Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ San Graal ❯ Ritual ( Chapter 1 )

Whoops. . . .forgot the disclaimer last time around. I don't own Hellsing, nor have I read the manga past the first US release. My hope is to remain canon to the series, as well to characterizations as set forth in Disgrace, Dishonor, and Disregard. Any questions about characters in this fic should be referred to its predecessors.

Original Characters are mine. I ask that if you really want to use them, you'll just ask me. I'll usually say yes to someone borrowing a character.

And unlike before, I'm not going to beg for reviews. I want this to be the last author's note I have to write in this, and I'm not certain as to how long it will take for me to be satisfied with chapters before posting.

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Alabaster skin remained well camoflaugued against the background of incoming snow as the young woman pulled her multi-colored scarf closer to her mouth and nose, blocking the cold like any mortal living on the southern shores of Lake Erie would do on a blustery March evening where winds blew in from the icy Alberta lands, chilling those unfortunate souls that had no choice but to traverse the city on such days to the core.

But this was no mortal woman. If not for the constant want to keep mortal appearances, Seras Victoria could walk the ice covered sidewalks nude if she pleased in this blustery weather, never feeling the sting of the cold winds against her flesh. After nearly a half century stuck in this god-forsaken territory thanks to a vow of servitude to a woman barely related to the family and Organization that had taken Seras in after her death and rebirth as a child of the night she had finally grown accustomed to the boorish, ignorant populace and the equally idiotic weather patterns.

Hiding her crimson eyes from the bright fluorescent lights of the recently remodeled baseball stadium, the vampiress headed toward her destination- a grand old stone church directly across the street from the modern monstrosity.

Relief washed over her as she noticed a man of excessive height exit the doors of the church, the silver flash of a key noticeable to her vampire eyes as his green orbs searched the distance for someone, something.

"Hey! Joe!"

The eyes of the bishop soon focused on the vampiress wrapped in a heavy pink jacket and multicolored scarf, only her hellish eyes visible through the layers of clothing, and soon his hardened features melted to reveal a smile as she trotted near, hugging him tightly so as he could return the gesture. The embrace was only momentary, joyful as it was. The powerful Catholic Diocese of Cleveland did not need another scandalous affair to cover, not now, not ever.

"I thought you weren't coming Seras. The plan has always been to meet at eleven so we can get to the Flats before the bars close. It's nearly one."

Looping her arm in his, the bishop led the bundled vampiress toward the gates of the cemetery immediately adjacent to the church, forever to be washed in the hideous fluorescent glow of the stadium and city. "How many years has it been since we've started this tradition?"

"Fifteen, I think." Crimson eyes immediately found their target, and now the vampire led the priest toward a large, black obelisk-styled grave marker engraved with pictures of angels and demons, and most surprisingly, an inverted pentagram with other symbols and words encircling it. The carving had been the talk of the Catholic community for years. Immediately after the groundskeeper noticed the symbols emblazoned on the marble, there had been petitions to destroy the stone and to remove the body of the deceased so she could be burnt and her ashes scattered, not able to plague the church with her blasphemous message ever again.

But Lillith van Helsing's honor was restored thanks to finding a letter from Harker to his second wife that was emblazoned with the same figure- the standard of the Hellsing Organization.

"Lillith, I pray you have finally found your peace with your family members, and may you finally have the privilege to enjoy your daughters now that you are together, forever."

Kneeling on the snow-covered ground, the bishop placed a single red rose at the foot of the stone before folding his hands in silent prayer. It was through his approval that the body of the woman and her supposedly heretical gravestone was allowed to remain. Lillith van Helsing had been his secretary and friend when he was granted his title twenty years prior, a student straight from the ranks of Section XIII, the Iscariot Organization. His words switched to Latin as he prayed for her soul, the wind howling around the figures, drowning his words before they even passed his lips.

And every year, as though it was tradition, Seras bowed her head, lifting a black gloved hand to her eyes, dabbing away the blood tears stemming from the memories of her former masters in England. Only one deserved the fate that had come of her.

Moments passed like hours. With a ritual blessing, Bishop Joseph Czani stood from his bowed position on the snow-covered ground, offering his hand to the weeping vampire.

Together, they moved in silence from the cemetery, the bishop locking the gates to keep fanatic vandals from destroying both ancient and modern relics before both stepped toward the closest anomaly to a red-light district in the city- The Flats.

Mortals slipped on the inclined sidewalks, laughing in their drunkenness as they headed toward their cars parked above the lakeshore. It was only slightly amusing to the bishop and vampire, since neither liked human suffering in any fashion, even if the suffering was a result of their own stupidity. So without any impedance, the two hurried down the icy sidewalk toward the glaring neon lights.

As per tradition, Seras always chose the bar where the two would sit and reflect about their jobs, desires, and regrets, and this night she skipped the glitz and glimmer of the bars with obnoxious dance music blaring from their innards to a lesser known facility situated in a back alley, far away from the prying eyes of the world- the perfect haven for the vampiress and her companion.

Inside the darkened building a woman stood on a makeshift stage, purring a song of love to the exceedingly large male population of the bar. In the corner farthest from the stage, a woman was nearly unconscious thanks to the alcohol imbibed in a relatively short time while two men circled her, seeing an easy victim for whatever heinous crime they wished to commit.

Bishop Czani headed to the bar, ordering a scotch for one hand and a Killians for the other, while Seras headed toward the men, sans coat and scarf, talking with them, shamelessly flirting- doing anything she could to seduce these men in to allowing her the time to drink from their throats, thus saving the intoxicated woman in the process of feeding herself.

Czani refused to watch as the vampiress worked, taking just enough blood from her targets to render them tired, allowing them to return home and dream of the most wonderful encounter with a strawberry-haired hellkitten, which they immediately did thanks to the gifts all true nosferatu shared.

With a smile, the vampiress slid on to the stool next to the bishop, grabbing the beer from his hand and taking a deep drink, washing the crimson stain from her mouth and lips so none could be the wiser as to her true nature.

"I haven't had a job in the past six months. I'm ready to tell Taryn off if he can't get me work. I mean, someone on this damned continent HAS to need my services."

His clerical collar had disappeared sometime during the walk from the cemetery to the bar, giving him the look of a regular man, though he was certain someone had to recognize the bishop of the diocese even when not wearing usual attire. Downing the contents of his glass, Czani then turned to the vampiress, a smirk gracing his usually stoic face. "I haven't had a legitimate job in fifteen years, hun. We're a dying breed, and if the decision's left up to Taryn and Alex, we'll be gone before they're dead."

"I'd hate to see the world without people like us."

They sat in silence once again, the sounds of the bar like bittersweet music to their trained ears. Last call had just been issued- the bar would be closing shortly, and neither wanted to be the last remaining patrons of such an establishment. The same question burned in both of their hearts, but neither wanted to be the first to speak of the supposed new heir to Hellsing and his appointment in to the Round Table Conference.

Almost as if they read the other's mind, both stated simultaneously, "I want to go back to London", but yet again their conversation fell silent, the bishop taking the beer from the vampiress and finishing it before handing the bartender a few bills, replacing his jacket around his shoulders and heading out in to the cold night air. Quickly, the strawberry blond was behind him, pulling her jacket tightly around her body, arms hugging her chest as they moved through the falling snow, back up the hill toward the church and glaring lights of the stadium.

"This is pointless Joe. . . ." She sighed, defeated before having ever considered the true implications of her earlier statement, her words muffled from behind the multi-colored scarf. "Even if we'd both return to London, Argetni would find and devour the both of us, and without Alucard I wouldn't feel safe in her presence."

The clerical collar had returned to his throat; the bishop now fumbling with a lighter in the harsh winds as he feebly lit a cigarette, encouraging it with deep breaths to finally glow bright against the hazy sky. "I've heard the new leader is non-denominational, which could be beneficial. He wouldn't care what any religious group does in his country, as long as the group stayed within the boundaries of the law."

"Really?" She smirked behind the scarf, crimson eyes betraying the mischief concealed in her voice. "Then if we just happened to find a worthwhile mission in England somewhere, we could just happen to stop by Hellsing Manor to meet the boy?"

"And where, pray tell, do you suggest we find a worthwhile crusade? I'm sure he knows the activities of the entire United Kingdom better than he knows the manor in which he lives."

Her words were simple. "We create one. Meet ya tomorrow at Hopkins around eleven. Pack everything."

In a swirling gust of wind and snow, the bishop remained alone on the street, a smile spreading across his lips as the realization of the newest mission consumed his thoughts.