Book Dragon: "My gratitude goes to Will, Lord Makura, and pruningshears for reviewing the last chapter, and as always to anyone who had read or reviewed this story. I really thought people were going to hate this and I'm still surprised. I don't own Hellsing (and never will) and here is the next chapter."
Chapter 9
Ms. Seras Victoria hadn't fallen asleep until about seven in the morning. Lori had to edge into her room just to make sure she was sleeping in her coffin. Up to this point, she'd never seen a coffin before. It was a long wooden thing, maple wood, polished, and exactly as it looked in all the movies.
It made her wonder where Alucard's was and what it looked like.
Lorian was walking at a fast trot, the sun bearing down on her because she was wearing black. It was warm and she really didn't need the jacket, but she kept it on. It was becoming more and more apart of her each and every day she had it. It would be hard to give up when it finally did bite the dust, but if she was careful, it would last a while.
She didn't know where she was going.
There was no way she was going to be able to get a passport now. Seras could've mentioned that to whoever it was. Whoever else was looking for her.
Lorian felt alone. Felt alone, lost, and terribly trapped. Even in the daylight with all those wandering people walking about, she felt the weight of it bearing down again, on her like the claws of a wild animal. What was she going to do now? She couldn't leave. They'd be here in a few hours. She couldn't run.
Could she hide somewhere?
She stood there, trying to think. Two hours of sleep wasn't helping much. She could also see that a few of the men across the street kept looking at her, concerned. They were just men, but she didn't want them to come over and try to help her. She wanted to be somewhere where she could sit and think. Even if it was only for a little while. Some place she wouldn't be bothered…
Then she saw the church.
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Lorian Hellsing sat in one of the pews at the back of the church. There was no mass going on at the moment. The place was deserted and pretty quiet. There was no one around at all. Besides, when you were on the run, weren't you supposed to take sanctuary in the church or something? She'd read a few books where someone had done that.
The girl sat with her head bowed and her hands in her hair.
What the hell was she going to do?
Couldn't stay here. This was a public place. They'd check here. It was only a temporary reprieve. She had to think of a better hiding place. A place where not many people would normally go. Where there any woods around? No, they'd comb through those well enough. The fields were too open. There were no abandoned barns around. No inconspicuous light houses, even here at the coast. Each and every place she thought up she had to scratch out on her list. It needed to be close with more than a dozen hiding places.
The panic was rising.
She was hopelessly trapped.
"God, I wish was I dead." She moaned and could feel herself ready to start sobbing.
Her eyes were growing murky, brimming with tears. This time they would escape and dampen her face. This time she would cry. For sure. At the end of her rope. Maybe death was the best thing. She did have a gun sitting in her pocket. One hole right through the temple, right? That was all it took. Bang. It would all be over in less than a second.
Lori pressed her hand over that cold weight on her chest.
Yes. The girl could see herself, pulling her pistol out and loading a clip into it, her face expressionless. Could see the barrel as she lifted it and opened her mouth, could feel it pressed against the soft skin on the roof of her mouth, cold to the touch.
The size of the hole that thing could make? Half her skull would be cracked open like an egg and her brains would be covering the pews and the columns that were closest. She could feel the blood pumping in her fingers as she brushed her hands over it. Thinking. Considering.
Dead. To be dead.
Wait a minute…
Lorian stood up as an idea seized her. Her eyes were light and suddenly very hopeful as she looked up at the alter of the church. A smile was threatening to break out, but she wouldn't allow it. It was risky. Very risky. But where else did she possibly have to go? It was the last place they'd think to look for her.
It was her last hope.
Lorian bowed in respect before she left, despite being in a hurry.
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Several people passed her by.
Lorian could hear them, but she stayed still in the dark, watching the shadows move by, obscuring the light for a few seconds as they passed. There was nothing to worry about. If they had been running by with big banging boots, she would've had to worry. But they weren't. Their shoes were polished black.
They were mourners.
Lori sat on the hard stone floor, her back against the equally cold wall. She breathed silently, controlling her breathe. Not that anyone would hear her. They'd have to stand by the door and listen in. Not that many people made a habit of doing that to the graves of loved ones. If they wanted to visit the dead, usually they just unlocked the door and entered the crypt.
Hiding in the cemetery had been a good idea.
She'd spent about fifteen minutes, walking fast past all the headstones and trying all the doors. They didn't open. All the locks and chains held against her attempts, but some of them had been replaced loosely. It was a lucky break for her. Being so small, she some how managed to wriggle in through the crack in the door.
For the entire day, she sat against the same wall the door had been built in and kept the opening in sight at all the times. Peered through the slit she'd come in through and watched the grass fawning in the breeze, her arms curled around her knees. The sun was starting to set. No tan uniform of any sort had been seen all day. It made her paranoid and expected them to come around and find her, but no one had yet. She was beyond tired. She was haggard.
Somehow Lori slipped into a fit full sleep, her teacher's voice ringing like bells in her head. It was so vivid; she almost accepted it as real and not just the work of her imagination. Eyes, eyes, eyes again. Blooming like blood red roses. She stood among them, her eyes wide and watching them all flick open. Fingers hesitant, but looking up at the scarlet moon, the bane of life and light of the world. This was a dark realm, but she wanted to touch it. To know it, a bit.
His voice came softly behind her from shadow.
If you insist to test yourself, Master, then it will be so.
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…And woke up so something shifting in the coffin to her left.
Her eyes opened to utter darkness. Her body was numb. She looked up at the window and found only a few twinkling stars, but it was a passing thought. She kept blinking, trying to adjust her vision as her ears informed her that, yeah, the coffin lid was sliding off.
Ah Christ, she thought with a sigh.
Lorian pulled the pistol out of her pocket and got it ready. This is the risk she had been thinking about. Sure, the place was totally void of people, but of vampires? No Jose man. She was squinting, unable to see properly. Shit! She had to go by her ears. A scrape and a hollow thud. The lid clunked off and something was sitting up. Two red eyes opened brightly in the darkness. It was a blessing.
Lori aimed at one of them, carefully, closing one eye. Her trigger finger twitched, eager for the command to send the thing back to hell if it kicked up a fuss with her. Hopefully no one would be guarding the place outside. Or be anywhere near to hear the gunfire. The killer swirled up, ready to take over and dispatch the nightwalker.
She pulled the trigger.
Or tried to.
Her fingers were frozen in place. Lorian tried to pull her arms up, to move her legs, anything. Frozen in place like a little statue, one eye closed and staring at those two red ones as they gazed back. Barrel pointed stiff and fingers immobile. She couldn't look away.
She was paralyzed.
Forgot about hypnosis, dolt. Alucard said in her head.
How many times had he told her not to look directly into the eyes of a vampire? How God-damn many? She always kept forgetting because her teacher was the only she could ever make eye contact with without squirming. Now she was doomed by it. Oh great. Her eyes were threatening to swim in tears not at the fact that she was going to die now, but that her teacher's voice was still so damn clear in her mind.
"A little vampire hunter at my very doorstep. Shouldn't you knock before entering one's home?" The thing asked in the darkness, over the mental whispering of Alucard.
It was male. Lorian's lips were glued together. She couldn't even get her tongue to move. It was dead on the bottom of her mouth. She couldn't even squint at the sudden candle light that blared and tore through the blackness at one simple flick of its hand.
It took a second for her eye to stop hurting, the other muffled in blackness beneath her eyelid, and her pupil to contract back. The gun was still in her hands, pointing directly at his head. He had a handsome face (because they all were pretty after the transformation, it made hunting easier, duh). His hair was chestnut brown, curling with small red high-lights. His eyes were bright, those of a wolf. His smile was perfectly white and his teeth sported those dagger fangs.
He wore a gray suit, a black tie and black gloves. He looked pressed, ready for a night of dancing. Courting. More over, hunting.
"Almost caught me snoozing, didn't you? That would've been embarrassing. How old are you, twelve?"
He grinned a little wider, still holding her eyes and her body captive. The moment he broke the connection, she'd have maybe, what? Two seconds to get the movement back in her fingers? But there would be no chance of that. Lori could already tell he wasn't one of the scum her teacher liked to smack down into the ground for fun.
This was a fairly old one.
He could change to shadow.
The little Hellsing watched as his pale long fingers lost their pearl white color and twisted to blackness; grow long and crooked like spider legs. They came quickly, zipping up to her face in less than a heart beat. One stopped less than a centimeter in front of her open eye, threatening to gorge it out. A bang of fear swept through her for a moment, and he laughed, seeing it flying through her gaze.
"Would you like your speech back, little one?"
Something flickered in his predatory gaze.
Lori could feel her mouth loosen and become useable. Her tongue twitched and rubbed against her teeth for a moment, but the rest of her head still wouldn't obey her, even as the black thing continued to hover so very close to her face.
The girl said nothing.
Just sat there. Waiting. He was playing with her. He wanted to hear her beg for her life before he took it away. That was a vampire's fancy, those that stalked and killed their prey. It didn't matter how old that kind of vampire was, it was always the same. The only frightening part was their self control. Their patience. Their cunning.
Not their blood lust.
He frowned.
"Oh come now, this isn't any fun." He said, confirming her thoughts.
The black thing recoiled from her, done with that threat. Instead it lowered down and curled loosely around her neck. It felt like ice cold smoke, moving like seaweed and starting to run through her hair. Lorian tried to grit her teeth against it, throwing the child part of herself back and summoning the little killing-demon from within. Forward. Come further forward, Killer.
Her trigger finger twitched.
Those red eyes saw it.
"Interesting." He said, running his tentacles through her hair, making them writhe like worms and centipedes.
Would he change them into those things? Lorian stared back at him coldly, the killer ruling the scene. Her imagination created a series of pictures, all of which contained his body breaking into dust and nothingness. And there would be agony to be paid.
It made her smirk inside.
"I'm going to kill you." She said. The pleasure in her voice could not be ignored. The Nosferatu sitting in his coffin smiled back at her. It was a lazy and arrogant thing. Clearly he thought it was funny, coming from a little girl with nothing but a gun pointing at him, a puppet to his eyes and influence.
"Oh really? May I ask the name of my killer?" He inquired in a purr.
Lorian said nothing.
"Answer me." He commanded.
"Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing." She said coldly, but her tongue worked on its own.
When someone was caged by a vampire's eyes, there was no escape. Especially if they were eyes that belonged to an ancient. They had years of knowledge and practice when it came to hypnosis. Usually they were the only ones that bothered to use it too. It figured.
His red eyes widened momentarily.
"That's very interesting." He said, but his voice was lower.
He was considering her now as a person. Not as mere prey. Not a normal vampire hunter, but one of some elite family. Just a name. All because of her stupid name. He was thinking she was something she wasn't. Why did they all have to assume just because she carried a name that she was something she wasn't!
The anger came like a torrent from below.
"Don't you dare compare me, you miserable bastard. I'm not like them." She snarled.
He looked at her for a moment, and then busted out laughing. Lori clenched her teeth against it. Her hand started to quake with the rage, but still her finger still wouldn't pull the trigger. He'll pay, don't worry, he'll pay for that. A seething voice all her own promised. It was dark and spoke with such confidence that the child below, the one buried, the one her imagination entertained to be herself, widened her eyes in surprise.
Had she actually meant that?
"That's very funny. You look exactly like a Hellsing to me." He replied.
His fingers fluttered up. Lori felt her legs unbend and make her stand at full height. Puppet on strings. An odd thing to realize was that she had stood hunched her whole life. It was uncomfortable standing fully erect, but something flickered across his eyes. Impressed, maybe?
Lori doubted it.
All she needed to do was trip to make him see her true self. What was there to be impressed about anyway? She watched him curl his index finger at her, the classic 'come here' signal. Her legs moved like lead, but they came forward and up the couple of steps to him, despite all her will to pull back and away.
He laughed at her struggles. She soon stood before him, less than a foot, right next to the coffin. His breathe was of rot and cold on her face as he looked down and examined her. The black was wrapping more and more around her, down to her knees. It looked like frayed lace and moved like dandelions in a night breeze, bobbing and swaying.
His grin widened, showing off his fangs.
There was no turning away as one pale hand came down and brushed her left cheek. She had to stand and bare it, feeling his touch hover around the rest of herself. Black ribbons that prodded and poked. Was he trying to torture her? It wasn't working. It was just pissing her off more and more, aware of that black swirling thing within.
Her stare was cold.
And she knew she was going to die. Gun in her hand? Pfft. She wasn't going to be able to use it. He was looking at her now and he was hungry. He wouldn't entertain himself and play with her anymore. She was doomed to watch his face come closer and closer to her own, smell his black smell, and feel the burning desire to reach out and claw him. Point the barrel and make a hole in his face. Open her own jaws and bite his nose off. Anything. Just to go out kicking and screaming.
Not because it's what her whole family would've wanted.
Because it was what she wanted, more than anything.
The killer wanted it.
And Lori wondered, as she felt the living corpse's breathe on her neck, as all those black swirling ribbons parted her hair and bore that soft flesh and the blood pumping beneath it. Within, the child looked at the killer and the killer, in turn, stared back at the child. An interesting awakening of consciousness, and there was fear, fear of that thing that rose to the killing edge and loved it. Yes, it was a killer, but what else was it?
A Monster? Or a Knight?
The world blared red and black.
But the Irish Priest saved her from the answer.
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Cold points had settled on her skin, ready to break the surface of it. Her body was constricted by all those ebony flittering ribbons. There was no need for his red poisonous gaze to make her his puppet, his play thing, and his meal. The cat was done playing with a mouse.
The door slammed in and became a splintering mess behind them. Lori didn't see it, but she felt it from the air, the way it shook and blasted behind her. A few of the pieces fell like little needles and pierced her legs and her back, but there was no reacting to that. Not when you're still as stiff as a board. All she could do was grit her teeth and let out a tiny pained snarl.
Those black digits froze and the predator looming over her shoulder looked up, curious as to its second visitor of the night. They did not loosen. They just froze dead in place. A strange tilting moment passed, a second or so, but in the mind?
A second can last an eternity, if it is the right type of moment. He lost his focus, and Lori was aware of all the pain, the child was screaming, but the killer was twisting around, eyes wide and claws outstretched, startled as something else lessened in the back of her head.
Had that just been what she thought it had been?
"I'm busy at the moment, human, would you please-"
"Black filthy monster. Our Father, who art in Heaven, holy be your name, by kingdom come, I will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven, give us our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen. I will rid this place of your slime, demon." The priest said.
Lori was already moving. Her arm flew up, with a bit too much power because she was so eager to be able to be in motion. To escape his grasp. He had been foolish, removing his eyes from her like that. It was too late; her eyes flew shut as his red gaze tried to return and plant himself back into her thoughts. There was no need to use her eyes. She pointed her weapon and fired.
It struck his heart and blew a hole through it.
There was a spray of blood that assaulted her face, wet and sticky to the touch. She didn't open her eyes and felt the second assault of dust and ash that swirled past her unturned face, a small blissful smile curling at her lips. The killer within was roaring with triumph, and she allowed herself to feel it booming like a pulse through her veins until all the debris settled about her.
And in the blackness, moments before she opened her eyes?
It must have been a trick of her mind, but it had been absolutely beautiful as well as terrifying. For a flickering moment, the world felt so much larger, so much darker. Except for all the spanning red eyes. Crimson orbs spanning that vastness forever and always. Watching and watching and looking and looking. Different from the dreams. All beautiful enough to make terror take the backseat. Why? Why would they be so wonderful and bring such singing blissfulness. Bring such roaring happiness to that Killer from within?
Were they shining with pride?
Then she reopened her eyes and turned to the man behind her.
He was glaring at her, his blessed knifes in full view. Standing next to the coffin and a few feet above, he suddenly looked smaller and sillier. Not a psycho killer at all, even though he was angry and looked ready to tare her head off. Everything was clearer and cooler. Easier to see and hid no secrets. She pointed her gun at him, waiting.
"Heathen brat, I'll cut ye down. You mock the work of God." He snarled.
"I don't know about God, Sir, but go ahead. Make my day." She replied.
Her voice boomed darkly and she stared down at him, waiting for him to make a move. Everything was calm within. Watchful, but calm. She was ready.
He took a step forward.
"That's enough, Alexander." A familiar voice said behind him.
The Irishman stopped and turned, curious to the figure that had come behind him. They both knew who it was. Lori wasn't surprised that the two men were connected. It was the one her grandmother had called Maxwell.
The Hellsing girl watched the priest lower his blades as a man came around him, a man with gray long silk like hair pulled back into a pony tail. He had been nice-looking in his youth, and it hadn't gone entirely away. His dress was plain and simple, and his eyes were blue even in the dark. He looked up at her and smiled.
"Ms. Lorian Integra Michaela Hellsing, I presume." He said pleasantly.
"Mr. Maxwell, I equally presume." Lori replied, but did not lower her gun.
"Seems you've had a bit of a rough time. This, also, is not a time of war for your country, Ms. Hellsing, and it would be unwise to keep pointing that pistol at me. Someone could get hurt." He was smug.
Lori simply pulled the top of the gun and loaded another bullet into the barrel.
"I could give a damn." The Killer told him, bored.
The smile disappeared from his face. It was an interesting thing to watch. Instead, he looked at her for a moment, solemn but tranquil. Lorian gave no expression in return. She just stared down at him and waited. Watching.
"Don't you understand? Did your family not-?"
"I have no family." She told him.
And watched his eyes bug out of his head.
"That's-"
Lorian lifted her gun, pointed it to the ceiling and shot it three times. She lowered it again, as quick as a viper; barrel still smoking and pieces of the stone work falling like pebbles on pavement.
"SHUT UP!" The Killer bellowed.
A slice of pain bloomed on her right cheek and she found her head suddenly tilted. Blood ran from the sliver-like cut that graced her face and down her neck. A glance behind her and she found one of those blessed blades imbedded in the wall. Her teeth gritted together, but she did not point her gun at Anderson. That was a bit too close for comfort. She'd deal with him if he proved any more trouble-some.
"Alexander, that's enough." Mr. Maxwell said, again, but it was clear he didn't have too much control over him. It was also clear he was worse than Anderson, in a weird weakling power-hungry sort of way. Lori could see it clearly, like fluorescent lights in the night. Blaringly loud in his expression, stance, and speech.
He never took his eyes off of her. It was the same type of look a person uses when regarding a wolf they suddenly encounter on the forest path. Will it bite? Or will it walk off and leave you be? Depends on the type of wolf, but until it bares it fangs and steps forward…
"Listen to me, Mr. Maxwell. It will be in your best interest. If you don't piss me off any more, I think I'll let you live. Do you understand? No, better yet, don't answer that. I don't want to hear another word out of you. Just nod." She snarled.
It was a paused moment, but he did nod.
"Good. Now. To business. You seem like a business man to me. If either of you tries anything, anymore, ever again, I will make it my mission in life to bring you down. How? Well, my teacher told me to be creative once, so I think I'll follow his advice. I'll let your imaginations do a bit of work for a change. Understand? Nod please."
Another nod was given, but it was grudged.
"Excellent. Good job. Almost done. I'm going to leave this room. I don't want to see either of you ever again. I'm going to go get a passport, and if there's a problem, I'm going to give them your name. If they call, you're going to nod your head and smile. That will be all. You'll never see me again. Are we clear? One last nod, please."
Lorian got it.
"Good. Thank you, Mr. Maxwell." She replied, still pointing the gun at his head even as she came down the stairs, slow and careful.
He was bound to be beyond pissed off. She could already tell what kind of man he was. He'd be the type to go nuclear if a little kid just started ordering him around, to which, she had just done. Still, the child still breathing within her really didn't want to kill him unless she had to. Nope. The only weapon in the room was Anderson, and he would be going to Hell or Heaven. Lori didn't care which. Just as long as he was gone for a few moments and out of her life.
Lori edged her way around them, to the door, and pressed her back into it. They stared back at her, their eyes cold but glistening with aggravation. Even without those signs she wouldn't have trusted them as far as she could throw them. They never left her sight.
"Ms. Lorian?" Mr. Maxwell asked, quietly. Wise. He didn't use her last name.
"Yes?"
"I believe it would be fair warning to let you know that your Grandmother is coming here the very instant that we speak. She should be here in less than five minutes."
Lori stared at him for a moment, unmoving. What this some kind of joke? No, it wasn't. His face was too smooth and his eyes were sparkling with rage. He wanted to get her riled up because he was left helpless. If he killed her now, her grandmother would personally have his head on a stick. His hands were tied.
It was rather childish way to get revenge.
"Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see me before I go."
Lori left, but not before giving Anderson a bullet between the eyes. His glasses snapped apart and broke when they fell and his body made the most wonderful thumping sound as it, too, hit the floor. Not permanently, but for the next few minutes or so.
Why had she shot him?
Just because she felt like it.
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Book Dragon: "Next Chapter is the last, I'm afraid, just to let you know…"
