning to slow himself down and pace his activity had led to decades of restlessness and ill-content. But eventually, like all true no-life kings, he found a balance that suited him.
Recent years had made him restless again--making Seras had been one result of his cabin fever. He'd rejoiced after Incognito had been defeated, because he was finally free of the Hellsing household. But the newness of it wore off almost immediately, and he realized that he was only technically free of Integral. He hadn't bothered to curse her for it; in fact it amused him that he had bothered to develop any sort of affection for a creature whose life-span was roughly as flickering as an insect's. And he'd known that with her wisdom and strength, she deserved to experience the world as he did. He wanted someone to pass the necessary years of boring peace with, and he had decided that it would be her before she hit her 20th birthday.
He watched her drinking with Walter in the study, the lines of weariness already fading from her face. He'd given Walter the same choice he'd given Integral, long ago, but Walter had refused it with a finality even Integral couldn't match. He missed his wife too much--it was just as well; Alucard had no use for someone who would spend all time wanting to die. Integral was different; she had no real ties to life, and, if he was any judge of human nature (and he'd had centuries to hone that skill), she had one very important tie to him. Her pride and bravado, while respected, were wasted on a being like him--he could and always had seen straight through them.
Alucard had always been most content in the midst of catalytic changes; the one presently looming on the horizon excited him more than he wanted to admit. At his age, getting that excited about anything seemed a bit ridiculous. But his thoughts were his own and even if he was a bit embarrassed by them, no one else ever had to suspect them at all. After all, it was common knowledge that he was psychotic, and he had a great poker face to boot.
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"So Hope and I are going to have to kill the Freaks now, then?" Faith asked plaintively.
Seras nodded. "You and your sister are your mother's heirs. It was always her intention for you to assume her duties eventually."
"When she's dead."
"Perhaps not that soon," Seras answered, slightly taken aback. Faith ignored her, looking towards the ceiling in an effort to avoid shedding tears.
"When Mother dies, there will be no one to protect us. We'll need to be able to defend ourselves."
Seras was at a loss. She didn't know how to handle the suddenly wise eleven-year-old. Faith brought her gaze down again to meet Seras's strange red irises.
"Well," she said resignedly. "I suppose I shall need to learn how to use a gun."
Seras couldn't hold back a smile. "Someday you may want to learn how to use one," she ceded, "But you can wait a few years. I will protect you as long as I'm able."
"Promise?"
Vampire eyes met large pleading brown ones. Seras nodded solemnly. "I swear to protect Hellsing with everything in my power."
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"I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance," Integral muttered, glancing up briefly from her paperwork. Walter had left a few minutes earlier; and, like a cat, Alucard always showed up when there was work to be done so as to mess up her concentration. "There's going to be a few changes to the organization."
"So I gathered," Alucard slid forward until the shadow of his face covered the document in Integral's hands. She put the papers down with a sigh of exasperation.
"What are you grinning at?" she snapped.
Alucard's smile didn't falter. It was just her pride speaking. She didn't know how to ask for anything. "I had assumed my master had finally made a decision." A favorable one, at that.
"Indeed," Integral returned. "But not in answer to that question."
Alucard blinked twice. "Dr. Murray..." he began, and trailed off in utter bafflement.
Integral folded her hands upon the table primly. "Walter actually gave me the idea. We haven't had any luck finding the ultimate creator of the Freak chips, and Hellsing's enemies are considerably more careful dealing with the organization nowadays. I rebuilt Hellsing perhaps a trifle too well. We've gained a reputation for being able to turn any tide in our favor. I've decided to break the foundation and see who we can lure out of hiding."
"..."
"In considering your...offer...I went to Walter for advice. He asked me to think about the repercussions my death would have upon the organization. And I have thought about it. Hellsing, run by two little girls who do not command the loyalty of their mother's pet vampire. In short, Hellsing would be more vulnerable than it has been in a decade, and all that much more tempting a prize. So I've decided to fake my own death."
Alucard was suddenly hit with the intense desire to pick Integra up by the throat and hurl her into the wall. How dare she allow him to think...to purposely mislead him-- That smug smile was unbearable. "I see," he said through clenched teeth. "I will leave you to your plans, then. Although I wonder how long it will take you to realize that you can't simply live between life and death. Eventually, you will have to choose one or the other or the sheer weight of it will break you. And then you will understand the feeling that makes you wish more than anything that you had chosen death."
Integral didn't move to stop him, and he brushed aside the sudden slump in her posture as nothing more than a mortal consequence of age. It wasn't very often that events went other than exactly according to his desire, and this twist infuriated him beyond anything he had felt in recent years. He fully intended to leave her to her plans and never return again, but for her whisper as he melted into the shadows.
"It's so lonely..."