Midian Evolution

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“On your knees before my master,” Alucard demanded, tone now as punishing as sexually laced.

Anderson stiffly lowered himself to the floor, but he ground his teeth together and his eyes flashed venomous, green hatred. “What is this?” he demanded harshly. “First ye set werewolves upon me, then ye take me to yer muddy, Protestant land, and now ye want me bowing before yer equally dirty mistress?”

Alucard’s eyes flared crimson fury. His angular fist came out, felling Anderson. The moment the priest laid on his back, my master put his boot on his throat and pressed. “You’re the one in the dirt, Catholic dog,” he growled. “Watch your mouth, or I’ll make you wish I’d killed you.”

“Calmly, Alucard,” Integra murmured, her composure unruffled. “Remember, you used to be a Catholic, too.” She crouched before Anderson, holding the bottle of regenerist serum before his eyes. “Do you know what this is, Anderson?”

Alucard took his boot off Anderson’s neck. I sensed he only waited for another excuse to abuse the man.

“It looks like perfume,” the priest said, a flicker of confusion passing in his emerald gaze.

“It’s a serum very similar to whatever made you the way you are,” she explained obligingly, still calm and composed. “Now, I want to know about the program that engineers this serum.”

Anderson scowled at her. “What makes you think I know annathin’, Integra Hellsing? I’m just a product ‘o the research. No one ever explained to me wha’ filled a needle.”

I felt the truth of his words. In fact, I felt a swell of pity for Anderson, who’d apparently been made without consent or consultation. Who knew what he’d endured or undergone to become what he was? I doubted even he appreciated how he’d been used.
At least I knew every step of my own creation. Master made sure I understood each time I exceeded, excelled, or failed a level of my own making. He wanted me to learn, wanted me to see my plusses and minuses.

Integra nodded, seeming to expect that vague answer. “What happens when it’s used on adults? Have you ever seen that, at least?” Her cold and beautiful eyes seemed to bore into the blond man. She wanted this information, and wanted it badly, but she kept her cool.

I’d ever known Integra Hellsing as a bad-arse. It soothed me and my worry for Walter that she had control of this encounter. Had Master been the one in charge, the gratification would have come faster, but the answers might not come so readily.

Anderson’s gaze floated thoughtfully. “Once, I saw it spilled on a nurse. She died.” He distanced himself. I felt and saw it in an instant.

Integra’s expression hardened. Her eyes filled with deadly, coldest purpose. “Alucard, I want him chained in your room,” she said, voice clear and wintry. “We’re holding him ransom. If Walter dies, so does he.”

Anderson laughed shortly. “A useless pawn I am ta ye, Hellsing,” he chortled. “Haven’t ye heard? I’ve been de-frocked.”

“What?” Integra knelt to look at him again, moving swift as a striking cobra. Her hand came out, fisting the front of Anderson’s cassock. She shook him, and though she was so much smaller and only possessed of human strength, the force of her movements rocked the man violently. “Why? Why would Maxwell do that?” she demanded, baring her perfect, small, white teeth.

Anderson, fighting for air, made a strangling sound. “Not tellin’ ye annathin’ more, you Protestant bitch!”

Alucard’s angry growl made the hair on my nape stand up and quiver. But, he didn’t get a chance to retaliate for Anderson’s offense. Integra drew back and punched the ex-priest with all her might, sending him skidding across the floor with blood flying from his nose.

I felt impressed. Master did, too, to judge by his vibration of approval.

“My orders stand,” Integra said calmly, wiping her burst knuckles on a handkerchief. “He might prove useful in other ways, if as nothing more than canon fodder.”

My master smiled. He took Integra’s hand and licked across her bleeding flesh, instantly healing the damage. “Then, I may do as I please with him?” he asked.

“Try not to break him.” Integra put her back to us. “If you will excuse me, I must attend Walter.” Her back ram-rod straight, she marched through the infirmary doors, pain and frustration leaking from her very soul.

I felt torn. I wanted to go and comfort her, to see Walter. Yet, I needed to attend Alucard as well.

Alucard picked Anderson up by his throat, setting him none too gently on his feet. “Go, Seras,” he ordered. “Integra needs you. I promise I won’t start any fun without you.” He smiled into Anderson’s stony visage. “Well, not any significant fun, anyway.”

“Thank you, master.” I took Integra’s path without looking back.

Integra stood at Walter’s bedside, her head bowed. As I drew near, I saw Kayne had bandaged nearly all of my friend’s face. Only one eyelid and his mouth showed through the white gauze. Heart hurting, I stood beside the head of Hellsing. “Sir,” I murmured.

“Seras,” she whispered back. I saw her struggling with her emotions. She could hold herself in better than anyone I’d ever known, but this pain might master her. I knew she loved Walter. Love could cripple the sternest personality.

“They’re keeping him heavily sedated,” Integra informed, trying to take the business-like approach. “He’s not the sort of man to rest quietly, or to lie down and die.”

“No, he’s not,” I agreed. “Walter’s a fighter.”

Integra nodded. We were quiet for a few moments before she spoke again. “I took the wrapping paper and ribbon for analysis. You were very neat while removing them from the box. Possibly, we’ll have fingerprints in the tape. At the very least we’ll discover the origin of the materials.”

“I should have thought of that!” I clenched my fists. “Where has all my police training gone?”

Integra favored me with a weak chuckle. “Seras, the fact you can focus on anything but your master is amazing by itself.” She picked up Walter’s hand and caressed his aged, papery skin with painful tenderness. “We should have suspected Anderson’s de-frocking; Alucard’s mental control of him is much easier than it should be. I suppose Anderson is weaker without the ordainment of his god.” She touched the cross at her cravat briefly. “If God is with any of us,” she added softly.

I doubted I had God with me, but for Integra? “Fortunately, Sir,” I said, drawing her attention, “Master and I don’t need God to serve you. At least you don’t have the same weakness as the Vatican’s trashman.”

She smiled. “Indeed.”

I sensed her pulling away from me emotionally. She probably wanted to be alone with Walter awhile. I understood that, even sanctioned it.

I went to the other side of my best friend and leaned to whisper in his ear. I doubted he could hear me, but I spoke anyway. “Your horoscope says you should start new projects this week, Walt,” I lied. I hadn’t read a horoscope in months. “So, hurry up and get out of that bed. After this week, your chances of succeeding are diminished.” I kissed his temple and stood back, trying not to cry.

Oh, god. If Walter died, I would, too. I would expose myself to the sun the very next day and hope God burned me to an immoral and unapologetic crisp.

“If you need anything, sir,” I said, looking at my master’s master, “just say my name. I’ll hear you no matter where I am.”

“I will, Seras, thank you,” she said, but her attention remained solely upon Walter.

I walked to the lower level, doubt, worry and aggravation circling me like carrion birds. Not knocking, I walked into master’s room and sat down on his coffin. “I don’t want Walter to die,” I blurted out. “If he does, I’m going to paint the Vatican in blood.”

Alucard chuckled. Somewhere behind us, Anderson growled. I turned my head and found him. Alucard had chained him, just as Integra instructed, but upside down, spreading him in an inverted cross.

His sense of humor never failed to impress me.

“Walter is very tough,” Alucard said, opening the wine I’d brought him yesterday. “He has a better chance at survival than most his age.” He gestured for me to join him in his big chair.

Grateful, even pathetically thankful, I got in my master’s lap. This routine of occupying his chair with him as a buffer, pleased me. He made me feel complete even when I felt my world would collapse. When he poured his wine, I quickly bit my wrist and held it out for him to collect the blood.

“Thank you, sotia mea,” he murmured, taking a moment to nip my neck while the glass filled.

“Ach, disgustin’,” Anderson exclaimed as my master drank.

Alucard grinned at him. “Is not the cup of thanksgiving for which we give thanks a participation in the blood of Christ?” he said, after which he licked me for healing.

Master’s tongue never felt anything less than sublime. I loved the calming yet energizing feeling he left with my body every time he put his inner self to my outer self.

“The devil can quote scripture for his own purpose,” Anderson shot back, rattling his chains.

“So can God use Satan for his purpose,” Alucard responded mildly. “Look up Job.”

I clearly heard Anderson gnashing his teeth. “Soiled, godforsaken spawn of the Devil Himself!”

“Dracul means dragon, and dragon means devil.” Alucard nuzzled my throat, lipping the sensitive skin there. “If you don’t know who I am by now, Anderson, I pity your perception.”

Master, you aren’t really the devil, I chastised.

I know that and you know that, but he has no such assurance. To these so-called holy men, anyone can be a devil. As long as a definition suits their purpose, they are easily led into the thinking of a clever man. He began kissing my collarbone, long, lingering, hot and damp kisses. Did you know the Vatican once condoned my practice of staking people? Oh yes, sotia. I butchered enemies of the Holy Catholic Church, and as such, a good man. He paused to swipe my flesh with his tongue. Self-righteous, blind, impious fools, all of them.

“Are ye goin’ ta sit there, fornicatin’ with yer demon lass for long?” Anderson asked. “’Cause if ye are, I want my eyes put out.”

“It isn’t fornication when wed,” Alucard said, sighing. He’s tiresome in close quarters, when allowed to prattle on. Perhaps I should put out his eyes. At least then he’ll moan about something else.

It doesn’t matter to me what he talks about. I find him tiresome no matter the topic.

I wanted a distraction from worrying about Walter, and my master easily stood as the world's biggest distraction. Feeling bold, desiring to irritate our audience, I brushed my lips across the tender skin under my master’s right eye.

He shivered.

Don’t tease, he warned.

So, you can tease but I can’t?

Exactly.

Don’t expect me to adhere to that double standard.

Then, don’t expect me to use restraint. His orange eyes just sparkled at me.

My, lovely, vicious police girl.