Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Fare ❯ Blood Splatter and Madness: Calm Before the Storm ( Chapter 18 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Artemis_Vampiress 
A storm approaches, and blood rains down on Hellsing manor . . . know your enemy!
Anime/Manga: Hellsing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Horror / Action | Type: Fanfiction Sequel | Uploaded On: 06.14.2009 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 335 | Status: Work In Progress
A storm approaches, and blood rains down on Hellsing manor . . . know your enemy!
Anime/Manga: Hellsing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Horror / Action | Type: Fanfiction Sequel | Uploaded On: 06.14.2009 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 335 | Status: Work In Progress
Author's notes: I feel so bad!!!! I haven't updated in forever!!!! I went back and Silence is Golden and no lie, I shuddered. So . . . . ugh. But hey, I was 15 at the time, gimme a break. This chapter is weird. Just some forewarning. But maybe you won't hate me too much. Okay, so with the way this one ends you probably will.
She said they couldn't die.
The shrill scream pierced the tranquil silence that had settled over them. They were unprepared. They would tell themselves later that there was no way they could have known, nothing they could have done to prevent it . . . . it was a lie covered in the blood of the people they couldn't save.
And she was wrong. So wrong. His hands coated in their black blood was the proof.
Alucard and Victoria lay quietly in their coffin-bed, arguing quietly. He cradled her hands against his chest and she was soothed by the slow heartbeat.
“You can't just send me away whenever you please anymore,” she told him.
“I will do as I please,” he replied, “in regards to you. I will not have your disobedience getting you killed.”
“I am not your servant.”
“I am still your master.”
She didn't know quite what to say to that. It was impossible to tell what exactly he meant by it.
“I don't understand what you mean,” she said flatly.
“It means what it means,” he retorted softly, and pulled her hands above his head so that she was stretched out over him.
It was foolish to argue with him. He did not operate by any system of logic that she understood.
Many hours later they were summoned.
The blood covered his hands. It was smeared on the bare skin of his chest where his shirt had been torn. It covered his face where it had spurted out at him from the wounds he had made with his bare hands, where he had swiped at the drops with a bloodied sleeve. It coated his hair. He was awash in it, the scent and the sticky wetness and the filth of it. He had never felt more alive.
The library, their sanctuary, was empty of humans. Why would they be there, in the den of the undead? The curtains, dark and heavy, blocked the sunlight from entering the room.
Deyavi sat with her back against Gavril's chest, reading a book as her foot tapped rhythmically on the wooden floor. The sound and movement was driving Malakai mad, and he growled at her. She raised a brow at him but did not respond. Her foot stopped tapping.
In spite of the earlier lapse, Alucard and Victoria were arguing again, quietly. Victoria sat atop the large wooden table and Alucard tilted back in a chair with his legs propped up in Victoria's lap. They faced each other, speaking in voices barely above whispers, eyes locked on each other.
“I am not going to shut myself in a box to soothe your fears. But I promise you, I am not going to die,” she murmured.
“You can't promise that.”
The statement was bitter. His expression became cold and distant. The lines around his eyes seemed more pronounced. For one who had seen so much death in his five centuries of life, this look, this bitterness, suited him perfectly.
“I can,” she replied firmly, touching the firm line of his mouth with a finger.
He arched an eyebrow at her.
“How so.”
It sounded like an argument, not a question, coming from his mouth.
“I was sired by Dracula. I am the soulmate of the most infamous creature ever to have walked the earth. If I say I can, who are you to challenge me?”
His answering smile reflected a twisted pride. The glimmer of insanity that lurked always just beneath his skin seemed to touch his face for a moment and the bitterness was muted by amusement. She was right, after all. He had turned her. She had his power. She was his mate. There was no room for argument. To challenge her would be to insult himself.
His dark laughter was quiet, and his mood softened.
He didn't dare taste it. The darkness that made these monsters was not like the darkness that made him and to taste their blood would be to invite death in too closely. But oh, it was such a temptation. The scent of it was sweet and rich with magic and moonlight and the taint of madness. Much like his own blood. He turned sharply and plunged his bare fist into the burned and scarred abdomen of another monster. The brand which was its life, its bond to Her, was shattered in a sickening splitting of flesh, and it collapsed. Alucard shuddered with the pleasure that coursed through his body.
She had been watching for so long. So long. She watched the manor. Waited for the night to fall. It would have to be tonight. Each and every delay would decrease her chance of success.
She looked to the male standing at her right. He was a good partner. She had toyed with the idea of keeping him, when all of this was over, but it was too soon to decide.
If he survived this, he would be worthy to be her pet.
Her gaze flicked back to the stone walls of the manor.
Only a few more hours to sunset.
It was disturbingly easy to kill them. It had seemed so impossible before . . . his mind and body screamed at him even now to escape, to flee, and wanted him to be afraid, but this was just a part of their magic, their curse, it was why Abigail had never gotten close enough to kill one. But he kept fighting them. Kept killing. It felt so good, so right, so sick. Even as his mouth watered at the scent of their blood, even as he felt the sweetness of their deaths in his body, he was repulsed by them and his stomach fought him. But it was his body, and he was in control, and he wouldn't stop till they were dead, every last one of them.
It was so peaceful. They did not speak, not wanting to break the silence that had settled over them lovingly.
Malakai was rubbing oil into the scarred skin of Lansing's legs. Her eyes were closed and she lay propped upon a pile of blankets and pillows that they had thrown on the floor, wearing a loose grey shirt and a pair of jeans that had suffered the wrath of rusted scissors long ago. Malakai seemed happy, relaxed, wearing his usual ensemble of dark tattooed jeans and a white tee shirt, humming to himself with a slight half-smile curving his mouth.
It made Victoria grin from ear to ear to see him happy. There was something powerful between them, something she knew because she felt it herself with Alucard. The slightest contact, a look, a stray thought, the sound of his voice all stirred up an electric feeling in her veins. Yes, she knew all too well.
Victoria stood and walked to the large windows on the west wall, and parted the curtains. The sun had disappeared, the phantom light trailing behind it a bluish-black against the grey clouds. It was finally night. She smiled.
The earsplitting shriek of the sirens began their wailing, and the peace was shattered.
They had destroyed his home. Fire had devoured everything, the flames licking even at his own flesh as he and Victoria had fought to free all the humans from the blaze alongside the soldiers. But they had been unable to find Sir Integra. He had called out to her with his mind, and she had ordered him to defend the human soldiers from the monsters that flooded the grounds of the burning manor. They were helpless against these, most of their guns lost to the fire and the few remaining were ineffective. So they had rounded up all the humans and set Malakai and Lansing to protect them, and Alucard had gone on the hunt for his master. Something was wrong.
They phased from the library to security's headquarters to investigate the cause for the alarms, as Integra had instructed them in case the sirens ever went off. It was easier for them to get there quickly and discover the source of the threat, and dealing with such things quickly was an absolute necessity in their line of business. But there was no one there. No one living, anyway.
Blood was splattered across the monitors and control board. Bodies on the floor twisted oddly and split open from neck to navel. The insides of the dead soldiers should have been strewn across the ground, except for the fact that they were missing. They had been removed somehow, for some reason, and Malakai had a sick feeling growing in his chest. It was time. His vision was coming true. He whispered a prayer to his gods and slowly began to unravel the delicate layer of emotion in his soul. He could not afford to feel. He began to feel himself slip away, and then there was only the instinct. His vampire soul rose from its half-sleep, and smiled. It was time to kill.
He reached out to the network of minds connected to his. He felt blood running down his chest and dripping from his fingertips as his mind touched Malakai's, and felt the soft flesh splitting as Malakai's hand drove into the abdomen of one creature, and the violent breaking of bone as he swept that same hand around through another. He was totally focused on the fight, and did not notice Alucard.
So Alucard moved on, touching Victoria's mind, feeling the cool night air on one side of her face and the heat of flame on the other as she led the humans away from the burning manor. She was calm, analyzing every risk and assessing every move, taking her charges away from the fight by the safest routes possible, sweeping the grounds for the wounded, taking care to dispose of the bodies of the dead, sorry only because they would never receive a proper burial. Her mind focused only in the mission to which she was assigned, she did not sense the touch of his mind.
Deyavi and Gavril were maintaining a strict defense of the grounds, not allowing any monster to leave, not allowing any to enter. They were deadly, efficient. But they did notice his intrusion, and greeted him with a flash of awareness before turning back to their task.
Integral . . . he could not sense her. Where was she? He felt the madness building up in his chest, and a growl rose in his throat, fangs bared. Her scent was becoming harder to detect as smoke built up and time passed. Where was she?
The first of the monsters to enter the room met the end of Alucard's gun and hesitated, almost studying the shining metal thrust so closely to its face. Then its body twisted and it reached for Alucard's face to press its gaping, rotted mouth to his. He fired a shot, missing its heart as it writhed, but forcing it back. It did not hesitate to move forward again, trying to get close enough to fix its mouth to his and pull his soul into itself. Victoria raised a brow to him and her look spoke volumes.
'If that thing gets its mouth on you, I'm never kissing you again.'
Alucard's dark laughter rang through the halls of Hellsing.
"Alucard. It's Him. Do not touch him!"
The voice was soft, beautiful. The monsters he had sensed following him retreated and he turned to the source of the melodious voice.
He could see nothing, but he could sense her. Something told him it was better this way. If he couldn't see her, she couldn't use him. It didn't make sense, but then, very few of his instincts did. But they were almost always right.
There was a flash of movement at his right and the Jackal whipped up in his hand, too late to catch the blurry form before it vanished again.
Something soft brushed his cheek and he hissed between his teeth. Another blur of movement, this one more defined than the last, crossed his vision and instinctively, he closed his eyes.
If he couldn't see her, she couldn't use him.
He could not allow himself to be used.
He still had to find Integra.
Alucard could feel the fire eating the manor as if it devoured his own flesh. His connection to this place went soul-deep. But pain meant nothing; it could not stop him as he raised hell and brought all his power down on the heads of the monsters.
The pain allowed him to watch as his home of so many years was burned to the ground.
Victoria's mind reached for his periodically and he could feel that she mourned for the loss of their home, but more so for how it affected him.
But it didn't matter. What mattered now was overcoming this obstacle, winning this new war brought on by an unknown enemy.
After it was all over they could build a new home.
A choking gasp came from somewhere to his left, as he moved blindly through the smoking, burning ruins of the manor. His eyes opened.
There, nearly hidden beneath a charred beam and pieces of plaster, was a small human woman.
Almost lost within the smell of smoke, was the familiar smell of Integra. By the look of things, this was the ruin of her office, where it appeared she had been trying to save something from her desk, now splintered and black.
Alucard knelt and, carefully inspecting her, swept the wreckage from her body, checking to be sure she had not been impaled by the debris. Integra gasped as she suddenly found herself able to breathe easily.
With a grimace, Integral tried to sit upright. Pain shot through her ribcage and suddenly she was quite certain that at least one rib was broken on the left side, where her body had initially been struck by falling ceiling beam. She gritted her teeth and righted herself. Pain was a familiar enemy. One she knew she could and must overcome now.
Biting back his anger, Alucard slid an arm around her back and pulled Integral to her feet.
And blinked in surprise when a mess of her blood splattered his face.
She said they couldn't die.
The shrill scream pierced the tranquil silence that had settled over them. They were unprepared. They would tell themselves later that there was no way they could have known, nothing they could have done to prevent it . . . . it was a lie covered in the blood of the people they couldn't save.
And she was wrong. So wrong. His hands coated in their black blood was the proof.
Alucard and Victoria lay quietly in their coffin-bed, arguing quietly. He cradled her hands against his chest and she was soothed by the slow heartbeat.
“You can't just send me away whenever you please anymore,” she told him.
“I will do as I please,” he replied, “in regards to you. I will not have your disobedience getting you killed.”
“I am not your servant.”
“I am still your master.”
She didn't know quite what to say to that. It was impossible to tell what exactly he meant by it.
“I don't understand what you mean,” she said flatly.
“It means what it means,” he retorted softly, and pulled her hands above his head so that she was stretched out over him.
It was foolish to argue with him. He did not operate by any system of logic that she understood.
Many hours later they were summoned.
The blood covered his hands. It was smeared on the bare skin of his chest where his shirt had been torn. It covered his face where it had spurted out at him from the wounds he had made with his bare hands, where he had swiped at the drops with a bloodied sleeve. It coated his hair. He was awash in it, the scent and the sticky wetness and the filth of it. He had never felt more alive.
The library, their sanctuary, was empty of humans. Why would they be there, in the den of the undead? The curtains, dark and heavy, blocked the sunlight from entering the room.
Deyavi sat with her back against Gavril's chest, reading a book as her foot tapped rhythmically on the wooden floor. The sound and movement was driving Malakai mad, and he growled at her. She raised a brow at him but did not respond. Her foot stopped tapping.
In spite of the earlier lapse, Alucard and Victoria were arguing again, quietly. Victoria sat atop the large wooden table and Alucard tilted back in a chair with his legs propped up in Victoria's lap. They faced each other, speaking in voices barely above whispers, eyes locked on each other.
“I am not going to shut myself in a box to soothe your fears. But I promise you, I am not going to die,” she murmured.
“You can't promise that.”
The statement was bitter. His expression became cold and distant. The lines around his eyes seemed more pronounced. For one who had seen so much death in his five centuries of life, this look, this bitterness, suited him perfectly.
“I can,” she replied firmly, touching the firm line of his mouth with a finger.
He arched an eyebrow at her.
“How so.”
It sounded like an argument, not a question, coming from his mouth.
“I was sired by Dracula. I am the soulmate of the most infamous creature ever to have walked the earth. If I say I can, who are you to challenge me?”
His answering smile reflected a twisted pride. The glimmer of insanity that lurked always just beneath his skin seemed to touch his face for a moment and the bitterness was muted by amusement. She was right, after all. He had turned her. She had his power. She was his mate. There was no room for argument. To challenge her would be to insult himself.
His dark laughter was quiet, and his mood softened.
He didn't dare taste it. The darkness that made these monsters was not like the darkness that made him and to taste their blood would be to invite death in too closely. But oh, it was such a temptation. The scent of it was sweet and rich with magic and moonlight and the taint of madness. Much like his own blood. He turned sharply and plunged his bare fist into the burned and scarred abdomen of another monster. The brand which was its life, its bond to Her, was shattered in a sickening splitting of flesh, and it collapsed. Alucard shuddered with the pleasure that coursed through his body.
She had been watching for so long. So long. She watched the manor. Waited for the night to fall. It would have to be tonight. Each and every delay would decrease her chance of success.
She looked to the male standing at her right. He was a good partner. She had toyed with the idea of keeping him, when all of this was over, but it was too soon to decide.
If he survived this, he would be worthy to be her pet.
Her gaze flicked back to the stone walls of the manor.
Only a few more hours to sunset.
It was disturbingly easy to kill them. It had seemed so impossible before . . . his mind and body screamed at him even now to escape, to flee, and wanted him to be afraid, but this was just a part of their magic, their curse, it was why Abigail had never gotten close enough to kill one. But he kept fighting them. Kept killing. It felt so good, so right, so sick. Even as his mouth watered at the scent of their blood, even as he felt the sweetness of their deaths in his body, he was repulsed by them and his stomach fought him. But it was his body, and he was in control, and he wouldn't stop till they were dead, every last one of them.
It was so peaceful. They did not speak, not wanting to break the silence that had settled over them lovingly.
Malakai was rubbing oil into the scarred skin of Lansing's legs. Her eyes were closed and she lay propped upon a pile of blankets and pillows that they had thrown on the floor, wearing a loose grey shirt and a pair of jeans that had suffered the wrath of rusted scissors long ago. Malakai seemed happy, relaxed, wearing his usual ensemble of dark tattooed jeans and a white tee shirt, humming to himself with a slight half-smile curving his mouth.
It made Victoria grin from ear to ear to see him happy. There was something powerful between them, something she knew because she felt it herself with Alucard. The slightest contact, a look, a stray thought, the sound of his voice all stirred up an electric feeling in her veins. Yes, she knew all too well.
Victoria stood and walked to the large windows on the west wall, and parted the curtains. The sun had disappeared, the phantom light trailing behind it a bluish-black against the grey clouds. It was finally night. She smiled.
The earsplitting shriek of the sirens began their wailing, and the peace was shattered.
They had destroyed his home. Fire had devoured everything, the flames licking even at his own flesh as he and Victoria had fought to free all the humans from the blaze alongside the soldiers. But they had been unable to find Sir Integra. He had called out to her with his mind, and she had ordered him to defend the human soldiers from the monsters that flooded the grounds of the burning manor. They were helpless against these, most of their guns lost to the fire and the few remaining were ineffective. So they had rounded up all the humans and set Malakai and Lansing to protect them, and Alucard had gone on the hunt for his master. Something was wrong.
They phased from the library to security's headquarters to investigate the cause for the alarms, as Integra had instructed them in case the sirens ever went off. It was easier for them to get there quickly and discover the source of the threat, and dealing with such things quickly was an absolute necessity in their line of business. But there was no one there. No one living, anyway.
Blood was splattered across the monitors and control board. Bodies on the floor twisted oddly and split open from neck to navel. The insides of the dead soldiers should have been strewn across the ground, except for the fact that they were missing. They had been removed somehow, for some reason, and Malakai had a sick feeling growing in his chest. It was time. His vision was coming true. He whispered a prayer to his gods and slowly began to unravel the delicate layer of emotion in his soul. He could not afford to feel. He began to feel himself slip away, and then there was only the instinct. His vampire soul rose from its half-sleep, and smiled. It was time to kill.
He reached out to the network of minds connected to his. He felt blood running down his chest and dripping from his fingertips as his mind touched Malakai's, and felt the soft flesh splitting as Malakai's hand drove into the abdomen of one creature, and the violent breaking of bone as he swept that same hand around through another. He was totally focused on the fight, and did not notice Alucard.
So Alucard moved on, touching Victoria's mind, feeling the cool night air on one side of her face and the heat of flame on the other as she led the humans away from the burning manor. She was calm, analyzing every risk and assessing every move, taking her charges away from the fight by the safest routes possible, sweeping the grounds for the wounded, taking care to dispose of the bodies of the dead, sorry only because they would never receive a proper burial. Her mind focused only in the mission to which she was assigned, she did not sense the touch of his mind.
Deyavi and Gavril were maintaining a strict defense of the grounds, not allowing any monster to leave, not allowing any to enter. They were deadly, efficient. But they did notice his intrusion, and greeted him with a flash of awareness before turning back to their task.
Integral . . . he could not sense her. Where was she? He felt the madness building up in his chest, and a growl rose in his throat, fangs bared. Her scent was becoming harder to detect as smoke built up and time passed. Where was she?
The first of the monsters to enter the room met the end of Alucard's gun and hesitated, almost studying the shining metal thrust so closely to its face. Then its body twisted and it reached for Alucard's face to press its gaping, rotted mouth to his. He fired a shot, missing its heart as it writhed, but forcing it back. It did not hesitate to move forward again, trying to get close enough to fix its mouth to his and pull his soul into itself. Victoria raised a brow to him and her look spoke volumes.
'If that thing gets its mouth on you, I'm never kissing you again.'
Alucard's dark laughter rang through the halls of Hellsing.
"Alucard. It's Him. Do not touch him!"
The voice was soft, beautiful. The monsters he had sensed following him retreated and he turned to the source of the melodious voice.
He could see nothing, but he could sense her. Something told him it was better this way. If he couldn't see her, she couldn't use him. It didn't make sense, but then, very few of his instincts did. But they were almost always right.
There was a flash of movement at his right and the Jackal whipped up in his hand, too late to catch the blurry form before it vanished again.
Something soft brushed his cheek and he hissed between his teeth. Another blur of movement, this one more defined than the last, crossed his vision and instinctively, he closed his eyes.
If he couldn't see her, she couldn't use him.
He could not allow himself to be used.
He still had to find Integra.
Alucard could feel the fire eating the manor as if it devoured his own flesh. His connection to this place went soul-deep. But pain meant nothing; it could not stop him as he raised hell and brought all his power down on the heads of the monsters.
The pain allowed him to watch as his home of so many years was burned to the ground.
Victoria's mind reached for his periodically and he could feel that she mourned for the loss of their home, but more so for how it affected him.
But it didn't matter. What mattered now was overcoming this obstacle, winning this new war brought on by an unknown enemy.
After it was all over they could build a new home.
A choking gasp came from somewhere to his left, as he moved blindly through the smoking, burning ruins of the manor. His eyes opened.
There, nearly hidden beneath a charred beam and pieces of plaster, was a small human woman.
Almost lost within the smell of smoke, was the familiar smell of Integra. By the look of things, this was the ruin of her office, where it appeared she had been trying to save something from her desk, now splintered and black.
Alucard knelt and, carefully inspecting her, swept the wreckage from her body, checking to be sure she had not been impaled by the debris. Integra gasped as she suddenly found herself able to breathe easily.
With a grimace, Integral tried to sit upright. Pain shot through her ribcage and suddenly she was quite certain that at least one rib was broken on the left side, where her body had initially been struck by falling ceiling beam. She gritted her teeth and righted herself. Pain was a familiar enemy. One she knew she could and must overcome now.
Biting back his anger, Alucard slid an arm around her back and pulled Integral to her feet.
And blinked in surprise when a mess of her blood splattered his face.