Youth and Innocence
Chapter 2
Standard disclaimer: All characters belong to Kohta Hirano and his publishers. I have no stake in them.
2.
Integra watched him arrive on motorbike, its engine sputtering all the way up the drive. She wanted to yell out to him, or run and catch a ride like she'd done as a girl. Standing tall and straight, hands behind her back, she longed for those easier days. Her father had impressed upon her that she was born to be a leader, lives depending on her at all times. She had thought he meant the lives of agents, like Walter who now waved at her as he removed his helmet and unhooked his briefcase. After watching her father die, she'd come to the realization that he meant much more than that. She was responsible for all of England. No, she reminded herself, all the peoples of the United Kingdom relied on her to keep them safe from the demons of Hell. The Royal Order of Protestant Knights will be coming soon and I'll tell them that I am ready.
His smile changed as he bounded up the steps toward her. "Integra? Miss Hellsing? Are you all right?"
A million answers flitted through her mind, but she settled on, "Agent Dollnez, report."
He concealed his surprise as quickly as he could. "I have a full report written," he tapped his case, "but I think we'll be hearing from the rest of them again. I was only able to interrogate minions." His face was all business, but he was searching hers for clues as they walked inside the large mansion doorway. In the marble lined foyer, she looked even paler. "Miss?"
"Yes, very good. Have the report on my desk." She looked up at him and realized that her vision was clouding. Thank God I lasted until…
Walter caught her as she collapsed. He felt the bulge in her black jacket where she'd packed fabric over her bullet wound. Several of the house staff came running and helped him carry her to the closest study. It was one that the family used to greet formal guests. Back in the days of feudalism, the lord of the manor would use it to make tenant farmers and complaining creditors wait. As such, it was richly decorated and lined with signs of the family's prestige. Of course, the Hellsings had purchased it about a hundred years ago, so it wasn't their own family swords or rifles that lined the mantel, though their pictures did. The furniture had been updated and it was on one of the lush leather couches that the young girl was draped. She stirred and fought off the helping hands. Walter nodded at them to leave. "Integra, you're bleeding? You didn't mention being injured."
She shook her head for a minute and fought back tears. Damn my uncle's soul, she thought. "I said he'd tried to kill me!"
Walter's eyes narrowed, no need to point out that she'd kept it all pretty vague and he'd had to piece it together. "And the bodies?" As she grew paler still, Walter opened the wet bar near the bookshelf and pulled out two glasses and a crystal jar of brown liquid. He pressed a shot glass into her hand. "Just take it slow," he hoped it wouldn't tar his already blackened soul to give her whiskey at so young an age, "drink it all." He downed his in a heartbeat.
She coughed and grabbed at her throat as the nasty heat wound its way down her. "He, they… still there, with him… it." She took a deep breath and tried to get command of herself again. It had taken too long to calm down this morning, after trying to staunch her shoulder wound. She'd collected some data from the Teletype machine and the computer rooms, but made no decisions regarding her uncle's body or her newly found monster. Like a child, she'd kept praying that all would be well once Walter returned.
He paced in front of her. Several things still didn't make sense. "Then where is he, the vampire? Alucard?" It was already afternoon, he'd be awake after twenty years of sleep. Had he gone wandering to celebrate his new freedom?
"Alucard?" Integra felt fully in control of herself again. The whiskey was horrible, but effective. "You know him? Knew of him?" Walter's face did not change; his gray eyes were locked with hers, but unreadable. Her pitch rose as her anger did. "How is it I did not? Why did my father do that to me!" Blue eyes rimmed in red stared at the man who sat down next to her.
"There's no time now to worry about that," he soothed and patted her hair. Walter wasn't overly fond of children, but this one was special to him. He'd been present at her birth and watched her grow up into a little lady.
She wanted to yell, but he leaned forward and hugged her. At first, she tried to struggle, but Walter was quite a bit stronger than she. Integra had't been able to sleep except in very small naps while trying to escape her uncle and his men. Now that weariness combined with the relaxing effect of the alcohol.
Walter kept hold of her as her tears began. "Tut tut, child, it will be all right. I'll see to it." He felt her stiffen and was proud of her for wanting to protest. She would be a fine commander some day. This is not the day for it, though. She needed sleep. He held her tightly until she was lost to the world.
After calling her family's physician, Walter carried her upstairs to bed. He sighed as he closed the door. Nothing to do for it, he decided. With her governess standing guard over her, he would go look for his old 'friend.'
The first thing Walter noticed was how carelessly the cleaning was done in this part of the mansion. The lower dungeons had been closed off, of course, but even the upper area and the stairways seemed covered in dust. He could see the pattern of footsteps indicating men running and, in the other direction, a set of small footprints. He hoped those were Integral's and picked up his pace. Deeper into the labyrinth of hallways he went, guided by memory. We'll need better lighting here, he noted. It was hard to pinpoint, but he thought he might feel a bit of excitement at the idea of Alucard's return
"Angel of Death."
The voice sent a chill up his spine and his pace slowed as he approached the closed door. He smoothed a hand through his graying hair. Walter's lips curled into sly smile as he realized what had happened. "Lord Alucard, you're still trapped."
"She's quite a girl, isn't she?" Alucard remained in his gruesome throne, but used his extra eyes to look outside the mystical barriers on the door. He saw Walter lean against the door and pull out a pack of fags, lighting one before answering.
"She would be, wouldn't she?" He exhaled and chuckled. "Got the best of you, what?"
"Is it still safe, Walter?" The question had been burning at him, but he saw a look of confusion on the agent's face. "Did he keep it safe?"
Understanding seemed to dawn slowly. "Oh, that. Yes. Yes, I'm sure it is. Hmm, not sure where, though. I'll have a look, it may be in storage."
Alucard relaxed, closing his eyes, but keeping Walter in his mind. "You've grown old. Do you still see action?" He smiled as Walter stiffened and shrugged.
"I do pretty well, for an old man." Gentle laughter issued from the cell. Walter's ego soothed; he was only being teased. It will take a while to get used to his sense of humor again, he told himself. "From what I heard, you've grown old as well. Rotting corpse? I believe that's what she called you." More laughter issued forth, louder now as though Alucard had come closer to the entry.
"If you open the door, I'll show you a rotting corpse or three," he knew Walter couldn't, though. They'd been through this twenty years ago. He watched as Walter slid down the doorway into a crouch, his knees cracking softly in protest. They stayed like that for some time, until the sound of Walter standing and stomping out his cigarette let Alucard know that he'd be alone again. "Am I to be freed from this blasted cell?" He felt that he must ask, even if it felt like weakness.
Walter sighed. "The Knights will probably decide if she's able to take on the whole organization, at her age."
"That's not what I asked." He slouched back to the middle of the room. "Her last blood relative is dead. She is my master now."
"Quite so." He pursed his lips, considering next sentence, "I'm not sure she's ready for that." Walter began to walk away, knowing that the chill he felt was not due to the cold basement. I'd better head to the warehouse first he thought, and look for that damned coffin.