Book Dragon: "Appreciation goes out to Dark Helix, Lord Makura, pruningshears, and J Luc Pitard for reviewing the last chapter. As always, I thank anyone who has reviewed this story. I don't know Hellsing at all, and it's time for the next chapter."
Chapter 7
Things were better for the next three days.
It was her second week and she expected to be going home soon. At least for a little while. Grandma had told her father it would be two weeks. And yet, she found herself biting her lip, lost in thought about it. Grandma had bought her clothes. To wear. Here. Enough pants so she didn't have to wear a new pair of more than a week if she thought fit to.
So…what did that mean?
Easy, you're past trial basis and you're officially going to be Heir. The Alucard in her mind replied swiftly enough.
This thought scared her, but the more and more she looked around, the more and more true it was becoming. Why were they suddenly quizzing her in politics if she wasn't going to have any use for it? And why were all these etiquette manners, way of dress, and learning how to dance so suddenly very important?
Were they all crazy? The insane urge to grab the old woman, scary woman of steel who could have your ass in a sling, family or no family, by the shoulders and shake her, yelling 'HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!' was growing steadily each and every day.
Not that Lori was bold enough to do it.
Feverishly sketching again. It would go with all the other draws and the special note under the loose floor board she had found. Eyes staring from the dark and reaching fingers. Plenty of stick figures chasing each other. Was that one wearing a cowboy hat? She wasn't certain. Her hands just moved and the pencil did as it saw fit, and the drawing was obscure. And what the hell was with all the damn crosses all of a sudden?
She was leaning closer, looking at the details unraveling themselves from the air, concerned, when a shout rang out. A wild line scarred the drawing as she flinched, sat up, and looked at the door like a hunted animal. No one came bursting in. Still, she dropped the pencil and folded the paper up quick, ran to the bed and practically dove under it.
After the drawing was hidden for five minutes, she began to feel like she was paranoid. No other shouting rang out. Had it been her grandmother after all? What kind of scream had it been? Outrage or fear? She looked out the window and still found the sun up, huge and golden. It made her frown. She wanted to put on her jacket and stake out the place. And kill something if the chance presented itself.
Finally, curiosity won out.
Too many questions would be asked if she had the coat, but if she was carrying the gun, she could claim she was coming from the shooting gallery and, being too excited to ask a question, forgot she was carrying it. She nodded to herself as she thought up this story, shoving two clips in her pocket. Just in case. This felt a little fishy.
Lori ran into no one in the halls. It was a relief. She was checking open doors and leaning her ear against closed ones when she thought she came into range where the scream might have came from. Her ear even pressed against the door to her Grandmother's office.
And she heard voices.
"-hardly think you should be making threats, Sir Integra Hellsing. We haven't done anything that you're suggesting, nor do we like to be insulted."
"Stop playing innocent, Maxwell. You know it's a treaty violation. You seemed to never have had any respect for those, not even in the old days. Don't insult my intelligence."
This was something she shouldn't be hearing-
"We're aware this is your territory. We have not breached the treaty. We haven't even set foot in your field. If anything, the work looks far too familiar for my taste. Now, you wouldn't have disobeyed a royal order, would you, Integra? Are you sure you disposed of him properly-?"
"You dare bring that up!"
"Well, with your new Heir, I couldn't help but think that-"
"What does she have to do with any of this!"
Lori pulled away from the door like it had suddenly grown fangs.
New Heir!
And even worse, where they talking about what she thought they were talking about? Her eyes turned vague as she tried to remember exactly what was on those photographs from the other day. Had they looked familiar because it had been the result of one of her teacher's hunting lessons?
Lorian backed away from the door. Managed to creep away from it before letting herself fly into a full out sprint, arms pumping and the gun flying up and down in her grasp. She ignored it. It was like being crushed. So much weight was now sitting on her shoulders, threatening to crash down on her and just break her spine. She had to escape it.
They all thought she was something she was not. Why did they believe it? Lori knew she couldn't do it. It simply wasn't in her. She couldn't see herself sitting at the head of that long table, talking and shuffling through papers. There was no way she could lead troops into battle.
It just wasn't in her nature.
She crashed back into her room, panic singing in her veins. Stood there for a full minute, panting, trying to decide what she was going to do. Couldn't stay. No. If she stayed, then they'd force her and she'd disgrace her family. Couldn't live with that. So what did that leave? She looked out at the sun, and found it still afternoon. Only about fifteen minutes had passed since the last time she looked.
Plenty of time.
Lori made herself take calm breathes and let the cold-blooded killer out for a moment, just so she could think this out properly. To make things even easier, she hefted the gun and pointed it to the wall, closing one eye. Everything slowed down and the methodical clicking began. It was slow, but the steps revealed themselves and she formed a plan.
When she was done, she put the gun on the bed and grabbed the suitcase out of the closet.
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By four, she was walking down the street in the afternoon light, trench coat dawned, suitcase in one hand, and the pistol with four clips pressing against her right breast. It was a reassuring feeling, knowing it was there every time she turned. At first, she thought she would've never gotten past security and even her invented story, though elaborate, seemed flimsy.
It turned out to be paranoia. All she did was smile and nodded, talk in a voice that was a tad too high. Told them she was going home for a bit and called a taxi to pick her up in the city (she wanted to get a walk in and some of the scenery before she went and who knows? Maybe she'd find something Gab might like…)
And they bought it.
Lorian was in a state of disbelief as she walked cross the street and out of sight. Fought back the urge to turn and look at them, just to make sure they believed it. She simply could not trust her good fortune, even as she got into town. She expected to see her Grandmother and a bunch of men dressed in uniform come around the corner and say something like 'there she is' or 'what are you doing out here?'
But no such thing happened.
At dusk, she bought a bus ticket to the coast. From there? She didn't know yet, all though, she was entertaining ideas of getting a ferry or a ship of some kind to travel to Ireland. How far away was Ireland, exactly? She didn't know, despite all her history war lessons; she was always terrible with maps.
The freedom she felt was nearly indescribable. So was the fear. She couldn't stop looking around at people, studying what they were doing, and trying to copy them. Trying to blend in. No one seemed to pay her any attention, so, whatever she was doing, it seemed to be working. She settled down in her chair and pulled out the sketch pad from her pocket, glancing out the window. No one. Coast was still clear. She was edgy, still ready for that last soul to come running up to the bus station and try to stop her.
But they started moving. Lori watched the station sink back and disappear behind an array of buildings. Swallowed up. Gone. An hour or so later, she was out in the country and watched the city fade into the dark, becoming smaller and smaller until the trees and the fields dominated the area. The coast was coming. It was black outside and she couldn't see from the glare of the lights.
Lorian sketched and lost herself for a time. That nervous twinge never left her chest, no matter how much distance she put between her and the city. She suspected it wouldn't go away entirely until she had left England all together. It was bleak looking. Could she actually manage it? She hoped so because there was no turning back now.
No more weapon training. No more lessons about politics. No more remembering long winded battles from all centuries. No more mythology. No more displeased looks or strange winding halls. The crushing weight of trying to be something she wasn't-gone-batted away like a stray piece of paper in a gust. Something she could ever be? Soon there would be no worry.
And the hunting trips?
This made her frown.
There were plenty of ghouls in the world, she supposed. Plenty of Freaks and vampires. She also thought there were many more human agencies that dealt with that sort of thing, judging from the discussion she over heard. If she really wanted to go hunting, she could manage it once or twice in a long while. That would have to be it. Any more and she'd get caught.
But for now? She had to get out of London. They'd be scrambling about trying to find her before too long. Had to get out of the country. After that, she could make up a name and disappear deeper into Europe.
Out of sight, out of mind.
She hoped.
Alucard was the real problem.
She shaded a spot in the window and peered out it, hoping to God not to see a red trench coat and a huge hat. She hoped the day light had given her enough time to elude him, but she wasn't sure. He'd followed her before when she'd left during the day. Daylight didn't seem to give him much of a problem. Was it sense of smell? She hoped all the people would muffle her scent. Some how.
Two in the morning and she was still awake after the driver had turned the lights out. Wide awake. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't draw. All she could do was glance out the window nervously, praying that he wouldn't follow. Couldn't follow. Flashes of him stopping the bus and getting on it and dragging her off kept haunting her every thought.
It gave her a long time to think things through, even if the fear of being caught kept nagging her. Her mind kept straying to him and the over heard conversation. Looked familiar. Alucard had been killing the vampires; she had been put on ghoul patrol until he felt she was more suited. So he had been doing this for a long time, if his handy work was recognized, as the man (what was his name? Maxwell. Right.) had said.
Why the hell did Maxwell believe that her grandmother had anything to do with it? Wasn't their family supposed to be killing all vampires? Even the ones that were turning around the killing their own kind? Wasn't the goal to rid the earth of them all? She sat there and felt a little ashamed at growing so friendly with him. See? More proof she wasn't a Hellsing at all.
But they had referred to a 'he'.
Mistaken identity? Or, maybe, Alucard had used to work for her grandmother and had been turned into a vampire? They said vampires could only reproduce by biting a virgin of the opposite sex, so why couldn't he have been bitten by some powerful female or something? It would explain why her grandmother's outrage at Maxwell's questions. It was easy to see she cared about what happened to her men.
It also explained why Alucard was so good at what he did. Why he was locked away in their basement too. He had been sleeping, right? It explained why he didn't want to bite her. Had her grandmother not done him a favor? Cared about what happened to him? Didn't want to see him killed like a dog to a silver laced bullet?
But then, he was a hell of a lot harder to kill than a regular vampire.
Maybe she did it for both of their goods, somehow?
It was all crazy musings.
Lori fell asleep trying to figure it out.
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The morning proved foggy. The bus stopped at a gas station and many of them got off to use the facilities. She woke up with a start. It was the red-eyes dream. She hadn't had it for a long time, and its sudden reappearance was disturbing. Running. They-eyes- bloomed like roses in the twilight, all around her and there was this frantic yelling, but she woke before the words could be fathomed.
Woke, groggily, in time to hear that announcement, lucky, and didn't have to have a panic attack wondering where the hell everyone had gone. It was nice. She stayed slouched in her chair, collecting herself; collar pulled up and let herself wake up gradually instead of all at once-
Did he just look at her?
Lori sat up a bit straighter. She stared at the back of the head of the man she thought had turned his head. He was a blonde and she could see the ends of a pair of glasses clinging to the backs of his ears. His coat was gray and it left his neck exposed, from what she could see, sitting behind him. That was all she could tell, other than he was sitting about three seats up.
Had his head really turned?
She sank a tad lower in her chair; cutting off the view she had of him deciding she was definitely paranoid. Decided that, if she had enough money, she was going to buy a hat no matter how stupidly frivolous it was, if not just to block people from her sight. Something with a wide brim, perhaps. Still, she was uneasy.
She touched the gun in her pocket, loaded, and felt a little better.
Considered buying breakfast or something. Her stomach soured at the thought of food. Fine then. She'd get something later. Leaned her head against the window and sighed, watching the people talk and go about their business. In the corner of her eye, she thought she saw movement, but resisted the urge to give into that childish feeling. He probably wasn't looking.
It was probably just her imagination.
Lori straightened her jacket, feeling the weight of the pistol again.
It was a comfort.
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The odd man didn't make a move until after she had left the bus that afternoon for lunch. It was two hours to the coast, but she couldn't go without eating. She was starting to get light headed. So she bought a bottle of soda and a prewrapped sandwich as they stopped at another convenience store. The food wasn't too bad, but she wasn't bothering to taste it either. Down the hatch it went in a snap.
Lori was sitting on the bench, doing this because you weren't allowed to have food on the bus, with a bowed head, trying not to think too much. Felt the bench give to extra weight next to her. She controlled herself. Didn't look up too quickly. It was a slow and casual thing, or so she tried to make it look like.
It was Blondie, hands followed in his lap and looking up at the cloudy day. He did wear glasses. Beneath them were two very green eyes. He had a five o'clock shadow and a bit of a tan. He wore gloves, and it looked like something might have been written on them, but he moved his hands out of view and she suddenly felt him staring.
She gave him a shy glance.
He said something. For a moment, she thought she wasn't going to be able to catch what it was beneath his heavy accent. It made her blink and she focused her ears harder to understand.
"It looks like it's gonna rain." He said and she translated in her head. Clearly an Irish accent. Heavy, maybe from Dublin or something. Was he going back home? She spared a glance for sky and nodded.
"Yes." She agreed cautiously.
He seemed harmless enough, looking up at the soft grays smiling a little. Still, she had never been comfortable around strangers. Already she was painfully aware of how close he was sitting and would've liked to get up and stand. She didn't. That was usually considered insulting.
"So where are you going, all by yourself?" He asked. It took her a minute to get it all clear.
"I'm visiting my grandfather in Rome for the first time." She invented.
"Oh, Aye. Rather brave child to be riding on the bus all by yourself."
"I wanted to see a little more of home before I left. I get home sick rather easily." She told him, trying to explain her business of being on the bus at all. Maybe it was stupid. He nodded, still not looking at her. Didn't make any sort of argument. Yet, she still felt very uneasy.
"So I suppose you have your passport all squared away and your parents phoned ahead. A great big welcoming party, I can see it."
Passport? What was a passport? She opened her mouth to ask, but then closed it with a click. No, best not. He assumed she had one, so she must at least pretend to know what it meant. Her mind brushed over their conversation so far and left a little uneasy. Oh God, did I have to get one of those to be able to leave? She shifted uncomfortably on the bench, sitting on her hands. Did it just get chillier out here?
"Of course, I work at an orphanage. You'd be surprised how many of them think about leaving the country at thirteen, get to the coast and find they can't go because they don't have a passport. You wouldn't happen to be one of those children, would yah?"
Lori could not help but stare at him.
He let out a little sigh.
"I thought so. Well, why don't you at least tell me what your story is-?"
"I didn't tell you my age."
Lorian watched him stiffen, slightly, before he casually leaned forward and looked at her, smiling still. Alarm bells were roaring in her head. This guy was dangerous. Her eyes flicked down to one glove he put on the bench, in black ink were the words. Jesus Christ is in Heaven now around a cross. When he smiled, she forced herself to smile back despite the urge to just turn and run.
From the little white collar, it was easy to see he was a priest.
Or pretending to be.
"I guessed. I've seen enough thirteen-year-olds to tell them apart from twelve or fourteen-year-olds. Still, there are some that I don't get right off the bat. I got lucky."
There was no where to run. If she ran, she'd leave the safety of the crowd. It would be too easy to follow her, out here in the middle of no where, hunt her down and…well. She wasn't going to scare herself anymore than she had to. Was he even a real priest or was he using that as some sort of cover? He was pleasant enough, but beneath? It felt like he wanted to do her some harm.
Lori fought the urge to go for her gun. Too many people. He was a human being as well; there was that to think about. She didn't want to be a murderer unless he forced her to be. It would be an easy transformation from Ghoul killer to serial killer in the span of a few nights.
Instead, she was saved from a further conversation by the bus driver calling everyone back onto the bus. He got up and gave her a friendly smile and a nod that made her skin crawl as he got back onto the bus. Another odd thing. Did she hear metal clinking a bit as he walked? Was he carrying a gun? Or, maybe, guns, as in plural, as in more than one?
There was an insane urge to just sit there and let the bus leave. It was silly. If she did that, the man would just make up some excuse and come after her. During the day she was completely helpless. At least on the bus there were plenty of people to be witnesses if he tried anything. There, she was at least safe as long as someone was around.
But she couldn't ride the bus forever.
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Lorain Hellsing watched the side of the road go by, resisting the yearning desire to bite her lip as she tried to figure out a way out of this mess. She couldn't leave the country. She didn't have a passport (whatever that was), but that was a small problem compared to the one she was facing now.
Now she was dealing with some kind of killer.
Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to elude that annoying little fear pulling at her mind. There was no place for that, not right now. Right now she needed a clear mind. So, she blocked out the road moving outside and let the leash on the killer within loosen, a fraction of an inch.
The gun was heavy in her breast pocket.
Aware that she could pull it out, unobserved, and even sneak a bullet without anyone noticing until it banged and the man's brains were splattered all over the windows was another distraction. It wouldn't look too much different from sending a Ghoul back to nothingness, to being a corpse. There would still be the same mess.
Lori forced herself past that delicious thought.
No. Not here. Too many people. Nightfall. It would have to be nightfall. Get off the bus. If she was lucky she could find a crowd and disappear into it. Or, if worse came to worse, she could always tell someone that she was being stalked by what she assumed to be a child molester or something. She wasn't sure if he swung that way or not. Could you ever tell with those kinds of people?
And if there was no one?
A bullet, even if it was made of silver, could the same job on a person as it could on a Ghoul. But only if it had to come to that; this still could be some kind of misunderstanding.
Even if she seriously doubted it.
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Book Dragon: "Ack, this chapter was a bit slow. Things pick up in the next. Trust me."
