Seras heard the footsteps long before the door finally swung open with an awful creak. There was no soundproofing this far underground. So the shouts, and heavy thuds as the men hunting her threw open each cell door one by one carried over perfectly to her. Gradually, growing closer and closer. She was crouched on the disgusting ground, angry tears flowing freely down her cheeks, though she didn't really register them anymore.
She glanced back at the corpse beside her. This withered, awful thing that her mad father apparently thought was somehow the means for her "salvation." Dimly, she wondered why there was a corpse there at all. But then what did that matter? She'd be joining the thing soon enough. Whatever hideous end this long dead soul had suffered, she'd be keeping it company soon enough. Perhaps she'd have an opportunity to ask. She bit back on a burble of hysterical laughter.
"There you are." Richard made his way into the cell, closely flanked by a handful of guards. She didn't recognize any of them.
This was it. There was nowhere else to run. She'd been found.
The paralyzing fear had faded some time before. Seras had likely lost it crawling through the dust and grime of the air ducts. Now the only thing left to her was rage.
Bitter, blinding rage while her uncle stood over her and gloated. While he waved a gun in her face and told her how he was going to fill her body full of lead. He had a mad gleam in his eyes—that had always been there, she realized— but it was so much more prominent now. And all she could think about was how muchshewanted him hurt, to suffer.
The bullet tore through her shoulder before she even realized Richard had fired the gun. She didn't hear the shot and she didn't hear her own scream. But the force of it made her lose balance, until she crumpled in on herself like a paper doll in the rain.
Her uncle only laughed. He looked at her, an eyebrow quirked, like it was all so terribly amusing. "I could just leave you here," he said slowly, as if tasting the words to see how they would feel on his tongue. "Lock the door and let your own body do the rest of the killing for me. Isn't it fascinating what one bullet can do, Seras? One careless shot and that's the end of so many irritations."
"You're a coward," she spat at him, mostly because she couldn't think of a worse word through the pain. She wondered if the wound was truly fatal. She wondered if anyone at all was actually looking for her.
"I'm not the one trembling in fear, I—"
It took her a moment to realize that Richard had stopped talking. and yet another to realize that his trembling hand was no longer aiming the gun at her. She turned, wincing as the movement sent a staggering stab of pain through her.
All eyes were on the corpse. And despite the visible, bone deep rot on its face a moment ago, it seemed to be… moving.
They watched in a moment of collective silence, as the corpse crouched to lick the blood spatter from off the floor.
Seras watched him lazily shake off years of stiffness, as its bonds seemed to melt into nothing. What little light there was in the cell glinted off his teeth: inhumanly long and sharp.
One of Richard's men made the mistake of slowly backing away. Before she had time to blink, the corpse was on him, painting the small space in arterial spray.No,she corrected herself.The vampire.
Seras didn't care about any of this. She counted herself as dead anyway. The only thing she still had was her rage and who knew how long before the pain took that away. While her uncle was still distracted with everything else, with the vampire now ripping through the rest of the hired men like so much meat, she lunged at him.
He didn't fall; she had no physical advantage over him. But she latched onto him like a limpet, clawing at his eyes. The gun went off again, and it was sheer dumb luck that it didn't hit her. She was screaming, she didn't know when she'd started. Her blood was smearing everywhere, and her wound had left her light headed and feverish. But she heard a sickening squelch, and something under her thumb gave way.
He uncle made a choking gutteral sound before finally throwing her off. She landed with a crunching noise on her bad shoulder, and realized distantly that she was lying in more blood. It didn't appear to be her own.
She didn't have time to collect herself. Richard was still coming at her, shaking now, though it was likely from anger. A viscous trickle of blood and… something else... ran down his eye socket. He raised the gun, and took aim.
Seras tried to push herself up, to scramble away, but the ground was too slippery, and her left arm wasn't cooperating. And there wasn't exactly anywhere to hide. She heard the click as he cocked the gun. She squeezed her eyes shut. And he fired.
There was no impact.
She opened her eyes, taking a moment to sluggishly process what was happening. The vampire was in front of her, peering down at her with impossibly red eyes. A bloody arm extended out, as if he'd intended to just bat the bullet away.
It was getting harder to think but it looked like he'd saved her.
Then the vampire finally spoke. "Do you want to die tonight?" he asked her, in a dry rasp of a voice.
Behind him her uncle was sputtering. He moved to reload. The vampire didn't seem to care.
Seras shook her head, and was immediately dizzy from the movement. She realized then that everyone else in the cell was dead. It was only the three of them.
"Then what are my orders, Sir Hellsing?"
"Kill him."
And so he did, gruesomely, horribly. She would've likely been more affected if she weren't already so numb with shock and blood loss. She wondered if she should feel anything, watching Richard die like that. She didn't.
After it was done, they waited in a strange silence. Like two cornered animals, wary to leave their own sides of the cells. It was unlikely he'd turn on her now. There was no reason to save her for last.
"You're a vampire." It wasn't a question. She knew the answer, was certain of it. But she still couldn't believe how any of this was true. How a vampire had slept so long in the heart of the Hellsing manor, and had now askedherfor orders.
He inclined his head, but did not speak. The way his voice had rasped before, Seras wondered if it hurt him.
"Are you alright?"
He looked at her. And suddenly Seras was very conscious of how she must look, wounded and tired, sitting in a puddle of her own blood. The adrenaline rush was fading and in its absence the pain slowly returned to her. She felt half dead. She probably was half dead. Finally he said,"Iam perfectly fine."
"Can you help me?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Do you wish to become one of the undead?"
"No. Just to get back upstairs. I need to do something about this." She nodded towards her shoulder and immediately winced at the resulting stab of agony.
He held out his hand. She took it gingerly with her good arm, surprised when in a brief flurry of shadow they were suddenly back above ground.
It was dark out, and barely any light seeped into the empty husk of a manor home. She wasn't used to seeing it so quiet. If she were less exhausted or overwhelmed, it would've unsettled her. But it was not the time for any of that, so instead she blindly stumbled to the nearest sofa to collapse on. Black spots danced across her vision.
"You should put pressure on that."
She only blinked at him, uncomprehending. The vampire's voice sounded distant to her, even as he appeared to be knelt at her side.
"Do you know how to tend a bullet wound, Sir Hellsing?"
That title was not hers. It was her father's. Having it addressed to her felt strange. She shook her head quietly, too numb to even feel any pain.
"Would you allow me to see to it for you?"
"Fine," she managed.
"It would be a shame to have you die now."
Was that a joke?"I appreciate the help," she said quietly.
The vampire was surprisingly good at first aid. He'd brought her to one of the seldom sitting rooms in the manor. In better days, her father had liked to smoke in here, in the big armchair in the corner. Sometimes he'd read. Sometimes he'd sneak a drink— even though he'd quit that particular habit long ago.
Seras watched, thoughts in a haze, as the vampire cut away at her ruined sleeve and cleaned the wound with surprising calm and dexterity. She'd somehow expected more… snarling at the sight of blood. The pain in her shoulder was sharp enough that the sting of alcohol barely registered.
She wasn't particularly surprised when he fished out a needle and thread from the first aid kit he'd dug up from somewhere. Of course she'd need stitches. She braced herself for the first jab of the needle but she hardly felt that either. What was one more drop of pain in the bucket? It was more the tugging through her flesh that bothered her. But she resigned herself to the sensation.
"Richard was always a bad shot," he said suddenly, making her jump. "The bullet only grazed you."
"That's not what it feels like," she grumbled, too tired to even contemplate the implied familiarity in what the vampire had said.
"He was too busy gloating to bother to aim."
Seras only shrugged; the movement immediately made her wince.
"Don't do that."
"I'm sorry."
"You'll only hurt yourself." He was silent for a moment, before bluntly saying, "You're a child."
"I've noticed."
"A bit young for being shot. Wouldn't you say?"
She realized he was likely trying to distract her. Bizarre. "Ugly succession struggles wait for no one, I suppose."
"So Arthur is dead."
Seras bit her lip on the sudden unbidden wave of grief. She couldn't think about that right now, couldn't let herself feel it. It wasn't the time. Not on this day, with her uncle dead, and a vampire in front of her. "We buried him three days ago," she said carefully, measuring her words to make sure they didn't shake. It was ultimately unsuccessful, but to her own surprise the tremor in her voice wasn't grief, but anger. "He was hardly cold in the ground, and Uncle saw fit to stage a coup."
The vampire scoffed. "What a humiliating degree of cowardice, to target a child because he could not face his own brother. And he couldn't even do that alone."
"I hate him," she said with sudden viciousness. "He's dead, but I hate him, and I wish he'd suffered more."
The vampire looked at her curiously. "What does it matter that he's dead?"
"Father says that we're to respect those we've lost, especially if they're family." She blinked. "Said. He said that."
"I think an exception could be made for traitors and turncoats, little Hellsing" He sat back on his heels to examine his work and Seras realized that he was finished. He'd stitched the wound and bandaged it and it was done. She'd been too angry to notice.
She touched the bandage gingerly. She didn't have any other real frame of reference but as far as she could tell it seemed neat and competently applied. "I… thank you."
The vampire did not respond.
"Do you have a name?" she asked.
"Not one that particularly matters."
"But what should I call you?"
He grinned, and told her.
Her father had tried to prepare her for this, especially after it became clear that the sickness wouldn't simply pass. She remembered his voice, when it had still been strong, telling her that being a Hellsing was an honor and a privilege. But that it also was a grim and thankless responsibility. He likely hadn't meant it in this way, but hehadwarned her. Still, it was a strange thing to be twelve years old with blood on her hands.
Seras had always felt small looking at her father's desk. Smaller still clutching a wounded shoulder and dragging herself up to his study. She stilled for a moment, uncertain why she had even come here. In a way she'd almost been hoping her father would be waiting for her there, that this latest disaster would have somehow nullified the last. But no, his study was empty. As was the rest of the manor.
Her uncle had dismissed all of the other staff in those last few days. He'd claimed that the family needed to be alone to grieve. Walter had of course stayed on, but… he was in South America at the moment. So she was alone in this expansive, empty room, leaving bloody footprints on the tiles.
Alucard had resumed feeding below. There were many questions there, but Seras didn't have the energy to entertain them. Instead she swallowed the lump in her throat and reached for the phone on the desk, waiting while it rang.
Walter had written down his hotel phone and room number for her on a notepad. She'd already memorized it but she'd watched him write each digit in his looping, elegant script anyway and hoped he'd change his mind. She'd hoped he'd pause and say that he wouldn't be leaving after all. Not so soon after the funeral, there was too much to do after all. He couldn't just leave.
But instead he'd simply given her the scrap of paper and told her not to give Uncle Richard too much trouble while he was gone. His smile had not been unkind, but she was angry at that too, even though she felt bad about it.
She'd crawled through the vents of the labyrinth that was her own home, and she hated her uncle for doing this to her, hated Walter for going away, and hated her father most of all for leaving her so alone.
A hotel clerk answered the phone, and while clearly put off by her age, conceded to connect her call without much argument. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. No answer.
For an irrational moment she thought maybe Walter was dead too. That's what seemed to happen to every adult in her life. They were all dead. There wasn't anyone left. But no that was ridiculous. It was late. Perhaps he was asleep and simply hadn't heard the phone ringing.
She called the hotel again, and this time she left a message with the front desk. The clerk helpfully assured her that someone would pass it along as soon as possible. Whenever that was.
Seras fell asleep at her father's desk. It was a fitful, uncomfortable thing. She woke feeling stiff and exhausted, and with her tongue feeling like sandpaper. But at least her head was a little clearer.
She blinked blearily, taking a moment to remember where she was and why. It'd been the pain in her shoulder that jolted her awake. Oh right, she'd been shot. It was still dark out, she couldn't have dozed for more than a few hours.
She called the hotel again, and left the front desk another message. They refused to transfer her call due to the time, despite her insistence that it was an emergency. And the clerk informed her that her message would be passed along at Mr Dornez's convenience. So that was that.
It was doubtful that she'd hear from him for the rest of the night. At least Rio de Janeiro was several hours ahead, it was closer to morning there.
Seras carefully got to her feet, and had to brace herself on the desk to keep from falling. It took a few moments for the dizziness to fade. Everything hurt, her clothes were crusty and disgusting with dried blood, her ruined one-sleeved blouse felt desperately constricting, she was hungry, and her home suddenly seemed impossibly large.
It was overwhelming. She'd have to deal with it all one step at a time. She inched her way back to her room. It felt like painfully slow progress but she got there eventually. It was easier to breathe here.
Somehow, over the last few days the rest of the manor had become foreign to her. Over the last few months really, as her father had gotten worse and worse and it had begun to feel more like a hospital than anything else. The rest of the building was where doctors swarmed like bees. It was her uncle's domain, where he held court and pretended to be the head of Hellsing while her father wasted away. It was where various friends of her father's friends, and people who couldn't even be called acquaintances convened to throw her pitying looks and condolences given with a vulture's kindness. It was where her uncle hunted her down like prey.
But at least this room was hers and no one else's. And it was safe.
She didn't want to deal with changing her bandages so soon, and she wasn't sure if she could stand for very long anyway, so instead of a shower she opted for sitting on the edge of her bathtub and sponging away as much of the blood as she could. It took some creative contorting to rinse out the clumps of dried blood out of her hair without getting her shoulder wet, but she managed it.
A fresh set of clothes and a trip to the kitchen later, Seras felt slightly more human. And slightly less in danger of bursting into tears at any moment. And so she ventured out to find the vampire.Alucard, she corrected herself.
It took some searching. The manor was very silent and very still and something in her was loath to disturb it. As if her uncle was still out there, and he'd find her if she were too loud or disruptive. She tiptoed down the halls, trying to figure out where a vampire would even choose to go. She hoped he wasn't still in the basement. Seras didn't want to go down there ever again.
She was half convinced that he'd been just another nightmare, or that he'd run away (a vampire on the loose was a problem, wasn't it?) by the time the faint murmur of voices reached her ears. Seras froze for a moment before pushing her fear aside and followed the sound.
The first rays of dawn were finally reaching out over the horizon, but this room was in complete darkness. The curtains were drawn tight and all the lights were off. The only source of light came from the television, washing everything in a pale eerie glow.
It took her eyes a moment to register the figure in front of it as Alucard. He was sitting on the carpeted ground. The pale, cobweb fall of his hair had somehow turned black. He was surrounded by stacks of magazines, books, and newspapers.
Seras blinked, letting her vision adjust. "Alucard?"
He turned to look at her. He'd helped her,washelping her, but she did not understand it. Something in her was waiting for him to change his mind, to bare his teeth and strike. But as cold and cruel as his face was, he only seemed preoccupied with her safety.
He looked a little more human now, the blood must have rejuvenated him. But there was still that half-mad brightness to his red eyes, and it unsettled her.
"So it's 1989," he breathed out. Behind him the television droned on, it was a repeat of thenight's newscast.
"Yes?" Seras frowned. "What did you expect?"
"I wasn't sure. I didn't expect anything."
"How long were you… down there?"
He looked thoughtful, and then that grin broke across his face again. "I suppose it's been nearly twenty years."
"Twentyyears?" She blanched. She hadn't been alive for nearly half of that. The thought was terrifying to her. "Why were you locked away?"
"Difference of opinions," he replied flippantly, turning back to the screen. He sifted through the channels, aimlessly it seemed. "Twenty years, and how the world has changed." This last was said under his breath, with wonder. He seemed so absorbed by the images on the screen, Seras thought he must've forgotten she was there. But then he turned back to her.
"Do people dress like this now?"
She peered over his shoulder and giggled. A performer she was only vaguely familiar with was singing a song she didn't know. She took in the teased hair and black lipstick and racked her brain for a name, but came up blank. Her knowledge of pop culture and music was limited to what she'd gathered from when she'd still been going to school.
Private tutors had taken over her education once father's illness had taken a turn for the worse, and it'd become clear that there wasn't going to be enough time to indulge in an ordinary curriculum. And at home she wasn't allowed to watch much television. But well, there wasn't anyone left alive to stop her now. Somehow that thought was absurdly funny to her, she giggled again, unable to stifle the sound. Her breath came in shaky hiccups.
Alucard only waited, unblinking. Soul II Soul started playing in the background.
She cleared her throat. "Well some people do."
"How delightful."
She waited but it didn't look like he was going to say anything more. "Can I sit with you?"
"You may do whatever you wish, little Hellsing. I will not stop you."
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
"You haven't given me your name." His tone was indulgent. It was the kind you used to address a trying child.
"Oh," she said, feeling foolish. "It's Seras."
Alucard only nodded in acknowledgement, attention back to the screen.
Tentatively, she cleared a space among the piles of books and sat down, drawing her knees up under her chin. There were sofas and an armchair in the room, but it felt odd to go for those when the vampire was sitting on the floor. "What happened to your hair?"
He glanced at his own hair curiously, as if he didn't know what she was talking about. "Oh it's because I have had enough blood now."
"So it just changed color? Would you be able to change it back?"
"Of course." She blinked and his hair was white again, as brittle and strange looking as it had first been. Then it was short and blonde, much like her own hair she realized. Suddenly she was looking into a face that was the mirror of her own, identical except for the crimson eyes. So she looked that small and miserable? Her doppelganger spoke, "I could do anything with my appearance really, I've regained most of my strength."
"Oh," she said dully, too exhausted to really think about that. "I don't like that."
"No?" Alucard grinned. The most disconcerting part was hearing a stranger's voice coming from her face, wearing expressions that were alien to her.
"It's unsettling," she said. "Change back. Take whatever face you wish but please not mine."
Alucard shrugged and he returned to the form he'd been wearing just earlier. "Suit yourself."
"Was it terrible?" she said quietly, unable to stop herself.
"Was what?" he replied, expression suddenly guarded.
"Being in that cell."
"It was not pleasant. But it was what my Master wished and so I complied."
After a moment she ventured to say, "And are you… alright?"
The vampire turned back to her, frowning. "What do you mean?"
She had to stop herself from shrugging. "You weren't hurt or anything down there were you? Do you need anything?"
"I'm not so easily felled. Those bullets weren't even silver." He sounded a little insulted.
"Being injured wouldn't bother you at all?"
"No."
"Okay," she said dubiously. "What are you going to do now that you're out of the basement?"
"Whatever my Master wishes," he replied.
"And that's me?" She still didn't understand that part. What it meant. Or how it even made sense. Her familykilledvampires, didn't they?
"Are you not the Hellsing heir?" His voice was wry.
She stifled a grim laugh. "I'm the only one. So yes I suppose."
"You're the only Hellsing left, and so I carry out your orders."
She sighed. "I don't have any of those at the moment."
"Well, when you do."
The next morning was strange. She woke to an overcast sky, groggy and confused. Everything was so still and silent, it felt like it was suspended in time. Like this building was a liminal space where none of the horrors of the last few months had happened yet. Where everything was simply frozen.
She was reluctant to break the spell, so certain that the moment she stepped out of bed everything would be real again. But the pain in her shoulder made her get up anyway. It already itched, and despite the sponge bath, Seras still felt grimey and disgusting.
And then… there was the vampire. She'd already washed and dressed by the time she remembered that particular detail. Somehow between worrying about Walter's prolonged silence, her uncle's betrayal, self pity, and confusion about whatever her next steps even could be, she'd forgotten there was a vampire downstairs.
She rushed through buttoning her blouse, wincing when she accidentally moved her bad arm, and then hurried down, multiple horrible scenarios running through her head. What if he'd run away? What if someone had come to the manor and he'd eaten them? What if he'd hurt himself somehow? She hadn't fed him or really had the presence of mind to ask if he needed any accommodations, what if he was back to being a withered old corpse? Would she be able to revive him?
But in the end, he was not difficult to find. He was in the same television room she'd left him in. He still sat on the floor, back resting against a sofa, with his piles of pop culture references surrounding him like a dragon's hoard. She wondered at how oddly still he seemed before she registered his closed eyes. Was he dead? Was hesleeping?
Seras remembered the time, and the hazy sunlight filtering in through the curtains, and figured the latter was more likely. Though for vampires, was there really a tremendous difference between the two? He certainly did not look like he was breathing. But he looked healthier than he had even the night before, the stark angles of his face evening out. That had to be a good thing.
Feeling awkward staring at him while he slept, she backed out of the room, and closed the door, doing her best to step lightly and avoid making much noise. At least that was an interaction she didn't have to worry about for a little while longer.
Absent of anything else to do, she made herself breakfast. She did it without really thinking, her body simply taking her along for the task, grasping for any semblance of normalcy. Breakfast was normal, even if being alone in this kitchen was not. It was the smallest one, reserved for private use by the family and live in staff. There was always a kettle on the stove, ready with tea. There was alwayssomethingbeing prepared, and it was strange now to see it so still.
There were two other larger kitchens on the property, an industrial one attached to the barracks for the soldiers' use, and another grander kitchen within the manor itself. That one did frequently go unused, it was meant for parties and large scale events they almost never had. The exception had been the swarm of guests her uncle had invited for dinner the evening of her father's funeral. Despite the black dressings and pale lilies by the door, next to a portrait of her father, the entire thing had had the air of a celebration. Seras supposed she knew why now.
Her throat closed up at the memory of it. She'd nodded numbly through each offering of condolences, accepting pats on the shoulder and head, and awkward embraces from people she'd never met before. She'd snuck away early though, attempting to make her way back to her room. But Richard had caught her in the hallway and berated her loudly, no doubt within earshot of at least some of the guests.
Seras wondered what he'd even planned to tell anyone when she was supposed to be found dead three days later. She wondered whatshewas going to tell anyone.
Mechanically, she ate her breakfast of weak tea, jam and slightly burnt bread, tasting none of it. She wasn't hungry but she didn't know what else to do and distantly she thought that eating something would likely be good considering how much blood she'd lost.
She tried to make a list of things she needed to do. First, she needed a doctor; as competent as Alucard's emergency first aid seemed, she likely needed to have the bullet wound professionally treated. Second, she needed to alert… someone about what had happened. Walter hadn't answered the phone or left a message, she'd checked the answering machine, found nothing, and had then checked it a second time. She desperately wanted his advice, but it looked like that wasn't going to be an option. She was well and truly on her own.
The thought echoed dully in her head, seeming insurmountable. Despite her intentions to get something done, she put her head down on the table and began to cry.
What could she possibly do? It was all just too much.
She sat up not so long after, feeling the prickling sensation of being watched. Red eyes stared back at her.
Seras quickly swiped at her tears. "Oh. You're awake. I thought you wouldn't wake until sunset."
Alucard tilted his head. "You're fairly loud, little Hellsing."
"Sorry." She sniffed. "I made breakfast— well for myself, but I could get… You don't eat, do you?"
"No. I'm afraid I keep to a blood only diet."
She nodded. "And you're not thirsty now?"
"Not particularly."
"But what happens when you are?"
"I left one of the men in the basement alive."
Seras clapped a hand over her mouth. "No. You can't… That's horrible."
"Should I kill him then?"
"I don't know!" She shook her head, trying to clear it. "What did my father feed you?"
"He didn't really."
That boggled her mind. How had he survived without any sustenance for twenty years? "But before you were locked away? You must've eaten at all?"
"Medicinal blood. Sometimes the blood of human targets, though that was less common after the war." He shrugged.
She hadmanyquestions at that, but her thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. She pushed away from the table, and ran to it, forgetting even to be mindful of her wound.
She almost burst into tears again when it turned out to be a telemarketer. She slammed the phone back down on its hook, utterly miserable.
Alucard had followed her in, looking mildly curious. She hadn't heard his approach, but he was in the room now. "Waiting for a phone call?"
"I'm supposed to hear back from Walter. I called him so many times yesterday but he hasn't responded. I'm worried something might have happened to him too. What if Uncle had him killed? What if his plane crashed? I called the hotel and it seems he's checked in but maybe that's not actually him!" She ran a hand through her already messy hair. "Oh. Um, Walter's the butler."
"So the Angel of Death is still around," he replied, looking thoughtful. "How very interesting."
"Thewhat?"
"I look forward to seeing him again. It will be nice to see a familiar face." The sharp grin accompanying those words made her nervous.
"Well. Hopefully that's sooner rather than later."
Walter did finally respond later that day. He sounded strange over the phone, strained. But Seras' relief at hearing his voice was so great that she hardly registered it.
All that mattered was that there was an adult she could depend on. Someone she could trust, who would tell her what to do and how to handle this, who would not turn around and disappear the very next day. Walter was constant. He always had been.
She explained to him everything that had happened in a stumbling, jumble of words. It felt unreal just speaking it. Her voice broke several times but she was proud that she at least hadn't cried.
Walter was silent for a very long time.
"So Alucard is now free?"
"Yes. He's been very helpful, even if he's kind of creepy."
"Be very, very careful around him. Alucard wears a pleasant face, but he's dangerous." Walter sounded like he wanted to say more, but he took a deep breath and continued in a different direction. "I will book an earlier flight back directly. With any luck I should be back within the next few days."
He gave her several phone numbers to call, carefully enunciating each one for her to write down. One for Dr Trevelyan to come see to her shoulder, the other for Sir Irons to help her with alerting the correct authorities and seeing to her next steps forward, and the last for aspecialistcleaning service that her father apparently had a standing arrangement with to deal with the bodies downstairs. Seras wrote each number down with shaking fingers, so very grateful that someone else had a plan. That at least Walter, meticulous, unflappable Walter, could look at this mess of horrible things that had happened and see a way past them.
When she finally hung up, the vampire was looking at her curiously. "So Walter is on his way?" he asked.
"Could you hear all that?"
"Yes." He grinned again, but she refused to let it perturb her.
"Then you know he is."
It took him several more days to finally return. Seras spent the time in a sort of limbo. Nothing felt real. Alucard was always at her heel; his behavior somewhat disconcertingly reminded her of a dog's. But it was nice to have someone around. Even if he was dead.
It was on the fourth day when Seras realized that aside from that first time she'd caught him off guard, Alucard did not seem to sleep. He was up at all hours, no matter the time of day.
"Don't vampires sleep in coffins?" she asked him.
"They do."
"Where is yours?"
He looked at her for a moment too long, as if she'd said something funny. "I seem to have misplaced mine."
Her eyes widened at that. "You don't know where it is?" A coffin was a very large thing to misplace.
"No. Do you happen to know, little Hellsing?"
She frowned. "It's probably in the basement, isn't it?"
"More than likely." He sighed, seeming to only admit this last bit reluctantly: "I've been looking for it. Ordinarily I would sense where it is, but I'm still too weak."
If he was weak now, Seras wasn't sure she wanted to know what he could do at full strength. But she didn't ponder it. "Well. I don't particularly want to go down there again, but I suppose we have to."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do we, now?"
She shrugged. "Unless you enjoy being without one, then yes."
Alucard seemed to bristle at that, drawing himself up to his full height. "I've been without my coffin for twenty years."
"I can't imagine it was particularly pleasant though, was it?"
"No."
"Then we should find it," she said simply.
He sighed dramatically but let her lead the way, first to her father's office to retrieve the keys that would ordinarily be in Walter's possession and then downstairs to the basement. Seras hesitated before reaching the sub level. She didn'treallywant to go down there.
She looked over at the vampire who, somewhat comically, looked just as unnerved as she felt. Without thinking she grabbed his hand. He gave her a sharp look but said nothing as they descended down the stairs and into the winding tunnels.
"It would probably be easier if we had a map," she said. In movies blueprints of the building always came in handy. They showed hidden passageways and secret rooms.
Alucard made a noncommittal sound beside her, but it still made her jump.
She kept expecting to see her uncle round every corner or jumping out of every shadow. Either him or his dead soldiers. Her stomach dropped with the sudden realization that not all of them would be dead. The vampire had told her that he'd kept one alive. She swallowed, trying to ignore the image of a half dead man shambling towards them. Bloody and horrible like she'd heard ghouls to be.
Seras followed Alucard's lead as they moved away from the more dungeon-like section of the basement and picked their way through a hallway that reminded her a little of a hospital. Or a morgue. She tried not to think too much about that either.
It would've been more difficult making progress, but in their pursuit of her, her uncle's men had conveniently taken down all the boards sealing away the area. How lucky, she thought grimly.
Eventually they located the coffin. It took less time than she'd expected. It was inside a small room, with a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that turned on, even. The walls were lined with holy symbols, and crosses. Only with the lights on did she realize that the door seemed to be, at least plated, silver. The coffin was pushed to the side of the room, seeming almost like an afterthought, what must have been polished black wood turning a dull gray under a heavy layer of dust. There were other crates, and boxes. And a particularly ominous looking safe there as well, but Seras wasn't feeling particularly curious in the moment.
And, though he hadn't entered the room, Alucard still looked a little ill simply at the sight of it.
"That's it, right?" she asked, wanting to confirm before they went to the effort of retrieving it. However they were even going to do that.
He nodded.
"Do you think you can get to it?"
He grimaced. "Yes."
"But it'll hurt?" she guessed.
The vampire was silent for a long moment, and something told her that it was his pride that made it difficult to answer. But he finally nodded again. "Ordinarily, this would be nothing, Master. Child's play, if you would forgive the phrasing. It wouldn't even be difficult enough to beinteresting," he said with disgust. "But I have been starved for twenty years. And so you are seeing me in such a pathetic state."
She chewed her lip. "What if I help? I could try to push it closer to the door at least."
"No. You are even weaker and injured. I know now where my coffin is, I'll simply do without it until I am stronger."
Seras ignored him, and his subsequent protests, and ventured further into the room.
He made a move to follow after her.
"Please,stay there," she called behind her. "Unless I'm positively hopeless, I guess."
The coffin had been propped up on its side, against the wall, and the most difficult part was lowering it gently. Alucard's possessive hiss of breath the moment her fingers brushed the lid told her she had to be very careful. She managed it well enough, though halfway down she shifted her bad arm, and a burst of pain made her lose her grip. The coffin dropped to the floor with an ominous thunk. She did not dare look up at Alucard to see his reaction. But closely inspecting the wood, it appeared to be unharmed.
She had to push aside some of the other crates and boxes to make a clear path to the door. And it took some bracing against the wall to really get some leverage, but she managed to push the coffin about halfway through the room before completely exhausting herself, and sitting on one of the crates to catch her breath.
"May I?" Alucard asked, in a too-patient voice Seras knew how to recognize in adults.
She nodded, satisfied that she'd at least made some difference.
The vampire stepped over the silver threshold with a winds. He was so quick about it, her eyes didn't really register it. But almost immediately after the coffin was resting in the hallway they'd come from.
Seras got to her feet, brushing off some of the dust from her skirt, and went to join him.
"Are you alright, little Hellsing?"
"I'm fine, thank you." She bit her lip, glancing him over. He didn't look hurt, necessarily, but there was something drawn about his features again. He looked brittle. "Was the silver too bad?"
He threw her a look she couldn't quite read. "No, I'm not incapacitated in any way."
"Well. Good. Do you happen to remember the way up?"
Thankfully, he did.