Hellsing
Book I
Heir of Hellsing
Chapter I
The young girl sat alone, silent, in the hall of London's Child Placement Center. The door to her right opened, and Mr. James, a tall, severe looking man wearing wire rimmed glasses, told her to come inside.
She entered the office, vaguely noting the afternoon sunlight pouring in from the bay window and onto the desk in front of it. She sat in the overstuffed chair in front of the desk, feeling even smaller and more vulnerable than usual.
Mr. James came around and sat behind the desk, bringing his fingers together and surveying her.
"I think we may have found someone to adopt you." He said slowly, taking a file out of his desk. She hated how he made it sound like some god-awful chore, and impossible task that he had accomplished. Her parents had only been dead a month. But she remained silent.
"There is a woman," he continued. "Who has agreed to take you under her wing. She will be here at any moment to get you. Don't be rude to her."
She stared. She had never known Mr. James to be kind, but he could at least give her a warning before something like this happened. Didn't she at least deserve that, being the only daughter of his dead friend, Anthony Harker? Apparently not. Twelve-year-old girls don't merit information of this magnitude in advance.
"You will be gracious to her." Said Mr. James harshly. "She is a very important woman, and has been very kind to even consider taking you into her home."
"Who is she? What's her name?" she blurted. Mr. James cleared his throat.
"Her name is Integra Hellsing. She has made it clear to me that the wishes to tell you more at her convenience." He said.
There was a sharp tap at the door. Mr. James stood, and she followed.
"Come in."
A tall, stout, elderly man in a black tailored suit and a monocle perched on his left eye entered the room. His hair was jet black, long, graying at the temples, and pulled back into a tight ponytail.
"Good morning." He said. "You are Mr. James I presume? I am Walter, retainer to the Hellsing family."
Mr. James smiled and shook Walter's hand. Then he said, "But where is Miss Hellsing?"
"She had some important matters to attend to, and could not be delayed. She has sent me in her place." Replied Walter. He turned to the girl. "Ah, and this must be the young miss Elizabeth Harker."
Elizabeth shook his hand, looking him firmly in the face. Her father had always taught her to be firm when meeting people. First impressions last a lifetime. Sometimes more.
"Well," said Mr. James, eager to be done with the whole ordeal. "Do you have the paperwork?"
"Indeed I do." Responded Walter, presenting a manila envelope and placing it on the desk. "You'll find everything in there."
Elizabeth excused herself and stepped back into the hall. She didn't want to hear the rest of it. She didn't want to hear how they talked, as if she were being sold. She would always resent Mr. James for that. As for Walter…
After a while, Walter emerged from the office, alone. He walked over to Elizabeth, and gave her a bow.
"Now, my Lady, we shall head for Hellsing, your new home." He said, straightening. He extended his arm, which she took, and lead her out of the building.
When they reached the outside, Elizabeth was astonished to find a long, sleek, white, luxury BMW. Walter stepped forward and opened the door, gesturing inside.
"In you go, my little Lady." He said kindly as she sat gingerly on the leather seats. He closed the door, and went around to the other side.
The ride to Hellsing Manor was relatively silent. Elizabeth couldn't help but stare in awe when they pulled into the courtyard. The main building seemed, to her, as large as Her Majesty's own palace. After he stopped the car outside the large double doors, Walter came around and opened the door before Elizabeth could do it herself.
He led her inside, through the large main entryway, up a flight of stairs, and down a hall. He then halted her in front of an antique oak door, and opened it. Inside stood a tall four-poster bed, draped in a moon-blue curtain that matched the blue of the walls. The floor was carpeted with a blue Persian rug, which covered the cold stone underneath. A tall, chestnut wardrobe stood on the same wall as the door, and a beautiful window bench sat, built into the sill, covered in soft pillows. Walter noted her look of awe, and smiled.
"This is your room, miss Elizabeth." He said. "I hope you find everything you need. Your things will arrive at noon."
"Um." Elizabeth didn't know what to say. "Thank you, uh…"
"Call me Walter." He said simply. "If you feel you need anything, ask me. I will come back for you when Sir Hellsing is ready to receive you. Alright?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"Good." He smiled, and left, closing the door behind him. After he did, she wandered around her room. The window had a nice view of the courtyard and the city of London beyond it. A small bathroom stood in one corner, containing toiletries and a stand up shower.
When she began to become bored, she decided to look around her new home. The house was so big to her, given her age and height, which had always been less than an average child's. She went to the first floor, and down the left corridor. All of the doors were plain, giving her the impression that they were storage rooms or closets. The door at the far end of the corridor was made of metal, and had a sign reading, "Operative Barracks".
"Curious," she thought, and opened the door. Inside were dozens of bunks, each accommodating a sleeping man. Quietly, she closed the door.
Down the right corridor she found more plain doors, the same as the left corridor. This time, however, they were only on one side of the corridor. On the other side, there were several heavy oak doors and one glass one. The glass door lead into an indoor garden filled with exotic flowers and plants. She tried the oak door farthest to the right. Locked. She tried the next one. Locked. All of them were locked. She was about to head back up the stairs when she spotted another set of stairs leading downward. At the bottom was another door.
This one was open, but it was heavy. She had to push hard to make it open, it's old hinges grudgingly moving in a high-pitched creak. It revealed a set of stairs that led to, what she assumed to be, the cellar. She followed the stairs, holding onto the railing so that she wouldn't trip in the increasingly dim light. Halfway down the stairs, a chill breeze rose up to meet her. She faltered, knocked back by the wind, but thought nothing of it, and continued down the stairs
When she reached the bottom, she saw a long hallway that branched out into others. Sometimes doors were present along the cold stone walls, but not in regular intervals. The chill breeze was still playing around her ankles, and she decided to follow it. It took her down a hall, a right turn down another hall, and a left turn down another. Finally, she reached and old, black door, from under which the cold was leaking. Nothing else interested her anymore accept what was behind the door. She could hear soft music behind played behind it. On a record player of some kind, muffled, unclear.
She reached up and pulled the handle down, the door swung open easily, on well-oiled hinges.
The room Elizabeth stood in wasn't cold at all. On the contrary, it was toasty warm. There were no carpets in the room to cover the bare stone floors. Nor was there a bed, nor a table. No kegs for wine or beer. What there was was a lot of open space, a blazing fireplace, a large, antique straight-backed chair, and an empty bookshelf in one corner. Nothing stirred in the room but the crackling flames of the fire.
She thought that perhaps she should leave. Walter might be upset, not to mention Sir Hellsing, when they returned to find her missing. But it was cold in the halls, and the fire was warm and inviting. So she stepped further into the room, closed the door, and seated herself at the foot of the chair, her navy skirt under her, her hands and ankles to the fire so she could warm them where the chill air had frozen them. The music emitting from an old record player by the fire was Mozart's Requiem. She could remember her mother listening to it as she worked. It lulled her, soothed her nerves and tension. She looked up in time to see a tall, red-cloaked man come Through the wall in front of her.