Since her return from abroad, supernatural matters have died down in the surrounding countryside. Integra Hellsing always thought she'd relish the day when she could rest, having efficiently executed her legacy. Instead she finds herself avoiding the final flood of paperwork spilling from her inbox. For nearly a week she sits at her mahogany desk, sleep-deprived and chain-smoking Henri Wintermans. The ashtray's contents are wiped out by night as the family butler efficiently erases the existence of her obsessive habit. Hazy days unfurl, afternoons blending into one another, as paperwork and cigar piles begin anew.
Integra is too keyed up to relax. Lately any nightly respite is destroyed the moment her head hits the pillow, a dark and dreaming mind claiming her. She stares across the estate. Her gloved hand reaches up to brush baby-fine tresses behind an ear, pulling absently at the unmarred skin on her neck. She is not so far gone to notice the subtle temperature change, the tug of her stomach dropping. The small hairs on her neck stand at attention.
"Master."
"Vampire."
"You're up considerably late."
Integra turns from the window and sinks into her leather desk chair, pulling at the red cravat at her throat.
He remains a respectful distance away, face a mask.
Integra, buries her face in hands and sighs. "This is not as I anticipated." She turns and gestures toward the window and the countryside's dark hills beyond the manor. "It feels premature… I suspect the Queen-" she gasps as the air around her shifts and thickens. He materializes to perch comfortably on the edge of her desk.
"Jittery are we, Master?" Alucard regards her down the length of his nose, black hair moving of its own accord.
"Must you resort to such theatrics?"
He smiles, wide, genuine. "Can not a servant, humble, such as myself, check in with his master? You are flushed Integra, are you ill...my Master?"
She scowls. Her features are pinched, deep circles ring her eyes. She grasps the bridge of her nose, right under the little v between her brows. "Don't you have somewhere to be, vampire? Say, training your fledgling Seras? She is weaker than a kitten and will be until she drinks blood. She is an embarrassment to this institution-and to you." She scowls, recalling the night of the Cheddar incident when Alucard brought home a former police officer-former human-and a girl not much younger than Integra herself.
His pale features are a mask and a stark contrast against his raven dark hair and crimson duster. He stares at the hunched figure in front of him.
"You should rest Master. Humans need sleep. You are a human," he connects the obvious dots as though she is blissfully ignorant of the condition.
She shakes her head. "Despite the waning vampiric activity, I managed to accumulate all this," she points a violent finger to mountains of paperwork, "while I was abroad." His eyes trace the line of her arm to the papery mass. He pauses, stretching the thin silence and slowly flexes his fingers. Urging them down, he pins the pile between them.
"Does the hunter seek prey to practice her craft?" He crumples sheets under his palm, leaning over her rigid form. His tone blooms dark promises, "perhaps you just need a little inspiration."
Her face, neck, and mouth are narrow lines. "I'll thank you from telling me how to do my job, servant! You overstep your bounds."
Alucard smiles. The anger cut through her malaise, razor sharp. A passing flash between dreams and a shadow of her normal showy spectacle.
She reaches for her box of cigars. He catches her toying hand in his free fingers. His grip is cold, solid, and humming with power. She stares at his gloves, etched seals burned into his hands below, branding him as hers. Fingertips roam over her palm, caressing the length of her digits before capturing her hand. A trapped canary.
She regards him through steel-rimmed glasses. "What?"
"Your darkness is the candle Integra." He relinquishes her hand. He steps back from the desk, melting into the shadows. She stares at the freed bird as it flutters down to earth.
Seras Victoria sighs as she approaches the Hellsing Mansion. The sight of the well-manicured gardens and symmetrical facade glowing in the moonlight would spark awe in any human's heart, but neither the display nor the concert of the fountain's murmurings quicken her dead heart to life this evening. She pauses to sit on a nearby bench, her vampiric sight soaking in the manor's grounds.
What is wrong with me? I never had anything this nice when I was alive. I never even left our neighborhood.
She thinks back to her parents, distant and hazy memories. Her father, a police officer with warm steady hands and a hearty laugh. He would swing Seras up onto his shoulders and the dizzying rush made her laugh and laugh. She remembers her mother's long blonde hair piled on top of her head while baking Seras's favorite strawberry pies, flour dusting the tiny kitchen. Mum took her finger and drew a heart on the Formica table in the white flour, Seras's tiny finger tracing her initials in the heart. Seras sniffles, and wipes away a small bloody tear.
I miss you Mum, Dad.
Over the sound of the crickets' song, bootsteps crunch across the white stone pathway of the gardens as Seras hastily wipes at the red stains on her cheeks.
"Pardon the interruption, Miss Victoria, but I am to inquire if you had the opportunity to dine yet this evening." The Hellsing family butler Walter greets her as he steps from the shadows.
She flushes at his question and looks toward her booted feet. Walter is one of the few people here who makes Seras feel comfortable in the months since she began her Unlife. He has been so kind to her and she doesn't want to let him down.
"Ehh, well, I'm just having a hard time getting used to that," she quietly trails off, eyes trailing the patterns the glow worms make from the hedges.
Walter nods briefly and turns to face the moon, gargantuan on the horizon. "My, what a beautiful evening. Would you mind terribly if an old Englishman rests his weary feet for a moment Miss Victoria?"
She smiles up at him. "Oh please do."
He moves to sit next to the young vampire, inhaling the fragrance of the white roses bobbing their heavy heads in the slight breeze. "Takes me back years ago." He smiles. "There was a time that I had to make some extensive adjustments myself."
Seras leans toward Walter, eyebrows high under her fringe. "Umm, what kind of adjustments? That must have been a long time ago! My memory isn't always so great, Master says it's kind of like a sieve!" She raises her shoulders and chokes out a nervous laugh.
Walter eyes her askance and coughs into his hand. "Well, Miss Victoria, there was the time before and then there was the war. Much like yourself Seras, I had a family and they were lost. It was quite the period of despair for a young lad. I was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of the Hellsing family and they sheltered me, helping develop my talents. Here I found a place and a purpose. Hellsing became my family. And now here we are, two orphans, not so unlike the young lady inside who wields the reins of this organization," he points towards the third floor and Integra's office.
"Oh...I never thought of Sir Integra that way, I guess you are right." Seras shifts and scratches the back of her head as if trying to push the ghost of that idea into her brain.
Walter smiles and turns toward Seras, patting her knee before standing, the moonlight flashing across his monocle. "Sir Integra has had a heavy cross to bear from a very young age. You two young ladies have more in common than you may think. And while not all people are the same, it is often our differences that unite us in strength. I can't promise that this adjustment will be entirely easy, but I have faith that in time you will be better able to bear it."
"Thank you Walter." she stammers out.
"You are most welcome Miss Victoria." He begins walking toward the manor and stops with a thought, "And Seras, your dinner will be waiting for you in your room when you're ready to return."
"Oh. Thank you."
Seras sighs.