I've finally crossed another milestone in shaming my Catholic upbringing: I had to look up the ceremony of the Eucharist to double-check that my facts were right. In my defense though, my parents haven't dragged me to Christmas & Easter Mass for the past, like...three years, I think? Ever since the pandemic began, basically. And dragging me in on Christmas and Easter were basically the only times they could make me go to church, so I haven't had occasion to refresh my childhood memories in quite a while.
Faster than a striking snake –and fortunately faster than a striking vampire– Alexander jerked his arm back, out of reach of those sharklike teeth. He almost needn't have bothered: the hardened tendrils buried in Alucard's opposite arm and side jerked him to a ragged halt almost as soon as he started the movement, ending his predatory lunge in a pathetic snap of empty teeth.
"The hell do you think you're doing?" Alexander asked him roughly, refusing to admit that his heart was pounding at the near-miss. Vampires didn't tend to bite their opponents during a fight –it was saved for killing blows and for victims, not hunters. Theories on why generally ranged from the fact that it was simply undignified all the way up to the theological and philosophical ties to humanity that vampires may have retained, ties that reminded them that biting was less effective than tools and hands. In either case, Alucard had certainly never even tried to bite him before, no matter how brutal their fights got.
Alucard glared at him from under his feathery black bangs, the vampire's breath hissing in sharp, short pants through his teeth. Aforementioned teeth were pronounced in a way that told Alexander that drawing any nearer was a very bad idea: powerful vampires like Alucard instinctively adapted their teeth to match the situation they found themselves in, from curved fangs to catch prey to sharp incisors to gouge bloody wounds that wouldn't seal themselves easily. Right now, Alucard was displaying a continuous row of sharklike fangs, meant to rip through bone and flesh alike to cause maximum damage and maximum bleeding, which meant that he was either incredibly pissed or incredibly hungry, and right now the look glimmering in the vampire's ruby-red eyes was just resentment, not blind rage.
Unsurprising, really. No vampire took well to being drained of their stolen blood.
"Anderson," His name dripped from the vampire's mouth like poison, laden with ill intent. "Surely you wouldn't begrudge me a few extra mouthfuls? That's not very Christian of you."
"Stuff it." Alexander snarled back. "Like you care about charity."
Alucard's smile widened, and he would've sweetened it if he could. As things were, he just looked like a leering demon, eager to devour anyone foolish enough to fall for his lies.
"Well, its not like you would miss what I took. Your regeneration is impressive enough for that much at least, isn't it?"
Alexander narrowed his eyes, refusing to dignify that with a reply. What to do, what to do…he'd planned on killing the vampire the moment he freed it, but with Alucard, that presented certain…difficulties.
Refusing to admit just how much pleasure it gave him, Alexander straightened up and stomped his foot onto the center of the vampire's chest, pinning Alucard down against the floor as the vampire gave a grimace of discomfort and Alexander felt, surprisingly enough, thin bones creak and yield beneath his foot.
"Christ," he muttered, eyeing the vampire beneath his heel in a new light. "You're pathetic."
Alucard gave him a sour glare.
"This –thing has been draining my power for weeks, priest." he snapped, reaching over with his freed hand and tugging irritably at one of the veins embedded in his torso, lower down, near the ribs. "I'd like to see you do any better."
"I would do better." Alexander replied, not moving his foot despite the fragility of the chest beneath it. "Because I haven't sold my soul for blood, monster."
"Not just for blood." Alucard muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes a little, but Alexander ignored him in favor of beginning to hack at the roots binding Alucard's other side. They both fell silent as chips of black continued to fall away, and after a few moments Alucard reached inside his ragged clothes, finding the places where the veins of the curse had broken off within him and tugging them free, dropping the bloodied fragments to the floor.
Alexander was slightly warier about stepping back to free the vampire's legs, but it wasn't like he had any other option, if he wanted to destroy the curse permeating the entire building. With one last tug and crack, and a resounding thud of swelling-shrinking power that hit him in the chest and left him breathless, the curse writhed out of existence, leaving a pale lighthouse floor and a vampire sprawled over it on his back. Alexander was quick to summon his blades, crossing them together with a ringing clash, but Alucard did not lift the guns at his side –did not even move, except to smirk at him.
"Well?" the paladin scoffed after a few moments. "Are you going to fight me or not, you damned beast?"
"I'd be hard-pressed to stand upright, at the moment." Alucard said with a deceptively lazy and carefree grin. How the vampire could feign to be so relaxed when he was in such a vulnerable state, Alexander did not understand. To be honest, part of that attitude enraged him –did Alucard think that he wouldn't take this unprecedented opportunity? That he wouldn't seize his chance to kill the damn monster? That some sentiment or manipulation Alucard had managed to accomplish held him back?
Of course not. Ludicrous. The very idea was laughable.
Then again…
Alexander was going to kill the vampire someday, obviously. There could be no possible doubt about that. But on the other hand, unless he badly missed his guess, Alexander himself was also not destined for any kind of pleasant afterlife, and there was a not-insignificant chance that he'd encounter the vampire again after he, too, had died. The mockery Alucard would lay upon him for killing the vampire in his weakened state, for not daring to do it at his full strength, would be insufferable. Come to think of it, so would the sneers and sharp comments to that effect from his living allies, from the Hellsing woman and Alucard's pet fledgling.
No. Alexander wasn't killing the vampire in anything but a fair fight, and a decidedly smug smirk drifted across his face as a new idea came to him. Alucard saw the look and narrowed his eyes slightly, wary –as he should be.
Alexander crouched down to kneel beside the vampire, and even at this closer range Alucard did not dare lunge at him again, for fear of the blades that the paladin had ready to skewer him if he tried it.
"You can barely move." Alexander said, making it a statement of fact rather than a question. "So, you need my help?"
Alucard's eyes widened slightly as understanding flashed over the vampire's face. After all, neither of them had delt with the perpetrator of this whole business, which meant that laying here alone was a decidedly dangerous proposition for Alucard, whose ancient blood was so very valuable to a magician. Since Alexander refused to feed him and he didn't have the strength to stand, in a very real sense he was reliant on the priest. Alucard may have tried to hide it earlier with his quip about sharing blood and his feral, jagged attempt to bite, but he had no power here that Alexander did not give him.
Alexander wanted him to acknowledge that.
Alucard's eyes shifted sideways a little, avoiding his gaze as the vampire glared sullenly off to the side. Alexander saw the powerful muscles of his jaw roil a little as Alucard clenched his jaw. Alexander may have some of the sin of pride within him, but he had nothing in comparison to Alucard, arrogant monster that he was. The vampire resented, deeply, being forced to admit his weakness even when it was already obvious to them both, and he made no secret about it.
"Extremely unchristian of you." Alucard said after a few moments, his gaze sliding back to Alexander's face. A small, sardonic, almost begrudging smile curved his bloodless lips. "Are you that petty over your defeat at Badrick, Judas Priest?"
"You're a fine one to talk." Alexander snorted, and if not for the fact he needed to keep his guard up, he would have folded his arms. "Do you want my help or not?"
Alucard blew out a long, mostly needless sigh, his head lolling back as his gaze traveled towards the ceiling.
"Very well, then. Would you be so kind as to assist me, Father Alexander Anderson?"
"That's more like it." Alexander huffed, ignoring the odd feeling of hearing the vampire be so courteous towards him, and flicked his bayonets back into his sleeve as he reached towards the vampire. Alucard raised an eyebrow at him as Alexander grabbed the vampire by the scruff of his collar, and a rattling, resonant laugh dragged out of his thin chest as Alexander started to move towards the stairs, pulling the vampire's limp black body behind him. The duster was gone, whether torn by the witch Alucard must have lost to or dissipated due to his lack of power, Alexander did not care.
"I know I said you were petty," Alucard wheezed as he was dragged down the spiraling staircase like a sack of potatoes, the vampire's long legs bumping and rattling against the stone steps as he went. He didn't bother to move, to help or to hinder Alexander's stride. "But this is just childish."
"If you've got another way I can carry you without being in range of your damned teeth, vampire, I'd be glad to hear it." Alexander retorted. There was a thoughtful silence behind him for several moments, Alucard's weight –his literally dead weight– tugging at the fabric Alexander held fisted in one hand.
"…what if I promised not to bite?"
"You really think I'd trust a promise like that? From you?"
"I am a thoroughly honest soul." Alucard said, laughter trembling beneath his smooth, solemn, mock-injured voice. "I'm offended at even the thought you wouldn't trust my given word."
Alexander snorted despite himself.
"And I didn't fall off the turnip cart yesterday." he shot back.
Alucard laughed, and at the very least his deep, half-maniacal laughter was still the same, even when he had become a wraith of his usual self. Alexander found that comforting, in a strange sort of way.
"You know, you clearly don't have much practice in scruffing a man." Alucard continued after his laughter died down, still chuckling to himself a little. "I could just turn my head and bite you, on the wrist, perhaps."
"Do it and I leave you for dead, vampire."
"So what, you'll drag me around like so much luggage until this mission is finished?" Alucard asked, rolling his head back as his soft black hair ruffled against Alexander's wrist. Alexander caught a flash of the vampire's grin out of the corner of his eye, Alucard leering at him upside-down from over his grip. "You do know that there's a witch about, don't you?"
"And a kraken in the harbor." Alexander replied absently. "We're stranded, for now."
"Oh, joy."
Alucard grunted a little and brought his head up as Alexander dragged him onto a landing, his body thumping against the now-cleansed wood.
"What's wrong with you, anyways?" Alexander asked after few seconds, hearing the vampire's clothes scuff against wood as he dragged the limp body behind him. "You're being disturbingly…tame."
"I know not to bite the hand which drags me." Alucard said in a half-lilting voice, mockery audible in his tone, and then huffed in what Alexander recognized as frustration, even if the vampire probably wouldn't admit it. "I do believe that I was placed here after our erstwhile enemy had finished with draining my powers in other respects. There were…"
He hissed as Alexander let him bump against the stairs again.
"…rituals spots on the island that sapped my abilities before I realized what was happening."
"So you're useless." Alexander replied, annoyance throbbing like a headache in his temples as the task he had been sent here to do rearranged itself before his eyes. "I'll have to run around the island, smashing power stones and ruining diagrams while you, what? Stay in whatever wards I set up and try not to fall into the enemy's hands again?"
"I've been told I do moderately well as eyecandy." Alucard replied, and Alexander sent him a nonplussed look over his shoulder. The vampire cocked his head back again at the lack of verbal response, and gave that unsettling upside-down grin as he saw Alexander's expression. "Well, you asked what I would be useful for. Serving as an inspirational muse is just about the only task I can accomplish without movement."
"The only way you'd serve as my muse is if I got to stick you full of blades like a pincushion." Alexander muttered, turning away again. He felt the vibrations of Alucard's near silent chuckle against his hand as he continued to drag him, and muttered an oath under his breath. Damn vampire.
Still, the vampire was thankfully silent as Alexander continued to drag him down the long, long flight of steps that spiraled up through the tower, probably attempting to regain whatever strength he could now that the curse wasn't sucking away his energy. How much it had drained Alucard was not readily apparent, until Alexander pushed open the creaking door that he had entered by and started out into the gloomy grey daylight, and heard Alucard hiss.
That hiss corresponded with a sudden jerk at his hand, and Alexander had been so used to Alucard's lack of fight that he was unable to stop the vampire tearing away from him, flailing backwards and landing with a not-entirely-bipedal skitter on the rough wood floor. Alexander turned with a snarl, about to ask what in God's name was wrong with the vampire, only to pause as he saw Alucard staring at the world beyond the door with a shocked expression on his face –the side of which was lightly steaming.
Alexander blinked, and looked back outside.
He looked back at Alucard, who had retreated into the shadows deeper inside the room.
Slowly, the vampire raised a hand, touching the side of his face where it had been…burned.
He wasn't immune to sunlight right now.
Fuck. Alexander felt a chill of trepidation slide down his spine, like a warning blade pressed against his back. It wasn't that he was worried for the vampire, of course –Alucard had proved depressingly indestructible against the paladin in the past, and what Alexander couldn't wield, what holy power couldn't do, no black magic or witchcraft could accomplish. The power of God was simply stronger, more superior in each and every way.
So no, he wasn't concerned at all about what this might mean for the vampire, but…what this meant about Alucard, and about their enemy, Alexander didn't like. It meant that this witch, whoever they were, was strong enough to render Alucard nearly helpless by his own standards, that this witch was clever and skilled enough to rip almost everything of what made Alucard such a unique and fearsome foe away. And what, exactly, did this witch plan to do with that power, that ancient and unholy essence?
That, quite frankly, was what sent a chill down Alexander's spine. Compared to that, the knowledge that Alucard had been lessened to such an extent was almost negligible.
"I think it may be wise of you to let me bite you, Judas Priest." Alucard said carefully after a few moments of startled silence. "Unless you want to face this foe alone."
Alexander made a face, then stepped forward to seize the vampire's collar again as Alucard made an annoyed noise, but didn't fight him, especially as Alexander strode over to the inner door, the one that led to the adjoining building, rather than forcing him outside.
"I never said I wouldn't feed you any blood." Alexander muttered, loud enough that the vampire and only the vampire could hear him. A slight intake of breath was all the response he had, and Alexander preemptively tightened his grip on the vampire's collar. "But you are not biting me."
"Spoilsport." Alucard muttered, and Alexander made sure to thump the vampire's heels and everything else he could reach against the lintel as he dragged him over it.
It didn't take long, comparatively speaking, to set the vampire to rights. Alexander dragged him to the darkest and most secluded corner of the half-ruined house he could find, propped Alucard against the wall, and rolled up his sleeve. A quick draw of his bayonet across his wrist had the blood flowing forth, and Alexander had gritted his teeth and held his wrist above Alucard's mouth, fighting the urge to skewer the vampire right through his open mouth as Alucard leaned forward and spread his mouth as wide as it could get, that obscene tongue lolling out to catch every last drop Alexander gave him.
The priest held Alucard's gaze with death in his eyes, making it abundantly clear of what would happen if Alucard tried to take more than what he was offering. The vampire didn't seem inclined to look his gift horse in the mouth –or rather, bite his meal-giver– as he hungrily drank, pale throat working as he swallowed down the steady stream of blood, which occasionally thinned and renewed as Alexander's regeneration worked to seal the wound and he patiently cut it open again.
Alexander suppressed a shudder as his blood flowed steadily into Alucard's mouth. The vampire's sharklike fangs had shifted back to almost-normal teeth, paired two curved incisors, which oddly enough, made this all seem even more grotesque. Perhaps it was the rich shimmering red color of his blood that called wine to his mind, or perhaps it was the act of pouring libations for another to drink with unceasing fervor –but Alexander was suddenly reminded, inextricably and blasphemously, of the Eucharist as he stood over the vampire, who sprawled beneath him with his eyes peacefully closed and mouth tilted patiently upwards to catch the falling blood.
"Through him, with him, in him," Father Alexander Anderson began softly, urged by more than just habit. "-in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Father, forever and ever."
He waited expectantly, but of course, no 'amen' ever came, not from Alucard, who opened one eye to grin unrepentantly at him. The moment, the impulse –whatever Alexander might have called it– passed as suddenly and seamlessly as it came, and he was left to huff and looked away from the damn vampire sprawled so cockily at his feet.
"I hope you choke." Alexander muttered, and heard Alucard gurgle out a laugh beneath the fall of blood.
Eventually, he judged that Alucard had had enough, and took his arm away as his flesh quickly healed, rolling his sleeve back up over his wrist. Alucard looked disappointed, but then, he probably would've welcomed the chance to drain Alexander dry. It couldn't have been comfortable for the ever-arrogant vampire to have been brought so low, but then, that was exactly why Alexander was helping him in the first place. Like any powerful warrior bloated by victories, Alucard disliked the idea of being beholden to someone else, to rely on them for aid –which Alexander was now doing, and which Alexander could now hold over the vampire's head for the next…well, forever, to be honest. Probably until he actually killed the damn bastard.
He smirked as he finished rolling up his sleeve, and Alucard rolled his eyes, unfolding himself from the mildewed floor as he finally rose to Alexander's height.
"You look absolutely insufferable when you're smug." Alucard told him. Alexander did not respond, too busy eyeing the vampire now that Alucard had, at least nominally, regathered his strength.
He looked different, that was for certain. Without the garish red duster and wide-brimmed hat that he had a tendency to wear, Alucard looked thin and sparse, less like the looming threat that Alexander knew and more like a dark specter of some bygone age, clothed as he was in his double-breasted charcoal suit and leather riding boots. Alucard's narrow, deceptively fine-boned features only accentuated the difference, as did his impressive height. He was all legs and predatory grace, moving in a way that gave lie to the fragile bones Alexander had felt creaking and bending beneath his heel.
He looked wrong without his coat, Alexander decided at last. Wrong, and different, and not at all like the vampire he knew.
"Since you won't be going anywhere until the sun sets," he said after a moment, folding his arms ponderously. "Start talking. When did you get here and how, in God's name, did the witch outsmart you?"
Alucard rolled his shoulders in what he seemed to mean as a careless shrug, but his gaze was pensive and his frown annoyed as his gaze drifted over behind Alexander's shoulder.
"I arrived on the seventh, so you could tell better than I how long its been." he answered carelessly. "As for being outsmarted, you might be more correct in saying that I was outmaneuvered. I came to hunt down a witch, who unfortunately managed to hit me with a spell that immobilized me long enough for said witch to further strip me of my power and then, so far as I could tell, store it in an artifact. Afterwards I was bound to the topmost floor of the lighthouse and left there to fuel…whatever that was."
"Animation spell." Alexander replied grimly. "Something that called the wood of the lighthouse to life so it would attack and kill anyone who walked inside."
Alucard blinked, his expression changing slightly as something dawned on him, and he looked back at Alexander.
"Did you enter the tower from outside?"
The paladin gave him a flat look.
"I'm not stupid enough to use my wards to teleport up there directly when God knew what was waiting for me, no." he said, insulted by the very implication. A slow smirk grew on Alucard's face in response, making him uneasy. "What?"
"You fought your way through a hedge of thorns in order to climb a tower." Alucard replied, barely-contained hilarity in his voice as his grin stretched wider, macabre now rather than mocking. "Were you expecting a princess at the top?"
To Alexander's horror, he found his face heating up, which only further embarrassed him as Alucard began to cackle.
"Depraved bastard." the paladin muttered, turning away sharply. Neither he nor the situation had anything to do with that childhood story, and Alucard was only dragging it through the mud to mock him. "Since you're in such fine shape, why don't you be helpful for once and search through this place for anything we can use? I'll ward the building and see if I can find anything outside."
Alucard tilted his head slightly to the side, still grinning irrepressibly.
"What constitutes useful?" he asked, delight still radiating from his voice.
"Anything I could use to stave your head in." Alexander growled under his breath despite knowing the vampire could hear him perfectly well, yanking out the Bible from inside his pocket, before he added aloud "Food, water, whatever we can use to help improve shelter here, since this might take a few more days. Something to communicate with the mainland. Clues on how to deal with the witch, for that matter, though I doubt you'll find anything in here."
Alucard shrugged in half-humorous resignation, probably agreeing with him on that point, before squinting slightly as Alexander's golden wards whirled out around him, the pages of his writ plastering themselves against the exterior walls of the house and blessed nails tacking them into place.
"Well now, that is uncomfortable." the vampire murmured thoughtfully, glancing sideways at the wall nearest to him. Of course –if Alucard had been stripped of his powers to the point where he felt the sun, he certainly was going to be affected by the holy wards that filled the air with a faint crackling hum, like static electricity. Alexander watched as the vampire cocked his head at the shimmering golden wall, before, to the paladin's shock, stepping forward and laying his palm against it.
Crackles of light arced out, sizzling into the vampire's hand as faint curls of smoke drifted up into the air. And yet, despite the pain it must cause keeping his hand pressed against the barrier like that, Alucard didn't move, his head tilted to the side and his sharp red eyes alight with a disturbing sort of curiosity as he watched his white-gloved hand burn.
"Oi." Alexander hissed. The vampire didn't move. "Alucard!"
Alucard looked over to him and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask what was wrong, and Alexander's temper boiled over. He took a step forward and wrenched the vampire away from the wall by his shoulder, leaving his hand to dangle blackened and burned by his side.
"Do you need me to unscramble your brains, vampire?" Alexander asked dangerously, flashing a bayonet in his free hand. "I'd be happy to practice giving you a lobotomy."
Alucard gave him an amused look.
"I think its perfectly natural to be curious about myself in my weakened state." he drawled. "Why, does the sight of my weakness bother you that much?"
Alexander's hand jerked away from the vampire's shoulder like it had suddenly become a brand.
"I'm more bothered by the idea of you getting yourself killed and letting all that power go to some upstart witch." he snapped, turning to leave the room. "Stop fucking around or, so help me God, I will put you on a toddler leash if you're incapable of even a toddler's restraint."
"Planning to tie me up already? Shouldn't that wait until the third date?" Alucard teased as his foot crossed the threshold, and Alexander clenched his fists and shuddered, fighting the desperate urge to turn back and rip the damn vampire's head from his shoulders. Alucard wouldn't be able to survive that right now, and Alexander was not about to lower himself by taking cheap shots. He wouldn't stoop to Alucard's level.
He did mutter crossly to himself, listing all of the many ways that he would enact revenge for this later, as he stalked across the thin carpet of grey sea-grass, heading carefully towards the shore. He wouldn't go back to the bay, not yet at least, but it would probably be wise of him to circle the island and see what resources and further obstacles they'd be working with.
The far horizon was starting to tint orange as Alexander began to canvass the island, the sun sinking steadily towards where it would be swallowed by the sea. It was staining the grey world with hints of fire, like embers hidden within a pile of dying ash. Alexander wasn't sure he liked how…relieved he felt at the coming of night, when Alucard's meager powers would increase. It felt too much like concern, like the vampire's survival here was important to him for some reason.
Well, that was perfectly natural and easy to explain: Alexander didn't want some two-bit witch finishing his job for him. He would be the one to kill Alucard, and he didn't appreciate the idea of some interloper butting in to steal his kill. Obviously, that was all there was to it.
And besides, it would be better to have an ally to fight against the witch, especially if said ally was one that Alexander wouldn't have to worry about actually supporting or protecting.
Brushing his brief emotional unease aside, Alexander continued his investigation of the island. It wasn't the most fascinating study: roughly circular, the island was surrounded on all sides by a ring of boulders, placed here by man or by nature in order to break the force of the ocean as the tides patiently eroded away at the stone. Grass rose up from the boulders, spreading inland towards the lighthouse tower and the home nestled against it. A notch was cut out of the island on one end, where the dock had been and where greyish sand interrupted the unbroken, straggling slope of boulders for the first time on the island's shoreline.
Thinking things through, Alexander was willing to bet that the witch was mainly doing their business along the shore. Rock was easy to carve or draw ritual markings on, and it would be difficult for both humans and vampires to get close because of the kraken. Some of the boulders were over ten feet high, with the whole cavalcade tumbled on a slope, which meant that the gaps between some of the rocks were more than big enough to hide a humanoid figure –and that was assuming that the witch hadn't cast some magic to let themself breathe underwater or somehow used the kraken to hollow out a grotto with an air pocket.
He kept a sharp lookout as he began slowly pacing the circumference of the island, inspecting the boulders furthest from shore. If the kraken lunged for him again, Alexander would, at the furthest extremity, be able to use his Bible pages to teleport to safety, but if it did suddenly move to attack him, then that would also mean that the witch was not only somehow monitoring him, but that Alexander had gotten close to something important.
Personally, his bet was the seagulls that even now drifted innocuously through the sky. The witch had already shown that they had an affinity for draining and shifting power to use it in warping another creature or substance, and there weren't many places for a gull to nest on this island, except for the lighthouse –and the crew would have deterred birds from doing that, if the constant thrum of the engine and the occasional bellowing honk of the foghorn didn't do that job for them. The presence of those gulls was suspicious, even if none of them were hovering close enough to him for Alexander to make an informed call on whether or not they had been touched by the witch.
Still, he marked their position in his mind's eye, picking his way cautiously through the uneven terrain between the boulders as he took advantage of what little natural light remained. As a vampire-hunter, Alexander had cultivated his power of seeing in the dark as a matter of course, but he was, in the end, only a human, and it was not wise to blunder around at night until he knew exactly what he was up against. Once he did, of course, he could make an informed judgement about whether or not the creature he was facing could be dealt with in the dark at all, or if he needed to wait until morning. But not until then. He had to know what he was up against, first, and right now, he didn't.
Some creatures had to be drawn at night, though. Many filthy undead and other monsters were extremely good at burying themselves and hiding their tracks during the day, and Alexander could expedite a job immensely if he waited until the cunning beast emerged at night to hunt and feed. They were stronger, yes, but he was no pushover himself, and could execute them handily without also needing to go through the cumbersome, tedious task of tracking down a hidden tomb or remote cave.
Eventually, he found one of the things he had sought: a sigil carved into the rock, down low, where it was hard to spot. Red, fleshy ribbons trailed down from it into the sand, and a number of crabs scuttled away at Alexander's approach, undoubtedly having been lured by the scent of food.
By the paladin's experienced judgement, the clot of sand-caked and much-nibbled tissue had once been a human heart, with some of the arteries flayed out and merged with the rocky sigil, and the others trailing on the sandy ground. It pulsed and beat with a malignant energy, and a few of the bolder crustaceans still clung to it, ripping free tiny chunks of meat with their claws to feed. It was unsettling, disgusting, but –not unfamiliar. Alexander had seen far too many victims like this, dissembled and recognized only in their component parts, the rest of them erased or taken by foul sorcery. It was sad, but it had long ago ceased to shock.
Two simultaneous slashes freed the dangling heart from the rock and the earth it was strung between, and Alexander stabbed down, his bayonets transfixing the heart and the sigil on the rock in perfect unison. The heart writhed and bulged as dark ichor streamed from its severed arteries, a shrill keening noise ringing in his ears, before Alexander turned his face away and it burst.
Looking back, he saw a smoking stream emerging from the sigil as the remains of the heart smoldered on the ground, and with a scowl of distaste, Alexander shifted to crunch the unfortunate crabs that had remained under his heel. He could not afford the risk that they had been contaminated by the magic here, inoffensive as the tiny creatures may be.
Touching his cross, Alexander began to pray as he blessed and cleansed the ground that had been tainted by evil, watching the sun lower itself over the ocean warily, expecting at every moment to be attacked by the flailing tentacles of the kraken that he knew was lurking around the island.
He was not.
Alexander managed to complete his loop just before darkness finally fell properly over the island –though it would probably be wise of him to go over the last section again in the clear light of morning– and he turned to head back to the half-ruined house, drawing a bayonet into each hand. Now would be an excellent time for their enemy to ambush him or Alucard or both, and Alexander did not intend to be caught napping as he slowly stalked his way back to the two buildings.
His wards were still active, and Alexander pushed the side door open warily with his foot to see Alucard sprawled on a musty, weather-stained chair, quietly and methodically cleaning his guns. Alexander hadn't heard any shots, but then, he supposed that the vampire had been trapped here for quite some time, and the damp ocean air was hardly kind to delicate and complex machinery.
"Anything?" Alucard asked without looking up.
"Three sigils with human hearts attached to rock and ground, roughly equidistant from each other in a triangular pattern around the inner edge of the island." Alexander said, letting the door swing shut behind him. "I destroyed them all."
The vampire hummed thoughtfully.
"The witch might be using Celtic magic. It tends to come in threes." he said after a few moments, sliding something home with a sharp click. "Or Norse, perhaps, considering the kraken."
Alexander grunted, logging the information absently as he noticed Alucard's gleanings from inside the house on what had once probably been a kitchen table. He walked over to inspect them.
A ragged blanket and pillow that were only slightly damp, six industrial flashlights in varying stages of disrepair, several cans of food –and nothing else. Certainly no radios, or components from the missing lighthouse lamp.
"Nothing to do with the witch inside the house?" he asked, turning over the most intact flashlight in his hands, which only had a crack across the lens.
"No."
"What about the phone?" Alexander looked at the landline plugged into the kitchen wall without much hope. Alucard snorted softly from behind him.
"Thoroughly dead: I think it's line was cut somewhere." he replied almost amicably. There was a considering sort of pause, and another rasping slide of metal that ended in a firm click. "What about you, Judas Priest? Don't you have a cellphone?"
"Also dead." Alexander replied, thinking of the water that had splashed over him when the kraken had attacked him on the beach. "And I can't teleport more than a mile or so with my writ. Could you contact your fledgling with telepathy from here? Or your Master?"
"Over this much running water?" When Alexander glanced over, he saw that the vampire had half-turned in the chair to give him a raised eyebrow. "Even at my vigorous best, that'd be a challenge."
So they were dead in the water, then, as far as communication went. Alexander sighed irritably. Well, at the very worst, once they'd taken care of the witch and anything else the witch had wrought, they could simply wait it out: eventually, either Hellsing or Iscariot would send more people in to investigate the disappearance of their most powerful fighters, and then they could hitch a ride back home.
It was the staying with Alucard for several days that Alexander objected to, especially in a cold, half-ruined hut at the edge of the sea. It wasn't like he had any better options, though, since he was damn well smart enough not to sleep in a tower that had already proven itself to be cursed by a witch. He may have destroyed one layer of magic, but there might be a second layer designed as a trap for anyone who fell asleep or was otherwise caught unawares inside, and Alexander had no intention of triggering it. This house might be decrepit and falling into ruin, but it wasn't noticeably cursed, at least, and it was easier to ward. He could be as a hermit for a few days, and suffer the raw strength of nature without any material comforts.
There was even a demon to plague him with temptations, though the temptations that Hellsing's trump card produced were more in the line of a desire to engage in combat rather than any power or material goods that Alucard offered him. It felt downright wrong not to be trying to kill the vampire, but if Alexander did that now, then it was likely that all of Alucard's considerable power would be funneled directly to the witch they would soon be fighting –not exactly an inviting prospect. There were plenty of strategic reasons to avoid killing Alucard until they had finished their work here, but that didn't make it feel any less...fundamentally wrong that Alexander was not trying to bury his blades in the vampire right now.
How was the paladin even supposed to deal with him, when every word out of Alucard's mouth made Alexander itch to start a fight? He had to refrain, had to curb his temptations and remember his duty as any pious man would, but the urge still lingered, the inescapable desire to send a bayonet hurling at the vampire's unguarded back and then turn and cleave his head from his shoulders in a fountain of stolen blood.
Alexander's fingers flexed slightly on the flashlight he was inspecting, making the fragile plastic creak in warning. He had to control his bloodlust.
Except, if he did that, then what, exactly, was left? Alucard was still here, and Alexander didn't know what to do with the vampire if he wasn't trying to kill the damn beast –except ignore him, which he knew Alucard wouldn't tolerate. Conversation seemed like the wisest course, but only in theory, where a dozen different insults didn't tremble on the tip of his tongue the second he tried to think of a starter, everything from casting aspersions on the vampire's skill after he had gotten himself trapped by a witch, to threatening against Hellsing's presence in Ireland, to mocking the vampire's change in clothing.
Alucard in his turn seemed entirely focused on the simple task of maintaining his guns, when Alexander glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The vampire had one long leg crossed over the other, his partially-disassembled black gun laid over his knee as several of the inner mechanisms rested on the vampire's unnaturally motionless boot, Alucard using his bent leg as a makeshift table. His eyes and hands were steady as he methodically cleaned the parts one by one, seemingly not paying attention to anything else as he worked a small dust cloth he must have found somewhere through them.
"Do you still have gun oil?" Alexander finally asked after a strenuous few minutes of trying to find a non-aggressive way to initiate conversation.
"Unfortunately not." Alucard answered without missing a beat or looking up. "Still, machine oil will do in a pinch."
There was a pause from the vampire, before one red eye flickered over to Alexander. Alucard had obviously picked up on the lack of insults, and, as Alexander knew well, he was no fool. The same calculations he had agonized over for the past few minutes ran swiftly behind the vampire's gaze, and then Alucard smirked, turning back to his work.
"Are you not familiar with guns?" Alucard asked in the same painfully innocuous manner, though a heavy undercurrent of amusement ran beneath his words as he dropped the sentence almost carefully into the air, as though testing it for review.
"Tolerably." Alexander answered, turning back to the table and setting the flashlight down. "I know how to use them, at least."
He could have said more, about how they weren't his preferred weapon, but he didn't. Alucard could damn well infer that on his own, and Alexander was not interested in giving the vampire any piece of information, however small, that Alucard might be able to eventually turn to his advantage.
Speaking of advantages, Alexander probably should eat something before the night stretched on too much longer, even if all that was on offer was canned goods that were due to expire in three days or less. While he could regenerate from extreme malnutrition, it was a deeply unpleasant process, and one that Alexander was keen to avoid if at all possible.
The room was silent for a few minutes as Alexander moved over to the stove and the counter, wondering what, if anything, was usable for cooking. He had a can of soup that he could use for something approximating a meal –sparse though that may be, he certainly wasn't going to scavenge for wild food on an island that had been overrun by a witch for months.
The stove was a gas one, but when Alexander tried to turn the valve, it hissed without sparking or igniting in any way, and he turned it off again rather quickly. It seemed as if he would be having cold soup straight from the container, tonight.
"For these blessings, thanks." he half-sardonically muttered. Ignoring the vampire, Alexander then began to rattle around in the drawers and cupboards, looking for a can opener. Most of the utensils had been left in their place, albeit with an unappetizing coat of dust, cobwebs, and other grime, and he glanced at the dried-up sink to his left, wondering if there was any soap.
He still hadn't found any can openers by the time the hair on the back of his neck prickled, and Alexander stiffened, sensing the vampire's presence shift even if Alucard's footsteps were quiet enough not to make a sound. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the vampire move to stand beside the kitchen table, both guns holstered and reassembled on his lean hips. As he watched, Alucard picked up one of the cans that the priest had left there, turning it over in his hands as the vampire stared neutrally at the pasted-on label.
Something in that lack of expression seemed alien. Had Alucard ever encountered canned food before? Surely he must have. Everyone had. Alexander knew for a fact that Sir Hellsing had sent the vampire on missions to domestic households. Alucard lived on an estate with living humans. It would be perfectly normal and logical for him to have seen canned food before, and at least he should know what it was.
"So inventive." Alucard murmured to himself after a moment, something deep and fathomless swimming in his bright red eyes. "So persistent."
He set the can of food down again, much to Alexander's private relief. He knew Alucard was old, probably over a century at bare minimum, but it was…odd, to think that a literal living piece of history was standing beside him like this. It was odd to think of what the vampire's idea of normal was, and how it did not include the modern things that Alexander took for granted. What was it like, to have a perspective that bridged the gap between more than just one or two generations? What had Alucard seen as a living man? What strange truths of the past had he witnessed?
Alexander curbed his natural curiosity with a ruthless tug. If he asked, the vampire wouldn't tell him.
"I'll keep the wards up, but one of us will have to stay on guard all night." he said gruffly, turning back to his food preparations. Alexander had come prepared to stay awake for as long as he had to in order to cleanse the island, of course, but he'd had a long day, and it was foolish not to avail himself of the resource at hand.
"I can keep watch." Alucard answered, agreeing to his oblique suggestion. "I've been held immobile for long enough. The chance to stretch my legs even within this cramped hut would be…welcome."
"Just don't stretch them too far and leave me vulnerable." Alexander said, giving him a warning glare. Alucard smiled slightly and held up his hands.
"Rest assured, Judas Priest, I'll guard my potential meals most faithfully." he said, exposing a hint of fangs. "After all, its not as if I'll have anyone else to feed on, at least until our job's done here."
Alexander gave the vampire a wary glance and wished, for a second, that he dared to set an extra set of wards between them.
It was the cold that woke him.
Alexander had seen in the clouds before sunset that they were due for some inclement weather, but there wasn't a single room in the half-ruined house that didn't have some kind of hole open to the elements, and he'd had to pick and choose what would offer the least amount of exposure. Heat rose, so he'd picked one of the rooms on the second floor that only had a badly-sealed window which had been corroded half-open, letting cold air and damp stream into the room.
The temperature must have dropped sometime in the night, since even in his multiple layers and underneath the grungy blankets, Alexander found himself shivering. The faint glow of his wards gave him enough to see by, and as Alexander rolled over, he was startled, somewhat, by seeing the vampire.
Alucard had the good manners –or perhaps just the risk assessment– to not stand over him directly, but the vampire had also entered the room without his consent or awareness. He was sitting directly beneath the opened window, which he had somehow managed to raise until it was a gaping hole in the wall, letting cold, damp air stream into the room as Alucard stared up and out into the night. Alexander watched, and listened, wondering if the vampire had caught something he hadn't, but he only heard the distant, moaning rush of the wind tumbling over the waves as they ground against the sand and gravel of the shore. In and out, in and out, like the wheezing lungs of Leviathan itself, and still the vampire stared, unblinking and motionless.
With the clouds casting a damp, raw shadow over the night, there was no moon for the vampire to gaze at, and yet the vaguely interested expression on his face told Alexander that he was watching something, nonetheless.
It had been odd seeing the vampire bereft of his usual enveloping red clothing, but it was doubly odd, seeing him like this. Alexander had never really had the luxury of actually watching the vampire just to watch him, always focused on anticipating the next attack, the next barb, the next sneering grin. He took that opportunity now as he blinked in the dim gloom, studying Alucard's features.
Alucard's fine black hair swirled about his face and neck, motionless now, rather than the occasional moving eddies and tendrils of glowing shadow that Alexander had spotted when the vampire was flexing his unnatural power. It fell against his cheek in delicate strands, looking soft and luxurious, like the silky hair of a Persian cat. Alucard's eyes gleamed out from amidst those inky black strands and the unnaturally pale perfection of his face, with his irises red as rubies and his black pupils slitted needle-thin. They looked like two coals that had been plucked from the fires of Hell and set to glow within the vampire's sockets, all the more disturbing because Alexander knew that those eyes had once belonged to a living man with a normal face, however many dozens or hundreds of years ago it had been.
Eyes were the windows to the soul, and Alucard's were nothing short of a gateway into damnation.
Alexander found his own eyes skating away from them, tracing the swoop of Alucard's aquiline nose and the line of his long sharp jaw to the vampire's pale lips. They covered his fangs, now, pressed into a contemplative line, but Alucard's mouth was what would always give him away as a vampire. He could cover his eyes with those garish sunglasses of his and hide the chill of his body with gloves and layers, could explain away the paleness of his skin and disguise the sharpness of his teeth, but what he could never hide was his lack of natural blood.
Even at their most anemic and pale, humans had color to their lips, their nails. The color may be the faintest of pinks or dullest of rose, but it was still there. No matter the skin tone, no matter the condition of shock, a human's lips had color, distinct from the rest of the face and usually flushed, at least subtly, with red.
Not so, with vampires.
It was one of the easiest and quickest ways to identify the undead: simply look down at their mouth. Hiding fangs or not, their lips were as bloodless and pale as the rest of them, and that held true in Alucard. His lips may be as supple and mobile as an ordinary human's, but they were colorless, barely distinguishable, as pallid as the rest of the vampire's face. Most people tended not to notice such details, even when they subconsciously registered that something about the face of the vampire in question was –off. They simply brushed their unease aside, rarely if ever connecting it to the realization that unlike everyone else they'd ever seen, the vampire's lips were not flushed with living color.
For all his many characteristics as a maverick, even Alucard seemed to obey that rule. His mouth was unnatural but inviting, his thin and pallid lips the door to countless sins. Alexander knew the sharp teeth that dwelled behind them, and the acid bite of the vampire's wit: other people did not, and so might be enticed by the sensual, welcoming curve of Alucard's smirk.
Like before, when he had been tempted to utter the words of Communion as his blood dripped slowly into the vampire's mouth, Alexander was suddenly aware of how simultaneously strange and yet familiar this scene was, like a memory he had almost forgotten, or the last clinging shreds of a dream. The way that Alucard's pale and flawless skin caught the faint light radiating from the walls made him look more like a statue carved of alabaster than a moving, thinking creature: not even a breath shifted his body, and despite the sound of the wind billowing and gusting over the distant waves and hushing through the grass, his black hair remained unstirred. The vampire's eyelashes were dark enough that Alexander could see the faint, shining droplets of mist clinging to them as Alucard stared unblinkingly into the sky. Alexander shuddered.
"What th' hell are you doing?" he finally managed to grunt hoarsely, realizing how long he, too, had been staring, and he watched Alucard blink for the first time in many minutes, the tiny flecks of water being flung away with the force of the simple movement.
"Watching the sky." Alucard answered, his low, resonant voice rumbling up from his chest like a demon from the pit. Those hellish eyes shifted, locking on Alexander for a brief moment, before returning to whatever had Alucard so enthralled. "Watching a storm be born."
Alexander's gaze flicked reflexively to the view outside the window, but of course, to him the sky was pitch-black. Training himself to be able to somewhat see at night would never give Alexander the unnatural acuity of a vampire's eyes in the dark: he was no nocturnal predator, not the way Alucard was.
He rubbed the corner of his eyes, feeling all too tired despite the fact he had just woken up.
"Why?" Alexander asked at length. The vampire's broad black shoulders moved in an almost-imperceptible shrug.
"Why not?" Alucard returned easily, still staring at the sky. "The night is long, I can't leave this ruined hovel, and the changing weather is aesthetically appealing if nothing else. You've heard of aesthetics, haven't you, priest? Beauty for the sake of beauty."
"I don't want to hear your depraved ideas about what a lack of morals does to beauty." Alexander muttered, and the vampire surprised him with a not-at-all mocking chuckle.
"Something can be found beautiful without you rendering any further moral judgement on it." Alucard said, still watching the sky. "If seeing it gives you aesthetic pleasure."
Right. Aesthetics. That's exactly what was going on here –from both ends. The vampire isn't attractive, but he is, visually, appealing. Eerie perfection wrapped up in an inhuman visage –it wasn't unnatural for Alexander to stare. Even as a vampire-hunter, he didn't get many opportunities to see something like this creature sitting still, in easy repose. Staring was to be expected, even.
But that was a train of thought Alexander was not interested in pursuing, since wherever its eventual destination might lie, it would definitely involve the vampire mocking him at some point or another along the way. Just because they were both doing their best not to aggravate each other into a fight didn't mean it was easy.
He found his eyes traveling down the hard line of Alucard's surprisingly broad shoulders to avoid such thoughts, and Alexander finally asked something that had been bothering him almost since he'd freed the damned monster. If anyone ever asked him the reason for putting such a civil question to a vampire, especially this vampire, he would have honestly replied that sleep had fogged his mind and dulled his aggression, and that the dark shroud of night invited many thoughts.
"Why are only some of your clothes gone?" he asked. "Why not all of them?"
Alucard's gaze flicked his way, and the vampire raised an eyebrow slightly before his attention returned to the swirling fog and building storm, like his eyes were drawn irresistibly to the dark change in the skies, like the vampire simply could not look away from the tempest rearing up like a tidal wave above their heads.
"My Master takes the precaution of ordering me into more tangible garments whenever she sends me on a mission near the coast." Alucard murmured, holding out his hand as the first icy droplets began to fall, striking the old, weathered walls of the house in a cascading rattle of sound. Alexander watched the raindrops gather like quivering diamonds on the vampire's glove, refusing to soak into the fabric. That, at least, remained as unnatural as ever.
"Shut the window." Alexander finally grumbled, his body tensing as another icy draft blew through the room.
Alucard sighed, but unfolded himself and stood, putting one hand on the warped and weathered wooden casing. He paused there for a moment, though, before his eyes tracked towards Alexander again. Without knowing why, Alexander shivered again as the fire within those hellish eyes dimmed. If he didn't know better, he would have said that it softened.
"One more question before I do." Alucard murmured. "Why bother helping me at all?"
Weariness, irritation, and above all, an overwhelming desire to block out the cold made Alexander's next words slip from him without artifice or thought.
"Because I'm not killing you in anything but a fair fight, vampire." he said. "It's unsportsmanlike."
"And?"
"And what?" the paladin growled. "I respect you enough not to let some greedy, overconfident witch take what's mine, and that's all there needs to be to it. Now close the damn window before I deprive you of your head, vampire."
Alucard did so without comment, and Alexander rolled over, putting his back to the other occupant in the room and putting everything he had seen since he had woken up out of his mind with equal resolution.
