Chapter 7: The Curse

Present day:

Pip arrived at the the mansion just before sunlight hit the cold misty moors. A yellow light that held much mystery with it. He had never imagined that the world contained yet so much secrets, from the rest of it. The black car had stopped in the driveway, as retainers walked up to the other car that carried three coffins. One was black, one was brown and the last was white. He could only guess, that Alucard slept in the black one. Letters was incurred in silver on it, so Pip could barely make out what it said.

The bird of Hermes, is my name. Eat my wings to make me tame.

"Hmphf" he let out as he crossed his arms in a cross over his chest. The white one had no inscriptions but golden decoration on it. The details were clearly handmade. He wondered by who?

"Well, well, and he returns after all." A strict vice came from behind him. Pip turned around to face the icy smile of Sir Integra, that had decided to welcome the returned party. "So, how did your little trip with the vampires go?" She said in spite. One could never really tell if the Sir was just middle irritated, or angry. Her arms was held behind her back, and she wore the grey suit he remembered she had wore last time as well. He just supposed that this boss of his was no ordinary woman after all.

"There was no complications if that´s what you´re referring to?" Pip said while smiling. Sir Integra only raised her eyebrows, in a coyly manner. "None at all? Then you´re either very good at keeping things away or you´re just a lucky charm." She said and scoffed at the same time. Pip stepped out of the way in order for the large cargo to make its way into the residence and then down to the basement.

Pip glanced once more at the white coffin, just picturing how she could even manage to sleep like that. Locked away, inside. "Beautiful isn't it? It was a gift." Sir Integra said as she looked in the direction of Seras coffin. "He made the one for Alucard as well, of course. But the white one was a gift." She sad in a sad tone. Pip looked at her with a surprised expression. "Who?" Was all he managed to get out.

Sir Integra looked at the sky and held her hand up for cover against the sun. "My great grandfather. The founder of the Hellsing organisation. He made them both by his own hands" She said.

Pip put his hands in his pocket white the Sir found a cigar and lit it. A moment of silence went by as a question became harder for the solider to keep in. "Did he know her? I mean, did your ancestor know Seras before she.. was turned into a vampire then?" Pip asked. Sir Integras eyes closed. "Did he know her." She repeated silently. "I never got the chance to meet the great man myself naturally, but his diary passed on to me. It contains all I ever needed to know about vampires."

"To answer your question: yes, he did." She said as she tucked some hair out of her sight, behind her ear. She then smiled. "He wrote that God himself wept and cursed the day Seras died. For she was one of his greatest and most loved creations." She laughed and Pip could only stare at her dumbfounded. Why would she laugh about something so tragic? "His descriptions of her when she was human, is rather… well, to put it mildly he describes an angel. An angel too good for heaven. How conflicting his words are indeed. Even though as much as God loved her, her fate was yet so horrible and cruel."

Pip swallowed, and let the words sink in. Would he ever find out what had happened to her? The saddest creation of all time. "It makes a man question his religion." Pip let out. Bet he regretted it once he saw the hard expression of a very god fearing woman. But yet again the expression softened and she sighed. The expression had now however turned sad. "No, it actually makes me personally question love." She said with a hoarse throat. "How deep does it run, how much does it concur? How long does it linger?"

The diary of Abraham Van Hellsing

2nd of June, 1843:

Henry does not want to listen. Our last conversation took place only yesterday. He told me how he no longer wishes to hear my warnings. He brushed them off as if they were nothing but mad words from a mad man. I shall no longer stand by without taking action. The only thing that has been bothering me for the last week, is why the creature still let Seras live. After my knowledge she still walks in sunlight. she eats regularly and she still shows no sign of the curse. It seems like he wished not to harm her, as of yet anyway. It is good news to me, but I cannot trust hope for much longer. The killings have started to repeat like they did in Romania. Even though he does not harm Seras I still can't let him roam the night, killing off innocent lives.

The vatican and I have exchanged letters. It seems they wish not to speak of the matter, as if it was a well kept secret they still wish to keep hidden. Or maybe it it out of fear. Fear for the creature. I stand truly alone in this world, like the creature. The only difference is that I have god at my side, when he is only feared by heaven and hell, and everything between. If I shall not succeed in my last and only quest in life. It must pass on to my son. George. He must read every word of this diary: The travel and knowledge I encountered in Transylvania. It holds important information about the creatures history over the last 400 years.

You must know your enemy. Especially when you are dealing with far worse evil, than the devil himself.

He was once human. Like me. He was once known as Vlad Dracul III. Tepes. Or Vald the impaler in our language. The romani spoke of legends about the prince who once ruled Walachia. The Vovoide. The prince of the order of the dragon, or the devil. Once he was young he was sent away to the turkish sultan, as an offering of peace between his father and the ottoman-kingdom.

At a young age the prince was handled with cruelty in the hands of the sultan, as the boy only turned cruel and vengeful himself. When he once again turned to Walachia he was looked down upon by his brethren even though he was their rightful ruler. His rule was just full and he brought only peace to his kingdom. When the ottomans once again returned as an enemy he fought with every sword in order to keep the land christian. He once fought in the name of God, to protect his land and his people.

He was then at last defeated. At his day of reckoning he cursed his God and swore his name. He turned his back on God, as God had turned his back on him. And before the eyes of God he tasted the blood of his motherland and was beheaded.

But death was only voluntarily as the remaining villagers saw him rising once again the next night. As he has done every night since. With a will of vengeance against God and all good, he rose new vampires in his war against the Lord. He cursed the earth he walked and became doomed to live an eternity as dead, only feeding by others lives.

Only pain and harm can come from such a vile abomination.

He must be destroyed. He must be bested. There must be a way to end his misery.

Sigh... I actually am having a hard time writing since I have so much ideas, but they don't seem to blend very nicely... what's that? you noticed? yeah, its all very messy, but maybe I´ll continue next week. I won't be posting anything till Wednesday 12/2 next week, so until then!