Decided to go with something completely different in hopes of trying to catch you guys a bit off-guard although my version of 'Gangs of New York' was looking pretty awesome but then i got this better idea. So extremely sorry for the long wait, had so much going on and then the writer's block...Been writing this bloody chap, this one chapter the whole time and I couldn't finish it cuz I kept getting new ideas. My head was insane, absolutely insane.
Anyway, hope I haven't lost all of my readers. Here is part one of the upcoming showdown, there is lots juicy bits here (I think so at least) I will try and post at least one more chapter to make up for my absence.
Disclaimer: I am making a non-profit fanfiction of Kouta Hirano's Hellsing. Only the plot and characters belong to me, Hellsing unfortunately does not. I have nothing against Russians either, so please no one take offense.
She glared at him, her eyes brimming with so much poison even the young sales clerk near her scrambled to get away. He was near the counter with the cash clerk. The bastard was smiling, turning on his charm to woo the poor airheads that worked here.
How did she manage to let this escalate? Her thoughts were bundled so tight she barely even remembered how she got into this soppy mess in the first place. Again her eyes sought out his tall form, wishing to spear it with blessed silver. He was wearing a Russian royal army uniform again. The white and gold sash made him look dashing, a dream-like Prince come true. Even the men swooned under his influence. The medals glinted softly in the dim light. His hair now slightly curled and still damp from the rain outside. His eyes sparkled, only she could see the evil lurking behind those cheerful (innocently human) blue eyes.
He was perfect.
"Is everything alright, Miss? Do you need another size?"
The voice of the girl helping her snapped Integra out of the illusion. The Hellsing looked at the girl blankly for a moment, before regaining her senses. She turned her gaze to the mirror instead and inspected her new attire. A navy blue business suit. It was more female friendly than her usual choice of clothes but at least it wasn't a dress.
The neckline of the satin blazer dipped a bit too low for her tastes, showing a little cleavage and the matching pants were a smidgen too snug on her bum but according to Mary, the girl helping her, that was the intended style. Trying to turn the rather revealing blazer into something more modest, Integra chose a white silk blouse to go underneath. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, the Hellsing decided she looked more presentable. 'Classy even.' She thought to herself in approval, then noticed the smile on her face.
At once it vanished as the Hellsing leader glowered at herself for feeling satisfaction from such girly materialistic things. Then one of the sales clerks brought out a pair of black, shiny heels and Integra saw red. "No. Absolutely not!" She protested immediately as soon as she saw them. The shiny heels were placed under her nose by Mary. She gave the reeling Hellsing blonde a puzzled look. "But they match this outfit perfectly." She said, sounding a bit confused. What woman would refuse shoes? How was that even possible?
"I don't give a damn if they matched the outfit of flying circus monkeys." The Hellsing woman growled and pointed at the shoes. "Get those abominations away from me!" Integra almost screeched, shivering with obvious disgust at the thought of her in heels. Mary stared, wide-eyed but still she backed away and put the shoes back in their place on the shelf. A rather cheerful redhead managed to persuade Integra into flats instead of heels. Integra gave in after some insisting; she had no shoes after all. Now, finally, she was completely clothed from head to toe. Mary tried her luck with a tasteful hat but one glacial glare from Integra made the poor thing back off and scurry away like a frightened mouse.
"You look beautiful, dorogaya." The platinum blonde heard his sultry voice purr from the cash counter. Earlier, he had pushed her through those glass double doors and claimed she was his 'wife' just for the sake of the humans inside. A quick glance at the 'help' and Integra saw them shiver with delight from hearing his deep Slavic accent. She rolled her eyes. She also ignored her own shiver and the flip her stomach made.
"Let's go, Andrey." Integra forced herself not to cringe from using his name. All the vampire did was nod and whipped out a wad of cash, paid for the suit, a coat for her ("Oh this matches perfectly with that suit and the shoes!" said the girl at the counter. Integra merely scowled at her) and an umbrella. They were out the door before the bumpkin at the register could put the money away.
Dmitri paced left and right in the big hotel suite. Everything was falling apart at the seams. His plan is burned to ash at this point. It was so simple. Come for the boy and kill him. That's it. That was all he ever wanted. Clenching his fists, Dmitri lashed out and knocked a lamp against the wall. It shattered with a loud crash but seeing it burst to pieces did nothing to help vent his frustration, it only grew stronger. He let out a feral growl and resumed pacing like a caged animal. Valentina came rushing into the room after hearing the noise. She saw her mate pacing back and forth, agitated and then noticed the pile of broken porcelain near his feet and shook her head.
"Dmitri." She touched his shoulder and he shook it off immediately. He did not turn to look at her. He merely stared at the broken lamp beneath his feet, his shoulders shaking with pent up rage.
Just as Valentina was about to leave, he spoke in a soft, cruel voice. "Where is Ayasha?"
Valentina eyed his back skeptically and replied reluctantly. "With her sister. Why?"
He only glanced at her over his shoulder and what she saw in his eyes answered all her doubts. "Bring her to me. Now."
Without further hesitation, Valentina left the room and a moment later Ayasha stood in her mother's place. "You called for me Tatya?"
Dmitri was no longer gazing at the shattered lamp. He was on the couch, lying back with a goblet full of blood held in the air. He took a sip before speaking to his daughter. "Gather a small army from our forces. We march to the Hellsing mansion now. I shall wait for revenge no longer." He ground his teeth and crushed the goblet in his hand as he spoke.
The Russian aristocrat saw the twin hesitate. "What about Ayanna? She is still too weak to even defend herself."
Ah, the bonds of twins. Ayanna and Ayasha rarely left each other's side. Dmitri chuckled and strode over to Ayasha. He embraced her strongly, poured all the fatherly love he could into that hug.
He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair, smiling down at her. "Do not worry for your twin, dorogaya. Valentina and I shall stay behind and watch her." He whispered softly, kissing the top of her head once more.
Ayasha gazed into her father's eyes for a moment and then a sinister smile stretched onto her face. "Of course, Tatya." She pulled herself from the hug and was about to leave when Dmitri's voice stopped her once more. "Ayasha."
She turned and watched Dmitri pour himself some more blood wine into another crystal goblet, half shrouded in darkness and shadow.
"Da, Tatya?"
"If you happen to see your brother and that Hellsing wench…" He took a long swig of the goblet, nearly drinking the entire contents of it before he continued.
He sighed in relief and smacked his lips. "Kill them both." He said coldly and set down the goblet, now mostly empty.
Ayasha stared wide-eyed at her father. Was he serious? She opened her mouth to question this but one glance at Dmitri's murderous eyes; she closed it and left the room without another word.
The night was cool, then again it ought to be, given the time and season. It was very late, the streets were deserted. Everyone was asleep in their beds, safe and sound, unaware of a supernatural war between two powerful, ancient Nosferatu and one equally powerful Dhampir.
The streets were poorly lit, the orange hue from the lamps turned the atmosphere into a creepy cliché. Large hulking black shapes leapt from rooftop to rooftop, more followed on the ground. They were like creeping shadows, silent demons rushing towards the smell of future bloodshed. There were whispered hisses and raspy laughter, all filled with glee for battle and war. What fun they shall have! Their eagerness spilled out into the air as did their low voices as they spoke in their own native tongue.
One shadow stood out among them, unafraid of being caught in the flickering street light. She stood tall, her golden, curly hair pulled into one pigtail on the side of her head whisked softly in the Autumn breeze. Her eyes brimmed with malice and revenge, glowing red in the darkness. Her leather suit creaked and crinkled, seemingly eager to get soaked in blood. She moved like a panther as she jumped from one roof to the next and both her hands and feet, hissing at the others to follow.
Soon, she thought, very soon. They will pay for destroying my pretty sister.
The Hellsing manor was silent and dark. The grounds were empty, no guards stood anywhere. It was quiet, so quiet. Feet trotted lightly over the grass, stealthily sneaking into the grounds of the quiet manor. There was only the occasional slight rattle of various guns and other weapons filling the cold air. The small army of vampires gurgled and giggled at the mere thought of upcoming slaughter, oh how eager they were to spill blood.
Ayasha lead the group of men up to Hellsing's main entrance. She did wonder why there was no one guarding the place. But her doubts were pushed aside when she recalled how Andrey and Dementia had told her they had killed all the humans save the personal Hellsing company; Sir Integra and her butler Walter and that half-breed.
On her signal, the soldiers pushed open the heavy double doors and let out bloodthirsty war cries as they rushed into the hall. They were expecting cowering humans, snivelling cowards and the delicious stench of fear filling the air. Thundering footsteps echoed from the walls as the trained soldiers searched the entire manor, sniffing the air like bloodhounds on a fox hunt, eager to kill. All was silent though, not a human or mouse in sight. Ayasha barked orders at her men to split up into groups of 3 and search the top and lower levels. She did not trust this silence.
One of the squadrons searched the ground floor. They walked down the halls, cradling their guns, tense and anxious. They had checked all the rooms and busted open all the doors but there was no one there. Out of fun and boredom they slashed and pissed on the walls, red carpets and the paintings. Now they reached another empty room and decided to take a break.
"Where are the bastards?" One of the men growled as he dug around his pants for his pack of smokes. Another man smacked him on the head with his helmet which resulted in a painful shout.
"Shut up Sergei, you want them to hear?" The man that had hit him scolded. Sergei glared as he rubbed his head. He was tired of being treated this way by his comrades, or rather just this one in particular.
"Bla bla bla, Sergei don't do this and don't do that. Misha just because you in charge, doesn't mean you get to treat me like shit." He hissed angrily as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.
"Cannot be helped Sergei, when you are shit." Misha replied with a crude laugh. Sergei huffed, spat out some curse words at Misha and stepped outside the room. After a few minutes, Misha noticed that Sergei hasn't returned. Concluding that the man was probably still sulking, he thought it would be fun to go piss him off some more. But when he stuck his head out the door, all he saw was blood. It coated everything, the floor, the walls and even the narrow ceiling. Sergei's body laid in pieces, massacred. The lit cigarette was still in his mouth.
Misha stood in horror at the sight. "Afanasiy! Come quick!" He called the other man from the room. A rustle to his right made him snap to that direction and all he saw was something silver coming at him and then black. His body crumpled to the floor and more blood spewed upwards, adding on to the large splatters on the walls, covering the paintings of Integra's ancestors just as the only remaining soldier of their squadron came to the door, only to see the slaughter of his comrades.
His eyes widened as he saw the murderer give him a malicious grin. He screamed and rushed back into the room. He grabbed the nearest radio and shouted hysterically into it
"Come to the lower levels! Come, I need some backup! Someone is here! He killed Misha and Sergei! He kill–Gah!" The radio dropped out of his hands with a thud. The screaming of the rest of the soldiers could be heard, responding to his call. The man, Afanasiy, dropped to his knees as his head rolled off his shoulders and landed on the floor next to the radio with sickening, wet thud!
Now the rest of the soldiers were on alert, paying more attention to the moving shadows and small noises, trying to anticipate this person that had murdered their team mates so ruthlessly. But it was of no use. Every now and then, each group would hear hysterical screaming on their radios, pleas of mercy and then the disgusting sound of them dying. One by one they were being picked off, like flies on a wall. They all called out to Ayasha and begged her to come help them but she was nowhere to be found.
The last group of 3 men remaining were near Integra's office when they saw him. They all stared, puzzled at the one human standing in the middle of the hall.
He was tall, blonde, had a scar on his cheek and wore glasses. Around his neck was a priest's white collar and a silver cross. His long grey trench cloak was tattered and worn. In his hands were strange looking swords and he was wearing white gloves. One of the soldiers barely made out the inscription 'Jesus Christ is in Heaven now.'
The smile on his face was sadistic. The fire in his green eyes was pure hatred.
"I was hopin' you'd drag yer rotting asses here." He had said in a gritty, rumbling deep voice. He chuckled, clashed his swords together and without warning he charged. Taking advantage at their surprise, he cut down one of the men, sliced him clean in half.
It was enough to snap the other two out of their state of shock as they watched their comrade's blood spurt a few feet high in the air and listened to his dying screams before turning to ash. They charged, cocked their guns and shot the man to pieces before his swords even touched their skin.
"Human bastard!", "Priest trash!" They both spat on the ground near the bleeding body of the man as they stepped over him. They did not see him get up. They did not see the wounds close. They never saw his blade coming down upon their heads like the Grim Reaper's scythe.
The bannisters of the stairs were once again coated with blood. A few arms and hands lay scattered about like trash, the fingers still twitching. A couple of men huddled in a group, muttering and praying in their native tongue for salvation from this holy monster. The last thing the Russian vampires saw was the blonde man's insane eyes and the swords clashing down on them. Some tried to shoot him but the priest merely healed and spat out the used bullets.
Anderson enjoyed killing. It was God's work, he'd tell himself, he was giving these damned monsters peace every time he sliced them in half and their dying screams filled his ears. Aye, he was saving them from eternal damnation. So when the hall was piled with puddles of blood and various body parts scattered around like discarded, broken toys, he let himself smile proudly at his own handiwork. It was vain of him but he still could not stop the emotion from warming his insides and his chest swell. But, he can't celebrate yet. There was one more left. That Hellsing half-demon had told him that the girl he had taken hostage has an identical twin. Anderson had seen her slithering about, watching as he slaughtered her soldiers. She was like the snake that persuaded Eve to take the apple of Sin, that's what the unholy girl reminded him of.
The priest looked around and could not spot the female vampire. He went up the stairs and searched, blades ready, ears straining to hear even the slightest unnatural sound.
Ayasha had slipped away during the slaughter. She decided to search the mansion for the sniveling half-breed and cut off his fucking head for all the trouble he's caused. But he wasn't anywhere to be found, as she feared. She had heard those pleas for help on her own radio, had watched as that one man murdered all her vampire soldiers. She did not help them, oh no. Ayasha was intrigued, fascinated even. It's a wonder how one human, a priest, managed to survive this whole time, in a manor teeming with trained Russian army soldiers dating back from the reign of Tzar Nikolai.
Yes, she was fascinated and he knew. He had seen her. The Russian woman had let him see her. Ayasha noticed that flash of recognition in his eyes while she watched him kill. . He began to make a show out of it, became more ruthless, more blood-thirsty. And now they were hunting each other, how...poetic.
She heard a rustle from behind and snuck off into another hallway. She could smell him, the priest. She could taste the anticipation he felt, the yearning for more bloodshed, the eagerness. He smelt human and yet he was far from being one. What was he? The murderous intent spilled from him infinitely, the hate he felt towards her kind slammed into her gut. She was frightened but not intimidated.
They were playing a twisted game of hide and seek. Two seasoned hunters, two bloodthirsty monsters, one human and one vampire. If Anderson moved towards one area of the manor, Ayasha would let out a sigh or giggle in the opposite direction, teasing him, taunting him. She was leading him in circles.
'You won't find me there.' She'd whisper in his ear, like a breath of summer breeze, when he thought he was near her. Anderson slashed his blades into the walls, shredding the expensive wallpaper where the vampire would briefly appear, lips cruelly upturned in a smile, eyes shining evilly in the lights. But as soon as the steel sank in, she disappeared. In his anger the tall priest would stab suits of armor, paintings and statues shrouded in shadows, thinking it was her. His skin prickled every time she was near. She was toying with him.
At first it was fun, a challenge. Now it annoyed him. The sooner he kills this demon and frees her soul, the quicker he can get away from Hellsing and its' new leader, Nicholas. Closing his green eyes, the tall blonde man folded his hands in prayer and began murmuring an incantation. From the folds of his grey coat flooded numerous pages in a continuous wave, covering the walls and the windows floor to ceiling. Suddenly a gut-wrenching shriek rang out in the halls. As soon as the papers stopped rustling, Ayasha found herself falling to the floor, no longer merged with the shadows above on the ceiling.
"Are we done with the game, lass?" His deep voice rang eerily in the empty hall. Anderson didn't even give her a chance to answer. At that last second she had glanced up, just in time and managed to evade his blade from slicing her open. She rolled to the side, panting and surprised yet again.
Ayasha tried turning to mist but something was weighing her powers down. The Russian couldn't do anything. Anderson's sword pierced the hardwood floor where she had been. He struggled to get it out. Ayasha tried again to summon some of her powers. Nothing. He had sealed them somehow. A quiet clink told her the murderous priest had managed to get his blade loose and she lavished a scathing glare on him. "You have killed them all, Father." She said, slowly rising to her feet. Her hand steadied on the hilt of her Jian, tense and ready to pull it out for defense. The blonde man merely chuckled.
He stood a few feet from her, his grey coat stained with dark blood, his glasses askew and his green eyes glinting gleefully with madness. He shook out his swords, leaving a splatter of dripping blood on the walls and floor. He grinned. "Aye. They were weak. No fun at all."
She frowned and glared, her body was tense, in attack mode, waiting for him to make another move. Ayasha glared at him with disgust. "How can a man of God kill?" she scoffed, pointing to the white collar he wore. It was the only thing that had remained untainted by the blood of her fallen comrades and fellow countrymen.
"I am the Hand of God. I deliver punishment to Devil spawn like you." He lifted his chin proudly as he stated this fact. Ayasha sneered at the vain man and pulled out her own sword slowly, savouring how it sang in the hallway. She held the sword above her head, pointed at him.
"I am not like them, Father." She smirked as she beckoned him with her free hand. He just laughed as he joined his swords by the blades, forming a cross with them. "I hope not, lassie. I would like to have some fun before I kill you."
The air was thick with murderous intent, each ready to spring at the slightest movement. Then it happened in a flash! Her one sword, the proud 'Gentleman of Swords' clashed against his own and sparks flew.
Ayasha threw a punch with her free hand but the priest ducked, countering her with a kick in the stomach. It knocked her back and he lunged forwards, blood-stained blades poised for her heart. She let out a furious scream and rolled away just as the swords came down upon the spot she vacated. Quick as a cat, she managed to get behind him and placed her Jian tight against his white throat. All the priest did was laugh and wipe off some blood trickling from the side of his mouth.
"It is customary in my country to know your opponent's name before doing battle." She said, trying to keep him in place. Then she put her mouth against the rim of his ear and purred into it with her sweet voice, laced with seductive Slavic accent. "Will you indulge me, Father?"
The priest closed his eyes and elbowed her ribs, making her retreat. He then grabbed her arms and pulled her over him, slamming her into the cold, hard floor. He pinned her to the ground, now his two swords at her own pale throat. "Aye, I shall tell ya my name." He agreed, taking up one sword and holding up high above her head.
"It's Paladin Alexander Anderson, demon girl."
The entire hotel was silent. Ayasha had obeyed her orders; she had chosen a select group of soldiers to teach those Hellsing vermin a lesson. Dementia was out hunting somewhere, or sulking. Dmitri was still on the sofa, twirling with his goblet. He gazed at the crimson liquid in the glass, holding it up high, enjoying the beauty, the thickness, the unique shade of red. When he gazed his fill he set it down on the end table next to him. Andrey was standing in front of him, watching his father place the goblet down.
"Tatya."
"Andrey. How pleasant. Come to stab another knife in my back?" The Russian lord said coolly whilst inspecting his fingernails. Without warning, his son rushed to the couch and fell to his knees at his father's side.
"Tatya forgive me!" Andrey said breathlessly and took Dmitri's hand and kissed the knuckles. His father just glared at his son. "Oh? Name one reason why I should forgive a traitor like you, Andrey."
"Tatya, I have turned the Hellsing woman. She is mine now." Andrey spoke quickly, almost breathless with the news. But Dmitri was wary, he only raised a brow.
"How is this a good reason? I ordered you to kill her." He replied flatly, his searing crimson orbs glared at his son.
For a moment, Andrey just stared, quickly and carefully choosing his next words. "This was part of my plan. To gain her trust." The son explained. As Dmitri had not given any sort of response yet, Andrey hugged his father's knees tightly. He buried his face into them as if he had missed the very scent of his father. Then he looked up, eyes demanding that Dmitri would believe him. "Forgive me for not telling you but I needed everything to be real for her." Andrey said in a whisper.
"Hmm..."
An hour earlier.
"I have a plan but you must listen, and," Andrey paused; his smouldering scarlet eyes seemed playful. "Please refrain from hurting me. This will save you and your people from further slaughter."
Integra glared at him, skeptical now of what he would say. But she sighed and gave a curt nod. "I will not make promises." She told him coldly. "But I will try and not attack you for now."
"Spasibo, moya dorogaya. " His native words rolled deliciously off his tongue. The platinum blonde shut her eyes and massaged her temples.
"Just get on with it already." She said, annoyed at his constant usage of his native language.
"Of course." The vampire aristocrat smiled. "There is a way to make Tatya believe that I have turned you without actually making you one of us." He started and his eyes seemed teasing. "Though, if you do change your mind, I will be more than happy to help." He added with a suggestive grin. Despite herself, Integra smacked him up side of the back of his head as she made her way to the bed. "Idiot." She hissed. "Of course I haven't changed my mind!"
"You promised sweetling." Andrey reminded her with a faux pained smile, while rubbing the back of his head. Not that she really hurt him but still. The Hellsing blonde just glared at him then turned her eyes away. "I don't know what you're talking about." She sniffed, more out of spite rather than to lie. Her answer earned a quiet chuckle from her vampire keeper as he continued with his plan.
"I will have to bite you and take only a little bit of blood. Turning one into a creature of the night is not as simple as you humans think. It has to be consented and also requires draining your entire body of blood." Andrey crossed his legs nonchalantly as he spoke. Integra was sitting on the bed, drying her hair with a towel. The Russian vampire had moved from the bed (to avoid being hit again lest he said something inappropriate, which was almost as certain as the sky was blue) to the high-backed lounge chair in the corner opposite of the bed. The rain pounded against the window outside. Typical English weather. They had checked in to one of the hotels not far from the abandoned one where she was kept prisoner.
The room was so small there was barely enough space to walk from one wall to the other without her brushing against his leg or elbow.
Integra narrowed her eyes. "I know how humans can be turned Andrey, do not insult my intelligence."
Andrey's smile was knee-buckling. "Niet, of course not, milaya moya. I am merely saying there is more to it than just draining of blood. It is a close-kept secret you know." Here his eyes, the color of molten lava, twinkled and laughed while he spoke. "The Nosferatu are very choosey with whom they turn and whether or not they are worthy enough to know this secret."
He paused, ran his fingers through his hair and his tone turned serious. "If every single vampire knew how to turn humans into our kind, the world would be overrun with vampires there wouldn't be any humans left which would leave most of our race to die. It's too nasty to think of such a future." And as he said so, his nose wrinkled up, clearly showing how disgusted he was just at the mere thought.
"The reason blood is our life is because we can't reproduce it as much and our bodies grow weaker without sustenance. That is why a vampire when turning another must first drink from them. We are, in fact giving our entire stock of blood to the said human so that it may take effect by replacing whatever liquid is left in the body. It is a painful process for both human and vampire."
"So how does this fit in with you making your father believe that I am turned, when in fact I am not?" Integra said with a scoff, still very wary of where this might lead to. Just what did he have planned anyway?
Their eyes met and Integra immediately averted her eyes. She couldn't stand this attraction she felt for him, it was uttermost shame for her. She did not meet his eyes when she heard him speak again.
"Simple. Our keen sense of smell." He replied smartly. As he felt her glare and impatience rise, he continued, sounding as eager as a child at Christmas. "Look at it this way, moya dorogaya." He leaned forwards, his eyes glinting mischievously. Integra dared herself a glance and regretted it instantly. His mouth, that she so desperately wanted to devour, was curved into a satisfied smirk.
"Say you're on a hunt and you are using a bloodhound. The dog relies on his nose to find a scent. But there are ways to trick the dog into following the wrong scent, at least for a while. Assume he is tracking a man who is wounded and bleeding. To at least sway the canine off track, the man would slash his palm and smear it in the opposite direction of where he is headed, thus covering his tracks and buying enough time to get well away from said hound."
Andrey paused to lick his lips and Integra had to tear her eyes away once more from that devilish long tongue and keep herself from watching it dash across his top and bottom lip.
"The same is with vampires. I will take only a little of your blood, enough to make you feel light-headed. Then I will let you drink from me. The more you drink the more you will smell like a vampire. At least for a while. Because you have not been drained of blood, it will not affect you. The scent will trick Tatya into making him believe you are one of us. And since you would be only a fledgling and freshly turned it would only be natural that I present you to him. Once he smells my blood in you, he won't be compelled to inspect more closely. Then I shall put you back into my room so you may regain your strength."
"And then what?"
The look in Andrey's eyes was cryptic and almost malicious as he replied. "You need not worry about that. Once you are safe and out of harm's way, I shall take care of the rest."
"Why, Andrey? Why are you betraying your own family for me? I am your enemy."
"I have my reasons, Sir Hellsing. One of them is because you intrigue me so and I will do anything to make you mine." He suddenly was before her, on his knees. Andrey took both her hands into his and gently kissed each finger.
"You are magnificent, unlike any being I have encountered." He whispered, now softly suckling each fingertip, letting his tongue roll over every inch of skin he could find. "I most deeply regret trying to force you. I was overcome by this feeling to have you. I acted hastily and I do apologize, milaya moya." His lips now traveled to her wrist, covering it in sensual kisses. Seeing as how she did not push him away, he viewed this as encouragement.
"But you must understand. I feel like I have been pulled in by a vortex. That vortex is you. Your force, your will, your fire to survive. It is beyond anything I have ever seen. That alone makes you more beautiful and more worthy of this gift than any other human in this universe, or the next." Andrey's lips moved from her wrists now up her arm, kissing the inside of her elbow. He could feel the shivers through her skin, heard her inhale sharply as she unwillingly enjoyed the sensations he was making her feel.
His voice had washed over her, burning through her skin with every syllable spoken from that silver tongue of his. In some way, despite the delirium she was in, Integra understood. It was something like this that has Alucard so attached to her. He had also said there was a force from her that he couldn't resist. But does this mean she could trust Andrey? Integra wasn't sure the answer would be yes or no. He was helping her and then again, he did try to rape her a couple of times before. But her body responded to him instantly, making the Hellsing shudder and shake. Lust may be propelling her towards this man but could it really be just that? Some kind of law of attraction was in play here.
Regardless of the pleasure singing through her veins, Integra started to push the vampire away. "Get off."
The Russian prince gazed into her icy blue eyes for a moment and even looked a tad hurt, still being denied apparently didn't sit too well with him. But he said nothing and backed away obediently, hands in the air in mock surrender. Integra eyed him warily. Despite all the misery this creature had put her through she was still somewhat intrigued by him. She wasn't exactly sure why.
"Why do you resemble Dmitri if you are not of his bloodline?" She asked suddenly, her voice sounded musing. Andrey let out a laugh of surprise, his red orbs sparkling with some triumph.
"There was a period in my life where I had starved myself of blood for 3 months. It was a sort of rebellion against Tatya." Andrey stared somewhere far off, re-living the memory. But something in his face, the expression he wore, told Integra that he was leaving a few of the details out. He was no longer smiling as he told his story. He looked serious, angry even. "Tatya found me in the sewers of Moscow, barely alive. He fed me large amounts of his blood at a time to sustain my bloodlust. This was not the first time I had had to drink his blood. After a while it affected my appearance as I matured. I resembled him more but still had most of my own traits."
A silence passed between them. Integra was taking it all in. She did not know vampire blood could do that to one of its' own.
"It is a rare thing, my resemblance to him. Only old, powerful blood can have such an effect on our kin. But vampires don't feed off of each other unless necessary or if the situation was dire. Like mine was." He rubbed his chin, deep in thought and then let out a short sigh. "Thankfully, because of my own powers, I am capable of reverting to my previous looks whenever I want. I just choose not too."
The seriousness faded and the Russian aristocrat flashed her his now, familiar perverted grin. "Now we shall have to move on with this plan. Time is of the essence, da?"
Integra pursed her lips at the playful and eager tone in his deep voice. Rolling her eyes skyward, she heaved a deep sigh and moved her platinum blonde hair aside, exposing her neck. "Let's get this over with." She said dully and felt Andrey move from his chair to the bed again.
The Russian vampire slid in behind her and took her hand. His other hand covered Integra's neck with feather-light touches. Then before she could prepare herself, Andrey had his lips on her throat, licking and nibbling at a pulse point, his hand overlapped hers on her stomach and she sat in his embrace. Once he felt her inhale, he opened his mouth and let his fangs pierce her skin as gently as he could. Integra sucked in her breath but still she moaned as wave of ecstasy overtook her. Unknowingly, she had gripped his hand and he squeezed hers back in response. He tried his best to be gentle but it still caused her some pain.
Deciding he had had enough, Andrey licked the small wound on the Hellsing's throat, healing most of it and cleaning up the excess blood. Then he proceeded to cut his own wrist, placed it against her lips and let her drink. And drink she did.
It was disgusting, the taste of blood in her mouth, so cold and coppery. But it was the look on Andrey's face that made her suck harder. He seemed to be on cloud nine. Integra felt him sigh as he started to pull his wrist away from her. "Enough," He said, now healing his own wound. "Best not to tempt me, darling."
At his use of the word 'darling' for her, Integra scowled at him, grabbed her coat hastily and stood by the door, tapping her foot impatiently. "Well?" She asked, arms crossed over her chest, blue eyes ablaze with resentment and remnants of lust and revulsion. Andrey merely chuckled and muttered something in Russian as he headed out the door, Integra following hotly on his heels. They headed for the abandoned hotel that was the Dmitri's base for the next step in Andrey's plan.
Somewhere along the way, Integra foolishly realized she still had no idea what his plan was exactly.
Present.
"Hmm." Dmitri hummed again as he gazed at his treacherous son, pleading for mercy. "And what was your plan, exactly?" He asked the young handsome Nosferatu. Andrey's eyes sparked with a little hope and relief. "I needed to make her believe me Tatya. I wanted her to be mine, she is invaluable." He told the older vampire. Growing a bit bolder, Andrey let go of Dmitri's knees and grasped his cold, white hands.
"Imagine having one of our bloodline merged with the Hellsing line. She is the Leader of the Order of the Protestant knights. She would be a valuable asset to us." Andrey whispered excitedly. "She controls the vampire-hunting society, Tatya. If she was a vampire herself, she could change everything. We can finally take over England now, expand our territory!"
As he spoke, he sat onto the couch and placed his lips near his father's ear. "You would be High King."
At his son's words Dmitri shivered with delight. He as High King? What a wonderful notion! Why the mere possibilities, the doors that would open, the things he would do. And the power, it would be his, all his.
"Hmm." Dmitri repeated as he milled the onslaught of thoughts in his mind. Andrey could practically see the wheels turning in his head. A glint was in his eyes; mad, hungry, greedy.
"Bring her." Was all the older Russian vampire said and his son nodded. With a wave of his hand, a black portal opened next to him. He stuck his arm into it and withdrew from it, his hand holding Integra's as she stepped from the vortex, limp and drained.
She was dressed in a beautiful, silk lavender night-gown that swept the floor with its ruffled lace edge. Her skin was ghostly pale, her head leaning onto Andrey's shoulder. Dmitri stood up in one swift move and slowly circled the weakened woman. Andrey warned her not to open her eyes as they were still blue. It took all her remaining strength not to spear him with a defiant, venomous glare. The older Russian stood behind her and suddenly grabbed a hold of her hair and pulled it back, grinning sickly when he saw the Hellsing wince. Her neck exposed, Dmitri closely inspected the skin. Slightly pinkish area as if pinched, two little pricks, like from a needle, were on her throat.
"Aah," He sighed, approving with his mad grin. "Already healing." He sounded satisfied but still wary as he closely observed the markings. Then he buried his nose deep into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.
"I smell you in her, Andrey. Your blood." Dmitri rasped, taking in another deep breath of the scent.
"I told you, I've turned her." Andrey told his father, his voice unwavering. Even Integra almost believed him. Almost being the keyword here. She wasn't expecting the second exchange of blood right in front the run-down hotel just before he whooshed and her up to the last floor and placed her in a room just down the hall. After he drank from her (again) he hastily fed her some more of his blood. Although he did reassure her that this second transfusion still wouldn't turn her into one of the undead, she was having some slight doubts of his true intentions. Another deep breath of her scent and Dmitri finally let go of her hair, shoving her head back to Andrey.
"I must let her rest. She is very weak from the turning, Tatya."
"Mm, yes." Dmitri seemed no longer interested in the Hellsing woman as he was convinced of the turning. She reeked of Andrey's blood and he could smell hers in his son as well. What he did behind his back is unacceptable but proved useful, devious. Perhaps this was a rather fine turn-out. Once the little brat is destroyed, he shall deal with his son's disobedience.
Andrey reopened the portal and walked the Hellsing back through it. They reappeared in her new room/prison. The Russian Nosferatu laid her on the bed carefully. The room was dark, there was no light and yet her blue eyes pierced through the darkness and burned with pure hatred.
"You will pay for this Andrey." She hissed furiously at him but Andrey just smiled sweetly and petted her hair. His eyes, though red and evil, seemed more gentle than usual. "It had to be done, do not hold it against me, my love." He whispered into her ear and caressed her cheek but when his fingers drew near her mouth, she snapped at him and tried to bite his hand. He jerked back, glaring for a moment. Then he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head hard upwards so that she was nose to nose with him.
"I grow tired of your ungratefulness, Integra. You should show some gratitude for all I have done to keep you out of harm's way!" Andrey said in a low, angry growl. "You are acting like a spoiled little brat!"
"Get away from me."
"Niet, Integra. You insolent, stupid little girl!" He started cursing in Russian after he shouted at her, still holding her head by a fistful of her hair. Then he came back to he and held her hands in his. "You resist what you are not used to instead of opening your mind and thinking like a true leader should. Use everything to your advantage. Don't you see? Joining two worlds into one powerful source, you could control the vampires in England, in Europe, maybe even the whole world!"
Andrey seemed excited as he spoke but then his smile died and his red eyes burned with rage and disgust. "But no, you refuse to move forwards. You refuse to acknowledge that becoming one of us is a gift, a treasure. You deny what you want, all for the sake of being human. You don't get it, Integra. Open your eyes. This isn't just a power struggle. It's your life. How long are you going to live by someone else's rules? How long do you plan to discard some personal privileges for 'the sake of humanity'? Stop acting like a child and grow up. Be the adult I see inside you. Stop hiding behind restrictions, let yourself soar! Allow yourself to live as well as protect to the fullest. It can be balanced." He kissed her forehead gently, releasing the painful grip of her hair but still holding her head close to his face.
They both glared at each other and Andrey then sighed and let go. He moved towards the door; "I hope you understand what I mean, Hellsing. Dasvidanya, my love." He said before shutting the door and leaving her in the dark. She was panting, her eyes wide from surprise. Something inside her was fighting; two forces like tornadoes, were leaving her thoughts in shambles. Damn him! She thought furiously, damn him to Hell!
This has been going on way too long, I feel bad about that. I never thought it would even become so much of a story than I had planned. I realized its getting a bit harder to end it but I shall try my best! Onward to chapter 29 and chapter 30!