Thanks to catsvsdogscatswin for the support. So... I suppose since we've been talking nicely for a while and you were the first to review... That chapter is for you.

Chapter 8: Never been any reason

Hellsing mansion, 5th September, 2016

Caitlyn sat on the windowsill, legs drawn to her chest, and stared into the dreary day. Beside her lay the copy of Shakespeare's complete works she had gotten when she left the orphanage for good. She had been the only one to ever read it anyway. Not that she gave anyone else a chance to. When she didn't walk around, observing the world around her, she read hardly any other book. Caitlyn had been a curious child. In retrospect, she knew she had been a pain in the ass because of that. The Josephs and Josies were busy enough with the troubling kids. But she didn't realize that back then. No kid ever did. So when one of the Josephs had given it to her, she read it over and over, until she was able to quote whole passages. It was calming. Some thoughts could only be voiced in poetry.

Dark clouds hung on the sky, concealing the sun. It would probably rain. She would have laughed, seeing this stereotype fulfilled again, if she hadn't been that depressed.

On the road leading past the mansion, a snake of black sedans slowly slithered along. Every one of them was filled with a coffin. Every coffin contained the remains of a human. A human with a family, and friends, and memories, and dreams. Emotions, some never spoken aloud.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

She had shed a lot of tears in the course of the last day. They failed to ease her sorrow. Most of the time she had wanted to be alone. But when she had tried to work and broke down in tears again, Mira was there. Maybe it was weird to be comforted by a vampire, but only on a theoretical level. Caitlyn found it strangely calming to listen to Mira's tales of war, of fallen warriors and defeated armies, but also of loyalty and love. The princess of Walachia had been a commander herself. Some part of Caitlyn thought she had to know how this was.

The rest reminded her that Mira was a monster if there ever was one, of course.

And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.

Sacrifices had to be made, she knew that. Every movie said so. But the reality was very different. And she hadn't even known most of them really well. Had not even known their names.

She had failed her men, pure and simple.

Caitlyn looked at the open book without seeing. Act 2, Scene 2 of King John.

No one had ever attacked Hellsing mansion. She had never really considered it, given the fact that she had two powerful vampires and a well-trained guard. Why would anyone want to? Hellsing was completely unofficial, known to only a few selected groups.

Somehow, Caitlyn still thought of herself as an ordinary British orphan of no special interest to anyone. She was never worried about her personal safety – Mira and Walter were at her side after all. How foolish had she been! This was not just about her. She had subordinates she needed to take care of. They had relied on her and she had failed. Caitlyn wiped her face.

"You shouldn't do that. It ruins your make-up." She almost fell from the windowsill. Sneaking up on her seemed to be the vampires' favourite exercise. She gave Mira an ironic smile. Or tried to. All she managed was a shaky skinning away of her lips from her teeth.

Mira sat on Caitlyn's chair, wearing a black dress to her ankles, the wild black hair more or less tamed in a braid. Walter stepped from the shadows beside her. He too had chosen an adult appearance, looking about twenty. The dark hair was in a knot, the front strands falling over his temples to the jaw. He looked too damn handsome.

Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service.

Mira tilted her head and Caitlyn realized she must have heard this. She hastily stood up, smoothing her skirt and put the book back in its place. Why did the bloody vampire have to read her thoughts anyway?! Had she never heard anything about privacy?

Sighing, Caitlyn got up. Her duties awaited her. It was the only thing she could do to make up for what she did.

Walter and Mira walked her to the military cemetery next to the grounds of Hellsing mansion. It would be weird to live next to it if the actual premises weren't so huge. She could have taken the car as well, but Caitlyn insisted on walking. She needed to calm down, before she broke into tears in front of everyone. She counted her steps while the vampires walked silently beside her. Five-hundred and seven, eight...

All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances.

When they reached the cemetery, Caitlyn had made exactly one thousand and one hundred twenty-seven paces. That was the shortest way from the main entrance to the entrance of the cemetery.

Caitlyn was glad Walter and Mira were with her. She was not sure if she would have been able to go through this alone. Not when she was responsible for it in the first place.

The vampires received a lot of suspicious glances. Not only, though. Caitlyn could bet at least three of the attendants fell in love with the countess at first sight. The thought was actually funny, despite all that.

In turn nobody paid much attention to Caitlyn. She had expected reproaches and disapproval. In some way she even wanted it, knowing she deserved it. But nobody talked to her.

At least nobody required her to say anything either.

Caitlyn forced herself not to count the graves the coffins were lowered in one after another. A lot of graves.

Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.

She would repay whoever was responsible for this a thousandfold.

Somehow, she sat through the whole long procedure. The fallen were put to their last resting places. The attendants stood up and saluted. Even Mira joined in.

Caitlyn stepped forward. Revenge should have no bounds.

Her voice was clear and devoid of tears. "To our fellow knights who fell in the service of queen, country and the Protestant church. We salute you!" Wind rushed under her dress and lifted the veil in front of her eyes. "Heroes are never forgotten."

Two hours later

Caitlyn had changed into more comfortable clothes. She sat at her desk, staring at the report Walter had prepared. She needed to read it, but had not even opened the folder. She just looked at it like it would bite her the moment she touched it. Her confidence from the end of the funeral had vanished into thin air like Prospero's spirits in The Tempest.

She didn't look up when she saw a movement in front of her desk. "What defines a good leader?", she asked. There was no response. "A leader has a vision. He knows what to do in times of crisis. A leader can lead, you know."

"Well, duh." Walter had sat on one of the free chairs and crossed his legs. "Lady Caitlyn, this doesn't bring you anywhere."

She ignored him. "This is my fault. I've been the head of Hellsing for five years and once the first real crisis arrives, I'm helpless." Walter rolled his eyes. Patience with self-bemoaning was not one of his strong sides. "So?"

Caitlyn rolled a pen on the table. "What was Integra like?"

There was a pause. "Honestly? Bitchy."

"Are you saying this to make me feel better?"

"Well, what do you want to hear? That she would have been a better leader? She was fourteen."

Caitlyn shrugged her shoulders. Walter emitted a low growl, mixed with a sigh. "Let's put it like this: She had a strong will. Failure was intolerable, and emotions had no place in business. She was a lot more ruthless than you. And angry," he added after a moment. "As I said, she could be pretty bitchy."

"But you would have served her just like you serve me."

"That's my job. I mean, she grew up with me as her butler. Yes, I would have. And?"

Caitlyn drew little circles on an empty sheet. "Nothing. Were you sad when she died?"

Now there was a longer pause. "What kind of question is that?", he asked. "I'm a vampire. I have the privilege not having to mourn anyone." Caitlyn suppressed a bitter smile. Of course. She was just a silly human to them, more dependent on them than they were on her.

"Did she kill her uncle?"

Another pause. "No. I killed him."

Caitlyn looked up. Walter seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden. Again, when had she ever seen him uncomfortable? He didn't like talking about the past, the complete opposite to Mira like she was now. They both behaved weird since all this started. "Really? Why?"

"He attacked her. By Sir Arthur's orders, Integra was the righteous head of Hellsing. My duty is to protect the family, no matter who the enemy is. I didn't like him anyway," he added after a moment. Caitlyn could have said she saw through his try to seem especially tough. Being trapped in the body of a child had to lead to some inferiority complex, she guessed. But she didn't need to say anything. He saw it in her face.

"What about Integra's mother? There were no pictures, no info about her, nothing. What happened to her?"

The glare Walter shot her made her wince. She was a really lucky girl having him one her side. Seeing that reminded her these new vampires were probably the better pick to have as enemies. They couldn't be worse than seeing her vampires angry.

"She died," Walter said sharply. His red eyes were glowing slightly.

Caitlyn cleared her throat to ease her discomfort. Bloody hell, she was the goddamn leader in here, so she should behave like one! ...Some leader she was, letting her men get eaten. She clenched her teeth.

"When? How?"

"Shortly after Integra's birth. Was probably too much for her." He made no effort to conceal he didn't want to talk about this.

"You didn't like her, did you?" Walter folded his slender legs over the armrest of the chair, trying to look indifferent.

"Not really." Caitlyn had an unsettling thought she immediately dismissed. Walter's loyalty was not in question.

"Of course not," she said. Was it such a surprise, after that woman caused Mira to get locked up?

"How shall we go on, master?", Walter asked, changing the topic. His tone was back to normal.

Caitlyn shook her head. She didn't know. All she could think about was how much she had failed.

"The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool." They both turned. Mira was still wearing the same breathtaking dress, but her hair was open now. ...Were those ribbons? Yes and no. Actually more of thick threads, one on each side. Caitlyn had long given up on trying to understand her. By now she had the feeling, Mira did that just to confuse her. The vampire sat on the second chair and smiled. "You're not the only one who knows Shakespeare."

"So?", Caitlyn asked miserably.

Mira shrugged. "To be or not to be, that is the question." Caitlyn had to smile despite herself. She broke out laughing when Mira said: "I read that just to understand what you are saying sometimes."

Caitlyn wiped her eyes. Screw the make-up. "So the warrior countess tells me I should go on?"

"I can only guess what you think. Human emotions are foreign to a monster like me. But when we are already at it, how about: What 's gone and what 's past help should be past grief. "

Caitlyn didn't have to look up the source. "The Winter's tale. You really read all of it," she said, somewhat astonished. "Alright. Walter, what are the next steps?"

"Next would be the rebuilding of headquarters. Of our ninety-five staff members, nine remain alive. Eight of them were away from base that day."

"Meaning?"

"The only one who actually survived the attack was you."

Caitlyn blinked. "And you two?"

"We're already dead, you know?", Mira said.

"Oh. Right." She should have remembered that. "What about Emily?"

"She's in hospital. The battle cost both of her lower legs and she lost a lot of blood. The doctors are still unsure what was done to her, but she will be released into the care of her parents at the end of the next week."

Caitlyn stared at the closed folder. "I see. Do we have any idea who might have done this? Those were no normal ghouls and no normal vampires. We knew that from the first attacks. Did Emily say anything useful?"

There was a long silence. What the hell was going on all of a sudden? "I asked her," Mira eventually said. "She said Millennium sent her."

"Well then why don't we look into that?" Caitlyn shrugged. "You know what, I'll do it myself. These are the times of the Internet, right?"

Mira and Walter exchanged a glance. Caitlyn, having done nothing yet, leaned back.

"Have more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest, lend less than thou owest. You two obviously know a lot more about that."

"I wouldn't call it a lot," Walter said. "We eradicated them. Or at least we thought we had."

Caitlyn knew immediately what he meant. Why hadn't she seen this before? "The Poland mission?"

Mira nodded. "Exactly. Millennium was a project started by Nazi Germany to produce vampire soldiers. We chased them from one part of Europe to another. The allied forces were close to getting them in France, but they escaped during the liberation of Paris in 1944. After that the experiments were relocated to Warsaw, where we completely destroyed them in September 1944."

Walter growled. "The leaders were able to flee, though. The Major, who was the head of Millennium, his top scientist and his watchdog. That werewolf arsehole."

Caitlyn noted down Major, scientist, werewolf. "So these three? They were the only ones?"

"I didn't count the normal soldiers," Mira said. "I met two women, one with a musket, another one with a scythe. The one with the scythe gave me her cigarettes when I asked."

Caitlyn could vividly imagine that. Mira in battle was the most terrifying thing she could imagine. Only an idiot would try to say no. Nazi or not, she somehow pitied the woman. Well, she was probably dead now or at least in her 90s. "I didn't know the Wehrmacht had female soldiers."

"That's probably why I remember them. They were both around twenty. Could very well be that they survived. And there was a young boy jumping around the place. He had cat ears."

Caitlyn slowly raised one eyebrow. Oh no. Not again. And she had been stupid enough to fall for it. "I believed you until you started with the cat ears."

Mira shrugged her shoulders. "I'm trying to be accurate here. And by jumping I mean he just turned up somewhere."

"You mean he could teleport?"

"If that's what you call it, yes."

Caitlyn pressed her fingertips together. "Alright, fine. Let's assume these Millennium people are really responsible for all of this. Why now? It's been seventy years since the Second World War, Europe has other problems than Nazi vampires." She stopped. Now she had said it after all. Caitlyn burst out laughing. She just couldn't help it. Her men had been eaten, she was next to getting hysterical and they had the nerve to pull such a story. It took a little eternity to pull herself together, until she lay over her desk, her stomach hurting and gasping for air. The vampires didn't make a sound. After a while, Caitlyn straightened up and wiped her watering eyes, still grinning. She looked at Mira, who had suddenly decided to take the shape of a woman in a red duster coat with a fedora. That was the same form she had had in Badrick. What the hell. Caitlyn didn't bother to ask. Mira had begun to behave weird the moment she met this Anderson. Even weirder than usual.

She waited for one of them to crack up. They didn't. Both of them were wearing an expression of genuine confusion. "I didn't know we were being so funny," Mira said.

That sobered Caitlyn quickly. She wiped away tears and her already smeared make-up. "Wait. You're serious about that?", she asked.

"Of course. I would never lie," Mira said.

Caitlyn propped her chin on her hand. "You actually want to tell me we are dealing with Nazi vampires?" They both nodded, at least Walter clearly offended. Caitlyn shook her head. That got to be a weird joke. She would never understand those two. "Nazi vampires," she repeated. "Do you know how that sounds? It sounds ridiculous. ...Can you hear that?"

Walter frowned. "Hear what?"

"The Convention and everybody else laughing at us. We're not in some stupid Hollywood movie. If I deliver this report I'm finished."

"It is like it is," Mira said. "Aside from that, Irons and Penwood were involved in the operation to destroy Millennium, although I don't know how much they really knew about it in the end."

Caitlyn stood up. "Those goddamned-" She concluded with an angry sound between a growl and an "Ugh!". "They never thought of telling me, of course," she hissed. "Bastards!"

"We don't know how far they have been informed," Walter reminded her. Caitlyn shrugged. Of course. Unprovable reproaches would only get her into trouble.

"Any more details on this Millennium? What did they do before? When did they start? Members?"

Walter shrugged his shoulders. "We're just the weapons. Sorry."

Caitlyn sat down again and rubbed her face. This was more terrifying than she wanted to admit. No ordinary army would have a chance against monsters like that. It didn't need to be a vampire of Mira's or Walter's calibre. Even an army of "weak" vampires would be enough to kill dozens of humans. "Let's get to what is not beyond help. Rebuilding of headquarters. We need new staff, right?" It pained her to say that. As if the men had only been broken toys that needed to be replaced.

"I already saw to that," Walter said. "We couldn't transfer military personnel. That would be too obvious, considering the large number. So I took the liberty to hire professional mercenaries."

"Mercenaries, is that so," Caitlyn said, her mind already absent. The idea didn't seem half bad. If anyone could do the job then it was mercenaries. They were better fitting than patriotic soldiers. They would definitely not question her and maybe even report back to the Convention of 12 without her knowledge. "Are they suited for this?"

"They are professionals. As long as we pay them, the Wild Geese won't betray us."

Caitlyn restlessly tapped her desk. "That was not my question. I wanted to know if they are skilled enough to deal with this. I don't want any more of my subordinates to die."

Walter blinked at her. "Oh. Yes, I think so. They've got quite a reputation."

"Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving." Caitlyn stood up. "Let's have a look at them. You stay here, just... do what you always do."

Mira wanted to say something, but Caitlyn waved her off. At the door, she turned. "And don't think I didn't see the moustache on the painting. Tell whoever it was he or she needs to work on her artistic skills."

The Wild Geese were an unusual group, to say the least. Caitlyn watched them without stepping into the room for a while. They had settled in one of the many huge rooms she never needed. About forty men of different ages and ethnicity, but all battle-hardened. It was obvious in the way they had grouped themselves, even though no one seemed openly concerned. A lot had scars. Caitlyn heard at least ten different accents. They had brought crates of weapons or whatever was in it and sat on them. They chatted among themselves, some even had steaming pots of tea.

The young girl in the middle stood out like a sheep among wolves. She wore the same camouflage uniforms as they did, with the exception of a skirt instead of trousers. That could not be practical, Caitlyn thought. The girl had neck-long blond hair. She sat on a crate and looked around curiously, only half listening to the talk around her. Caitlyn noticed the ring on her left hand. She seemed too innocent to hurt a fly. If she was a mercenary, she either hadn't been one for long or she was a master actress.

"What's this then, Captain Bernadotte?", one of the men asked. He wore a moustache and a cap with something like snowboarding glasses on it. Caitlyn was determined to learn every name and to appreciate every of her new subordinates as an individual. But maybe not now.

The Captain sat in the middle, on a chair with the backrest turned to the front. He had his left eye hidden under an eyepatch and a bandage over the bridge of his nose. The long brown hair was braided and put around his neck. He wore an Australian slouch hat. Caitlyn was amused about the words "Britanica Cowboys" on the uniforms. Pip Bernadotte was his name, the file Walter had given her said. That didn't really sound Australian, even though he looked like one.

Caitlyn leafed through the pages until she found the sheet about the girl. Seras Victoria, twenty years old, British. Bernadotte's fiancee. The second commander was called Adrian Stanek.

"What's what?", Bernadotte said. Definitely not Australian. French.

"About us having to be guards and all. Are we some rich bloke's personal army?"

Bernadotte laughed. "No, but don't be spooked..." He suddenly grabbed his fiancee's leg. She squealed and slapped his hand away. The men broke out laughing, while Victoria was fuming.

"Stop being childish, Pip!"

He implied a little bow and threw her a kiss. "Of course, ma chére. But listen: We" he made a dramatic little pause, "will hunt monsters!" Silence. Then the men laughed even harder. "But don't worry, ma chére, I'll protect you." He laid a hand on his fiancee's leg. She smiled, despite trying to sulk.

"Come on, Captain!", somebody laughed. Caitlyn had to smile. They seemed nice enough. Hopefully they were also skilled enough. She put the file on a sideboard and went in. The men turned and looked her up and down. The majority was a lot older than her. Caitlyn was not exactly a authoritative figure and she knew that.

"Welcome to Hellsing," she said. "I'm Caitlyn Hellsing, head of the organization."

The majority of the men frowned. "Ain't you a bit young for that?", somebody asked. He had two scars on his face, one horizontally on the level of the nose, the other crossing it vertically through the eye. Ain't. An American, just like the unfortunate mercenary with the nice voice.

Caitlyn only shrugged her shoulders. "Hunting vampires is not a very appreciated business."

Glances were exchanged. Then the Wild Geese roared with laughter again. "Vampires? Really? Sorry, Miss, but-"

"Nazi vampires, actually, it seems." That only caused more laughter. Caitlyn let them. She probably shouldn't have said that. If only it was so easy. "I know it sounds weird and all. But it's true. Vampires exist. Read Bram Stoker for details."

"You must be barmy," Bernadotte grinned. He received a kick from Seras for that and rubbed his leg. "Come on, my chére, you don't believe that, do you?"

"Sir Caitlyn?" She turned when Walter stepped soundlessly into the room. He was discreet enough to use the door. The Wild Geese stared at him. Caitlyn gave them a - hopefully - content smile.

"If you want to see a true vampire, here you have one."

Silence. Caitlyn could see Walter trying to look as intimidating as he could without changing his form. Sometimes she pitied him. Although she would never say so, of course. No need to stretch his patience, no matter how much she hoped he saw her the same way she saw him. Family.

The men roared with laughter. "What, that kid?"

Caitlyn felt all blood leave her face. Oh God.

"Walter, wait, don't-" Too late. Walter had already wrapped the delinquent in his wires and dragged out of the group. His red eyes glowed in rage and Caitlyn could see shadows swirling around him. Shocked silence had fallen. At least the man was still alive, still in one piece and not injured. Yet. Mira probably wouldn't have been that controlled. But on the other hand she was not so irascible either. Walter smiled unpleasantly, flashing sharp fangs. "You don't look all too tasty, but the saying goes that you shouldn't judge by the first glance, right? Maybe I should try anyway?"

"Walter!", Caitlyn commanded desperately. 'If they ever decide to ignore my orders, I'm finished'? Ever came earlier than expected.

"There's no need to get rude." The men spun and not few screamed. Caitlyn noticed that of all people, Bernadotte and Victoria seemed the least scared, just startled. Mira still wore the red coat. She simply stepped out of the wall and looked the Wild Geese up and down.

"Not really brave, are they? I've seen recruits faring better than that on the battlefields of Walachia. Will they be of any use to us at all?"

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. Sometimes you could just exchange the word vampire with arrogant, she thought. "Didn't I tell you to stay in my office?"

Walter dropped the trembling man who hastily scrambled back to his comrades. Mira placed herself on a chair and crossed her legs. "They will guard my bed. I want to know what we are working with. Besides, you just said seeing any more of your men die would make you very unhappy."

The men stared at her. She's doing that on purpose. "Well, if you're already here and still nostalgic, you can tell them how to defeat a vampire."

Mira smiled, completely ignoring Caitlyn's sour tone. "Traditionally? I think you all saw enough movies. But really, guns and blessed ammunition are a lot more useful than wooden stakes, garlic and the likes. Beheading has proven itself, too. Destroy the head or the heart. In the end it doesn't count how elegant you are."

"So that would work on you?", Seras Victoria said.

Mira laughed. "Technically, yes."

"What do you mean by technically?", the girl enquired. She looked fascinated. Caitlyn was impressed. For someone who had just met a vampire she fared well. But of course she had not seen Mira in action yet.

Before Mira could start bragging, Caitlyn interrupted. "A vampire is naturally immune against any disease or ageing. That should be clear. But what is normally not known, he – or she - can absorb the souls of those he drinks blood from. Basically the more they have, the more unkillable they are. But those types are rare and not your job."

Silence. Ah, hell. "Fine." She shrugged. "I already introduced myself. Those are Walter, my butler, and Mira."

"So you two are those rare types?", Seras asked. She looked at Mira. "Nice accent, by the way. Sergej here is Rumanian, too." She pointed at one of the men. He flinched. The vampires' little performance had done more damage than good, it seemed. Mira didn't change her smile.

"So you don't like garlic?", somebody asked carefully. The question was ignored. Although Caitlyn knew they actually did hate garlic – something she couldn't understand at all.

"Why does nobody know about that?", Bernadotte asked.

"Would you tell a population about it?", Caitlyn returned the question.

He hesitated. "Suppose not. And you people deal with that?"

"Hellsing organization was founded about a hundred years ago by Abraham van Hellsing." She answered before he could even ask. "Yes, that Abraham van Hellsing."

"So Dracula actually exists? With organ and wives and all?", the man with the cross-scar asked and laughed uncomfortably. Mira frowned. Damage prevention, Caitlyn thought. That's all this job is about. God, why could nothing ever go as she wanted?

"Yes," she said pointedly. "Dracula exists. Any detail questions you might want to direct to her personally." She made a gesture to Mira. Now it would be nice if the vampire could switch to something more fitting when she was already changing her form constantly. But of course Mira didn't think of that. She just sat there, legs crossed, the men staring at her.

"Lady Caitlyn?" She turned to Walter. Hopefully, the Wild Geese didn't ask any stupid questions. Thank God Mira was patient today. More Caitlyn couldn't do for now.

"There was a letter in the mail today. You might want to read it as soon as possible." Walter handed her an envelope. Good paper. The writing was curly. The writer had forced himself to make it readable and pushed down the pen harder than necessary. Who wrote letters per hand these days? All those little things she noticed before realizing who the sender was.

The Iscariot organization?

"Something wrong, master?", Mira asked, ignoring the nervous Wild Geese. Caitlyn slowly shook her head. She opened the envelope right there, not paying attention to anyone around her. Her thoughts were back in Badrick. Alexander Anderson's bayonets burying into the wall right next to her, his giant figure towering over her, the booming voice and triumphant laugh. Mira's last-minute appearance to save her. And weird enough, the only things she had noticed through the veil of her panic were the scar on his cheek. Mira's confusion when she first saw him. As if they knew each other. And the fact the paladin smelled like fresh raspberries. It was not the first time Caitlyn realized her brain worked in a really weird way.

"Who uses letters these days?", she murmured, already walking back to her office while reading. There was a tiny bloodstain on the paper, almost too small to see. She didn't want to speculate what that meant just yet. The sender was a certain Bishop Enrico Maxwell, the leader of Iscariot. The anti-terrorist unit, to use a nice description. The dirtiest of the dirty, in Penwood's words.

The tone of the letter was casual, but that could as well be just for show. He invited her to the Imperial War Museum. Choosing more or less neutral ground. Caitlyn could agree with that. A fight in public was not to desire for both parties. This Maxwell was not stupid for sure. His words were well-chosen, nothing pointing to a possible aggression.

That would prove to be interesting.

Caitlyn booted her laptop and entered the name into the search engine. The British empire probably had tons of info about these Iscariot people, but she didn't want to ask. Not with Irons and Walsh breathing down her neck. Sometimes, the best things were in plain sight anyway.

Not this time, though. There were unnervingly few results. Iscariot was more or less as secret as Hellsing, so its members were rather closed off from the public. But even considering that there was literally next to nothing related with a Bishop Enrico Maxwell. She found a Archbishop Giacomo Maxwell, most active in World War II, who had died in 1956; and a cardinal named Pietro Maxwell, died in 2007. She even found out Giacomo was Pietro's uncle. But about an Enrico there was nothing.

After half an hour she could finally dig up something after all. It was a newspaper article. Caitlyn read the article twice, wondering if that really was the person she was looking for. Because it would mean he was not yet thirty.

The article was concerned with the rather surprising consecration of a young priest to bishop. The Pope had decided over it without an involvement of the usual selective channels. Enrico Maxwell had been twenty-four then, the youngest bishop to be appointed in centuries. No reasons given. Caitlyn entered the year and looked for obituaries. Her guess turned out to be correct. The same year, not even three weeks prior to the consecration, a bishop named Jonathan Kerr had died at the age of 75. Caitlyn didn't need any proof to know Kerr had been the former leader of this ominous Section Thirteen. Maxwell had jumped the ranks expertly, it seemed. She shouldn't make the mistake of underestimating him.

The article featured a photograph of the newly appointed bishop. He was very young, as expected. What Caitlyn hadn't expected, however, was how handsome he was. Fitting to the name he seemed to be Italian, having tanned skin. In turn, the eyes were emerald green. They were extraordinarily bright, intelligent, and also a bit dreamy. He had long blond hair. And by that she meant really long, all the way down to the waist, as far as she could see it on the photo. It was pulled back in a ponytail. It looked nice. Nice and soft. He wore a winning smile that reminded her a bit of a fox for some reason. Broad shoulders, tall. Good-looking and clever.

Caitlyn angrily shook her head. What was wrong with her? She was not some lovesick teenager! Bugger. She was not thinking clearly anymore. Caitlyn dropped her head on the keyboard. That probably hadn't been good for the keys. Or for her forehead. "Ouch," she grumbled.

"Are you alright, master?"

She raised her head again and glared at Mira. "Are you following me everywhere today?"

"The new guards are unpacking and I grew bored."

"Did they find the courage to ask you about being Dracula?"

Mira changed her form to that of a countess in a long dress again. "The girl did."

"You think we can work with them?"

Mira sat down and smoothed her skirt, which was completely superfluous. Now she took that form, of course. "They're not beyond hope," she said eventually.

"Better than the recruits on the battlefields of Walachia?", Caitlyn asked. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Mira smiled. "They weren't beheaded yet."

Caitlyn shrugged and turned off the laptop. "Fine. I guess I'll check on them later. Oh, Mira, just so you know, you won't accompany me to the Museum. We can't afford a fight."

Her phone started ringing. It was the title melody of BBC's Sherlock. Caitlyn checked the screen. "Oh God, not again." Up till now she had gladly repressed the memory of this unpleasant duty.

"Your fencing lessons?"

"Yeah," Caitlyn grumbled. "I don't know why these old farts are insisting on that."

"Because they think it is proper for a Lady. To be honest, I don't see the point."

"At least we're two, then," Caitlyn said, deactivating the alarm. "This is so stupid."

"I agree. The techniques you learn are unsuited for defending yourself. I didn't know how bad it was until we met Anderson in Badrick." From somewhere she had gotten a sword with a black and golden hilt. She examined the shining blade, then stood up. "Like this you won't survive long without me. I will show you how proper fighting works." Caitlyn was too flustered to object when the vampire shoved her to the door. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped.

Oh God. No, no, no. Don't tell me- She saw her face flush under the black spots.

"Hurry up, master, we have a lot to do."

Caitlyn had different things in mind now. Like what the Wild Geese had to think now. "Why didn't you tell me the mascara is all over my face?"