Special thanks: Lyanna Kane, my editor of this chapter.
Author's notes: Spoilers for the manga.
Durga
Chapter Five
- The Lovers
Speaking of storms… Seras Victoria sniffed the air, glancing to the sky above her. It was clear with the exception of a mass of obscure clouds coming from the east. It's going to rain.
Seras lowered her lashes again, feeling the softness of the breeze caressing her cheeks. She was greatly delighted by her little hideout on the roof of the Mansion, where few could bother her, where she could sprawl and nap without suffering obnoxious interruptions.
Seras desperately needed a few moments of peace in order to meditate, to grasp her real memories lest her mind with shatter with the imbued ones. Her sense of self was a turmoil, with flashes of personalities, attitudes and tastes that weren't hers lingering inside her subconscious. When she was overwhelmed and stressed, then it was at its most notable. She then wouldn't act like Seras but as Mike, Paul, Steven… Any of the fallen men she had fed on, the men she had taken on as a part of herself. But the strongest trait was also the oldest: Pip Bernadette.
I won't think of him… not now… Seras bit her bottom lip, chasing away the images of Pip's dying in an attempt to save her. The taste of his warm mouth against hers, a bloody and passionate kiss even in the brink of death. She snorted. The vampire conceded Frenchmen were the best kissers because of that. Remarkable that even after two centuries she recalled the taste of his blood. That had been one of the worst days in her life, with only the night her parents were murdered as its one rival.
Seras scowled to herself, Quit the morose act and seek a cigarette. Everything would be peachy with one. That line of thought worried her, she wasn't fond of tobacco. Nasty habit. It polluted people's health as well as the environment.
A Lightening illuminated the firmament, followed by the rumble of a thunder. The first drops of the rain fell on her face, awaking her numb senses. Smiling, she opened her mouth to allow them to get inside. Water didn't offer nourishment but it refreshed her throat nonetheless.
Seras remained static for a few minutes, enjoying the soft dripping around her, soaking her hair and uniform. Oblivious to fears of getting a cold or any human weakness.
The sudden change in the speed of the wind nearly took her off guard. The wind turning violent pointed to the storm worsening. If she hadn't been a vampire, the force would have probably thrown her out of balance. There was an uncharacteristic coldness to it, the scent of faraway mountain. Her blood boiled, recognizing it.
Seras panicked briefly, until she took a hold of her childish reaction as the scent of warmth and exotic spices supplanted the icy one. Then everything abated. That didn't tranquillise her to the least.
A bad omen? Seras wondered as she rose, glancing around in case there was anything suspicious. Winds of change… That wasn't natural. The atmosphere was charged, and to her this translated as the trademark job of someone--or something--with skill over the elements. She felt a shudder travelling down her spine.
Change. Such a dreadful word. Vampires were… not very good in adapting, they were creatures of stasis. Her own personal experiences in the matter hadn't been entirely too positive.
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"Master?" Peter asked, looking at the soaked Seras who just jumped from the roof to the ground, startling him.
Seras shook herself, cracking the muscles of her neck. "Watching the storm?"
"It's relaxing..."
Seras grinned, showing her fangs in gestures akin to those of a cat. "Vampires usually recoil to water."
"Like brats who don't wish to take a bath," her fledgling added with a mirthful expression.
"Not quite right but close," Seras let go to a laugh. "But the force of the elements, tempests -- it all entices us and it makes us stronger."
"Odd."
"Paradoxical," she corrected him, and something about him caught her attention at once. He had his hair lose. "You always tie it."
"I want to change my style." Peter shrugged, and it appeared to her as if he were hiding something. "It doesn't please you, does it?"
Seras didn't bother to answer, her slender fingertips brushing his long strands longingly. But not for Peter, not for any person in particular, but for the idea of one ghost of her past. Peter protested but she paid him no notice, and soon his hair was braided.
"Much better," Seras winked, admiring her handiwork.
"I am not he."
Her irises reflected a fleeting anger at the mention of her delusion, her mightiest flaw of character. "Don't remind me."
"Master..." Peter called out as she slammed the door behind her, entering the Mansion. She didn't know why she had acted violently around him. He was innocent. She would have to re evaluate her behaviour. Shaking her head, the former police girl walked towards Elspeth's office.
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When Seras ventured inside the office, Elspeth Hellsing was standing with her back to the door, looking outside the window with a lit cigar between her fingers. She was dressed in her knight attire, which increased Seras' suspicions of something being horribly wrong, her boss was dressed to march towards a battle.
"You have felt it." The Hellsing's voice was firm - was a statement, not a question. Seras knew she held very few doubts.
"Yes, I have," Seras replied, going closer to her, sparing a glance or two towards the headlines of the holograms. News around the country and the world. Her attention focused on the woman before her once more. She knew that the Hellsing wouldn't apologize for not telling her. It was her choice as her leader to keep secrets and Seras accepted it.
"Things are going from bad to worse," Elspeth commented, crushing the cigar on the wall.
"Because of the attack at the Mansion two nights ago? There were no causalities..."
Elspeth turned around, leaning to the closed window, supporting her weight there. "That those monsters had the cheek to put a foot in my propriety is quite worrisome by own merits, Seras," she started with a wry smirk. "But I was referring to the situation of the country beyond that... Many nations have blocked us economically for no good reason. They don't offer explanations and we need their primal supplies. At this rate, with the inner problems brought by the unification, the whole island could collapse."
Seras' eyes widened, she hadn't minded her problems beyond the attack of the supernatural. She had forgotten that there was a system that sustained everything. "But you have thought of something."
Elspeth nodded slowly, "I did, but I have run into certain obstacles in my current position of power. The people have lost the faith in the Prime Minister after the smuggling scandal. And the Royal family's image isn't much better given the former ruler's fetishes... They are asking for someone to transparently assure their government's smooth run but not to exercise direct control. Someone to keep everything in check."
"You?" Seras studied the woman before her; she had known her for a long time and could discern when she was fighting with herself to take decisions. This was one of those few occasions.
"Who else? If you want something right, do it yourself," Elspeth chuckled - the struggle inside her eyes was evident. Her boss was uncertain; it was never a good sign.
"Then?"
"It's not as easy to change from what we're accustomed. You should know this better than anyone."
They stared at each other in unspoken understanding for several minutes until Seras broke the silence.
"Of course, boss," she saluted and inclined her head with a kooky smile.
"Seras?" Elspeth wondered, abandoning her post.
Seras blinked, grabbing her forehead. "I'm sorry I was..."
"Gone."
Seras diverted her gaze, predicting a lecture coming from her superior.
"You are over two centuries, Captain," the knight's tone turned colder, less personal. "You don't need anyone to nanny you and you have shown this in battlefield. But if your feeding habit continues, you'll be driven insane by alien patrons of thoughts."
"I am not that weak!" Seras shouted, offended, hands closed in fists. "I can control it."
"I am not saying you are weak, Police Girl," she pointed out with a forceful tone. Seras winced inwardly; the moniker was usually done in a teasing tone unlike the one Elspeth just used. "But you mentally attach yourself when drinking their blood. You made them part of yourself, perhaps even capturing part of their spirits. I suggest that you should distance yourself emotionally while doing this next time, as a test..."
Seras sighed, unnecessary for someone who only used air to speak. "If that lifts a burden from your conscience."
"Good girl."
"I ask your permission to retire, Sir."
Elspeth pondered, stroking her chin with her fingertips. "I'm going out too, Seras. I would like to leave you in charge."
Seras' gaze wandered towards the floor. "It's the anniversary. And my free day." She needed to go, it was traditional.
"You should devote less of your time to dallying with the dead and pay more attention to the living and the unliving, Seras," Elspeth threw her a barb. "Go. Pick some flowers from the garden. At the smallest sign of violence, come back..."
"Yes, sir!" Seras was tempted to inquire on where she was going but knew the response already. Elspeth was going to fulfil her role as knight, regardless of the nature of the consequences.
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Yellow roses for friendship, red roses for passion. Seras was uncertain of which bloom to bring to Pip's grave, so she picked one of each.
Her feelings towards the dead Captain were almost blurred; the only thing she knew for sure was that it was the deepest sorrow she had felt ever since her parents were murdered. And the greatest rage afterwards.
Angry towards the Nazis who had killed him. Their laughter at her pain.
Angry towards Pip who died on her lap after saving her. His warm lips brushing hers.
Angry towards herself for being so weak and for being incapable to protect him. Her broken body that refused to move.
Angry towards the missed chances of experimenting her emotions, towards the opportunities lost as she rejected his advances. Opportunities to bring her the remorse of what could have been.
Pip was the only one, apart of mother and father Victoria, who had been willing to give up everything for her. And like them, he had showed it. Carrying her to safety through the rain of bullets that had pierced his legs. Seras couldn't see that, but she did smell and hear his pain. He hadn't dropped her even when she had requested it.
Stop, Seras Victoria, she chided herself, Are you agreeing with her that you're living around the dead?
Elspeth pried too much in what wasn't her business at times.
The cemetery was immense. All the Hellsing soldiers were buried here, unless their families requested cremation and that they should keep the ashes. That was one of the conditions accepted whilst joined the organization. Hellsing was more important than their personal lives; Hellsing would always come first and foremost.
At the end of the neatly lined tombs, marking the limits of the graveyard was the Hellsing bloodline's crypt. A huge building of two floors that resembled a small Victorian mansion. There were two figures on the gateway, an angel and a gargoyle giving the impression that they could move and strike down anyone who dared enter in the secret they so jealously guarded.
It wasn't merely an illusion. The bruises she had gained last time Seras had tried to step inside were evidence enough. Cursed Hellsing tricks.
She strode on the narrow path until arriving to Pip's grave. Her eyes wandered at the inscription:
Pip Bernadette.
(1972-1999)
Captain. Friend. Hero.
R.I.P.
She knelt before it, placing the bouquet on the ground, sweeping the dried flowers away. It struck her as humorous how an atheist had been given a Christian burial. According to the boss, he would enter in God's graces by his last accomplishments.
She prayed silently for hours, mostly for Pip but also for the souls of her parents, for Walter and for everyone she had held dear and was now lost. If she had known where her parents' tombs were, she would have visited them as well. It wasn't as if she was brooding or angsting - God forbid that – but Seras liked to contemplate what to do with her unlife as she remembered the fallen.
To distinguish which was her feelings and which were Pip's and the rest. Seeing their tombs had her recall them, that they had died and that she couldn't live their lives for them, that she could only fight for them. That this invasion couldn't persist any longer.
Seras made the sign of the cross and stood, scanning the place one more time before walking away. She had been absorbed by inner musings that she hadn't realized how late it was. The sun was setting on the west as the moon was rising as Queen of the Night. It had a foreboding halo around the surface, a red areola.
Seras stopped her pacing abruptly. Her jaw tensed as the smell carried by the wind filled her senses; the unmistakable aroma of blood and smoke.
'Master!' She heard Peter screaming inside her mind desperately.
I'm coming! She replied, shifting her arms into batwings and taking off. Hold them, Peter! Don't mess up this time!
Seras Victoria flew towards the Mansion, ignoring the call of her former Master, who had just stepped on British soil. Alucard could wait. She had a war to win.