Alright, I thought "Screw it, upload all finished chapters!" I want you to know and I want your feedback! (Since I'm getting so many awesome suggestions.) And it has also to do with the fact I'm uploading on dA and have to add the links in every chapter, so iit's less work for my if I do two at once xD
It was good I had two chapters in spare the last week, because I had to change datas and places like five times (very annoying). Sorry if there are more spelling mistakes than usual (and we'll see if the next chapter is due next Monday. I doubt it.)
Chapter 25: Saints in Hell
St. Paul's cathedral, London, September 22nd, 2016, 2.45 am
Mira sat on the remains of a wall, the armor rattling whenever her dangling legs hit the stone. Up there, the Major surely enjoyed the show. Walter was having fun, too, she assumed. He would finally get his revenge on the werewolf he hated so much. He hadn't answered her since she came back and that somewhat offended her, but he surely had his reasons. She had other things to mind right now.
Alexandru would come to her soon. She could feel it. Finally, everything was about to get resolved. Sir Arthur, and Abigail for sure, would have expected her to attend upon him, but Caitlyn was running around here somewhere and didn't give a damn about tradition again. She was refreshing in her refusal to abide to the old rules, that much was sure. Why else would she even rescue the enemy leader, who had betrayed her not more than a few minutes ago? But of course, she had her own reasons. The dead had the privilege not to mourn. Otherwise, Mira would have pitied her master. She would only get hurt again. Love was a cruel business, without pity, and full of pain and remorse. But the prize was just too tempting, no matter the scars you got on the way. So the humans recovered and started all over again. It was a lot like war.
Mira drew her sword, now in the perfect proportion to her adult shape. Mircea. If he would have been shocked? Her father? Alexandru? Her army was crawling, waves rushing over those who could not save themselves in time.
The Ninth Crusade. Millennium. Hellsing. Greed, hate, fear, revenge, justice, love, everything became a blur in a war. All these players, in one big scheme. "Isn't that right, Major?" Mira giggled. A giant sacrifice. All of this, just to make her release all the lives she took in her five hundred years, send them into battle, and make her stand alone. She smiled, resting her chin on one knee. Now, would he come to her? Her love from so many years ago was right here, even if he didn't know.
"What will you do, my beloved enemy? I am all alone here. The countess is alone in her castle, just in this night. Don't you want to keep me company? This is your only chance. Come to me, my dear." Mira closed her eyes.
"I'll bring the children to Stanislav and then get you. We can ride together."
"I'll only slow you down."
"I will not leave you behind."
"I love you."
She should never have taken his soft gaze for agreement. Everything that happened was her fault. "Why did you not wait for me?"
A rustling of paper, the clanging of metal. Mira raised her sword and met the green eyes she knew so well. Mircea clashed with his bayonet and Alexander Anderson was thrown back, landing on his feet.
"Finally," Mira said softly. "I was waiting for you."
The paladin stared at her with those wild green eyes. He drew his bayonets and formed a cross. "We are God's representatives, earthly agents of divine punishment. Oor mission is tae destroy doon tae the last wee bit thae fools wha' would oppose oor God."
Mira smiled. "I can hardly wait, my dear. And I love that accent of yours." Alexandru, no, his name was Alexander, looked at her for a moment without saying anything. He didn't know what she meant, and that confused and angered him. Mira would have liked to explain it, but the dead didn't do that. The dead didn't lie. They didn't speak.
Alexander let out a battle cry and lunged at her, his bayonet high above his head. Mira raised her sword and the blades clashed, again and again. Finally they were her. Finally they were together again. She could almost thank the Major for this opportunity.
She parred, slashed, hit him a few times. He hissed in pain and attacked again, and again. They were dancing, once again, for the last time. The dance of war. Back then he couldn't dance anymore, his leg had been crippled by a battle wound, but here they were again. It was beautiful. His foot hit the armor covering her belly and she staggered back, the tip of her sword slicing across his cheek. Such a blow had given him that scar, a while ago. Five hundred years ago. Had it been the same incident? Mira would have liked to know. She would have liked to know a lot of things about this man. She would have liked to do quite a few more things with him. Alexandru bit back a growl and wiped off the blood. The wound closed, but his scar remained as it had been.
A blade pierced her armor and Mira yelped in surprise. The pain was sharp, even to a powerful being like her. She was getting distracted. She had already had that problem when she was sparring with her husband. Mira looked at him and he stared back, determination and righteous anger in his green eyes. Vampires didn't feel. She had lived without real feelings for hundreds of years and now this? All she had done was killing for the enjoyment of it. A hundred years ago she had thought she had found... something. But that was not true. Now that she was feeling this, she realized back then it had been greed, the only feeling that ever drove her to anything. A part of her was waking up, a part she thought had been dead for half a millennium.
Alexandru let her get to her feet again. It was not a real duel if she was down so fast.
"Rival," she said, spreading her arms in an invitation. "Come kill me! Come pierce my heart with those bayonets!" And give me the peace my greed made me reject so long ago. Let us be reunited. "Put an end to my nightmare, beloved mortal foe!"
Alexandru drew his bayonet. "Ye need nae even say it!" Mira raised her sword. This would not do, she thought as he leaped at her, a whole dozen of bayonets flashing through the air. Mira felt her form flow and the Romanian princess grew weaker within her. She was still there, but quiet and scared. She was very young, after all. Just... human. She wanted the rest death would bring, real death. Some part of her wanted it badly. But she had to earn the right to die, just like Alexandru had to earn the right to kill her.
The blades shattered in the air. Losing their momentum, the splinters of bayonets clattered to the ground. Alexandru stared at her and shielding his eyes with one hand. The weight in Mira's hand was perfectly balanced. She grinned. "Pure macedonium silver casings, mercury-tipped, marvells chemical cartridge N.N.A.9. 39cm long, 16kg, 13mm armor-piercing explosive rounds. The Jackal." She laughed Alexandru in the face, sending her words on a telepathic level as well. "It's perfect, Walter!" She got no answer, which annoyed her a bit. Her own confused feelings were one thing. The fact that she was feeling at all. Was Walter trying to annoy her? Well, he certainly managed that.
Alexandru ran at her again. He took the bullets from the Casull without flinching, just shielding his face, then swung the bayonets at her. Mira leaped out of the way and pulled the trigger of the Jackal. The bullet hit him right above the elbow and tore away a huge chunk of flesh. Alexandru almost fell to his knees, gasping in pain. For some reason, it hurt Mira to see him in so much pain, especially since she had brought it onto him.
Alexandru straightened up and slashed at her, only hitting two eyeless familiars groping for him. Mira jumped, floating easily like she was walking backwards over their heads, and landed on the other side. Alexandru fell to his knees. Between him and his target lay an army of dead, civilians, soldiers, men, women. It would have been really boring otherwise.
A bullet left a stream of blue light. It hit Alexandru in the chest, piercing his body from left to right, but missing his heart. He was thrown into the air, where cards sliced through him. Blood splashed. Mira held up her hand and it flowed to her, pooling in her palm, before it could mingle with the stream. It was way too good for that. The vampire queen licked it off. Just as sweet as his scent. So familiar, so special. Like a bright summer day, but a thunderstorm threatening in the distance.
"What's wrong, Christian?", she asked. "What will you do? Your monster is right here, Catholic. Will you defeat it?" The princess was just human. She was a young girl, with no family left but her husband, the first to ever treat her good since her brothers left her. She was scared. "What are your chances? One in a million? A billion, maybe?" She had slept very long. And now she saw her husband, who had been the one to give her the reassurance she needed. And the princess started fighting. She was screaming, thrashing, trying to get out. She wanted to run to him and help the man she loved. She didn't understand that she was dead and he was not the one she thought he was.
Dark blood was running from his mouth as he knelt there, bleeding, steam rising in the cool autumn air, his voice rough. Yet he tried to grin. "Even if it was jus' ae star in the sky, Mira, it'd be mair than enough fae me!" She winced as if he had hit her when she heard that name. The princess was dead. She was Alucard, servant of the Hellsing family. Just a killing machine.
"How are you, regenerator?", she mocked him. "Covered in wounds. Your arm's about to fall off. What are you going to do? Are you a dog? Or a human?" The vampire stared at him in awe when he got up. He had a bayonet in each hand and grabbed his torn arm with his teeth.
"So whit aboot it, vampire? Ma arm's just ae bit torn up, thas a'. Quit yer blasted boasting and come at me!" A smile crept on her face.
"Humans are really magnificent," she said softly. "Come to me, my dear." And he did. He ran forward, forward, forward. He cut through the familiars like wheat. The bayonets sliced, slashed, buried into bodies. Hands tore at him, he got pricked by spears, bled, and still advanced. To the rear of the formation, where the commander was waiting. Mira watched him, fascinated. That was some man. Even more reckless than her husband had been, so strong and wild. Almost like...
Abigail. An old Lady of War, like Mira had been, withered and just a simple human. She had defeated the vampire, totally, but she had chosen not to kill her. That would have been too good.
"Come to me, Alexander Anderson." Mira wasn't aware she was saying these words aloud. "Come to me and end my nightmare." A chain full of bayonets, tearing through the army. What a man indeed. The princess grew calmer again, seeing he was more or less fine. He was in pain, screaming his agony into the sky, but he was still fighting. This was how it should be.
"Dinnae get I ma way!" Mira smiled. The cavalry was thundering towards him. The last obstacle. If he could survive that, he could fight her. The spears would impale him, maybe not. She would see.
Then the first rider collapsed as a silver dagger burrowed into his head. Alexander Anderson spun.
"Ye stupid...", he growled. Then something like a smile appeared on his face. "Well, well. O' all people, it's got tae be you." Mira shook her head, smiling. Love, duty, family, it meant so much to these fragile creatures. It took them beyond any border of reason.
Alexander looked at the paladins and shrugged. "Ah'm surprised ye want tae help me efter a', Lisa."
London Bridge, September 22nd, 2.30 am
"No, it's alright, we'll be there. We've got something else to finish first." Yumie put away the radio and looked over to Heinkel. Her friend was gripping the steering wheel tight enough to make her knuckles white. She had taken off the blood-stained gloves, but had wasted no time cleaning up her face. It was still smeared with dirt and Vicky's blood, where sweat and tears hadn't washed it clean. She was paler than ever.
Yumie's hand clenched around the katana. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Enrico should be dead? His vehicle had crashed and he stayed behind, so Lisa could escape safely. That would fit him perfectly well, still it was hard to grasp. Lisa had sworn to protect him, Yumiko, and Yumie in extension, knew that. But maybe that was just the logical result of his behavior. He had snapped, like everybody had expected it, more or less for years. Now they could only pray God would have mercy on him and see his mistakes as what they were: A cry for attention from a hurt and frightened child. Yumie closed her eyes and tried to get her shaking body under control. She could feel Yumiko weeping for their friends, so hard she felt tears in her own eyes. But she had no time to cry now. They would avenge Vicky, and then everyone who had fallen in this crusade by winning the battle. They had to. If even Enrico hadn't made it out, the person least likely to fall in this war, their chances were slim. Anderson had ordered everyone to retreat and regroup until he gave different orders.
They reached the new London Bridge. Normally it would have been lit by colorful lights. It was a miracle it still stood. Maybe it would just crumble and throw them all in the Thames. It was worth the risk. If God was on their side, they'd make it. Somewhere there, on the other side, Anderson would soon confront that vampire bitch, Vladimira, the worst enemy they had ever faced. Everywhere were those familiars. They were not even devouring the enemies like ghouls did, just killing them. The Chaos Girls drove through a forest of impaled corpses. Heinkel was stubbornly staring ahead, not showing any sign of shock or even recognition, just grief and anger. But even Yumie was disturbed by this. Everybody knew a vampire could absorb the souls of his victims as long as he didn't turn them, but she had never seen such destruction, so many... dead souls. If she wouldn't know better she would not have believed a single vampire could be the cause of this. She did her best to keep everything far away from Yumiko, but she still felt what her guardian did, to a certain extent at least. It scared her. Although she knew she was being silly, she almost expected to see Enrico somewhere there, and that thought did reach Yumiko. She screamed, a sound that made Yumie wince physically, and started crying again. Yumie did her best, but it took her what felt like an eternity to get Yumiko to sleep. The pain in her belly made it extra-difficult. Only chance had prevented that Zorin's scythe sliced her open completely. The mercenaries had patched her up quite nicely and the different clothes were not bad either, but it still hurt. She would need a real doctor after this was over. But she had no time for that now.
A bayonet was sticking out of the ground as the drove past. Anderson would need their help soon. But first they would take care of Millennium's witch, that had mocked them, tortured their friends, and stolen something more important than a beast like her could ever grasp. Yumie knew very well how much that cross meant to Heinkel. It was her most valuable possession, more than her beloved guns, more than anything material she owned.
That damned zeppelin was hovering over the city in front of them. The Major was sitting up there, enjoying the show. That bastard. They would smash him to pieces, together with his whole battalion. Yumie would like to do that herself, so she could hear him scream. He probably wouldn't beg for mercy, that was not his style. Too bad, really. But either way, he would pay for what he did.
Heinkel brought the car to an abrupt halt. They had reached a dead end, where a house had caved in and spilled all over the street. Ghouls were everywhere, as well as the vampire's familiars.
Without a word, Heinkel got out, shouldering the Dragonov and climbing up the rubble. Yumie followed her, cursing at the pain. This might become a bigger problem than expected.
Yumie looked around. There, quite a bit away to the left she could see St. Paul's cathedral, still standing proud for the British heresy. Why didn't the Major burn this down instead of monuments like the Tower Bridge? To annoy the Vatican?
Heinkel laid down, bringing the Dragunov in a shooting position. However she had seen, or even sensed the presence of her target, the vampire was there, in the middle of familiars, slicing her way through. Somebody was kneeling right in front of her, seemingly untouched by the familiars, and not interested in them. Wait a second... The vampire might hold off the familiars, but that was only because she was not done with her victim. It was a young woman in a black coat, her dark hair in a ponytail. Yumie jumped to her feet, grimacing.
"I'll leave her to you." Heinkel nodded absently, trying to find a way to hit the fast-moving vampire. "Where're you going?" Yumie didn't answer, but sprinted down the pile of rubble, drawing her katana. Maybe it was not too late yet. Enrico had died to save her. It was time to carry on his wish.
Zorin's scythe sliced through another familiar. The vampire had put on quite the show. Revealing everything she had. That was what the Major wanted, after all. Not that Zorin Blitz cared a great deal about that. The Major would have sacrificed her without so much as a "Thank you". Rip hadn't wanted to see that and look what it had brought her. Many of them didn't want to die and did anyway. But not her. The Major and the Battalion would be destroyed. So? Who cared? Zorin would go on alone. She was immortal, without her 'superior' she could just do what she wanted and have fun. Finally. Though this war was a lot of fun, she had to admit that.
The girl was weeping in front of her. She was not weak, but just like so many 'tough' fighters Zorin had already reduced to a whimpering pile of misery it had only needed as much as a touch. The first time she got one of the really important people though. But what was most interesting was the fact that her trauma was not distant and buried, but very recent. A few minutes, to be exact. Sure, there was the death of her parents, a guy called Joseph Drake, and a few quite unpleasant nightmares, but the real shock was not even old enough to have sunken in. It had taken Zorin less than a second to reach it, and the girl had broken down in tears. The death of her brother had left her nothing more than a lonely, frightened little girl. And now she was seeing it all over again, seeing her mentor betray the person she loved more than anything else in her life. She had seen it coming and couldn't do anything. Zorin had added a little spice by making her watch him actually die before Alexander Anderson carried her away, and letting him say all sorts of true, but quite mean things.
Now Zorin was searching for more entertaining memories. That girl's mind was a gold mine, with all the plans Iscariot had made, information next to nobody else could possess. The nightmares were especially interesting. Somebody with a talent like hers could have been a great addition to Millennium. Maybe, if the Dok survived, Zorin could start her own army. What a blow to see a good friend and paladin turned into a vampire! Speaking of which, she would have expected Heinkel to come after her. After she had a tragic goodbye with her cute little student, of course. Zorin wished she could have seen that. She would when the paladin came after her. She already had a few good ideas to spice the scene up a bit. Zorin pulled out the silver cross, careful not to touch it with her bare skin. It glistened softly in the light. Those Catholic choir boys had cost her two fingers, but one of their best agents, the other one's student and the sister of Iscariot's (now dead) leader seemed to be a fitting payback. Not to mention that kid Nils. They were all such a lovely big family. The girl was carrying the dagger she had gotten from that Drake guy. Maybe Zorin should keep that as a souvenir as well.
Something slammed into her. The bang reached her a moment later. Pain flared in her chest. The cross flew through the air and somebody caught it. Zorin almost dropped her scythe, staggering back, then spun and sliced through a familiar that tried to grab her. She coughed and tasted blood. The bullet had been so close to her heart as could be without actually killing her. And what was worse, the shock had broken her concentration and her payback number three was getting away. She was not weak. She would recover quickly from the loss of her beloved brother. Only temporarily, but just long enough to bring this 'crusade' to an end.
"Come on, Lisa, let's get out of here." Zorin swung her scythe, giving herself a little space in all the familiars. That voice! The whore should be long dead. She had sliced her in half! But there she was, in the clothing of a mercenary, helping up the little Miss Hamilton / Maxwell, who was already wiping away her tears.
"Well, hi, Yumie," Zorin said as casually as she managed while her blood seemed to be boiling. "I zought you were already in ze land of ze righteous. What did you call it? Limbo? I always zought zat was a dance."
Yumie paid no closer attention to her and that pissed Zorin off. She leaped at the paladin and her scythe clashed with the katana. Zorin hissed as the metal touched her bare skin. Yumie had used her free hand to push the silver cross right into Zorin's face. It had only scratched her cheek, but it hurt a lot more than a normal wound would. Suddenly, there was a flash of pain between her shoulders. That little fool! Zorin backhanded the attacker and Lisa flew backwards, right in the arms of a dead soldier. Zorin lost interest in her. Should she die at the hands of that so-called vampire queen's little helpers. Who cared? She had to face the Japanese God-whore with her stupid katana. No skirt to be her doom anymore. Too bad.
"So, you're here to get your revenge I suppose?", Zorin asked with a grin. "For whom in particular? Zat Swedish kid you liked so much? Your best friend's student? Tell me, I've got quite ze list to check."
Zorin was surprised the little berserker actually managed to stay calm. She wanted to attack, it was easy to see that. But she didn't. Zorin lashed out, her scythe cutting the air only centimeters from Lisa's neck. The girl stumbled back, but didn't attack. In her hand glistened silver daggers. Zorin took a step back. She didn't like this. She was a vampire, dammit! Millennium's best! But she felt cornered, like she had run right into a trap.
"I'm right here!", she teased. "Or are you too afraid?"
"You're not our kill," Yumie said, her voice strained. Zorin laughed out loud.
"Oh, really? Vell zen, how about zis?" Zorin slammed her hand down on the ground. She had thrown armies into chaos with this, she would not be beat down by three stupid girls. Pictures flooded her mind as she summoned the image she had used so often: A giant dragon. It might seem ridiculous, but she had managed to confuse her enemies with that often enough. Cedric had loved those stories. Her silly little brother, who had been ripped to pieces by a stray bomb with the rest of her family. 1943 had been an interesting year.
A little girl peering through a crack between closet doors, clutching a gun that seemed as heavy as a brick. The sound as she pulled the trigger, the hissing of the vampires, the blood.
Her mother chiding her and putting her into the room, with nobody but Yumie to keep her company.
Seeing all she loved die, or become a monster. Seeing her parents die in the car while she somehow managed to crawl out. No other child bothering to talk to her in the orphanage.
Her brother, pulling her along, his blond ponytail messy as ever. Their trip to Europe, when they traveled to Wales, then to Germany, and from there to Italy. His arms around her when she had to get all her courage together to step out on the balcony of their hotel room. The warmth when he told her: "I'm here with you."
She wiped blood off her face. Great, the chief would be so pissed at them. Her best friend only shrugged her shoulders. "Whatevs, let's go eat something. Maybe we should talk to Anderson first." She guided her out and then the guardian could sleep. Her partner took care of the rest. Best friends for life, the three of them.
"Are you mad at me?" "No," he said and it even sounded like he meant it. "I don't want you to go, but in the end, it's your choice." He stroked her cheek. "The church should be glad you consider this. A girl so strong and pretty..." She slapped his hand away, blushing. "Don't!" He tickled her and she laughed, resting her head on his chest. "Thank you."
This was wrong. She shouldn't see all of this. Those memories were not painful, they were pleasant. Good times in the circle of friends. This didn't-
Zorin hit the ground, her scythe slipping her fingers. What- She hissed in pain as something was pressed to her forehead. The silver smoked. She could only see boots and the ends of brown trousers. The vampire wanted to jump up again, or at least tear off one of those feet. She didn't feel her own legs anymore. Something slammed on the small of her back and she couldn't help a scream. That hurt! She was kicked and landed on her back.
"Of course. It had to be you," she snarled. Heinkel stared down at her and Zorin was unsure how to react to those dead gray-green eyes. Partially she was happy about her success. The paladin was in tremendous emotional pain, but for some reason that made her look scary. Millennium's best fighter, scared by a human girl. Only she is not just a girl. Zorin jerked her head around. That couldn't be. She had gotten rid of him seventy years ago.
Cedric?
- Seriously, you always had a problem with vanity, Jolene. And I thought more than half a century was enough to learn that. You are facing paladins. They are more than simple humans. And you managed to seriously piss them off.
Zorin groped for the paladin, got her ankle and poured her power into her. Violet light glowed brighter than the flames.
"Don't make a sound. Please, Hannah." The little girl looked at her mother with big eyes. She hated dark, small places, had always hated them. Her Father gave her a pistol, a huge silver thing, that was way too big for her. For once, her mother didn't protest, and that scared Hannah more than anything. They both kissed her on the forehead and then her mother closed the closet door. A few minutes later the screams began.
A bullet hit Zorin in the chest, the pain snapping her out of the half-trance. What the heck...? The Desert Eagle spit out a casing.
"Nice try," Heinkel said flatly. "But that doesn't work on me anymore." Zorin shrieked in anger, trying to get to her feet, but the bullets must have hit an important bone or something. But she could still rip those bitches to pieces in less than ten seconds. Then a blade pinned her down.
"It's over," Yumie said. Zorin hissed and tried to free herself, despite the katana nailing her shoulder to the earth. The pain only made her even more angry.
The Desert Eagle was not wavering in the slightest. "You don't deserve a quick death after all you did," Heinkel said. Even Lisa was standing there. Her eyes were still reddened, but otherwise she seemed to be astoundingly calm.
"We're not like you," she said. Zorin started laughing, no matter how much it hurt.
"Are you pleading mercy for a vampire?", she gasped. "That's the best joke I've heard in years! Who are you, Mutter Theresa?"
"You will burn in hell. That is more than enough punishment," Heinkel said and smiled. Another bullet hit the vampire in the stomach. She growled, but stayed still. Just a moment. Lisa was the most vulnerable. She was not as reckless and had no guardian.
Something separated her illusion hand from the arm. Zorin shrieked in surprise, but she had not much time to think of bloody revenge. "We are not like you," she heard the paladin bitch say, she wasn't even sure which one. She heard a soft tinkle of metal. Of course. Heinkel wanted her precious cross back. Remnant of a man she loved, and who was now gone. Just like everyone Zorin had cared about was gone, for many, many years.
There was a voice she knew all too well. About time. Where have you been, sister?
She heard the Major, or maybe Schrödinger laugh. I knew she vould be defeated. It vas inevitable. Just another stubborn little girl. She wanted to protest. Nobody called her a little girl and was not punished! A shot rang out. Darkness, and then a bright light. She had forgotten how blissful light could be. How stunningly beautiful. Jolene could almost hear a dragon roar.
Near Shakespeare's Globe, London, September 22nd, 3.30 am
A man with bullet wounds all over his body limped along. He had a cross clutched in his hands. Then he collapsed. Enrico looked at the sword that had saved his life. The dead couldn't correct their mistakes. But even the living could not undo what had been done. He shouldn't be here. He would be sentenced to death anyway, quite right, too, though the reasons of the prosecutors would be entirely different. He would make the best out of this until then. It was the only thing left to do. That, and not dragging any of his friends into his mess.
He stole a short glance at Caitlyn. She was tired, and battered, and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He was tired of pretending he could ignore what he felt. It didn't make a difference anymore. Lisa had been right all along. She had been right with a lot of things, as usual.
"That's a fancy weapon you've got there," Caitlyn said. Enrico winced, startled out of his thoughts. "Your design, I suppose?" She looked at him for a second, then turned her gaze back to the road. They were creeping along, trying to find a way through roads blocked by rubble, familiars and ghouls.
Enrico brushed the green stone. The strange electricity was gone now, sealed somewhere in there. "Sort of." Caitlyn nodded and fell silent again. Enrico thought about saying something, but what was there to say? She hated him. He had known it would come to that from the beginning. He deserved it. So why did it bother him so much? Why did he so desperately wish for her forgiveness?
In the end, his voice was barely more than a mumble. "Lady Hellsing, why did you rescue me?" At first, he thought she hadn't heard him over the sound of the tires on rubble and human remains. But then she looked at him. Her surprise confused him.
"Why not?", she asked. She grabbed into the door and gave him a handkerchief.
"Thanks," he said quietly. His head hurt where he had hit it. He busied himself wiping off the blood while he tried to figure out an answer. "That... That opposes your goal."
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow and swerved around a wrecked car in the middle of the street. "What goal?"
Was this a joke? Was she mocking him? "Winning the battle," he said a bit more sharply than intended. "Saving Britain." Realization struck only now. The fall must have given him a concussion. "Can I consider myself a captive now?"
Caitlyn blinked and looked at him for several seconds, her expression genuinely confused. "How do you get that idea?"
Enrico stared at her blankly for a second. He didn't even try to figure out what she was thinking. That woman would forever stay a mystery to him. "I'm the enemy leader," he said. "That is what I would do."
She blinked and a shadow seemed to fall over her eyes before she turned back to the road. "Ah," she said. "Of course. How good that I'm not you, then."
Enrico looked out of the window and tried to make any sense of her reaction. So he was no captive. But what then? Caitlyn stared at the road. It was obvious where they were headed: To the battlefield where Vladimira was awaiting her master. Alexander would probably be there as well. They would have been faster walking, but neither of them was able to cut through such a mass of enemies. The car was slow, but safe.
They stopped and Caitlyn killed the engine, opening her seat belt. They could hear explosions and gunshots. The Iscariot's last resort. It should not have come to this, but if they did, it was the only choice. Enrico could only pray Lisa and the Chaos Girls were alright. At least them.
Caitlyn leaned back. She was shaking badly. "I'm so sick of this," she said. Her voice was quivering with anger. "Enemies, treason, fighting, death, where's the fucking point? Damn it!" She slammed her hands on the dashboard and suppressed a sob. Then she laughed. It was a horrible sound and Enrico wondered what was wrong with him. Even in a moment like this, he saw how beautiful she was, through the blood and sweat and tears. He wanted to take her into his arms and make her stop crying. You're a hopeless romantic. Without you, she wouldn't be in this state.
"I'm such an idiot," she murmured and he snapped to attention again. Caitlyn wiped her face with the sleeve of her blouse. "After all that happened. You... I..."
"You have every right to hate me," he said quietly. Caitlyn winced and looked at him with those frightened, tired, stunning blue eyes.
"I know. And you know what's funny? I don't. It doesn't make okay what you did, but I just can't hate you." She smiled at his flustered face. "Stupid, huh?" He lacked an answer to that. "Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Doesn't the bible say that?" Luke 6:37, Enrico thought. Forgiveness was not exactly the greatest quality of the Vatican persecutors.
Caitlyn took the handkerchief. Her fingers were icy on his skin. "Someday you have to tell me what happened." He looked down at the scar running over his palm. Right. That.
"You go a long way for family." When he looked up again, they were barely an inch from each other. There was still a faint whiff of lavender to her hair. After all he did, what did a small sin matter? Enrico wanted to reach out, touch her hair or her cheek, anything like that would suffice. To make sure this was not a dream. Or a nightmare.
Caitlyn looked away, blushing slightly, and fell back into her seat. "True," she said curtly. "Now then, we should... make a plan or something. We can work together to defeat the Major, right?"
Enrico nodded slowly. Of course. She didn't hate him, and that was a relief for some reason, but it meant nothing. It was all part of his righteous punishment. He forced himself to concentrate on his task. The Major was out there and he was Caitlyn's primary concern. Alexander could take care of Vladimira, he had to believe in that. The other vampire was a wholly different matter, but he would have to see to this when it came up.
"This is between Catholics and Protestants." Caitlyn frowned at him. Enrico hadn't wanted to say it out loud, but now he had to run with it. "We eradicate Millennium. After that we can settle this age-old conflict once and for all." It was the last thing he would do in his life, so it should better be something good.
Caitlyn closed her eyes for a second and nodded. "I suppose that's what we have to do." The details were surprisingly easy to work out. She was sick of fighting, but she had no other choice. And Enrico was an experienced strategist after all. Now that he was in his right mind again even a good one. Eventually, they decided they had a good plan, or the closest thing they could have to a plan at all.
"There's a jacket on the back seat," Caitlyn said. "It should fit you." They looked at each other for a second, before she turned around and groped for it, giving Enrico a good view of her shapely body. Maybe it was right that he felt nothing but hopelessness. His whole life he had wished to be somebody... somebody important. Somebody people could not look down on. Somebody they would love and be proud of. And in that foolish quest he had forgotten he already had all of it. He was an incorrigible fool, and a coward. And God would punish him for that. The Lord hated cowards.
Caitlyn gave him the jacket. It was old, well-maintained. There was an embroidery in the collar. A.H.
Enrico put it on. The sleeves were a bit short, but otherwise it fit him perfectly well, as far as he could tell in the cramped car. He opened the door. The familiars seemed to have no interest whatsoever in them, and even the ghouls were occupied with whatever was leading them away.
Enrico had his feet already on the ground when Caitlyn grabbed his arm and held him back. He turned around. "Hm?"
Caitlyn stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. Then she pulled him to her and pressed her lips onto his. Enrico froze, his eyes widening in shock. Caitlyn laid a hand in his neck. Her cold fingers sent a shiver down his spine. What is one little sin more? I'm an Iscariot after all. He pulled her closer and returned the kiss with all the passion he had tried to suppress. She tasted faintly of summer, of honey and that particular smell after it has rained. Enrico closed his eyes, feeling his own hammering heartbeat and her slender shape pressing against him. Her lips were soft and warm on his, shy at first, then more demanding. That was probably the best first kiss anyone ever had on this planet. For the first time in his life, Enrico regretted having taken his holy vow.
Eventually, they had to break off, unless they preferred to suffocate. Her hands slid down, stroking his neck and arms, until they lay in his palms, pale against his tan, cold in warm. Enrico could only look at her, the scarlet cheeks and nervous blue eyes. He had never felt that confused before, but that didn't stop a small smile creeping on his face. The only thing he would have been able to say was "Thank you", but the mere thought sounded colossally stupid, so he kept silent. Caitlyn stroked the scar on his hand with her thumb and let go. "The others need us." Her voice was just a whisper. Some part of him protested, but he didn't say anything. She was right. The Battle of London was not over.
Caitlyn opened the door and got out of the car. Enrico involuntarily licked his lips, searching for the remnants of her taste, trying to tell himself this had not been a once-in-a-lifetime-moment. He followed her, wishing they could go back. Caitlyn smiled at him and he hurried to catch up. She brushed his hand and quickened her steps. "Let's go." It had gone awfully quiet and that never meant anything good. Something horrible was about to happen, they could feel it.
But the only thing Enrico could think about was how good it had felt to kiss her, and if he would ever get the chance to do it again.
St Paul's cathedral, London, September 22nd, 3am
She should hate him. He had betrayed not only her, but the person who trusted him most, who had been his student, who admired him so much he followed his path. But she just couldn't hate him. She had seen it coming hours before and that hadn't changed a thing. As much as Lisa loved her brother, and missed him now, she couldn't hate Alexander Anderson. She was angry with him, yes, but he had a point. Enrico was dangerous. He had snapped once, it could happen again. Lisa didn't want to believe it. Not after seeing the horror on her brother's face. But the suddenly so fragile connection between them had scared her more than she wanted to admit.
Lisa overtook Heinkel and Yumie while they approached the battlefield and joined in with the rest of Anderson's group. Their order was to retreat, but they all knew that would not do. The others would join them soon, hopefully, when they arrived back from Hellsing mansion. Heinkel had her silver cross clutched tightly in her hand, and looked at it in a mixture of rage, grief, and so many other feelings it was impossible to discern anything. Then she put it in her pocket.
Enrico, Vicky, who else?
Hopefully they were in a better place now. Not in limbo, and certainly not in hell. The death of Millennium's 'witch' had been strange in its brutality. She had looked so peaceful shortly before the incendiary chip went off. What was death, anyway? A transition? Or the end? After all that happened, Lisa was not sure anymore what was better.
"I'm sorry," somebody said to her. She jumped. It was Mark, a young paladin with unruly dark hair and glasses. "About the chief." He looked away uncomfortably. "We will all honor his memory."
"Thank you," Lisa said absently. Enrico was dead, no doubt about it. Even with this sword, he could not have beat these masses of monsters. He was just not skilled enough. He was not the man to fight actual, physical battles. So why did something, like a really small voice from far away, tell her he was alive? She would have felt it if he died. Something in her would have died with him and it was still there, hurt, in agony, but alive and fighting.
Lisa shook her head and looked around. The group of paladins was awfully small, but they had no other choice. She pushed her way to the front, where Heinkel and Yumie stood. A flood of the vampire's familiars was blocking Anderson's way. He looked bad, much worse than when he had set her down in a spot he thought to be relatively safe, and told her to stay out of this. Of course, that was shortly before Lisa ran into Zorin Blitz, but he couldn't know that. His arm looked like it would fall off at any moment, and he was bleeding and tattered. Any other human would have already collapsed and died. That much damage might be too much even for him.
Anderson broke through the rows of familiars. It was incredible, and horrible. Nobody should be able to take this. It was against nature.
Vladimira was standing there, separated from him, with a smile on her face that seemed strangely affectionate. It was the kind of smile somebody would give to a long-lost friend. She raised her hands and horseshoes thundered. A cavalry rushed at the paladin, their spears ready. Not even Anderson would be able to take that. And he shouldn't.
Heinkel seemed to have read Lisa's thoughts. "Let's go!" The group rushed forward, Lisa at the front. Her first knife buried in a rider's head and he dissolved, completely with his horse. Anderson spun, his face contorting in rage. "Ye stupid...", he growled. Then he looked at her and smiled, recognition, regret and a ton of other emotions running over him in a second. "Well, well. O' all people, it's got tae be ye." Alexander looked at the paladins and shrugged. "Ah'm surprised ye want tae help me efter a', Lisa."
"We're Judas Iscariot," she said simply. "Do you really think we would back down and leave you alone? That's not our style."
Anderson laughed. "Well spoken."
"Should you cry amen and kill, the world will slip into its rightful place," Yumie said. "That was what you taught us, is it not?" Lisa didn't really agree with that, but that was not the time for such discussions. "Let us show them the wiles of the fanatic."
Anderson shrugged. "Ach, fine, come wi' me, like ayeways. Ah'm heading straight intae hell. Might as well have ae bit o' company."
And with that, the paladins charged at the mass of dead souls, while the countess was towering over them on a pile of rubble, a smile on her face, right in front of the church's silhouette. Lisa ducked under a Turkish woman's groping hands and sliced her neck with her silver dagger. The familiar dissolved and she ran on. It was a waste of time and energy to try to kill all of them. Anderson was creating a path behind him, just rushing forward, already far ahead of them. His eyes were fixed on the vampire standing there, her arms outstretched, smiling.
Lisa kicked at a familiar trying to grab her leg, but it managed to grab her and suddenly she was picked up and raised in the air. Shit. The groping hands were everywhere. She tried to free herself, but only succeeded in almost losing her daggers. She had a pistol strapped to her belt, but she couldn't even move an inch at her own account. The hollow eye sockets stared at her. Lisa kicked one in the face, making it stumble back and curled her body, her weight shifting, ripping off the hand of the soldier holding it. Her dagger buried in the head of the man and he collapsed before vanishing. This was a lot better than ghouls, in some way, she thought vaguely. Lisa hit the ground. The impact sent a bolt of pain through her spine. She barely managed to roll away when a sword came down next to her head. She had lost the group. On her own she would never get through this.
I'm sorry, brother. Looks like I'm going to see you sooner than expected.
A Brazilian police officer held her down while the Walachian soldiers had their stakes ready to bury into her. That was exactly the end Enrico had faced. Her dreams had been virtually worthless, predicting the future or not. She had failed.
The soldiers' heads exploded and Lisa was pulled upright. Erik, Mark's best friend, who was secretly mocked for the pot-like cut of his blond hair, gave her the daggers and was gone before she could thank him. Lisa ran on, now not even really aiming anymore, but doing it like Anderson: Keeping the familiars away from her, clearing the path. She caught up to the group just as Erik stumbled, coughing. A spear had buried into his neck all the way from the front to the back. He stopped, the familiars surrounding him, almost building a pile.
"Here I go," he growled through blood running form his mouth. He ripped open the jacket and pulled the ring. "Amen." Lisa stared at him open-mouthed, forgetting where they were for a second. That was their master plan? The last resort? Pretty effective, though, a mean little voice inside her said. Somebody pulled her on. Renaldo looked horribly tired, like all of them, but on a much more basic level. He had already seen too much in his life. Why was he here in the first place?
"He was done for anyway!", the old paladin growled, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Come on before we lose the group." The explosion ripped dozens of familiars to pieces. Lisa dodged a rider and managed to finish off the horse. The familiars were a bit less bad than ghouls. At least they didn't bite. But the sheer number was crushing. Mark experienced it first hand. He had lost his guns somewhere on the way and the stakes were already carried towards him.
"See you there!", he called. Lisa caught his eyes for a second. He had said they would honor Enrico's memory. From now on, Lisa would treasure his memory. What an irony.
"See you," she said, and the C4 went off, hitting her in the face with a hot wave. She gritted her teeth and ran on. Not paying closer attention to the enemies and who of the paladins fell in the process. That would only slow them down.
And suddenly, they knew Anderson had broken through. It was as if the familiars had stopped. They were just not interested in them anymore. They had fulfilled their purpose. Lisa almost bumped into Heinkel. They could kill them easily now, but that was not the point.
Anderson faced Vladimira. She had stepped off her throne of rubble and looked at him with this almost loving smile. There was more to this story, even if Anderson didn't know it himself.
Ye're nae the only yin who has ae weapon that can kill completely. Lisa winced and spun. Had that been Anderson? Nazi vampires, this army of familiars, even her dreams were a fact she could accept. But if she started to read other people's thoughts she would freak out. But it had been Anderson, for sure. His arm looked still really bad, but the fibers started to reconnect by now. He only needed a few more minutes.
Vladimira laughed, a crystal-like sound like a chime. It was disturbing. "So you broke through that siege and now stand before me. That is exactly what I expected from Iscariot." She honored them with a short glance. "From Alexandru-"
"Ma name's Alexander. Hou often do Ah have tae tell ye?", Anderson interrupted. The pain he was in made him short-tempered. If it wasn't that gruesome, it would have been funny.
The vampire laughed, but not as lightly as before. "Of course. Excuse me. You look a lot like an old friend, that's all."
Anderson grunted and pulled out a long wooden box wrapped in white fabric. When the covers slid off, they revealed letters burned into the wood.
Section 3 Matthew
The rest of the imprint was too small to be read from a distance, but Lisa knew what it said. Top-secret holy relic administration bureau.
Horror struck her when she realized what was going on. Her dream in Scotland. She had been right all along. And she had no idea what she should do about it.
"That must be your trump card," Vladimira said, not bothering to hide her interest. No. Don't. Anderson shattered the wooden box with only one hand, revealing the artifact inside. Vladimira's face changed. Her smile dropped like she had been punched in the face. She growled, rage flashing in her eyes, so bright they felt it almost physically, but rage mixed with fear and even something like panic.
"A nail," she said slowly. Everybody just stared at them. The battle had stopped. Among the dead, the smoke and ruins, the zeppelin still threatening overhead, there was silence.
"The Holy Shroud, the Holy Grail, the Lance of Longinus. One of the last scattered and lost artifacts of Rome."
"Aye," Anderson confirmed.
Vladimira stared at the nail as if she hated its mere existence. Or maybe because she knew what was going to happen. And it would happen to someone she cared about. Her voice was just a whisper. "The Nail of Helena."
"Aye!" Anderson wanted to bury the nail right in his heart.
"STOP!" The vampire's voice turned to a terrified screech for a second. It managed to stop the paladin, at least for now. Lisa felt frozen, as if she was standing high up again, all alone. What could she do? She had seen what would happen if Anderson used that nail. It didn't bring anyone anything good. Too much power was harmful, he had said so himself.
"Do you know what that thing will do to you?", Vladimira snarled. "You will become one of God's monsters. Maintain your humanity. Don't succumb to power. Either side, it amounts to the same deal. Whether in the name of the divine or the demonic, you're still a monster in the end." She said something in Romanian, noticed her mistake and carried on in English. "Alexander." Her voice was very soft when she said this word, growing more desperate with every sentence. "Do you intend to use that scrap of miracle to become nothing but a scrap of miracle yourself? This duel between us. Would you really push it this far? Into the realms that lie beyond mortal life? A monster such as myself, a creature of such weakness that it could not bear the weight of a human life; if I am to be defeated, it must be by a human!" She looked at him with those red eyes. Suddenly, the vampire queen had lost her threatening aura. She just looked sad. For a moment, everybody, no matter how far away, could see the hurt soul that was buried behind cruelty and bloodshed, pleading to whatever she saw in Alexander Anderson. "Don't do it, Alexandru. Don't become a monster. A monster like me."
Anderson fell to his knees. Nobody moved. His arm was healing faster now. Had the pain overwhelmed him after all? Lisa hoped it had. As long as it stopped him. But Anderson looked up again and his face was stern.
"I want nothing more than tae be ae bayonet. Ae bayonet wielded by the hand o' God. Ah would've been happy to been born a storm, or a divine threat, ae mighty explosion or even ae terrible hurricane. A divine force of nature." The words, so familiar, managed to break Lisa's paralysis. Her gaze fell on Heinkel, standing at the left side. Lisa ran to her. Nobody paid attention. Heinkel actually winced when Lisa shook her. "We have to stop him."
"What?"
"We have to stop him!", Lisa repeated. "The vampire's right, this won't end good." Heinkel looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
"Without ae heart, or pity," said Anderson. "And if this relic could transform me in such a thing, Ah'm happy tae abandon ma humanity."
"No," Vladimira said very quietly, in the tiny voice of a terrified child.
Alexander Anderson raised the nail.
...I'm not sorry. I like cliffhangers, especially because I know what happens next :) Feedback?
It's actually St. Paul's, you can see it in the manga. At first I thought it might be Kensington Temple, but the fanart I saw got that wrong. Hirano is pretty indistinct with his locations and I'm not sure if he knows where what is in London. Seriously.
A fun fact I came across while deciding which bridge the girls should use: The Tower Bridge is not London Bridge (though google somewhat confuses that). Also, Tower Bridge is named like that for the Tower of London, not because it happens to have two towers of its own. Wtf, Britain?
Mira has a bit of a split personality problem, I think. The flashback is a short version of "The countess' dream". I was lazy. Don't judge me. Aside of that, when the heck did this go in the direction of AxAA?! (Weeks ago, I know. I don't even ship it. Just... here. For reasons. WTF?) Sorry if her attitude seems inconsistent, but I suppose that is just what she is like. She doesn't know herself what she wants and feels.
Okay, Jolene / Zorin's end was much more peaceful than I planned. I mean, she's the big baddie in these chapters. But halfway through, Cedric came into the picture and I pitied her. I wrote a story about how she and Rip became the people they were and it's pretty tragic (I want to translate it once Renegade is done, but that will take a while). So she kinda deserves the peace. Also, Stoker wrote the vampires internally long for that, right?
I was waiting for the Enrico / Caitlyn scene for an ETERNITY. I had prepared parts of the dialogue months in school. I swear to God, writing those five sentences about the kiss took me almost half an hour. I wanted to make it as perfect as it is for them. Caitlyn and Enrico are the main characters and their "love story" is one of the major themes. And you know what? They have about three scenes where they appear together in more than 250 pages of story. Talk about long distance relationship. Do I have to tell you I loved writing this?