Integra caught herself on reading the same line for the third time, but the content of the dratted phrase still had no intention to settle in her mind. She groaned and dropped the pen she was holding to mark her way through the bureaucratic beauties of the next year budget's draft. According to the General Law of World's Meanness, the pen jovially rolled across the desk and, after a cunning moment of balancing on its edge, finally made its mind and tipped over. Lady Hellsing muttered a curious theory, involving the pen, its non-existent mother and a mind-boggling picture of their sexual relationship. It helped, but not drastically enough. Integra groaned again and dug both arms into her hair, carefully massaging the aching head. Oh, God. She eyed her workplace with vast and sour distaste. A computer. A phone. And a whole frigging stack of papers. Do they breed like crazy every moment she doesn't look?! Jesus Christ, what a frightful idea... A brief sign of weakness - a sudden desire to press her head against the smooth, cold wood of the desk - was promptly aborted by a feeling that her scull was miraculously swapped for a crystal vase. Heavy. Empty. With "Fragile. Handle with care." in blazing letters across the forehead. And with a wind, howling inside... Stop! Lady Hellsing sat straight. Right, these nasty howls were not a result of her overused mind running wild. They were... bloody real. She frowned, as her narrowed eyes surveyed the study for the source of the sounds. Ah-hah. How v. curious. The fireplaces of Hellsing manor were seldom used since less bothersome means of heating had appeared; but being left sitting in their places they pierced the whole building with pipelines of chimneys... And these chimneys could conduct sound quite nicely instead of smoke they had been designed for. Integra got up and walked to the fireplace, trying to figure what on earth (or in her household, being more precise) could produce such a bizarre noise. Hellsing leader quirked a brow, musing. A wind, echoing in the chimney? Hmm, no. Sometimes it sounded almost... articulate. Besides, for all the years of her life in the family mansion she had never heard anything of the kind. Thank God for His little mercies... Integra thoughtfully tapped fingers on the mantelpiece. All right. She couldn't sleep, having got used to sleepless nights of the massive anti-FREAK operations lately. She definitely couldn't face the paperwork right now. Besides, this matter should be investigated. Most likely, the sound came from the library, one floor below...
Due to the late hour and a temporary decrease of Hellsing field activity, the hallways of the third floor were deserted and still. Integra turned to the staircase and stopped for a moment to light a cigar, when heavy footfalls from below stated the presence of another insomniac. Having descended to the second floor and leaning over the balustrade, Hellsing leader stared, her eyebrows flicking up in surprise. Hellsing's loyal butler a.k.a. the Angel of Death, always neat, tidy and groomed even in the middle of a messy fight, looked certainly... ruffled. In more ways than one. Standing on the softly lighted first floor landing with some heavy object in his hands, Walter performed the weirdest thing Integra could ever recall. Positioning his body weight on one leg, he shook, jerked and swung his other leg in the air. The butler's ballet suite was accompanied with heavy breathing and peculiar soft thumping. Suddenly the man swayed off balance and almost dropped the thing clutched in his hands. Integra swayed in unison, determined to rush to help her old vassal and friend, but Walter was standing firmly already, with his both feet on the floor.
"Get lost, you bloody bastard!" - Walter's voice almost toppled Integra over her marble perch in shock. What the hell could make the reserved old man roar like that?! She walked down to the butler who turned and headed towards the mouth of the kitchen corridor, slightly dragging his right leg.
"What's the matter, Walter? - Integra frowned at the strange limping pattern of her servant's pace. Rheumatism? She walked faster. - Do you need a hand?"
The butler spun on his heels and bowed his head to the mistress of the House.
"Ah, thank you, m'lady. - he puffed a few stray tresses of hair from his face and, after a second of hesitation, continued. - Er... Could you please take this animal off my leg?"
Integra's confused inquiry of "What animal?" faded away when she walked closer and witnessed the reason of all the wonders in her butler's recent behavior. Almost invisible on a black tile of the well polished black-and-white stone floor, there was Pussy, stretching itself up Walter's leg, clawing it securely with one upper paw and waving the other in frantic "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme that at once!". Hellsing leader traced the longing stare of numerous ruby eyes and found the Harconnen ammo box at its other end. Shrugging, Integra squatted by the furry culprit and started to disengage Pussy's grip claw by claw. The cat emitted a frustrated yowl and attempted to restore its anchoring position on Walter's starboard with its free limb. Busy with arm-paw wrestling, Integra glanced up at Walter. He had an extremely embarrassed look on his face.
"I'm very sorry for bothering you, Lady Integra..."
Integra only briefly snorted in answer, too occupied with anti-feline tactics.
"So, Walter. What's the meaning of all this? - unhooking the last desperate claw, she stood up, holding the squirming body of the demonic pet under her arm. - And where are you taking this? It's Sergeant Seras's, I suppose. Any problems with it?"
The butler sighed and put the box on the floor to wipe his sweaty forehead. Integra absently thought that everyday route of several hundred steps to the dungeon and back must have been a not too easy task for the seventy years old man. Leaving aside the fact that he had brought the 100 lbs ammo box all the way up this time. Should she order a lift shaft to be installed there? Hmm... She'd consider it. Later.
"You are right, Lady Integra, it's Miss Victoria's ammunition. But the only problem with it is this particular brat in your arms... Mmm... It's getting free, Lady Integra."
Integra got a better hold on her wriggling and lustily mewing captive and quirked an eyebrow for continuation. Walter scowled at the feline and went on.
"I went to the dungeons to see if everything was Okay there... I had a bad foreboding. So, when I entered Miss Victoria's chamber, this creature had got into the ammo box, and pretended that rounds were rats, and jumped there - killing them, I assume - and threw out a few depleted uranium ones, and kicked them about the place... Till I managed to land it with... Hm-hm. Miss Victoria's room is an unholy mess now, I'm afraid."
Integra just shook her head.
"Good job, Walter. And where's Seras? She's supposed to keep an eye on this walking mischief."
Walter compressed his lips for a moment: "She does, usually - as far as it's ever possible. But Miss Seras left for a walk at sunset. With Lord Alucard."
"At sunset, huh? That was plenty of time ago. I do hope those two aren't doing anything stupid..."
The old man cast a quizzical look at the brooding Master of Monster and carefully muttered: "It depends on what you are calling stupid."
"Knowing Alucard - unnecessary homicide and bloodsucking, of course. What else?"
"Ah, that... - the old man bent to the ammo pack and picked it up with apparent difficulty. - No, m'lady, I truly believe they wouldn't do anything of the kind tonight."
Integra pondered for a while, weighing the idea of summoning Alucard back and interrogating him for the reason of such a long absence without any mission in the city whatsoever. That was strange; no less strange was Walter's tone when he had spoken about the topic... Ah, yes. She recalled another strangeness she had had plans to investigate. Integra raised her head.
"Walter, do you know what's going on in the library?"
"Library? - The butler turned, putting the ammo box down again. - I have no idea... Anything out of order there?"
"That's what I want to know. I heard something from there. Through the chimney."
"Did it sound hazardous, milady?"
"Just weird. Something like a... - Integra noticed that her cigar had gone off and bit it with irritation. Would she ever manage to smoke a single damned thing to the end? - Never mind. I'm going to check it now."
"Oh. - Walter seemed agitated but knew better than to argue with his commander. - Please, allow me to join you, Lady Integra."
Integra shrugged, pulling out a .38 automatic and checking its ammo. This time was enough for the butler to don his notorious work gloves. He checked the wires to go out smoothly and stood to attention. Integra nodded and took a lead up the stairs.
Entering the antechamber next to the heavy double doors of the manor's library, Hellsing leader grinned darkly, feeling the fresh portion of additional adrenaline in her blood melting away the hovering headache. Thus the investigation proved not worthless already. Her gloved palm clasped the brass handle on the door and pulled. The self-picked strike-force of two quietly darted through the doors and slid behind the closest bookcase, true to the habit not to step into the open without checking every possible hostile vantage point. However, this time their searching attention was promptly attracted not by a glimpse of movement, but with an obtrusive sound stream. At the opposite end of the vast library chamber, in front of the enormous carved fireplace, there was Pip Bernadotte, dressed in civvies and having his almost knee-long blond hair unbraided. Looking extremely pleased with himself, he was torturing a guitar and... Huh. Now Integra came to clear understanding of the source of eardrums-abusing sounds.
"Shiiine!!! - bellowed Captain Goldielocks, closing his eyes, shaking his head and smiling like a lunatic. - Shiine dooown on me! Shiiine down on this life that's burning oooooout!"
"I'd rather have the headache." - muttered Integra, holstering her gun. The fuzzy verminoid under her arm pitifully mewed as if in acknowledgement and squeezed its ears flat to the head.
The mercenary still wasn't aware of their presence in the room, so the butler quickly strode to the tall figure by the fireplace and, pulling the headphones down from Bernadotte's head, icily required: "What are you doing here, Captain?"
"Oh, hello. - Pip blinked and returned to reality. - I've been chilling out a bit."
"Figured already. But why here?"
"Well, uh, guys in the barracks down there have some issues when it comes to good music. And you allowed me to use the library anytime. I asked yesterday, remember?"
"Yes, I did, but..." - Walter's gaze swept the battlefield on a nearby coffee table, bearing two owerflowing ashtrays, numerous beer cans and a sixpack of Guinness yet on standby.
Integra eventually noticed the ash falling from the cigarette in the corner of Pip's mouth right onto an oriental carpet under his feet and her brow twitched. The carpet had been brought into the mansion by her ancestor about a century ago and, by God, deserved better attitude. Valentine bros. & Co had brought more than enough damage to her property already, dammit.
"Watch your cigarette, Captain. - walking up to the fireplace and facing her subordinates, she coldly added - Or you'll be a living illustration to your song's lyrics."
Walter glowered at the mercenary and handed him an ashtray. Meanwhile Hellsing leader continued: "Walter, take care of Seras's belongings. As the cat is unlockable, lock the ammo itself. Besides, take some silver forks from the kitchen and put them between and over the rounds. Bury them in silver. Let's hope it'll eliminate the risks of the second attempt in case the creature finds the box."
"I shall do my humble best, Lady Integra."
The butler sketched an affirmative bow and headed to the exit. Integra sat down on a comfortable couch, leaned back and closed her tired eyes for a second. The same second the annoying strumming of Bernadotte's instrument resumed. The cat under her arm suddenly twitched and twisted, leaving her somewhat relaxed grip. Lady Hellsing opened her eyes just to catch the sight of the hissing black lightning leaping onto the mercenary and biting the strings of his guitar in half with one quick snap of jaws. Pip drew back with an indignant exclamation. Integra smirked and eyed Pussy with newfound fondness. Still, the beast wasn't worthless after all, having a good musical ear and reactions of a natural predator. Good kitty indeed.
Picking the cat up and returning to the couch, she concluded that the rare good deed of the pet deserved praise.
"Walter!"
"Yes, milady?" - came from behind the door.
"Bring the cat an extra meal. Full portion. And a cup of camomile tea for me."
"As you wish, milady."
A few blissful moments of silence stretched in the library until Bernadotte settled on the second couch in front of Integra and casually asked: "So, what's up with Victoria's ammo?"
Integra only raised her brows and glared at the mercenary. He seemed to catch the hint and quickly added: "Ma'am. Er... Sir. Hell, what's the right way?"
The light eyebrows of the Protestant Knight rose higher. Finally she decided to discard the faux pas due to the obvious reasons, covering the coffee table, and dryly answered:
"Both."
"Both?! How's that?"
Integra sighed.
"In official occasions I'm Sir Integral Hellsing. Salic law doesn't allow to pass the title of a Knight to females. Hence I'm officially considered a man."
"Salic law? Knight?" - the explanation seemed to leave the Wild Goose even more confused.
"Never mind. - Integra didn't have the slightest intention to describe the complicated history of her heritage at 3 a.m. - Call me ma'am if you wish. Or Lady Integra."
Still having a puzzled expression on his face, the mercenary scratched his head, shrugged and reached for the sixpack. Taking a can for himself, he pulled out another one and smirked at his commander.
"Do you want some? Ma'am, as this occasion doesn't seem official."
Integra negatively shook her head, rejecting the offer. This captain's behavior was too different comparing to all the other subordinates of hers. Excluding Alucard, of course. He alone provided enough obnoxiety to fill Integra's patience quota to the limit.
"You don't seem to follow the subordination etiquette too much, Captain Bernadotte."
The mercenary shrugged again, opening the can and holding it over an ashtray till a tiny cloud of foam settled.
"Am I? Well, sorry 'bout that... 'S a habit, I reckon, cuz that's how the business goes in our job. All our employers usually care is the job properly done, and if you screw up - well, doh... Etiquette bullshitting won't help and you'll pay with your ass."
A corner of Integra's mouth involuntarily curved up.
"So, and what is your rear side's state at the current moment, Captain?"
"Still intact. - Pip saluted her with the can, took a sip from it and smirked. - And am I monitoring it... Lady Integra, ma'am."
Hellsing leader resisted the intention of her mouth to form a full-fledged grin. An 'arrogant beyond any cure' diagnosis, made once by notably huffed Sergeant Seras, seemed to prove right. Integra got up and placed the heavy body of the cat on Captain's knees.
"Hold it for a minute."
Pip cautiously put a hand on Pussycat's back, while the young woman walked up to the wall and stopped at a wall, lined with bookshelves with brass signs "Alchemy" on them. A push on a discreet wooden panel and a couple of shelves with ancient incunabula on them turned around an invisible axis with a creak, revealing a small cabinet with crystal flasks and glasses in it. Integra peeked into the opening, but no familiar-looking boxes were at their usual place. Integra winced. Damn, Walter had probably taken her cigars away during Dr. Travelian's smoking ban and forgot to put them back when the crisis was over... Or didn't do that intentionally. Walter had his own subtle ways to show his disapproval, when he wanted to. The disgruntled Lady of the House rubbed her temple. Well hell... She poured some dark amber liquid into a glass and turned to the mercenary. The man and the demon cat watched her manipulations with equal vivid curiosity.
"Neat furniture you've got here. - Pip's drawling baritone was almost purring, as his gaze lingered on the glass in Integra's hand. - Very neat."
"Why, thank you. - Integra tilted her head, shooting an ironic glance at the Captain, and picked another glass. - Want some?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The mercenary looked at the liquid, smelled it and finally took the first swig.
"Whoa! I always knew that the greatest wonders of the world dwell in libraries. Real alchemy indeed!"
"This batch of brandy was purchased by my father. About forty years ago."
"Now I understand why you keep vampires in the cellar. Wise security decision, if there is any more of this stuff down there, I mean."
The cat suddenly wriggled under Pip's palm and Integra frowned, not sure if Walter had finished hiding Pussy's non-appropriate toys.
"Hold it tighter."
The man nodded and tightened the grip.
"Why 'it' all the time, by the way? Don't you know its gender? Or it doesn't have one?"
Lady Hellsing made a vague gesture with her glass.
"Never bothered to find it out. I have other pressing problems, you know... Feel free to make this discovery by yourself if you're that curious about it."
"C'mon, fatso, don't be shy!" - Bernadotte actually tried to roll the cat on its back and the creature emitted a sinister hiss, demonstrating its fangs. The naturalist wannabe quickly withdrew and Integra smirked, concentrating on a faint wave of relaxing dizziness in her head. Fatigue plus no habit for alcohol whatsoever, hmmm... Maybe the booze'd aid her to have some sleep this night.
"Frankly speaking, I think the cat's male, even if it behaves like a real bitch sometimes. Reminds me of its Master's Master." - she added on autopilot, returning to the thought about the whereabouts of her most troublesome servant. Not that she missed any remarks from the bloody ceiling, but... He'd better behave. For his own good, or she...
Pip, caught with a mouthful of brandy, choked and sprayed it on the indignant cat in his lap, fighting simultaneous fits of laughter and cough.
"What's the matter, Captain?"
"Er... Nothing, ma'am. - the mercenary was red in the face and grunting cheerfully. - It's just really seldom to hear such self-criticism."
It took tired Integra a few seconds to realize the sense of the last remark. When she finally did, she exploded.
"What driveling idiocy you're blabbing about! The cat's Master is Victoria Seras! And who's her Master?"
"You?"
"Hell no! Not directly, I mean. Her Master is Alucard and I'm his Master! Got it already?!!!"
Captain Bernadotte had certain problems with making his face politely bland. When he succeeded at last, he nodded.
"Guess I've got it, thanks for the lecture. So, in other words, you're Pussy's great-grandmaster?"
Sir Integral Falbourke Wingates Hellsing, the leader of Hellsing organisation, protector of Her Majesty the Queen and the British empire and, at last but not least, a Knight of the Round Table felt her head spin at this new title of hers. Painfully spin, confound it.
"Captain Bernadotte." - she snapped in her best arctic tone.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Shut the hell up!"
"Yes, ma'am."
A couple of minutes passed in tense silence. Then Integra looked right into Captain's eye.
"One more thing. I don't want you to repeat this fancy definition of yours any more. Especially... - she made an intimidating pause. - ... especially in Alucard's presence."
"I...er... fully understand, Lady Integra. I've got enough experience already to be pretty damn careful with words in his presence."
"Oh, really? - Integra's lips performed a small upward crook. - My condolences."
She took off her spectacles and gently pinched the bridge of her nose. Sleepiness started to show up. Twenty minutes more - and it would be so nice to go upstairs and finally take some nap... She would only wait for Walter's report.
Right at this moment the cat on Bernadotte's knees suddenly uttered a blood-curdling yell. Despite Pip's attempts to hold it down, the creature sprang up, its fur standing up all over its body, all four pairs of its red eyes opening wide and burning hideously. It screamed again - this time it sounded like an agonizing moan - and vanished in the air. The humans exchanged astonished looks. All of a sudden Integra Hellsing had a nasty feeling that her chances to sleep that night had just undertaken a joyride down the drains.
It seemed that their careful wanderings of trial and error about the guest house finally came to an end. It happened when after the N-th dive through the wall and back Victoria stopped for a moment to look at a big golden-framed picture on the opposite wall. It bore a bunch of men in Roman Centurions uniform and a few ecstatic persons, sporting something like torn bed sheets. If not for halos around the heads of the bedsheeted folk, the depicted scene might have been a lavish illustration to a costumed BDSM party, judging by the number of whips, chains and suspiciously looking devices in use. Hm. Victoria bent to read an inscription under the picture and right at that moment her Master re-emerged from the oiled surface. Seras raised her gaze at his face and an involuntary but strong associative image of a delighted crocodile sprang to her mind.
"Found?"
"Yeah. - the vampire grinned even broader. - Shall we?" He made a flourish inviting gesture with his left hand and lead the way into the bedroom.
The room was pitch dark; even a faint glow of streetlights through its three high windows was blocked with heavy drapes. Seras paused for a second, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness after the dim but existing lighting of the hallway. All of a sudden she started to feel increasingly uneasy, intruding someone's most private territory like that. She knew that there could be no other chance to bring some understanding into the head of Iscariots' chief, she remembered that due to Lady Integra's order Master couldn't do any physical harm to the man, she kept repeating to herself that Hellsing really owed this Vatican ferret and his lot some major distresses... Still, the light rhythmic breath of the only living being in the room rooted her to the spot, her mind numb with confusing doubts. Meanwhile her senior casually walked up to the big bed at the wall and stopped there, contemplating its slumbering occupant.
"Lock the door, Seras, and come here. Time to begin, I'd say."
The girl turned to the door to execute the orders and squinted her eyes, when the bedside lamp switched on. She looked back, surprised, and quickly crossed the room, waiting for the sputtering reaction of the bishop, whose slumber was interrupted by two vampires in the middle of the night. However, the only reaction followed was some rustles of bed sheets. Then the sleepy breathing resumed in the same key.
"Hm. - murmured Alucard, glancing at his fledgling, who stood by his side and gawked at the bed. - Rather minimalist dressing style, don't you think?"
Enrico Maxwell peacefully slept on his stomach, one of his legs was pulled up and aside, folded, while the other lay gracefully stretched. The pose somehow reminded of a flamingo, standing in shallow waters. His hands embraced the pillow his head rested on. A coverlet hanged down to the floor, being obviously kicked off in sleep, and thus revealed the fact that Iscariots' chief hadn't bothered himself to don anything but briefs.
"Awww... Quite a shame to wake him up, but life's a jungle." - Alucard's booted foot slowly rose with clear intention to come in contact with the stretched fabric of the only item of Maxwell's clothing. Victoria made a small noise, startled with the rudeness of the action, but her Master seemed to reconsider it already. He put his foot back on the floor and smirked.
"OK, let's play along the rules. Integra told me not to lay a finger on him, guess toes count as well."
The vampire looked around, spotted a chair by a dressing table and pulled it up to the scene. Settling comfortably in it and crossing his legs, he regally nodded to his apprentice.
"You wake him up, police girl."
Victoria cringed, but walked up to the side of the bed and bent to the sleeping man.
"Mr. Maxwell, er... Wake up, sir."
No reaction. After a second of hesitation she got hold of Maxwell's shoulder and shook him with increasing magnitude. Finally the priest uttered a displeased grunt, rolled over on his back and informed the world that he would like his coffee with cream and that Anderson should be excommunicated if he cut a pie with his fucking knives ever again. After such a revelation he sunk back into oblivion, slightly snoring this time. Alucard chuckled evilly. Victoria straightened up in dismay and noticed a small plastic bottle on the bedside table.
"Ativan. Now I see."
"Mmm?"
"Sleeping pills. He's probably on them."
This won a skeptical snort from Master.
"Ha! Proceed. So far these pills don't contain cyanide or something along the lines, our sleeping beauty is fairly prone to waking. Even without a kiss."
"Gee, thanks for the deep insight, Doctor Professor Alucard." - growled Seras under her breath, returning to the role of Maxwell's alarm-clock. Woe to her, all the efforts were happily neglected and the Iscariots leader kept sacking zzzs.
"True sleep of the just. - came a comment from the stalls' only seat. - Chemically aided just, though... Enough, Seras, this won't take us anywhere. Time to change the tactics. Cut his breath."
"What?!!!"
"Quit yelling, cop, as if I've told you to strangle him with your bare hands! Doh!"
Victoria swung around to reward her senior with a militantly suspicious squint: "Haven't you?"
"Of course not. Do it with your gloves on, if you wish. Mwahaha!"
"Masssterrr!!!"
"The idea bears certain charms... But I've meant just a temporary blockade of his ventilation system. Cover his nose and mouth with a hand and he'll spring up like electroshocked Lazarus."
"Is it really safe? What if..."
"Puh-leeease. Walter still shows signs of life, after all."
"You tried this on him?!"
"Yeah. - Alucard snorted and thoughtfully rubbed his neck, as if touching an invisible line across it. - Many years ago."
"Omigod..." - the girl sighed and, after a moment of hesitation, followed her Master's tip.
The lack of oxygen was brutally efficient, kickstarting the reflexes and making Maxwell twitch and yank his head away.
"Gak! - Enrico's long eyelashes fluttered. - Geroff, Buffonard!"
He groaned and tried to turn on his side, when a firm hand on his shoulder made this attempt futile.
"Wake up, Mr.Maxwell."
The voice was feminine and high-pitched, probing the swamp of his slumber with its utter unfamiliarity. The priest opened one bleary eye and drowsily contemplated the unclear image in front of him.
"Whazzemarer?" - he observed in a sleepy voice. The figure stood straight and made a step back, retreating into the thick twilight behind the light circle.
"Mission accomplished, Master." - the voice of the stranger sounded rather sour.
"Heh. Well done, police girl."
A screech of a moving chair, some rustles, one or two heavy footfalls. A tall lanky shape was there, looming over the bed.
"Enriiiico! - a deep voice was laden with enthusiasm, nastily non-appropriate for this time of the night. - You have some 'splaining to do!"
The green eyes of the Iscariot leader instantly opened wide, as he bolted upright. This voice was recognizable ad nauseam.
"Pray do not get up for us, Father... Hey!"
The coverlet rapidly slipped over Maxwell's body, wrapping around it and firmly covering his mouth, opened for a cry. Under the guiding stare of a pair of red eyes the piece of white fabric tightened its grip, making the priest look like a neatly packed donation to the British Museum. Way too lively for a respectable mummy, though. Enrico's bug-eyed stare of a man introduced to a poisonous snake quickly switched to a glower of concentrated ferocity above the upper edge of the improvised muffler, while the Iscariots leader desperately arched his back and rolled from side to side, trying to break free.
"Let me get it straight. - Alucard's expression bore a mix of rage and amusement, as of a hunting cat. - If we had wanted to kill you or.. say, do something more creative to your body, we'd have done it already. Now, can we just sit and talk, like civilized... creatures?"
The gazes of the green and red eyes clashed and the bystander Victoria uneasily shifted her feet. The atmosphere was getting ionized with tension. At last the priest allowed a slow and extensively reluctant nod. The fabric loosened and Maxwell sat up in the bed.
"Nosferatu!" - he grated, rubbing his wrist and glaring at the visitors.
"Well, yes. - The No Life King resettled in the armchair, tenting his fingers and watching the priest with deceptively relaxed air. - Sorry, but Tinkerbell is busy in another shift... And you are kinda old for a tooth fairy, you know. Or you've expected a bogey man from the closet?"
"I've expected a coherent talk! Guess it's too much for someone, whose brain can't be qualified as living! - snapped the bishop. After a moment of silence he ran his fingers through the disheveled mass of ash-blond hair and glumly muttered. - So, what does she want?"
"Actually, it depends on which female acquaintance of yours you are talking about." - remarked Alucard in an inviting tone of an experienced shrink, pulling on a face of profoundly feigned serenity.
Maxwell didn't quite grind his teeth, but almost. Nevertheless, he managed to keep his voice leveled.
"I wouldn't bother to question you about the wishes of, say, my nuns...or the little murderess by your side either."
"I've never killed a single human being! - being jerked out of her silent observer's position, Seras stiffened and made a step forward. - Pity, but it's not something your own subordinates can brag about. Anderson attacked and slaughtered Hellsing human troopers, did it brutally and I can personally testify to that as a witness!!! "
"You see, cop, Iscariots' key word here is 'Hellsing', not 'human'. - drawled Alucard, putting his hand around Victoria's hand and pulling her to sit down on his chair arm. - The more heretics go to Hell the better, eh, Enrico? Any means are perfectly fine if they suit the purpose. By the way, Machiavelli would have praised you concerning your latest stunt... If you'd managed not to leave tracks."
"Nice rhetoric. Still, I'd swapped it for a few hours of unperturbed sleep anytime... What do you want, vampire? Succinctly, if you can."
"Succinctly? Sure. Sweet little Elisabeth, Maxwell. Rings any bells?"
Enrico's eyes narrowed: "Yes. Continue."
Gah. Victoria clasped her hands between her knees and sat very still, warily taking in the words, intonations, body language of the two opponents. Trying to figure... what? How all this supposed to end, probably. Something was bordering the cool surface of Alucard's reasonable tone, ready to charge into the breach. Despite all her anti-Iscariots sentiments, Seras wasn't quite anticipating it to happen.
"Let me see if I got it correct. Your Master accuses me of... - Maxwell's brows furrowed as a sardonic edge in his voice became razor-sharp, - with the Bloody Countess in her recent atrocities? Integral's out of her mind. The Thirteenth Division's only business with undeads is destroying them. On sight."
"The fact is, none of your staff ever met Elisabeth in person... or survived her welcome to report it. - noted Alucard dryly. - Thus the 'on sight' point is ruled out... But another interesting fact is still on the list. The gap between obtaining the intelligence and that generous warning call is too damn big, Maxwell. Almost three weeks... It really looked like a golden opportunity back then, eh? All you had to do was to sit back and watch."
"No shit, Sherlock... - the priest presented the vampire with an acerbic look, - Any proof for this obscurity or it's going to be a 'guilty until proven innocent' case? I ask you one more time - what exactly did your Master send you here for? Except delivering ridiculous speculations, that is."
"My Master? - an odd smile twisted Alucard's lips, - I'm not her ambassador here. It is a private visit. A whim of mine, so to say. Seras kindly joined."
Dubiously, Victoria looked at her senior and met his leer. The No Life King's eyes crinkled at her in brief quizzical mirth. Looking back at the priest, he said: "I've come here to clarify some unfortunate misunderstandings you seem to fancy. First, don't imagine yourself the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to underhand politicking. You lack a few centuries of practice for getting away with it, mortal."
"I wouldn't dream of it." - Enrico's face remained unfazed, but Victoria's searching stare didn't miss Enrico's arm tightening in a nervous white-knuckled grip. A faint vertical line of worry on the young vampire's forehead deepened, as her Master got up.
"What did you dream of then? That if Hellsing bloodline perishes, I would be annihilated as well? Or - heh, - put on another twenty years long cold storage? Wrong. The contract between the House of Hellsing and me is not of this kind."
Alucard's voice dropped to a freezing pitch. In one fluid movement he leaned forward, closing his face to the suddenly widened eyes of Iscariots leader.
"To use your modern terminology, I don't carry a self-destruct device in me. So think twice before messing with the control unit, Maxwell. Whatever I'd seek for if my freedom's back - justice, revenge or just fun - in any case it spells blood. And I have a special stake in - and for - the bastards who ever crossed my path. Rome did it more than once."
It was pure snarl now. Alucard's eyes glimmered, ravenous and glassy. Seras strained, watching the fabric of Master's clothes to shift, darkening and turning into... leather? Uh-oh. Whatever it was, it was not a good sign. Victoria's stomach lurched, as her senior's hand drifted towards Maxwell's neck. If you delay it now, next second may be too late. She clenched her teeth and darted forward, catching Alucard's wrist and pulling it back with all her might. Her endeavor seemed almost fruitless, but Victoria didn't give up even when the other sigilled arm gripped her by the front of the collar and yanked her up.
"What are you doing, Master! Are you going to botch Lady Integra's orders?" - she managed to whisper, looking into the wild slit pupils. For an eternally long moment the merciless stare didn't quiver, but then something slightly changed, subduing. Iron-hard fingers released the grip and Victoria felt the floor under her feet again.
"Integra's orders are all that stand between me and everything you swore to protect, Iscariot. - Alucard's voice sounded icy and calm again. - This is the last warning you'll have."
The No Life King grabbed the shoulder of his fledgling and they vanished in the air. Enrico sat amidst the rumpled bed sheets for awhile, resembling a carelessly unwrapped gift. Finally he regained control over his breathing and muscle functions and celebrated it with croak-voiced mouthing of all the curses he could think of. When he finally started repeating himself, he stormed out of the bed and stuck to pacing the room in circles. A muscle jumped in his jaw at the reminiscence of vampires passing in and out their most trusted holy barrier like so much vapor. O dulcis Virgo Maria! The Investigations Department is going to get their hemorrhoids kicked or his name is not Enrico Maxwell! And where the hell is the Holy Paladin when you need him? Why, that fruitcake is too busy spooking hookers in the streets of London! Argh. The warning. Right. Fine. All of a sudden Enrico stopped and grinned fiercely. Considering the development of FREAKs problem in England, the upcoming war was going to make all the fights of the past five decades look like playpen brawls over a rattle. Let's see all of them dig their own graves. Oh, yes. Let's.
That was strange. Once knowing the pinpoints for getting out of the barrier dome, he could take them anywhere, including their own chambers in Hellsing-Hall. He didn't, choosing some city spot instead. Why? Victoria didn't dare to ask. She remembered the harshness with which Alucard took her to their back route and then released her shoulder as soon as they dipped into the cold pre-dawn mist of a deserted street. A glance upwards proved the estimate. Pissed. Well... Couldn't be helped. After all, she shrank to imagine for how long Vatican and her Master had built up mutual grudges. Rome did it more than once... Old memories ignited old habits? Oh joy. His self-control had been almost overridden...She glumly fell into studying of her gloves, waiting for whatever they were there for. A noise of a taxi, passing around the corner and stopping there to unload a passenger, didn't shatter her self-detachment. However, Alucard's cold voice instantly did this job.
"Cop. Take a cab and return to Hellsing. If someone asks where we've been - do think before inserting a foot into the mouth. If asked about me, just tell them I'll report back soon. - his long hand rose to stop the returning car. - Go."
"Master... - she began unsurely, - Why..."
"Just because. - his eyes seemed to be in constant surveillance of the quiet neighborhood. Only now Seras realized that it was the very same corner where they had seen Anderson disembarking to his night hunt. - I have a business here and I don't want any meddling with at least this one."
Meddling?! Oh. Victoria opened her mouth to protest but pressed her teeth together instead. If that was the way he was going to judge her intervening... She had done what she had done and wasn't going to advocate it. She was growing tired of all the talks and arguments of this crazy night. If certain someone couldn't see past his own nose at the present moment - let it be so, dammit. Even if it was... unfair. Victoria's shoulders hunched slightly, as she opened the door of the cab and lingered to look at the gates of Iscariots residence for the last time. Alucard glanced at her curiously, but a sound of heavy footfalls came from nearby, immediately snatching his full attention. He looked for the sound source and grinned. A tall figure with hands in the pockets of a long black coat. Familiar pace pattern. Round spectacles and a silver cross on the chest, occasionally reflecting the bleary light of streetlamps. OK, now the time had really run out.
"Besides, - he opined, as if casually continuing his previous remark, - you wouldn't enjoy the company, Seras."
She began to turn, startled with the revival of malicious amusement in her senior's voice, but he quickly ushered the girl into the cab.
"See you soon." - he said and closed the door before she could marshal any further objections. Having accomplished it, Alucard slowly swaggered down the street. For a few moments Victoria just sat there, shuffling theories and fully ignoring the direction requests from the cabbie, when a sudden outburst of loud voices behind made both the driver and the passenger swivel back. The sight in the rear window made the latter utter an 'eep' and then an exasperated sigh. Business, hah. More bloody likely a venting spree.
"Monster! Prepare thyself... for purifying pain!"
"Can you ever mention something less corny, Judas Priest?"
"Keep yapping, Hellsing dog, while you still can! For dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return!"
"Blimey... Should we call cops, Miss?" - the cabbie got nervous and Victoria could understand his feeling. Luckily the thickening fog blocked his poor human vision from seeing particular incriminating details... Oh shit, Anderson's in his bayonet stance already... Ohshitohshitohshit!!!
Victoria's arm clenched on the handle of the Beretta, her only current weapon, pushed under her belt at the last moment of their rushed departure from Hellsing. Bloody hell, if things go real nasty, a mere handgun would be of practically zero effect...
Get going, Seras! The sport over there's about to hit everything within his reach. - a rumbling force of Alucard's mental presence stormed into her mind. - You are nothing but a sitting duck here!
The worried look of the driver made her utter a desperate sigh. The poor fellow was well within the hit range too... Time to choose - to get out or to get away. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, Victoria. Self-damned. The worst kind.
Get lost! It's an order!
Victoria's eyes opened wide and then closed bitterly.
Yes, sir, my Master.
She leaned forward and quickly gave the address of Hellsing headquarters. Her voice and the hum of the engine were not enough to cover the maniacal laughter and screeches of holy blades against the pavement behind the fog screen. It was becoming so thick now that even the vampiric eyesight could catch only occasional red and gray spots, flicking at odd trajectories.
"Eh... Cops, Miss?"
"No need for! It's a tradition of theirs - to greet each other like this. - growled Seras through a manufactured smile. - No big deal. Move it now!"
The driver looked taken aback with her tone and not quite reassured, but the car rolled on.
"One hell of a tradition those chaps have. - began the cabbie a few seconds later, as the taxi was passing a turn. - Must've been pals for quite awhile, eh?"
Seras unwillingly unglued her stare from the rear window to look at him, but a dry shrug was the only reply he got. Instead she said: "Can you please turn the radio on?"
The man looked slightly offended, but pressed the button. Bass rhythms filled the salon right in time to disguise the first gunshot, especially loud in the night city.
Good luck, Master.
Author's note: Eh... What can I say? My life was busy to leave me barely enough time to have some sleep. Besides my precious electronic imbecile (Intel inside, mind you) crashed and burned (literally). Boy, does burning plastic stink! The main problem was not the odor, though, but the fact that the almost ready 14th chapter was obliterated. If there's something to make me VERY discouraged it's to do the same job twice... Duh. Anyway, lately I've got more free time on my hands so I've rewritten this chapter and moved onto the next. Hope to finish it soon.