Special Thanks: Sensoo, who edited this chapter into proper English.

Durga

Chapter Four

- The Devil

Amar Hokmee didn't believe in non-violent methods anymore, nor in Sat Guru. He lost bothhis faith and his principles, when he beheld the execution of his mother.

He could recall the time when his mother preached the non-violence with fervor, boycotting the British monopoly in the Ludhiana district.

"Dress in white, little monkey," Stm. Hokmee used to say, straightening his clothes. "And with their cotton, but do not accept their help. We won't harm them, but we won't cooperate with the foreigners either. That's what Ram Singh suggests."

Her smile melted him inside, the same gesture that left a void so many years later.

Amar squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget the words that would doom his mother and himself, years after of the event. But that event changed his life and would linger in his subconscious forever.

They were innocent, the sixty-eight of them, but they were accused of open rebellion by deputy commissioner Cowan. Their peaceful marches and resistance against the British Crown was enough to deserve death.

Even now, the way she had died brought a chill to his spine.

His mother was praying, chanting while they tied her to the mouth of the cannon. Her eyes wandered through the audience and stared at him. The sight filled him with tears. She smiled once more before her abdomen was blown into pieces of meat that landed meters away, and a geyser of blood poured from her lips.

He heard the rest of the Sikh believers gasp and blanch at the frightful sight. Some passed out, others threw up, many remained quiet. Amar knew why… Such defilement of the body made the entrance of Heaven uncertain. In that precise moment, the boy forsook his religion and peaceful ways and congratulated Cowan for his achievement.

Uncaring of the putrid smell, Amar watched the vultures devouring his mother remains until only the bones were left.

Amar Hokmee died before he turned fifteen, hanged due to insubordination. When he rose from the grave, he called himself Mahisa. As defiance of his former religion, he embraced Hinduism if only to fit into the new world. He was a faithless creature, and used religious beliefs to control other beings. And thus he started to plot his vengeance and he made a promise to himself not to die anymore…

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The air was warm, typical in places with tropical weather. The vegetation ran thick around the sinister gathering, held in one of the few last emerald posts, left on the gray-bricked world. The moon shone above in the sky, yellow and fiendish, an eternal companion of theirs. Not many were aware that the soil they were on used to be a camp of horrors, where many lost their lives due to a quest of freedom.

Mahisa peered outside the window of the ancient temple, counting absently the number of his supporters. Over four centuries he had waited, the endless thirst for payback would be sated soon. He could laugh in anticipation. He was a Pacu-Pati, Master of the Herd, they would bow to his supreme charisma for sure.

Spidery fingers poised on his shoulder, distracting Mahisa from the thrill of the oncoming victory.

"My lord Mahisa…" The Chinese man said. He dressed in a Cantonese fashion; his dark green clothes had a signature oriental dragon stamp. He was bald and wore a hat to cover his head. "I bring news from Tara Romaneasca."

Mahisa turned around, brushing his messy black hair behind his ear. "What does Voivode Alucard want now?"

"Alucard said he will meet us in London directly."

Mahisa scowled, disliking the news. The Dragon was always putting special conditions on his aid and didn't acknowledge him as leader. The Pacu Pati was losing all patience in treating that rebellious Nosferatu. His objectives and reasons forwhy he even contacted them remained a mystery.

"Mahisa, I beg your pardon, but perhaps it would be better if we don't associate ourselves with that madman…"

"You shouldn't speak ill of him, Lin Tse-Hsü," Mahisa spoke, giving an indignant sniff and straightened his pure white kurta shalwar. "He gave us the location of where the Soma was. While your useless men brought me muscular relaxants!"

"Point, but you can trust my integrity," the former Imperial Commissioner huffed. "You forgot that monster used to dally with the enemy. Heaven saved them."

"He was their slave, oh Lin of Clear Sky," Mahisa replied, using his given name as a mockery. "Just like our people were for centuries. Bowing to their so-called superior influence. And besides a kuang shih, shouldn't speak of integrity; we are all monsters now."

"Should I remind you of the existence of the Stockholm Syndrome, Lord Mahisa?" Lin asked deadly serious, shooting a fulminate glare to the younger undead. "We aren't sure how deep the Voivode was affected. He still uses the servant moniker instead of his real name."

Soft noises caught their attention, interrupting their argument. With bare feet that almost emitted no sounds, Zipporah stepped inside the room. Looking feral as usual, with her ebony skin and leopard fur wrapped around her slender form. She said nothing just stared at the two of them with pitch black orbs; the soulless eyes of a hunter without humanity left. Raising a hand, fireflies appeared to illuminate their path to the exit. She didn't need to speak, Mahisa understood and strode, leading the way.

Reaching a truce, Lin followed him. Soon Zipporah joined the party, forming the Triumvirate of the Asuras.

The crowd overcame his vision. Hundreds calling out his name in adoration, in worship, in need . They believed him, they chose him as Mahisa, regardless of the religion they followed-if they had one-they had bowed to his whims and ideals. To their desire to crush New Britannia. Each of them had a reason to attack them.

The memory of impotence, like himself.

The oath to her dying people, like Zipporah.

The restoration of tainted honor, like Lin.

The mass would make Mahisa their Demon God, who would rule the former usurpers as the Englishmen had done to them. But to be a God, he must be true immortal first. He must possess the Soma.

Mahisa stopped at the edge of the staircase of the temple, Zipporah detained and positioned herself on his right, while Lin did the same on his left. He cast a supporting glance to both then faced the flowers, raising his hands to request silence.

"Brothers and sisters of the night, I have called you here tonight to tell you that time of our revenge has finally arrived!" Mahisa started, passion in his speech. Masses loved passion, even if was fake. Their unlives not had stolen this from them. "I have sent a group of raksashas to bring me the Soma! The final step to my success and yours!" He paused, allowing them time to cheer. "We'll show those bastards imperialisms how we suffered under their oppression! We'll make them shed blood tears, we'll feed in their bones and the flesh of their children as they destroyed ours! Now, while they are weak, we'll strike! Their karma demands it."

Mahisa gave a boyish grin, glowing in his unnatural charisma as his voice resounded over the green surface of the woods, scaring the animals in the proximitydesecrating the holy building. "We'll all wear white, cotton robes of protest. Displaying the last resort of our dignity, glorify us in violence!"

As he had planned, the positive results were shown in their exclamations. He could sense it was honest. Vampires didn't change much, creatures of stasis they were. They developed mortal characteristics to the extreme. A lifetime of humiliation would eventually shatter any soul, as kind it used to be.

"That is all," Mahisa placed a hand over his chest, where his heart used to be. Turning around, he returned to the temple, wanting to contact his soldiers. Zipporah and Lin were at his heels, as faithful shadows.

"That turned out pretty well," Lin lounged on a stone seat.

Zipporah nodded in agreement, looking pensive about something, as usual. Mahisa was tempted to order her to regrow the tongue she slashed out centuries ago. How her mind worked was still a mystery to him. He only knew she wouldn't talk until she fulfilled her promise to her fallen folk. That made him refrain from such a demand, respecting her choice to remain mute. There was an untold dignity in her silent suffering.

"Mahisa," Lin addressed him. "Can you contact the raksashas? They haven't sent a message since they broke into that mansion."

That lack of communication worried the Pacu Pati. He wondered, inwardly, if there was something amiss in the West. That bloody Hellsing Organization stood between him and his Soma, literally.

"Yes, I can. They better have a good explanation…" the leader of the Asuras sat on the floor, assuming a meditation posture. Crossing his legs and lowering his eyelashes, he forced his spirit out of the shell that tied him to earthly matters. A third eye opened in the middle of his temple.

Mahisa's soul traveled miles towards enemy ground, until he found the connection of fellow Hindu vampires and the sight, shocked him.

Darkness was everywhere, cold Abyss caressed his ghostly figure. It chilled him, even in immaterial form. It was capable of freezing the spirit as well as the body. That revelation in itself was quite frightening.

In that instant, Mahisa saw his men, or rather what was left of them. For a moment, he wished he was mortal so he could be blind in such shadows. But he wasn't human anymore.

Only one was standing, gripped by the tendrils that shackled him as prisoner. He was struggling bravely, the slits he had for eyes narrowed in determination and talons grew to strike his opponent. The rest lay on the floor, half-eaten and bloodless carcasses. He could tell who they were from the fur and the green and brown of the skin. Darkness was apparently feeding off them. He searched for the source of such power and all clues indicated the cloaked figure that was interrogating the unliving raksasha. In fact, the darkness was an extension of the tunic that covered this being's body. A second skin of sorts.

"What's the Dragon of the Carpathians relationship with your Mahisa? Describe what you know…"

It was a female voice. Icy as the very abyss that threatened to swallow him at any moment.

Mahisa felt proud as his soldier growled in reply, spitting at the wench's hidden face. The shadowy chains tightened more, in a fruitless attempt to suffocate a being that didn't breathe. He snickered at the effort until he heard the beast's ribs break and his wince of pain.

"Come now, that wasn't very polite. Maybe words are useless with you." Effortlessly, she grabbed his jaw and fractured it with a swing of her wrist. "One way or another, Asura, I'll find out the information. You have chosen how. Non-violent methods aren't good enough for your kind? Come and join your little friends then…"

Mouths popped out from the curtain of shadows behind the shackled raksasha. They were countless and of different size. The full lips parted to show elongated canines glittering as if they possessed their own light. Mahisa could see how a trail of saliva fell on his trapped man's ear, burning it until it dissolved and fell to the floor where it was snapped and munched by eager teeth. The creature screamed as the acid fluid covered his form.

"Not as brave now, are you? Of course not, the extension of your courage applies to battles with defenseless humans. Truly pathetic."

The mouths started to whisper on the other ear, Mahisa couldn't distinguish of what they were talking about. It was gibberish followed by a cruel laugh. After that, darkness slowly wrapped around the raksasha who gave a soul crushing howl.

The woman stood, giving Mahisa her back. But something told him that she knew he was there, and that sheallowed his presence as a warning. She snapped her fingers and the shadows vanished, displaying the entrance of the Hellsing Mansion that he had seen in holograms.

His eyes sought for any sign of his envoys, only to find the bones that flesh and fur once covered. They faded to dust and wind swept it away.

"As you can see, heathen," the woman said, licking the blood smeared on her fingertips. "New Britannia won't fall easily to your pretences of menace."

He couldn't reply to her, feeling his soul pushed by her spiritual power back to his body, a continent apart. The last image carved into his mind was a flash of her blonde hair.

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Mahisa gasped for air as he awoke from his meditation, sweat bathed his face and he almost could swear that his heart was beating again, pounding out of his chest.

"Milord?" Lin bent down, features expressing genuine concern. "What happened, Mahisa? Why they are taking so long?"

Mahisa collected himself, feeling Zipporah's soft hands caressing his hair always calmed him down. "They won't come back…" he uttered, grimacing. He would not lose like his namesake did, but fate was taunting him again, the bitter feeling of impotence spread inside himself fast.

"What? Why?"

"We'll have to advance our plans, Lin," Mahisa brushed away Zipporah's attentions and rose. "We hadn't counted on Durga's challenge."