Youth and Innocence
Chapter 11
Standard disclaimer: All characters belong to Kohta Hirano and his publishers. I have no stake in them.
11.
The day dawned unseen by the master of the Hellsing manor. Walter had sent word to all that Integra should be allowed to sleep. He was up as usual and seeing to things in her office. Having already sifted through the data Leung retrieved he felt that the end of the case was almost in sight. They may not be able to hand over the culprits to the Knights as he'd wanted, but at least they could show marked progress. He shook his head as a painful thought pushed faintly on his heart. "Monster," he said softly shaking his head. Last night he'd listened to Patrick use that word over and over as they returned to their rooms. Each time it was like a knife twisting. Agent Leung's event report to Integra had been brief, but he poured the truth out to Walter once they were in private.
"I can't get it out of my mind," Pat sounded miserable as he bared his soul to Walter. They spoke of addiction, both to the violence and to drugs. There was no life for him in the 'normal' world, no place else to go. Who, outside the walls of Hellsing, could understand?
I don't think I gave him any answers, Walter sighed. We are all monsters here. He shook his head, "Still, she..."
The hallway door opened and Pettrus came waltzing in, stopping suddenly when he saw Walter. They eyed each other warily. "Is not your office, Dollnez. Not yet."
With his promise to Integra, Walter was constrained to a purely defensive position. Thankfully, he wasn't physically bound by her request to him, the way Alucard would be, but it was bad enough to know how she felt. No, this wasn't the time to fight. "We had the chance to talk last night, Pettrus. Don't jump into things you don't understand. Leave it."
"Don't understand? What, I don't understand you killed Bennett? Think I don't understand you'd kill Integra? What don't I understand? Think I don't understand how you got your position? Think I don't know what you been doing, you with that monster in your room?"
Walter's fingers twitched, but there was no other indication of his feelings. Like wolf packs, the agents would scrap and fight periodically, establishing dominance and hierarchy. Usually Walter let his abilities in the field speak for him, retaining his position on top through his accomplishments. Occasionally, he had to smack someone down, but without Arthur there to back him up, it was awkward. Integra would see this as another traitorous act and he had no idea how she might react.
The two men stared, Tom taking confidence from Walter's inaction. The loose code of behavior they lived by took marks off the first one to draw weapons, so he resisted getting his knives out... yet.
"Walter, you there? Stephan here," chirped the intercom.
Neither man dropped eye contact, but Walter slid a finger over and pushed the button. "Yes."
"Ah, you got a call. Bird. On the vicar's line." The words got the attention of both men and the danger of the moment was gone. Personal battles were one thing, but they took backseat to the organizations.
"Brilliant, patch it through up here, please," Walter pulled a pen out of his pocket and Pettrus crossed the office to hand him a notepad. He acknowledged it with a muttered thanks, then put a chipper look on his face and answered the ringing phone, "Hello?"
A woman's voice cried out, "Tim, how could you?" Pettrus gave Walter a sour look and made his way out.
"Oh, Emily, I'm so sorry," he had to stop there, not sure if he was apologizing for leaving or if he'd been found out. She let out a choked sob, so he went on with a neutral tone, "I enjoyed meeting you."
"No, you... I thought we... it's no use," it took her a few more sobs to become coherent. "I cried all night, but," she said as he murmured another apology, "I'm thinking I may not come to join you," a loud nose blowing punctuated her anger.
Walter was torn. Discouraging her was good, as it meant she would live, but bad as it would take away a chance to follow her. "Oh, well." He sighed loudly and fell into character, "I won't try to change your mind, but as I recall you have some strong reasons to follow the call. And it is a calling, Emily, not everyone is invited, not everyone is worthy of becoming one of the Risen. You're a special person. Don't let your feelings about me cloud your judgment," there, almost truthful. Walter felt much like a used car salesman. He knew exactly what that felt like, having done sales as part of a case many years before, vampires in the car market. He listened to the other end. She was breathing in a staccato way. He imagined her in her untidy home, maybe sitting on the stool in the kitchen, a cup of soggy cereal waiting for her.
"Oh Tim, I don't know," she had stopped sobbing, though.
He decided to blend more truth in, "I didn't want to take advantage of you really. You are quite pretty. And I am old enough to be your father," he tried to cheer her up a bit and it seemed to work.
She sighed heavily, "I was a bit pissed," then she sounded a bit brighter, "but you're not quite that old. If you come along, why don't you get reborn along with me?"
Walter's vanity accepted her compliment, though his rational mind could've argued. As for the offer, "I'll think about that, maybe it is time." Might as well give her something positive to think on, for all the pain she seemed to have put herself through over him. "Oh, damn. I've got a consultation in five minutes; call me whenever you like." Maybe that would stop her from contacting the real cultists and finding him out, at least for a while.
"Cheers, then Father Baker. I mean Tim," she laughed lightly as they hung up.
Walter held the handset to his ear for a minute after the call, then pushed the intercom, "Draper? Did you get a clear trace?"
"Yes sir and it checks out."
"Good." He clicked the button and put down the phone, never can be too paranoid.
"Oh no, I'm late," Integra looked out the window at the bright morning sky. She counted on Mary bustling in with breakfast at the same time each day. Better ask Patel to find me an alarm clock, she thought as she brushed out her long hair. Today she was to start her Hellsing training with advanced firearms and beginning hand to hand combat. Leung had looked pretty bad last night though. It'd surprised her, actually. Her father had mentioned him by name when warning her of the agents. He was supposed to be quite tough, but didn't look it last night. He'd gotten them good information from the looks of it. She'd have a go at the files later. Maybe Leung would feel better tomorrow and they could start then. That left firearms.
Thinking about shooting made her a little nervous. Walter had made sure she could handle guns safely when she was eight. Her father enjoyed target shooting, but she really did it to be with him. It was noisy and smelly. After her mum died, he seemed to lose interest in such things and it took his death for her to see how important it was. Now she wondered if every target would have her uncle's face on it. Would she learn to love it like her father did? Whose face did he see? As she finished getting dressed, Integra realized how little she knew about her father. Every child sees their da' as some kind of hero, but hers really was. He worked hard to keep the world safe from the scourge of the undead. Still, she realized he kept his own vampire prisoner in the dungeons... Needing some form of reassurance, she went to the drawer in her father's dresser where her mother's scarves rested. Lifting them to her nose, she smelled nothing. A feeling of despair settled in her chest and she sat on the bed. The lovely scent didn't make the move from her room to her father's. She looked at the fabric in her hands, wondering if she really knew her parents at all. A knock on the door reminded her that self pity did no one any good. "Enter." She tried to smile for Mary.
"Teggy love, you already up? I was trying to let you sleep in a little. Mr. Dollnez said you'd been out late?" She fussed about with delicate china dishes and a little notebook of the day's schedule.
"Well, yes, but I've asked you before to wake me at the same time each day," she paused as an important thought struck her, "and it is I you work for, not Walter." She stood tall, he didn't get to countermand her orders!
The older woman stopped in her tracks and looked at her for a time, blinking rapidly before answering in a tight voice, "And how much longer do you think you'll be needing my services, Lady Hellsing?" Mary wished she could take those words back almost as soon as she spoke them, but there they were, standing between them. She turned and rushed from the room, still clutching the day planner in her hands.
Integra looked at the breakfast tray, but she had no stomach for it. Mary was like a mother to her, at what age do people fire their mothers? No, I'll track her down later, she shook her head and her thoughts returned to her father. Oh Father, why? So many questions started with the same words, why did he... and none of the questions had answers. The two who could likely answer them were the two she shouldn't trust, Walter and Alucard.
Integra didn't want to see Walter yet, especially if Mary had just run to him. That left the monster. She reasoned that if he were asleep, no harm would be done, but if he were awake, she'd ask him the questions that she'd been nearly bursting with. Fortified with these thoughts, she walked back to the hallway that led down. Once she'd stepped onto the first step, her plan looked a bit sketchier. The lights were dim and a feeling of fear washed over her. Each step took determination. She didn't know which of the doors was his, but decided she would start with the cell she'd found him in and work her way back up. Moving into the lower basement, her courage almost failed. This was a bad idea. There was no way she should be down here. Memories of their meeting played in her mind. Memories of killing her uncle joined them. She leaned against the cool stone and tried to fortify her spirit. It was morning, vampires powers are weaker in the day. This mansion belonged to her and she was free to move anywhere in it. In addition, he was her servant; he'd even called himself her willing slave. She shouldn't fear going to his room. But which one was it?
As she walked slowly on, she noticed a door that had new paint on it, black paint. Well, it was worth a try? Integra reached for the handle, half expecting one of the dreadful hallucinations to come into her mind. After a second of touching the metal, all she felt was a sense of relief. She giggled to herself that she was probably just opening the janitor's cupboard, but stopped laughing as the door opened slightly. Inside a small room was nothing except for a large black coffin. She stood still, unsure whether to go forward or run. As nothing bad happened, the hesitation faded and she moved into the room.
The casket had a sleek look. It appeared well cared for, gleaming even in the dim light from the corridor. She approached it, reading the words carved into the ebony wood and memorizing them to look up the meaning later. Integra was a bit afraid to touch it, but a need was building up in her. Tentatively, her hands moved to the edge of the lid. She didn't mean to open it, but it lifted so noiselessly that she was staring at him before she knew what she was doing. Integra had seen corpses before. She'd seen her mother, she'd seen her father and various of the old people who'd meant something to her family. Of course, she'd watched her uncle and the treacherous agents become corpses. Somehow, Alucard looked different. How can it be true that they are forever dead and he comes back to life every night? He looked like he was sleeping, except for the utter stillness of his body. His arms rested over his chest and his shoulder length hair spilled across a white satin pillow. He was beautiful in repose. She'd been uncomfortably aware that he was handsome, but now with his face relaxed in sleep, he looked like an angel. If he'd looked more like the monster she knew he could be, she probably wouldn't have reached her hand out to touch his face.
Integra's finger brushed his cheek, just under one closed eyelid. Cold marble was the best comparison she could think of. There was texture and a softness to the skin, but without the warmth of a living being, it was confusing to her fingertips. As surprising as the feel of his skin was her own boldness. Still, as he was her property, in a way, and as he was asleep... She ran her fingers along his face,touching every inch before tracing a line from his forehead down to his chin.
Alucard's hand shot up, instincts reacting before his brain had a chance to interpret what was happening. Rushing blood overwhelmed his hearing. His fingers wrapped around a human forearm, but were prevented from crushing it by a warning pain somewhere in his psyche. Stopping the warm, moist touch was his highest priority, then came opening his eyes to assess the situation. He pulled back his lips, tingling where her fingers had teased them, exposing fangs. Her scream tore through his mind and he abruptly stopped twisting the wrist he'd grabbed. All of his senses were again working together and the result was astonishing. She'd dared to touch him?
"Curiosity killed the cat, my Master." He tried to determine if he had hurt her or simply scared her. Considering that she was fighting with all her might, he decided she was simply startled. Alucard retained control of her wrist. There was no way out. He considered for a moment pulling her into the coffin with him, to feel her living body struggle against his was tempting though he was quite certain of retribution from the Hellsing bindings. "I assure you, there is no one to hear your screams down here," his voice dripped with venom, this was a topic he knew quite well, having screamed for more than half a century in this very room. It amused him that Walter had chosen it, a pointed reminder or a tip of the hat from one sadist to another? Regardless, it suited him. That his safety, his world had been violated by this child was unacceptable.
She was trying to calm herself, having figured out that she would pull her shoulder out of its socket before she could possibly free herself. "Get... get away, let me go," she was having trouble regulating her breathing, much less her heart rate, but he gave her points for trying. Integra saw the physical reaction he was having to her fear and lost the small amount of self control she had gathered. Her hand began to scratch at his exposed skin above his glove.
"May I point out that you are the one who has violated me?" Alucard regarded her calmly as he sat up, giving the tiniest twist to her arm just to see what her reaction would be. She stopped struggling, using her free hand to rub the shoulder of her trapped arm. There were no red warnings from his bonds and Integra hid her fear as best she could. Good. "What I would like to hear is an apology." To his amusement, she stammered, but couldn't bring herself to get the words out.
"I- I'm... no, I hardly think I need to... You're the one who... Let me go!" She pulled again, her voice getting high and shrill, "I- I order... Let go of me!" When he did, she lost her balance, landing hard on the floor and kicking her legs to push herself away from his casket. "Why?" she breathed. Earlier, she'd meant to ask a lot of questions, but only one came to mind now, why had he reacted so violently?
He stood, moving out of his bed and closer to her, hand outstretched. He questioned himself as well. Integra was growing on him, though he wasn't sure why. She refused his assistance, pushing herself up from the floor even though it was less than graceful. He regarded her before answering. "Perhaps another question is in order, my Master? What would your reaction be, waking in the night and finding my hands on your sleeping body?" His face lost its regal calmness as understanding and just a touch of a blush dawned on her. He pursed his lips considering her. "To be a true vampire," he said, walking toward and touching his coffin lovingly, "you gain much, but there are... trade offs as well." He turned and looked hard at her, "Do not touch," words failed him as a multitude of languages all failed to capture the grandeur of his final domain, his kingdom, so he settled for "my home." He smiled politely, lips closed to cover his teeth. "If you need my assistance in the day, you have only to call."
Integra didn't know what to say, she wanted to apologize, but she didn't want to show weakness. Her throbbing arm helped her retain some anger toward him. With a cheeky tone she asked, "Call? How?" She looked around the room. There were built in cabinets along one wall, a sink and a door that no doubt led to a water closet; it looked like electricity had been run to the room, although the light fixture didn't seem to work, but no phone. She saw his smile turn a bit malicious again. It was better than the patronizingly patient smile he'd had.
"You need only sing my name, Master." This was one of the many times he blessed her for her ignorance. Her knitted brow told him that she suspected he was putting her on, but she had no other guidance on the delicate matter of their mutual bondage.
"Sing?"
"Well, it's in your name, is it not?" That old Dutchman had meant it more as Hell's Gate, but as long as Alucard was going with this joke he'd enjoy it to its fullest.
But humor crept up on her face as well, "So my father locked you away to avoid having to sing for you? How very sensible." She gloated as his smile turned down just a few notches. "Well, it's been quite educational, thank you, but I must get going before Walter thinks my absence is an excuse to take over."
He chuckled to himself as she left. Yes, as much as he hated getting attached to mortals, she was growing on him.
After wandering between her office and Walter's, Integra was beginning to get worried. "Mr. Patel?" she saw the butler carrying a bundle of tablecloths in from the delivery bay.
"Yes, Miss?" He had been one of the staff that her mother had especially asked for some years ago. Integra assumed it was because he was Indian, but such a connection was lost on her. He was quiet and efficient, that was all she asked for.
"I'm looking for Mr. Dollnez, have you seen him?"
With the look typical of a grown up answering a child, he smiled, "Of course, Miss. He is waiting for you at the range. You haven't forgotten your lessons today have you?" He watched, amused, as she picked up her skirt and ran.
Truth be told, Agent Dollnez was in a chair, sleeping. He woke to the sound of her footsteps ringing down the hallway. The range was a low brick building built by her grandfather for family and friends to enjoy. Walter had plans sketched out for her approval to enlarge it for training purposes, but that would wait for another day. This morning, he'd spoken with some of the soldiers that had been recommended. Once they had background checks from military intelligence, they'd have to get serious about the transfer details. Now he stood, patiently looking over the guns he'd placed on the table. "Good morning, Lady Integra." She mumbled an apology, but he ignored it. "Did you find what you were seeking in the dungeons?"
Her eyes went wide, "You knew?" Why didn't he warn her? She rubbed her sore shoulder.
Walter nodded, "I tried to find you earlier," he allowed, "and saw the door opened. The staff do not go there, not without my knowledge." When her face began to cloud up, he went on, "Your relationship with your servants, whether Alucard or your governess, is none of my concern... unless you would care for some advice?"
Integra stood, neither nodding nor in any way affirming his question, but staying quiet long enough that Walter felt confident to go on, "Regarding your governess, do recall that she has your best interest at heart. It is rare to find the type of loyalty that she offers you. Beware your servant though, he is loyal in his own way, but never mistake that he has your interests at heart. For that matter, he may well have no heart," he searched her face and found clues there as to how the meeting with the vampire had gone. Good, he thought, so she was learning. "Shall we begin your lesson?"
Integra was grateful to change topics, "Please do." She looked over the guns, in different stages of assembly. Walter had chosen a wide variety and she hoped she wouldn't have to shoot all of them. One exceedingly large gun drew her eye and she pointed, "What's that one then?"
"Ah," Walter smiled, "Go ahead, pick it up."
She did as he said and cursed at the weight of it, her arm still hurting from Alucard, "Bloody Hell!" Her father wouldn't have approved her language, but Walter said nothing. She lifted the gun, but its barrel was too heavy to hold level, even with two hands.
"It's designed to a kick like a cannon. Imagine for a minute what an enemy would feel like facing down that barrel. Now imagine killing with it," he watched her dutifully try to lift it again.
"I can't, Un- Walter," she felt herself slipping into trusting him again. Being here with him felt good, like old times when he first taught her safety, but she shook her head. She wasn't a child anymore.
He grinned widely, "Yet you do that every time you send Alucard out. The agent wields the weapon, but you wield the agent, do you understand?" She shook her head and he waved a hand, "it will make more sense later, my Lady. You may put it down now. We're out of ammunition on that one, that's the only reason I have it, but more will be in very soon." He'd sent in a rush order days ago; obtaining the blessed silver was the only hold up. "Try one of these," he pointed to the small, but lethal guns spread across the table. Integra picked one at random. "Lovely. Now take it apart."
She looked at him blankly. It must've been four years since she'd last had to do that; considering all that had happened, it was like a lifetime, really. She shrugged and picked up the gun, looking it over carefully. It was a Colt, US Government model, but someone had etched Hellsing onto it in a lovely script. As to how to disassemble it, she was still baffled. Walter moved away from the table, sitting down in a nearby chair. He had several folders next to him and she was annoyed to see him pick one up, effectively ignoring her. Channeling her anger into the task at hand, she found the mechanism to release the clip. The metal clanged, but Walter didn't look up. When she had finally pulled apart all that she could, he stood and brought out the oils and tools so that she could clean it. "This is taking forever, Walter. I should be working," the whine in her voice was unwelcome, but there was nothing she could do about it.
"Will you say the same thing to your math tutor? Chemistry? Working with guns is every bit as important as any of your other subjects. I intend to have the agents and Alucard work with you over the next few years until the gun is an extension of your will."
The intensity in his eyes scared her slightly, but his words touched her. Surely a true enemy wouldn't bother? Unsure, she turned away from him and went about cleaning the pistol. Walter settled in to read Reynold's reports.
"Sir Hellsing?" Pettrus' voice filtered through the doorway. "Ah, there you are, sir." He ignored Walter who stood and walked to Integra. "Gentleman's here for the dogs, sir."
"Oh," she had pushed the animals out of her mind, but it would be nice to have less of their barking around the grounds. "Walter?" she turned to her teacher.
"I'll take care of this, Miss," He'd been pained to see how she was handling the assembly, but his philosophy was to let her do it completely, even wrong, before he stepped in. It was the only way to work with the Hellsings, truth be told. Hovering over her as she worked would lead to rebellion and doing it for her would lead to laziness. He watched her go, pleased with their first lesson.
They could hear the kennels well ahead of reaching them. The noise level was staggering. Every dog was raising a protest over the strange men who entered and they all had to shout over the barking and crying. Integra was shocked to see that it was Mr. Riley, the stable master who was blubbering. The other men politely ignored his grief as they counted the fox hounds and moved crates into the building. She had to stand directly in front of him to get his attention. "Pull yourself together," she shouted to be heard. She turned to the man walking toward her. "Oh. Good day Sir Bolcom," she offered her hand to him. He took it, but rather than shake it, pulled it to his lips.
"Good day, young lady," he smiled as she jerked her hand away. "Good set of dogs you have here." His voice was cracking slightly from competing with the animals. "Always enjoyed hunting with your father."
Integra wondered if he meant hunting fox or vampire, and would've asked, but this was no place for any conversation, much less about a classified activity. She wished the dogs would calm down and she put her hands over her ears. Bolcom signaled that they should walk outside to talk, but all of the dogs suddenly stopped. With the exception of a few whines here and there, they all fell silent. Most laid down; Integra thought they looked to be sulking somewhat, their eyes following the men who dropped steel crates in amazement.
Sir Bolcom chuckled, drawing her attention back to him. "So, you haven't put her away yet?" Seeing the girl's confusion he added, "sorry, put 'it' away. You'll have to forgive me, it's been a while since I had to care about the creature's mind games."
Integra tried to summon the blank face she'd seen on Walter so many times. Now was not a good time to fly into a rage and she assumed he meant the vampire. She wouldn't discuss Alucard in front of so many civilians. Pettrus stood behind her looking at the dogs, now being led into their crates for transport. At least Mr. Riley had calmed. Bolcom opened his mouth to speak, but as the stable master approached he said nothing.
"Sorry thar, Miss Hells'ng," Riley said, still wiping his eyes. "Just, so many years, ah've..." He paused, looking between them and back at the emptying kennels. He blew his nose into a checked cloth. "Yer gett'n some good hoonds, Sir," he shook Sir Bolcom outstretched hand vigorously before leaving to help load crates into the lorry. As the dogs left their home they again gave free voice to their unhappiness. The sounds carried back inside with only Integra, Pettrus and Bolcom left to hear them.
Sir Bolcom picked up where they had left off the night before, "You see this really is the best way, don't you Integra?"
"Naturally," deliberately, she misinterpreted, "I'm not fond of the dogs. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to see to." Turning on her heels, she and her secretary moved to the door. She heard him call her name, sounding a bit hurt.
She stopped only when he called after her, "Mind you don't grow fond of that dog you're keeping either. Nothing good will come from that." Diplomacy was not her strong suit and although Integra thought about turning back to invite him into her office where they could speak freely, her pride wouldn't let her. With Pettrus behind her, she stalked back to the mansion.
"He'll go seek out Walter, you know," Tom bent down to whisper.
Integra said nothing. She couldn't worry about that now, her mind was burning with Sir Bolcom's last words. If she wasn't growing fond of him, why did she reach out to touch him? Why did the feel of his skin please her?