The sound of a blow-dryer ceased and the silence after its whining noise felt as solid as pillows pressed to both ears. Integra got out of the bathroom and stepped into the pale strip of late morning sunlight, falling into her bedroom through the high windows. She closed her eyes, felt the floor swaying under her feet and quickly raised the eyelids again. She was so tired that actually could fall asleep standing in the center of the room... But all she could allow herself was time enough to take a shower. The stench of napalm and burning flesh had haunted her and she just couldn't stand it anymore. Who said that he loved the smell of napalm in the morning? Must be one sick weirdo... She started to dress when a phone rang.
"Lady Integra, I think I've found something... About those cuts on the victims."
"I'm coming to my office right now, Walter, meet me there."
"Are you... - there was a hint of hesitance in the old man's voice. - Are you all right, m'lady?"
The heir of Hellsing clenched her teeth and squared her shoulders. Damn. Integral Wingates Hellsing, the leader of Hellsing, hard as nails, unaffected by anything. Riiight. She allowed herself to be weak again, and even worse, she allowed the others to feel it.
"I'm fine, Walter."
She hung up and headed to the staircase. There were days and especially nights she wholeheartedly wished to be erased from her memory. The previous night was so damn one of those...
...By the time the Investigations arrived Walter persuaded her to get into the car, as the symptoms of straja de sange in her case were obviously growing stronger. When she opened the back door of her armored Rolls Royce, the face of Captain Bernadotte turned to her. He was still green around the edges, but the 'behold, I'm about to die' look was gone. Goodie. One problem off the list.
"Welcome to the bunker, boss."
She looked at the mercenary and rose her eyebrows. He sighed, scooted away along the backseat and patted the leather of the seat with his left hand in an inviting gesture:
"Cops kicked me out of their car - said they were ordered to leave. So I've ended up here."
Integra got in and closed the door. The overhead lights turned off after she closed the door, but they'd already done the nasty with her retinas. All she could see was Pip's face, floating in the darkness like a goofy moon.
"Feeling better, Captain?"
"Yeah. Count Fangface was right - cold iron helps... Speaking of the devil... Where's he?"
"Looking for the dead."
"Jesus on a crutch! - The mercenary strained. - Are there more?"
"Were you not listening? - Integra felt a wave of irritation rising, but toned down on second thoughts, - Ah yes, your condition..."
"Fuc... ehhh... Terribly humiliating to say it, but yes, my condition. Hell, I was better off back in Angola after being stupid enough to give fried bugs a try... Urp. - Bernadotte gulped and Integra, who found the sound somehow alarming, put an arm on the door, preparing for the quick retreat in case of fountaining emergency. However, he seemed to get a grip of himself and continued uneasily, - Care to tell? 'Bout the dead?"
Integra shrugged and presented him with a short version of Alucard's theories.
"Ye gods. Till dawn, you say? - the mercenary looked out of the window and leaned back, brooding. - It's within an hour. Who provides the bonfire?"
"Go straight to the practical, don't you? - the Hellsing commander's lips flexed humorlessly. - Army. They are bringing flamethrowers."
"I don't see them here."
"They'll wait us on the river."
"Ah."
A silence fell. All of a sudden Integra felt cold, almost freezing. She was fidgeting uncomfortably when Captain's voice came out of the darkness, low, cold and strangely empty: " Here... Trapped in nowhere..."
Integra turned to the mercenary. Her night vision was returning to normal and the sight made her raise her eyebrows. He was sitting absolutely still, with his back rigid, hands dropped with their palms up at the sides of his body. His stare was blank. In the same emotionless tone he continued: "No way out... Lost... Forever..."
"What are you talking about, Captain?"
Pip twitched, looked around wildly and rubbed his face.
"Uhh... Shit. Have I missed something?" - his voice was furry, as of a person who had just awakened from a sound sleep. Integra frowned.
"You..."
Sudden voices and noise outside interrupted her. She looked in that direction and at the same moment a tall figure walked up to the car and tapped fingers on the window, smearing something dark, thick and liquid over the glass.
"Mission accomplished, Master."
"Just about time, Alucard." - Integra opened the door, stepped out and looked up at the looming figure of the vampire. His face was all shadow but the ethereal red sparks in the wells of his eyes. He silently nodded in the direction of a small crowd of Investigations' folk, gathered around something on the ground. She walked down there, feeling the iron grip of pain upon her heart strengthening with every step. She shoved somebody aside with her shoulder and finally saw what they were looking at. There, in the halogen stare of nearby car's headlights, three bright spots of color bloomed. She closed her eyes, looked down again and her brain finally grasped the scene. For a second the world became a fluttering thing. Three naked bodies were on the asphalt. A male, two females, one of them probably in her early teens. Eyes - gone. Tongues in wide opened mouths - gone. Ears - gone. Internal organs - gone, making the body cavities look like hollowed out logs with splinters of ribs so suddenly white among all redness of gore. Alucard walked up and stopped by her side, looking down at the fruiting of his fetch-and-carry job.
"Every time... - her voice came out hoarse and heavy with anger, - Every time I think I've already learned the worst about your kin, Alucard, I'm wrong. Profoundly wrong. A ward you say? Just a ward to keep annoying strangers off your doorstep?! Hell!!!"
"Not exactly." - the vampire's voice came out bland, but Integra knew him long enough to recognize undertones of anger disguised by all that blandness. She sharply turned to him and took a long deep breath. It was meant to steady her but didn't succeed very well.
"What are you waiting for? Do you job!" - snarled she at the Investigations' personnel, who were still goggling at the corpses. Then she looked at Alucard again. He stood there, an arm on his hip, and watched the businesslike commotion spreading over the scene like a forest fire. Videos, pictures, fingerprints, blood samples... Everything that even theoretically might become of use after the bodies became grains of ash in muddy waters of the Thames.
"Not exactly? What's not bloody exactly?!"
"That. Look at their foreheads. And palms."
She did. All she could see were some scratches among the slightly clogged blood. She came closer and checked the other victims. Positive, all the three bore the same deep carves in a form of broken, lopsided zigzag. She motioned the photographer to take close shots of those and returned to the vampire.
"So?"
"So it's the unknown factor added to the equation. Common straja de sange wouldn't need that. It wouldn't require taking out the eyes, ears and tongues either."
Integra Hellsing tilted her head.
"Do you... feel or hear - or whatever you call that - what that factor adds?" - she asked suddenly.
"Of course."
"Does it affect your senses? Impair them?"
"One way or another - maybe. - Alucard shook his head, sending long strands of black hair across his face. Not much may in that be, - thought Integra, tipping the vampire a sardonic glance, - but God forbid to admit that. Damn egomaniac.
"What is it like?"
"It's like... - the vampire paused and grinned, but it was no more than a stretch of the lips exposing the fangs. - It's like explaining color coordinating to Stevie Wonder, if that tells you something. You don't have proper senses to understand it."
"Get off your high horse, Alucard. I suppose you're bright enough to find words that have at least vague resonance for us, mere mortals."
"All right. - anger became clearer in the vampire's matter-of-fact voice. - Chaos. Does it resonate enough, Master?"
"I bet 'a smokescreen' has one hell of resonance too. - came a voice from behind them. - All this shit reeks of a covert operation."
Integra turned and saw Pip, standing a few feet from them. Behind his back a crew of Cleaners was loading body bags into a van, resembling ants hauling dead caterpillars. The mercenary had got a couple of L85 assault rifles somewhere and stood, clutching them to his chest like dear babies. Integra frowned: "What makes you think we need this kind of firepower now, Captain?"
"Surgeon General's recommendations. - the Wild Goose jerked a thumb in Alucard's direction and held one of the rifles out to Integra. - Actually, this one's for you, ma'am."
She looked at him questioningly.
"Compromise is an imperfect art. I figured that if I don't want to stay in the car, I should at least pack some iron up. - he shrugged and muttered in a sour sotto voce, - like Prince fucking Charming."
Integra preferred to ignore that last remark and took the rifle, pressing it close to her bosom. The blasts of pain shooting through her heart in some sort of excruciating Morse Code, were not gone but rather subsided into dull ache.
"Good idea. - Integra favored Bernadotte with an approving nod and turned her gaze to the scene, - Although we're almost finished here. It's time for the pyre."