Chapter 6: Appetite for Destruction
Hellsing mansion, outside of London, September 3rd, 2016
Caitlyn stood in front of the mirror and fought with the ribbon she wore instead of a tie. Or should wear. It just didn't want to look nice. Or when it did, all she had to do was go two steps and it opened again. She had sworn to herself finally to manage this herself.
"Do you need help, ...Lady Caitlyn?"
Caitlyn cursed. "Save your mockery, vampire. Why call me with that title now all of a sudden?"
Walter stopped directly behind her. Surrendering, Caitlyn turned around and let him fix the ribbon. "That's my job as your butler, you know?", Walter said, referencing the ribbon.
"I don't want to be dependent on you for stuff like that." She shrugged and looked at the ribbon in the mirror. Perfect, as always. "Thanks. But you didn't answer my question."
"I just saw you were happy about it. It's the 21. century, so why not?"
Caitlyn nodded. "Where's Mira?"
"Sleeping. Should I go wake her?"
"No, leave her be." Caitlyn didn't know what got into her, but all of a sudden, she hugged Walter. He returned it, although hesitating. "Lady Caitlyn?", he stuttered.
He has no idea, Caitlyn suddenly realized. He really doesn't. The thought was ridiculous. Didn't everybody say boys weren't able to pick up signs? That went for 80 year old vampires, too, obviously. Caitlyn would have laughed if she hadn't been close to crying again.
"The members of the Convention will arrive soon," Walter said, gently trying to free himself. He was clearly uncomfortable. Caitlyn nodded and let go. She turned to the bed, wiping her face as casual as possible. She was proud her voice was steady. "What about the security check?"
"All is clean. Besides, you still have us."
"True," Caitlyn mumbled. "Then let's go and greet the guests." She walked to the door. "Congrats for you and Mira, by the way." Should he figure that out himself. She had duties to fulfil.
The old men arrived at four p.m., just as Caitlyn had expected. They were scheduled to arrive at four fifteen. It was just one of the little things they did to show her she was not fully accepted. She was too young (Integra had been thirteen), she was not raised to be a "countess" (Mira's words, meaning they disapproved of her "missing" education), she questioned the conservative values of the Convention and the Protestant Church (it was the twenty-fist century, for God's sake!), and she was too emotional. Maybe that last thing wasn't that far off.
She was too close with her "weapons", they said. Bloody well right, Caitlyn thought, trying to hide a bitter smile. No matter what Walter and Mira might think, they were the only family Caitlyn had ever known.
There's daggers in men's smiles. Well, at least they were not smiling. While she greeted every of the twelve members personally, she looked into grim and often disapproving faces. Nobody bothered to hide they didn't like her. She tried to stay polite, smile (There are daggers in women's smile, too.) and led them to the conference room. Twenty-five to the stairs, twenty stairs, then another sixteen, fifty paces. Twenty-five stairs. Onehundred and seventy paces, the main corridor. Three hundred and sixteen all in all. Pretty ridiculous how large this mansion was, considering the only real residents were the two vampires and herself. Caitlyn had never wanted this. But she would be damned if those arrogant "noblemen" would defeat her with their disapproval and backstabbing.
"Welcome," she said again, when all were seated. Caitlyn counted them, more out of a habit. Eleven. "It seems we're not complete yet." Right this moment, Sir Shelby M. Penwood entered, out of breath, his face reddened. He was a heavyset man with brown hair, a moustache and a tendency to look scared. He was the only one Caitlyn liked and the only one that liked her. Maybe it was because he himself was not exactly capable. But he had a good heart and Caitlyn appreciated that he didn't judge her. He alone had offered her help when she struggled with adapting to her new post.
"Good evening, Sir Penwood," she said warmly and smiled the first genuine smile this evening. Penwood looked at his watch and sat down. Exactly quarter past four. "Was the meeting rescheduled?"
"No, we were a bit early," Sir Irons admitted. He played it cool, Caitlyn had to give him that. As if nothing unusual had happened. Caitlyn wondered why they were still alive anyway. Most were a good deal over 80.
"Where is your butler, Sir Hellsing?", Sir Walsh, a former general, asked while he got out a cigar and searched for his lighter. Caitlyn forced herself not to frown. What the hell had everybody with that stuff? Walter and Mira – they were vampires, for God's sake, why did they smoke?! - and of course almost every member of the Convention. Passive smoking would kill her someday.
"He will answer to my call," Caitlyn said sternly. "Let's begin with the important topics. You wanted the report on Cheddar, right?"
"We can only conceal so much information," Irons said. "Do you have any new clues, Miss Hellsing?" There it was again. In general, Caitlyn didn't mind being called Miss. At least that made her feel normal. How Irons said those words, however, made it sound derogatory. As if she was not good enough to sit with them.
Walsh wanted to light up his cigar. This moment, the tip fell off. Walsh stared at it. So did most of the others. The front part of the cigar, about half an inch, lay on the table, swinging slightly, then halting. The cut was perfectly clean. Caitlyn tried not to smile to herself.
"Excuse me, Sir Walsh, but Lady Hellsing does not wish anyone to smoke in her home." Walter, now in an adult form, the hair at shoulder length and in a tight ponytail, stepped out of the shadows. The wires had vanished behind his back. Walsh stared at him, then put down the cigar.
"Very well. Please begin your report, Lady Hellsing." Caitlyn was delighted seeing him force himself to say that. The majority of the old men watched her with disapproval. Only Penwood was smiling and Caitlyn returned it. She had won this time.
"There were a lot of vampire attacks in Great Britain recently. Much more than one country should have, statistically, and they became increasingly more scandalous. On the 14th of June, a young man from the small northern village Cheddar vanished without a trace. This went on for one week, until ten villagers had disappeared. Then a boy could escape, describing the local vicar as the murderer."
"We already know all that," Phillip Reese interrupted her. He was nobility as well and the unofficial leader of MI5, as far as Caitlyn knew. If somebody wanted to bring her down, then he would most likely be able to do so.
Caitlyn smiled as casual as she could. "Of course. To make this short: The vicar was a vampire, just turned, but immensely 'successful', if you excuse the word. Counting the villagers and police forces that were sent, there were 28 dead due to this monstrosity. No survivors. I sent my special subordinate to deal with it. She killed the vampire, the ghouls were destroyed. If you are interested in clean-up details, here's the report." She pushed the folder closer to the middle of the table.
"28 dead countrymen and women," Irons said. "Truly.. a tragedy."
Caitlyn crossed her legs and stared him dead in the eyes. To hell with all of them. They had been raised for their positions. She had just been thrown in, and yet here she was, putting away their trash. "Indeed, Sir Irons. But you cannot blame the poor villagers. The public knows nothing of the likes we have to deal with. But when we are already directing blame, I'd like to ask you to look at the timetable I included." Irons was loath to give in to her victory, but he opened the file. "As you can see," Caitlyn continued, "nobody died from the moment we were involved."
"What about the vampire?", Sir Penwood asked.
"I decided not to include him in the statistic, as he was already dead. The ghouls are not separately listed either." Caitlyn left out the obvious hole in her work: Finding the vampire that had turned the vicar in the first place. But then the two vampire teens had turned up and everything started to go head over heels.
"On August 12th, we were called to a murder site in Birmingham, near Route 17. Four families had been gruesomely slaughtered, their blood used to write satanic messages on the walls. But of course," she said, raising a hand when Reese wanted to say something, "you already know that. It turned out to be two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The boy was called Lief Midford, the girl Jessica Coben, according to the databases. They vanished two months ago. Their parents assumed they ran away together. Both had been recently turned. Again, my subordinate took care of it. Now to the interesting part." Walter gave her a little transparent bag. Mira had brought this from the operations, because she couldn't figure out what it was. Even though she didn't want to admit it, Caitlyn knew that pissed her.
"That's a chip the size of a usual SD card. We found it in the vampire's bodies. It's a transmitter, actually. It measures the mood and health of the specimen, as well as transmits the position. Also, it has a kill switch, meaning the vampire goes up in flames shortly after he dies, which happened with every of the destroyed vampires so far."
"Then how come you have this?", Walsh asked. For the first time, they had lost interest in trying to embarrass her.
"The mechanism failed to work. Now, gentlemen, if you don't have any smart ideas what this might mean, let me-"
Caitlyn was cut off by the noise of the communication system. "Sir Hellsing!" It was Joshua Radley, Caitlyn knew that immediately. He sounded terrified.
"What is it?", Caitlyn asked. There were shots in the background.
"We're under attack!"
"What?!" Caitlyn couldn't help herself. "Details. How many?"
"Around fifty, I don't know. They- oh God, no-" He broke off with a scream. Caitlyn swallowed. She couldn't speak. What the hell was going on?
"Walter." Her voice was barely a croak. It was drowned out by the panic of the old men.
"Miss Hellsing, we will leave immediately," Penwood said and jumped to his feet.
"I would not recommend this," Walter said softly. Penwood froze, staring at the red eyes glowing in the shadows. "It's for your own safety. We don't know how the situation is."
"Caitlyn, explain this!", Reese demanded, slamming his hands on the table. From outside, there were screams and gunshots. Caitlyn just stared at the speaker, unable to gather her thoughts.
Bugger! She jumped to her feet and hit the button so hard it hurt. "Havel, what's the situation?"
"Commander Havel is dead," a voice said, followed by shrill laughter. It was a young girl's voice. "Got his head ripped off by my ghouls. But I'm nice – we're fifty-two, numbers rising. I tell you, you people are so tasty. But really, now I have to be off. There's somebody waiting for me. Ta~"
Caitlyn caught Sir Reese staring at her. No, not at her – he was staring into a fixed point in space. Then he hid his face in his hands and started to cry. The others stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Who is she?", Caitlyn asked.
"Miss Hellsing, you have no jurisdiction for this," Irons snubbed her.
Caitlyn ignored him. Those guys might be important political and economical figures in Britain, but these were her people dying out there. "Sir Reese, this is not the time for pity. Who is she?" Reese only whimpered and murmured something impossible to understand.
"Phillip, for God's sake!", Reese' MI6 colleague Robert Temples yelled, slamming his hand on the table. "Pull yourself together."
At this, Reese actually sat up, very slowly, and wiped his reddened eyes. Caitlyn had never seen eyes that bleak. His voice was only an agonized whisper. "She's my daughter."
Basement of the Hellsing mansion
Battling the Ottoman army. Attacking their base, driving them back to their own kingdom. Enemies would be impaled and shown off as a warning.
The son of the dragon, they called her. Dracula. Because it was unimaginable for a woman to lead an army. Her father had initiated her in the order of the dragon when she was five, pretending she was a boy. Then he gave her as a dead pledge to the Ottoman king. He left her alone. Even Radu left her alone. Left her to the Sultan to save himself. For a while she had still loved him, despite all that. But not for long. Radu even fought her later on. Her own brother had betrayed her. Because of him, her husband had killed himself. Vladimira could never forgive that.
The people had feared her. No wonder she earned the nickname "Țepeș", the impaler. She had learned the technique at the Ottoman court. The Sultan had probably regretted that soon.
But Vladimira had always believed law and order to be the most important pillar of a state. Otherwise, no country could survive. Hard measures were necessary, no matter if it was the enemy or your own people. She could not allow corruption or dawdlers.
Honesty was the most important thing of a person. Honesty, loyalty -
Mira opened her eyes and stared at the red velvet inside her coffin. It was evening, but not dark outside yet. She knew this without having to check. The dizzying smell of blood and gunpowder hung in the air. Screams echoed through halls. A battle going on? Maybe that was still the echos of her past coming from her own mind. Yes, she had always believed in honesty and loyalty.
Who was she kidding? She, a monster, trying to make herself believe she had been a good human? Yes, she had battled corruption and defended her countrymen against the Turks and all other enemies. But that didn't make up for all the suffering she had inflicted.
A sad little smile crept up on her face. "Congratulations, Vladimira, you had to become a monster to see you always were one," she said. Nobody had helped her when she was captured by the Turks. God turned away from her like everyone else.
The coffin opened and she rubbed her eyes. What was she thinking about that all of a sudden? A monster fighting with a non-existent conscience? Lovely.
Mira stood up. Walter was gone. Instead, she found two rectangular boxes on the table. One was about one foot long, the other one two and a half feet and flat. Attached to the smaller one was a handwritten note.
The conference starts at 4. C. says you should better stay downstairs.
Your new weapon has arrived now, so you shouldn't be bored.
There's also a little plaything that might interest you.
~W
Mira opened a smaller box. It was a black gun inscribed with Jesus Christ is in Heaven now.
Funny, she thought. That's the same that stood on Paladin Anderson's glove. She took the gun out of its container. It was heavy. Fifteen kilogram, she estimated. A human would never be capable of using such a weapon. Mira changed her shape to the adult she actually was. The weapon fit her perfectly. Only as a child, it would probably look a bit funny.
In the box was another note.
13mm Anti-Freak pistol Jackal
39cm long, 16kg
6 round magazine, armour-piercing explosive rounds
casings: Macedonium silver, blessed mercury tips
gunpowder: Marvells chemical cartridge N.N.A.9
She aimed. It felt good in her hand. "Perfect." She smiled. "Just as always, Walter." She could have told him this via telepathy, but he was probably busy helping Lady Caitlyn out against the old men. Mira would have liked a word with them, too, but that would probably not end well for Cait. It was not that they had imprisoned her, although she didn't appreciate of that either. But what really pissed her off was how they treated her master like she didn't belong to them. Caitlyn was the righteous Hellsing family's head. She of all people had to know that. But monsters weren't asked about their opinion.
And just like that she had to think about this morning again. Maybe Caitlyn had been right. Probably. Humans were so unique. Some wasted their limited lifetime, others not. Caitlyn belonged to the latter. She was the first to treat them like humans, despite knowing they were monsters.
Mira laid down the Jackal next to her other gun, the .454 Casull. The gun was well-crafted, but just not powerful enough to deal with somebody like Anderson. The Jackal on the other hand would turn the tide in her favour. Finally, she had an enemy worth fighting. Anderson was powerful, he could heal instantly, he was a skilled fighter – that would be fun. All those freaks the last months had bored her out of her mind, with Walter as the only distraction. He was the only real vampires around in all of Europe, as far as she knew. Iscariot was handling the regulars quietly, before they could even dream of becoming as powerful as her.
Mira went around the table and opened the longer box. Frowning, she took the blade out. It was two feet long and unusually thin for a sword. The cross-guard was golden, as was the round pommel. On the cross-guard was the word Hellsing in black letters. From the right side to the pommel ran delicate-looking golden spider threads. The grip itself was black. The blade looked like it was galvanized with silver. It was much smaller than any blade she had used for centuries. The hilt looked tiny in her slender hands. In the box was another note. Walter loved notes, for some reason.
I figured you'd prefer the classy style.
The blade is galvanized and blessed.
It should be able to transform with you.
Mira looked again. On the bottom of the note was something else written that had been erased. Even her sharp eyes needed a moment to read it.
Thanks for using that shape
The rest of the sentence was missing, probably never written. Mira smiled. "No problem at all, dragul meu." Saying those words felt incredibly strange. When had she called somebody dear the last time?
She changed her shape back to the young girl. The sword fit her perfectly now. It was delicately balanced and seemed to cut the air in a glistening silver semi-circle. She looked forward to meet Alexander Anderson again. A little sword fight with the bayonet-wielding paladin would prove to be interesting.
In the box was also a silver scabbard. There was a pattern on it, running along the edges in gold the same golden colour. It looked a bit like the morning sun. Mira fixed the scabbard to her belt and put it on. "Every weapon needs a name," she said aloud. She looked at the sword again and heard a voice she thought had been lost to history forever.
"Keep your guard up. Ah, too bad, you're dead. Too slow." Her body had been burning from exhaustion, but giving up was out of the question. She was only a young girl and he was nine years older than her and much stronger. No chance of winning against her older brother. But she enjoyed it nevertheless. A daughter of the dragon had to fight. Sitting at home to learn how to be a good wife was not her destiny. Even if it meant being introduced as a male.
Steel clanged on steel. Afterwards he always ruffled her hair. "Good work, little sister. Someday, you'll make a great warrior."
Mira smiled. "Mircea." She sheathed the sword. Today she was nostalgic, it seemed.
Walter, how is the situation?
- We're still in the conference room. The leader sounds like a little girl. She's probably here for you.
Then it would be rude not to welcome her properly. I can't wait to try my new sword.
- You like it?
It's wonderful.
There were fighting sounds from upstairs. She could smell gunpowder and blood. Finally a real battle again! She briefly wondered if she should test the Jackal. But then she decided it would be a waste. Such a special gun was reserved for a special opponent, not some little punks. She took the Casull instead.
Mira left her "bedroom" and turned to the right. On the left end of the corridor were the stairs. On the right was a throne-like chair. It had been Mira's idea to set it up there, for no particular reason. As Caitlyn was redesigning the mansion anyway, she had no objections.
"There you are. I thought you'd turn up sooner or later." Mira stopped, surprised. Somebody had already occupied the throne.
The girl smiled at her. "The countess is finally here."
Hellsing mansion, third floor, conference room
Caitlyn threw a pleading glance to her butler. At least he had to have an idea how to deal with this. But Walter seemed to be lost in thoughts. He was probably talking with Mira right now.
Everybody was talking at once, shouting questions or reproaches at her or his peers.
"Explain this!", Walsh barked at Phillip Reese, who was sobbing quietly on his place.
"Miss Hellsing, do we have a back-up plan?", Irons asked her, his voice icy.
"The helicopter upstairs," Caitlyn stuttered. She was interrupted by an explosion shaking the whole room. Dust rained on the table.
"I'd say that was the helicopter," Walter said. Caitlyn tried to ignore the joy in his voice. He was just waiting for her to send him into battle. "I'm afraid we will have to hold out here for a while longer," he continued, "The police will not notice any of this until at least eight p.m., giving us roughly three hours. The main objective should therefore be to guard this lone entrance against the attackers."
Penwood jumped to his feet again. "Who will be held responsible for this?", Temples barked.
They were shouting at each other again. Caitlyn was getting a headache.
Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds.
"COULD EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!", she shrieked. The Lords froze and stared at her. Even Reese had stopped whimpering. Caitlyn fell back in her chair. "Thank you. This is not the right time for behaving like chickens. You heard the girl, her army is made up of ghouls. That means..." Caitlyn swallowed. "My men are probably all dead. We're all alone here. Either we wait for help or we help ourselves. Otherwise we'll get eaten, if you prefer that."
"We're all going to die," Penwood muttered. He was so pale Caitlyn wouldn't have been surprised if he just passed out in a few seconds.
"Not at all, Sir Penwood," Walter said in a gentle voice, as if talking to a child. "We still got all the forces we need to defend the council and mop up this mess."
"What would that be?", Walsh growled. Caitlyn rubbed her temples. Did they really not know? She had not exactly posted it all over the world that she had actually two vampires. Walter had always seemed to prefer it that way. After what happened in 1944, Caitlyn could understand that well.
"Sir Reese, please explain everything you know about this."
Reese was pale and his voice was shaking. "Emily... is my daughter. My little girl..." He buried his face in his hands and continued. "She was kidnapped two years ago."
"Right, I remember," Penwood said, happy to be able to contribute something. "Did you ever get a ransom demand?"
Reese shook his head. "Never. We searched everywhere. She just... vanished. She would have turned ten today. What am I saying?" He laughed shakily. "She does turn ten today. She's alive. We were always hoping..." He wiped his eyes with a handkerchief just to break down in tears again. "What did they do to her? What happened to my little girl?"
"We will find out," Caitlyn said with determination. She didn't allow herself to doubt the hopes she could set in the girl. Listening to her, she had lost her mind a long time ago. But she couldn't tell Phillip Reese. "Walter?"
"It seems that all floors have fallen to the enemy. Emily is confronting Mira as we speak."
Caitlyn stared at the dead receiver. Ghouls. Who would think of using ghouls?
"They ate my men. They did whatever to an innocent little girl. Walter, take care of those ghouls and question whoever is in charge."
"Lady Hellsing, may I...?" He didn't finish the sentence. Caitlyn closed her eyes. Monsters don't love. Monsters are monsters. Reckless, fearful, cruel.
"Yes, you may. And tell Mira not to kill the girl."
Walter turned around to go. His red eyes glowed. Caitlyn always suspected he did that just to look a bit scarier. "I'm afraid it's too late for that, Milady."
Hellsing mansion, basement
Mira looked the girl up and down. She was no older than ten, but styled like a model: Tight black jeans, a dark blue shirt, black leather boots. The reddish hair was in a high ponytail. Her green eyes were accentuated with black. She didn't really look like a little girl. The thin legs were folded over the armrest. She had a gun in hand and strapped to her belt was a sword.
Mira stepped forward. "Excuse me, but I think you're sitting in my spot."
"That's a throne," the girl said with a grin. "And a throne is for queens only. Of course you are the no-life-queen. But not for long, I can promise you. I'm here to defeat you, Alucard."
Mira frowned. "I don't think we met before. And I had hoped the times when I was called this ridiculous name are over."
The girl stood up and carelessly strolled up to her. "Emily Reese. I'm a big fan of you, actually. I know everything there is to find. You were my role model. Until I decided I would just surpass you, that is." The girl opened the safety bolt of the gun. "This day will be your last, Vladimira Țepeș."
"You even pronounce it correctly. I'm impressed," Mira said with a smile. "Well then, show me what you have, little Emily."
Emily pressed the muzzle of her gun to Mira's head. Mira drew the Casull. They pulled the trigger at the same time. Emily's bullet hit straight in the head. Mira hit the girl in the chest. They both fell back, laughing. When Mira stood up again, Emily started to fire. Mira took the bullets without flinching, but made no attempt at returning fire.
"Let's make this more interesting." She drew Mircea. Emily put away the gun and followed her example. "The classic way," she said, amused. "This doesn't save you."
"I don't think I need saving."
They rushed forward, their blades meeting loudly, sparks flying. She was a formidable fighter, despite her lacking experience. But her reflexes were excellent, Mira had to give her that. She was a lot faster than most natural vampires. How fitting that I got my new sword just today.
Mira retreated, making Emily stumble forward. Her sword dug into Mira's thigh. Blood dripped on the ground. "Not bad at all, little girl."
"I'll beat you and be the new Number One! You're powerful, but I'm better!" Mira swung the sword from above, but Emily dodged it with ease. Instead, the flat side of the sword met her face. Mira landed on her butt.
Our grandmother, may she rest in peace, could do better than that!, she heard Mircea's voice. Alright, I might be a bit out of practise, Mira replied sourly.
- Who are you talking to?, Walter asked, confused.
Mira snapped out of her memories. Where was she with her thoughts today? Nobody. Forget it.
Emily stood over her, sword loosely in hand. She sneered. "I don't get it. Why are you occupying such a ridiculous form?"
"Why not? It's quite fitting to yours, after all."
Emily buried the blade in Mira's thigh. The pain was sharp, but the vampire queen didn't pay attention. "I have no choice in this," Emily snarled. "Whereas you..." She pulled the sword out again and swung it in a horizontal semi-circle. Mira let the tip grate her cheek. Emily shot past her, turned around and tried to judge the best angle for a new attack.
"Besides, what's up with that accent?"
Mira felt irritation stirring in the back of her mind. She stood up and brushed dust off her suit. "What about it?"
"You had five hundred years to learn proper English."
Mira raised her sword, faking an attack. "Well, that's just how I talk. And you're not privileged to judge this." Emily fell for her trap. She stumbled and seemed to attempt an answer. Then she was too busy screaming, clutching the stump where her lower leg had been. The sword clattered to the floor, into a pool of fresh blood. Mira stood up. "'You're powerful, but I'm better.' Those were your words, little girl." Emily scrambled up, desperately hopping for the door on her one leg. Mira didn't need to hurry. She put the sword away and followed. What a disappointment.
"If you want to surpass me, then why don't you fight? Regenerate, pick up your weapon, summon your familiars! Where is your superior strength?"
Emily had reached the stairs. "S-Stay away from me!" She was crying. Mira drew the Casull and the bullet hit Emily's sole thigh. The girl screamed and fell. "Stay away, you freak!"
Mira stopped and looked down on the whimpering girl. "And you call yourself a vampire? I've seen freshly turned draculinas fight better than that." Emily lunged for her, her teeth snapping shut only an inch in front of Mira's face. She seemed to deflate, coughing up blood and staring helplessly at her own sword sticking out of her solar plexus.
Mira let go, dropping her curled up opponent like an annoying bug. "You know what Țepeș means? It's Rumanian for "the impaler". Since you know so much about me, tell me why I got that name."
"Because... Because you impaled everyone breaking the law," Emily gurgled, tasting her own blood. The sword had missed her heart, but she had no illusions about getting out of here again. She could see the Countess standing over her. When did she think she could win against such an all-mighty enemy? Emily fought to keep her mind fixed. She would die now. For what? She didn't even know. There was only one thing she knew for sure: The Countess was incredibly beautiful.
Hellsing mansion, first floor, half an hour later
"That is no way of treating a lady, is it? Especially not my lady." The wire wrapped lazily around the man's ankle and pulled him back. He tried to free himself, sobbing, crawling like the worm he was. "Stay here if you want to keep that foot," Walter commanded without bothering to raise his head. The man whimpered miserably and dropped back to his belly. Walter pulled the strings a bit tighter and relaxed again.
His head lay in Mira's lap. She leaned against the wall of the corridor. The floor was surprisingly comfortable. She stroked his hair, which was a definitive plus.
The corridor had been strewn with the corpses of the ghouls before, but they had cleaned up quite well so far. Now that the trash was taken out, they had a little time left to play. Or just relax, a more fitting description. Fortunately there had been a whole unit of human mercenaries left, that should "mop up the remains of Hellsing", as their leader had put it. There was not much more to get out of them, but at least they made good evening snacks. They needed to clean up afterwards, of course. Caitlyn or the old men didn't need to see this. Both vampires were blood-splattered, but changing that didn't really make sense for now.
"You think we should go back to Caitlyn?", Mira asked, staring contemplatively at a shredded torso.
Walter didn't open his eyes. "Nah. We still have time. They'll survive waiting for another quarter of an hour." Mira flicked the wrist of her left hand and a stream of blood rose in the air. One half went to her, the other just dripped down. Walter licked the hot liquid off his lips. Not exactly virgin blood, of course, but good enough.
"Pretty sad about all the guards," he said.
"Is it?", Mira asked, her fingers brushing through his black hair. "How can monsters like us tell?"
"For Caitlyn, I guess. Personally, I didn't know them much and don't give a damn. Wouldn't have as a human, either, for that matter."
"How do you know?"
He avoided the question. Instead, he raised one hand and traced the line of her jaw with his fingers. "You keep saying such things. You think we don't have a right to feel because we're not human anymore?"
"We're monsters," Mira corrected.
"I don't think that's a bad thing."
Mira seemed genuinely surprised now. "Really? You were furious when you were turned."
Walter shrugged his shoulders. "I can't really imagine what it means to be so old. Slowly losing your abilities and just crumbling away."
"That's it?", Mira asked skeptically. "You don't want to be old?"
Her fingers caressed his forehead and he sighed. "Pretty much. You know, Sir Arthur said to me once that people that were useless were worthless as well. I was just a kid back then. No idea why it stuck for so long. But that's it. I don't want to be useless."
"So you're okay with being a monster."
"I was not a very nice human either."
"You were young," Mira said softly. "Young men often do stupid things."
"That's a nice way of seeing it," he said with a smile, but without opening his eyes. They were quiet for a while. Caitlyn and the Convention members were probably still cowering in fear up there. The old men more than Lady Hellsing, probably. She was a tough girl.
"So you like being a night walker?", Mira eventually asked.
"Yes. And you know why? I can be myself."
"What do you mean?"
He grinned. "I'm getting philosophical with old age it seems. We can be whoever we want. If this is being a monster, it's true freedom."
"Yes," Mira said in a low voice. She didn't seem to believe it.
"I'd love to know who turned me," Walter suddenly said.
"Why?"
"To thank her." He could literally see Mira's confusion. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. Red in red. "I want to thank her for giving me these possibilities." A soft smile spread on her face.
"I hoped you would say that someday." The same instant she realized he had succeeded into making her reveal the truth she had kept hidden for almost 70 years.
"So it was you after all."
She didn't argue. "Are you angry?"
He thought about it a moment. "We all lie." Walter sat on her legs astride. They kissed, tasting the blood they had shed on each others' lips. "But why did you do it? And why not tell me?"
For the first time since they knew each other, Mira actually turned her eyes away. "I knew what Sir Arthur intended to do. And... I didn't know how long it would be. If you would still be there when I came back."
"So you just decided I'd be better off as an immortal."
Mira rested her head in the crook of his neck. "Did I go wrong?"
He had to admit she was right. "Thank you," he said, curling a long black strand of her hair around his finger. "And I've got to say, you're a devilish good actress, countess." She didn't answer. Unless biting him was an answer. Only lightly, just enough to draw blood. She caught the drops and licked them off. "Not half bad, dragostea."
They were silent for a while. Then, Walter pulled back, blood seeping into his collar. "I hope I don't offend you with that question, but... Why the accent? Your English is perfect."
"Don't you like it? I thought you did." It was astounding how much she resembled a little girl now.
She frowned when he suddenly started laughing. "What?"
"'The figures have no meaning to me'? You sure about that? Because I don't remember you to be so cheesy." Mira scowled. She hadn't even noticed changing her form, but here she was – in a dress and looking just like she had over five hundred years ago, in her childhood in Walachia.
"They don't change who I am."
"But they influence your personality," Walter responded with a grin. Mira ignored him. She changed her form back to the girl in the suit. He gently raised her head, obviously wanting to kiss her again. But something else had caught her eye. Aside from that, Lady Vladimira didn't exactly approve of being made fun of, no matter how true it might be. She straightened up, almost knocking Walter off her legs. "Where's that human?"
Walter looked around. The mercenary was gone. In their conversation neither of them had noticed him go. "Ah, crap."
"If he's clever, he left the mansion and never comes back."
"When are humans ever clever?" They looked at each other, having the exact same thought.
"Now we're in trouble."
Hellsing mansion, third floor, conference room
There had been no sounds from outside for quite a while. No gunshots anymore, not even screams. The conference room was quiet as well, except for Phillip Reese' quiet sobbing. No conversation had been going on. Some seemed to be in shock, Walsh and Irons shot Caitlyn glares from time to time. Penwood constantly wiped sweat off his brow. It was just a matter of time until he lost his nerves. He was a friendly and reliable man, but not very brave.
Caitlyn was just staring at the dead receiver. Walter had already told her the conference could go on as planned, but of course nobody thought about that anymore. Caitlyn was secretly praying Mira and Walter didn't mess around. The old men already doubted her qualities as a peer. She couldn't afford anyone doubting her ability to control the two vampires.
"How long can they take to clean this mess?", Walsh asked sourly. Many started out of their apathy when he raised his voice. "Shouldn't we go outside now?"
"It would be safer to wait until we know for sure there is no danger left," Caitlyn answered without really listening. "We should rather figure out who is responsible for this."
"For God's sake, Caitlyn!", Penwood barked, jumping to his feet. "Who knows what those monsters are doing-"
Caitlyn slammed her hands on the table and slowly stood up. She was shaking from the effort to stay calm. As much as she liked him, some lines should never be crossed. The Convention members actually looking at her – everyone except for Reese – instinctively shrank back a bit from her flashing eyes. Caitlyn's voice was very quiet. "Sir Penwood, I understand your concern," she said as calm as she managed. "But DO NOT question my subordinates' loyalty."
Penwood, even paler than before, sat down. He mumbled something like "Of course not" and wiped his forehead again.
The door slammed open. They're finally here. Caitlyn frowned as she caught herself thinking that. But it were not her subordinates, but a tall, dark-haired man in an unmarked uniform. A mercenary.
Why again didn't they barricade the door? The Convention members drew guns. Caitlyn glowered at them. She didn't like anyone bringing weapons in her home, but they didn't even bother ask. Her new life left her no choice than to accept it.
The man didn't seem much of a threat anyway. He was pale, making the blood on his face and clothes stand out even more, and sobbing miserably. He stormed in, ignoring the guns pointed at him and slammed the door shut. "Arrest me!", he demanded in a shaking voice.
"What?", Caitlyn asked, so somebody said something. The others were as flustered as she was and kept silent. The man fell to his knees in front of her.
"I don't care if I go to jail, I'll tell you everything I know," he whimpered, "but protect me from these monsters, I'm begging you!" Caitlyn knew this voice. Despite being shrill with panic and thick with terror, it was a nice voice. It was the mercenary from five years ago. So it comes around, she thought. Caitlyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was not the presence of the man that had started all this five years ago. She didn't believe in revenge. Especially not for people who just did their job. There were bigger problems right now. Mira and Walter had not directly disobeyed her orders, of course... What could she expect from vampires?
There was a discreet knock on the door. The mercenary with the formerly nice voice howled and dived under the table. Nobody tried to prevent him from that. If he was not an Oscar-worthy actor, he was no threat.
Caitlyn turned her chair around and sat down. "Come in," she sighed.
The door opened and revealed her two vampires, both blood-splattered. Although Walter was worse. Both didn't seem to notice or just ignored it. "I'm very sorry for the disturbance, Lady Hellsing," Walter said. "We'll remove the target, so the conference can go on."
The man under the table whimpered, but tried to stay silent it seemed. Caitlyn didn't have to turn around to feel the horrified stares of the old men. "No, he will stay here. We'll question him and turn him over to the Military Police. Is he the last one?"
"Yes, milady."
"You were ordered to clean up and question the leaders-", Walsh barked. Mira interrupted him with a toothy smile. She played confused little girl again. God, this was just creepy.
"But that was exactly what we did. We destroyed the ghouls and questioned the leaders. There was no order saying we should keep them alive."
"Right," Walsh said slowly. He looked under the table. "Get out of there! Do you really want to be protected by a little girl, you coward?"
Caitlyn ignored being called a little girl and walked over to Mira and Walter. "Anyone else?", she asked, just for formality's sake. The two vampires looked at each other. Oh bloody hell, didn't they even check?! Caitlyn tried not to show anything.
There was a turmoil. The mercenary had begun to crawl out under the table, but had collapsed half of the way. "Seems like he's not fit for his job," Robert Temples joked.
"No, he's dead," Mira said as though it was no big deal. Caitlyn shot her a glare. Mira raised her hands. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear. But his heart is not beating anymore."
Caitlyn cursed silently. How much could go wrong in one day? Not even that – in only two hours? She turned the man on his back. His eyes were open and glassy. In one eye there was a spot of blood. "Somebody implanted a chip in his eye. They set off the kill switch before he could tell us anything."
"Are you an expert on this now?", Irons asked pointedly polite.
"No," Caitlyn said. "But we already know about the chips and exactly this method was on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.. The first seasons are in rerun at the moment, you know?"
"A TV series?", Irons growled.
For the first time since all of this started, Phillip Reese moved again. "My daughter! Where's Emily?" He jumped up and ran at the door. "You better haven't hurt her!", he roared.
Mira politely stepped aside, but he stopped in the door, throwing wild glances. "Emily! Emily!"
Reese spun and grabbed Mira's shoulders. Grief and hope had made him unable to fear the vampire, it seemed. "What did you do to her?!"
"She is downstairs," Mira said. She didn't move or try to free herself. She just calmly returned the glance. Phillip Reese was running wild. To stop him, they would have to kill or severely injure him. "I can't say she's still in one piece."
Reese howled like a wounded animal. "You monster! That will have consequences, Miss Hellsing!" His face was pale and full of agony.
Caitlyn felt all colour leave her face. She had given specific orders! Did Mira intend to get her into trouble? After all, she was completely powerless should the vampires decide one day not to do what she said. Unlike Caitlyn, they didn't see a problem, but Emily had been a child!
"But she is alive," Mira went on as if nothing had happened. Reese froze and stared at her. "At least I did not kill her."
"But what if she has one of these chips?", Reese asked miserably. In response, Mira took a bloody piece of metal out of her pocket. "I had the order to let her live and no one should interfere with that, right, master?" She gave the chip to Reese, who stared at it. Blood tainted his hand now. He dropped it like a hot potato.
Caitlyn was so relieved she thought she might lose her balance. "Yes. Good work, you two."
"I would not say that," Irons said. He had gone to the door and looked down the corridor. There were noises, scratching and moaning on the marble. "What do you say to this, Miss Hellsing?"
Caitlyn had to restrain herself so she didn't run to the door. She suppressed a gasp. No. God, no.
Her men were stumbling in her direction. Or what was left of them. The uniforms were torn and soaked with drying blood. Ghouls have a certain greenish skin and glowing violet eyes. Without the human restraints of pain they can just unhinge their jaws for better biting. The fingernails become suddenly sharp. Caitlyn thought, almost disembodied, that the jaw muscles were the strongest in the human body. No wonder that vampires were so fearful if even a human could do serious damage with his teeth. Caitlyn was staring at her fallen men, frozen in terror. Somewhere in her head, a mean little voice was saying: This is your fault. You killed them. This is your fault. You killed them. It went on and on. Badrick had been a horrible sight, even without Alexander Anderson almost killing her. It still didn't compare to this. These were her people.
A ghoul had almost reached her and wanted to dig his claws into her. With horror she realized it was Joshua Radley, the young man she had spoken with just this morning. She had sworn herself to be a better leader just then. And here she was, only able to wonder. Did he have a family? Parents? Siblings? Maybe a girlfriend?
"Caitlyn!" Before Radley – the ghoul, she told herself, he was not a human anymore, not even a person – she was pulled back by Walter, before the ghoul could get a bite out of her leg. She was ripped out of her rigidity. Phillip Reese was ploughing through the ghouls, not paying attention to the presence of the undead and ignoring Robert Temple and the other men shouting after him. The ghouls in turn did nothing to attack him either. This didn't make sense at all.
Caitlyn's throat felt too tight to speak. "Mira, please accompany him. Protect him, take care the girl doesn't hurt anyone, she'll need medical attention." Mira shot her an ironic glance when she said "medical attention", but didn't comment on it. She followed Reese, casually beheading two of the ghouls in her path.
Caitlyn stared at her fallen men. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.
"Walter, please... put them out of their misery."
"No." She flinched. Irons' voice was like a razor cutting in her thoughts. Had she really expected she got out of this easily? Of course not. She didn't deserve it. Caitlyn slowly turned, tying to keep a straight face. Irons offered her a revolver. "This is a commander's job."
Walter stepped forward, his voice a threatening notch deeper than usual. "Sir Irons, this is not-"
Irons ignored him. "I will not accept that this was unavoidable. The fact that these men are dead or undead is entirely your fault. Isn't this correct, Miss Hellsing?"
Walter growled, a low sound lacking anything human. Caitlyn raised her hand and he fell silent, confused. "No, Sir Irons is right," she whispered. "It is my fault."
She took the gun, desperately fighting the tears in her burning eyes. She would not give those royal vultures the satisfaction of breaking down now. She would not cry now and disgrace her men's sacrifice with her weakness.
"There should have been a plan for this case," Walsh said.
"Caitlyn-", Walter growled. He had heard the satisfaction in Walsh's voice. They just waited for an opportunity to prove Caitlyn's incapability to lead Hellsing. A retarded society of royal duties and isolation from the ordinary citizen. That was all the great Convention of 12 was. Unfortunately they were also running the empire (what empire?) behind the scenes.
"Hush," Caitlyn said. The ghoul that had once been a young man named Joshua Radley tried to grab her. She set the muzzle of the gun to his head. It will have blood, they say. Blood will have blood.
Caitlyn pulled the trigger.