Youth and Innocence
Chapter 3
Standard disclaimer: All characters belong to Kohta Hirano and his publishers. I have no stake in them.
3.
Walter carefully lifted the documents on the desk, nodding slightly as he read the printouts. He sifted through them, arranging them across the desk in order of importance. To the left of the reports, he added his own and a fellow agent's work. Where relevant, he placed some of the printouts on the reports.
In the last week of his illness, Integra had started moving some of her own items onto her father's desk. Still, she had yet to really make it hers. Walter peered into the trashcan and saw some photos of Lord Richard, the disgruntled and now deceased younger Hellsing. She'd been busy yesterday that much was certain. How much she could've absorbed of the dispatches remained to be seen. He checked his watch again. In deference to her age and all she'd been through, he had instructed the staff to let her sleep, though he had been awake since dawn. It was approaching ten, however, and he felt it might be time to do something about it. If depression was going to start, he didn't want her to indulge in too much rest. Picking up the intercom phone, he rang down to the kitchen and told them they could see to her food.
"Nothing to see to, sir. She's been and gone," the voice was perky, clearly pleased by her appearance this morning. "Some kippers, toast and jam, sir. Ate right well for all she's been through."
"Ah, thank you." Walter held the phone under his chin as he considered where she might have gone.
The grass soaked her from socks to skirt hem, but Integra was used to that. The deep green color of the grounds had to be paid for. Damp weather was hardly a steep price for the verdant paradise around her. Coming up on the old iron gates, she slowed. There were piles of brown dirt alongside the grave where her father would be placed. Though her uncle had argued with him he'd decided to forgo a wake. "A simple service at the graveside, like we do for the agents," he'd said and she was following his wishes. She hadn't wanted to listen at the time. Integra's eyes filled as she remembered how much she'd wanted them to stop talking about death. Here it was, though. She would make certain his wishes were carried out. The black hearse would bring his body home and they would lower him to the ground.
She sat at the mausoleum where her mother's ashes had been placed several years before. Silently, she began to talk to her. "Mother? I don't know what I'll do without him." A shiver ran through her and her shoulder's shuddered. There was no answer, just as there had never been since Lady Hellsing had passed on, quietly in her sleep. Integra could hardly remember her face, but her mother's scent would still come to her from time to time. She'd taken all of the old scarves her mother favored and kept them in a drawer. Just opening the drawer sometimes calmed her nerves during her father's illness.
The wind shifted suddenly and she shivered again, making herself get up. I'll be back here soon enough, she thought sadly, and I won't be alone. The guest list was small, but there were eleven very important men coming to judge her. The Protestant Knights effectively ran England behind the scenes. When one of their numbers died, it was a huge blow to the whole group. Arthur had prepared them as best he could, but it would be a rough transition. Integra knew her uncle had his supporters among the group and they would need convincing. This was a deciding moment, but one she had been raised to handle. As she walked along, she scuffed her shoes against the stones. I can do this, she asserted to herself, I can do it because I must. The sound of clapping seemed to come to her mind. It made her smile.
Walter stood by the back patio door watching her return. It was four hours until the burial service and they still had bodies to dispose of. "Miss Hellsing!" She turned at his voice and composed herself.
"Uncle Wal-" she stopped as he held up his black-gloved hand.
"Miss Integra, your mother favored you calling me Uncle, and even your father feared her wrath enough to let you do it, but now?" She had been raised to call adults either by their title or to use aunt and uncle to describe them. Perhaps her mother missed the closeness of her own family, but it felt out of place now. His gray eyes held no resentment at the switching of their positions. He was, in fact, amused. "I would prefer you refer to me as Walter, or as an agent."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you… Walter." He held the door as she entered. Integra shook off her jumper and tossed it to a nearby love seat. She crossed her arms, letting one hand touch the gauze over her healing wound. "Your report?" She arched an eyebrow as he reacted to her change of topic.
"On the desk, as you requested."
"Good. I'll read it as soon as," she paused, noticing a family photo on a bookshelf. "Um, they'll be here in a few hours and there's the, you know…" her face flushed as she fumbled for words.
"As soon as you feel ready to, I'll accompany you, young miss." Walter fought back a need to protect her. He would be willing to clean up the mess as he was accustomed to doing during field work all the time. Thirteen year olds should be loitering in shopping districts or whatever it is they do, he thought, but she needs to face this.
She nodded, but stayed where she was. "I know what he is," her eyes met Walter's, "but why?"
"Are you wondering if we should kill him?" The lines around his eyes crinkled as she looked away. The barest whisper of the word 'yes' hung in the air. He'd often asked himself the same thing, at her age. "The easy answer is that he's damned hard to kill." He watched her body stiffen, as if he was implying she was weak, but he went on, "the hard answer is that he's your servant, through your great grandfather, and can be a great asset to Hellsing." Walter was prepared for many more questions, but she began to walk to the doorway.
"Let's get this over with, then."
Walter was pleased to see that his chat with the butler the day before had yielded some result. The stairway and a little bit beyond had been swept at least. From the broom and accouterments that were lying haphazard across the hallway, he imagined that the cleaners had been called away suddenly, or Alucard had found a way to frighten them from a distance. Most likely the latter, he decided. They passed locked doorways in silence; Integra's shoes providing the only soundtrack. Click clack, click clack. Walter's black leather shoes were Italian, custom made and nearly silent. They were as supple as a dancer's, but with some stability due to the amount of running that was part of his work. The supernatural seemed to hate sitting around in nice libraries to be killed. Well, there was that one job some years ago, he remembered, but the exception proved the rule.
His wardrobe was quite simple, not like in his youth. There were pictures still in existence of him in his flamboyant days. Now he stocked only what was necessary to get the job done. For the job at hand, he should have probably swung by his quarters to get coveralls. He looked down at Integra, her face cast in grim determination. Her clothes were likewise ill suited to hauling dead bodies about, dressed as she was in a simple black dress and Mary Jane-style shoes.
Integra slowed as they neared the room. She heard sounds in her head, but couldn't place them. Music? Howling? Screams? It wasn't loud, more like a background humming though it became louder as they neared the last corridor. She glanced up at Walter, but he didn't appear bothered by it. They hadn't spoken since he'd gestured her down the staircase and she was unsure how to break the silence. She took a deep breath, noticing the musty, damp scent. "Un… um, Walter," she looked up as he stopped. "What, what should I call him?"
There was laughter in his eyes as he considered his answer. 'Uncle Alucard' seemed too good to pass up, but her face was so earnest that he couldn't bring himself to say it. "I find, Miss, that you can't go wrong by being polite." He smiled at her. "You may also ask him how he would like to be addressed. He is your servant."
Her face took on a thoughtful expression and she bit her lower lip before asking,"Are we ready, then?"
Walter flexed his gloved hands and exercised his shoulders. Shouldn't need to battle him, he thought, but you never know. Twenty years is a long time to be left to molder. Which face will the monster wear? A shudder ran down Walter's back at the memories of Alucard's early attempts to seduce him. He looked down at Integra and nodded.
She reached her hand out to the metal, hesitated, and then tried it. There was no sound, not even the rhythm of breathing as they held their breath, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. She had opened it before. Integra gave a confused glance up at Walter before jiggling the handle again, more vigorously this time. A horrible realization crawled along Walter's spine. When he could find the words, he began, softly, "Young Miss." He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her. "Young Lady Hellsing," she still did not respond and her frustration was mounting, "Integra, stop it!" Either the commanding note in his voice or the dark sound rumbling from behind the doorway cut through to her. Integra, hand still on the door, looked stunned.
"He doesn't want to tell you, child," came a voice, like a wave crashing down.
Integra's eyebrows knit, a small furrow appearing on her forehead. "What?" Phrased like a question, it came out sounding more like an order. "Tell me what?"
"She will make a good leader, won't she, Angel?" Alucard chuckled at Walter's annoyance. "Still," the voice droned on, "will she have anything to back up that arrogance?"
"Walter, what does he mean?" her voice had an edge of anger.
"Well," he would try to be truthful, but he could sugar coat it, "as your father taught you-"
"No," she interrupted, "what won't you tell me?"
"Oh… yes." Walter's fingers twitched. "I will make this quick." With one fluid motion, he grabbed her hand off of the door and before she could protest, sliced a line down her pinky finger with a wire. Alucard's laughter masked her scream as Walter pinched the hurt finger and ran it along the runes nearest the latch.
Integra pulled away, her eyes venomous. "Don't you ever!"
He ignored her and opened the door. Causing pain didn't bother him, breaking her trust, though it was the most expedient way, did. The cell was a sea of darkness, the only light falling in from the hallway sucked up immediately. Walter was jostled out of the way by Integra. He put a hand out to stop her, but she pushed it away and proceeded down the stairs with an air that the Queen would've envied. Walter pulled his torch out of his pocket and shined it ahead of her. The sight before them knocked any thought of his transgression out of both their minds. Richard Hellsing and his cronies lay before them. In an apparent effort to be helpful, Alucard had stretched their bodies out, forming a cross and placing their heads, or what was left of them, between their knees. Walter noted that Alucard had split several bodies open in places, either when he killed them or later, he couldn't tell due to the blood loss. He supposed he wouldn't be writing a report on this case, but he couldn't stop his brain from inspecting the scene.
Integra whispered a prayer and put her hand up to her nose to block the stench. The wounded hand, with the smell of her blood, over all the other odors was too much. Integra turned her head and let the churning of her stomach rush out against a corner.
Walter moved the light along all the walls. "Alucard? Show yourself." By the time he caught a ripple of movement on the ceiling it was too late. The door slammed shut. He forced the contents of his stomach back down as he knelt to help Integra up. "Ah. I forgot to warn you about his sense of humor." She looked at him and he could see the myriad of emotions playing across her face. He smiled kindly as she worked through her thoughts.
"This is," Integra waved her hand to encompass the locked door, the bodies and even the corner with her partially digested breakfast. "This is normal to you?"
His smile broadened. "Indeed, Miss." He handed her the torch and went to try the door. Though it was closed, the latch had not caught and he was able to open it. "Stay here while I get the bags and cleaning things."
She stood mutely, surveying the grisly sight. Although the cell was cool, some decomposition had begun and their bellies had swollen against their belts. She supposed it was rigor that caused their hands to curl, but it was as if her uncle had his fist raised at her. She looked away. Blood stained some parts of the wall, but it was impossible to tell how long it had been there. It could've been the whole twenty years she mused. A sudden and chilling thought occurred. "Uncle Walter! Walter! Agent!" She used any name she could and stopped only when she heard him skidding through the doorway, his wires glinting off her torchlight. "Where did he go? Where has he gone, Walter?"
Integra watched his face go from fierce back to friendly. "He won't have gone far," he stepped out and then back in, this time with body bags, a mop and bucket. "Daylight and all. Let's finish this task quickly, then we'll have an hour to clean ourselves up before the memorial." He handed her a vinyl apron, some gloves and the mop. "Be a good girl and see to the floor."
Walter turned to the corpses and missed Integra battling herself over whether to whack him with the mop. She gave up and moved to the bucket. "How does this work? Can't we get someone to do this?"
Walter straightened up, his back to her. "No, Miss." The Hellsing staff had very low turnover. They required a lot of their people, but they compensated well. No one questioned why they needed to become expert at getting blood out of carpets and upholstery, and few asked why they weren't to go into the lower basement. He continued to move bodies and associated parts into the bags and smiled when he heard her try the wringer a few times. The new director was starting off quite nicely.