Midian Evolution

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“So let me get this straight,” Anderson said, lying on his back on the floor beside my couch. “Yeh cannae be with yer master because he cannae control himself?”

I winced. “Yeah.”

“An’ why would that be?” he pressed, rolling his head to meet my eyes.

“Because he wants me pregnant, and his desire for that actually started me…” I blushed. “Well, you know.”

Anderson quickly took his eyes from me, color flooding his own face. “He shouldnae be able ta do that, lass,” he said quietly.

“He’s special, I’m special, you’re special,” I recited, rolling so I looked at the ceiling. The train sat in Budapest for the night, and Anderson and I had refused to leave it. Neither of us felt like stressing over Hellsing, Alucard, or Walter, and I honestly thought Hellsing, Alucard and Walter appreciated not having to deal with us for one night. We were the newest, most demanding members of the family, after all. “None of us are normal, Angel Dust. And, what I want from my master and what he wants from me, are really intertwined.”

“So, how have yeh changed him, then?” Anderson sat up and took a swig from his brandy bottle. Despite having only just sobered up five hours ago, he was on another tear.

I sat up, too, and silently asked him for the bottle.

“You’ll puke all over me,” Anderson protested, but he gave me the liquor anyway.

I stared at the stuff a moment. Master could drink wine. I’d be damned if I didn’t drink spirits. I couldn’t read the label except for the name, Metaxa; it was in some language I didn’t know. “Is this really brandy,” I asked, “or, is it something else flavored like brandy?” Real brandy was made of wine or fermented fruit; I knew that from looking through the wine storage at Hellsing.

Anderson looked at the writing. “It’s some snooty, Greek brandy,” he said after a moment. “It has rose petals in it.”

I sighed and took a small swig. My gut churned for a few seconds before filling with sugary heat. I passed the bottle back. “I don’t exactly know what I’ve done, except make his heart beat. He won’t discuss the details. Too proud.”

“Yeh aren’t surprised by that, are yeh?” Anderson brought out that deck of cards I’d played with and started dealing a hand to each of us. “Draw poker, joker’s wild.”

“I really suck at poker.” I made a face and arranged my hand.

“I do, too, so we’re in th’ same boat.” Anderson studied his cards, looking at me over the top of them with piercing green eyes. “Yeh didnae answer me.”

“No, I’m not surprised he’s proud,” I groused, sticking a red seven of hearts beside a six. “I know what and who he is, Angel Dust.”

“I don’ think yeh do,” he said, discarding and drawing. “But, I dinnae think he does, either.” He gave me a look that meant I had to either pass or discard, and I put my three of spades down before drawing the Queen of Hearts. I looked at the card and smirked. The Queen of Hearts. Spare me.

“Och, yer both so fookin’ strange for all that yeh are.” Anderson discarded again and drew. “It’s difficult for me, you ken that?” He discarded again. “I’m couched to know the limits of the Undead evil, and yeh both don’ fit too much o’ what I’m supposed ta rub out.”

“Oh, screw that,” I said, tossing down the queen. “You’re not paying a bit of attention to that. What, there’s some sort of criteria an Undead has to meet before you can snuff them?”

“Nooo,” he drawled sarcastically. “But Ah’v been fightin’ and killin’ vampires since before yeh were born, lass, and you two are different.” He drew and discarded before meeting my gaze. “With my own eyes I’ve seen many, many vampire sires use their offspring and toss ‘em away. They throw them in front o’ me as a distraction, or hope to wear me out on ‘em first.”

“And Master doesn’t treat me that way,” I finished for him.

“Right.” Anderson grimaced. “Your turn.”

I drew another red seven and immediately got rid of it. “Killing me once was enough for him,” I conjectured. “Alucard protects me; I’m his creation.” And, he was Hellsing’s creation, so… “He’s quite capable of human emotion, even if he doesn’t think so.” I had proof of that, now. I wouldn’t push him into a big display anytime soon; he’d been a mess by the time he left me in the washroom.

I got a shiver-aftershock just thinking about the look on his face. Lustful didn’t cut it. He would take me to his coffin just days from now, and we probably wouldn’t get out of it until hunger forced us. God.

“My master has a lot of pride, and I make him look good,” I added, feeling that might be the bulk of why my master seemed to always treat me pretty well.

Anderson chuckled lowly. “Yeh have the right of that, vampire lass. Still, what Undead sire holds his childe’s hand?”

I stopped looking at my cards and focused on him. I swallowed hard. “He’s actually very gentle,” I whispered. “To me.” And this was true. Even while I fought with him, he didn’t knock me around. I could only think of one time I’d been ready for his fist. He hadn’t hit me then, either, just lectured me on how even God and Satan couldn’t stop him. He’d just slaughtered a room full of ordinary, human soldiers, and I’d questioned him.

Questioning him got me into trouble. I couldn’t help it sometimes, though. He wasn’t always right.

“Which goes to mah point,” Anderson replied nodding solemnly. “He’s the biggest undead criminal that walks, but he volunteers to be a dustman for humans, and has the most human offspring I’ve ever seen, which is you.”

My stomach flip-flopped. “He told me…” Oh, shit. He’d told me… “He had a baby with Mina Harker, and his son came out completely human,” I blurted.

Anderson blinked rapidly. “How can tha’ happen?”

“I don’t know!” I threw my cards down and stomped to the window. “And that was before Hellsing started turning him into their giant, undead experiment!” How could my master, a person who had never been human, only create humans? “It doesn’t make any sense!” He was too hard, too bloodthirsty, too amazing to make humans, right? Humans couldn’t phase through walls, hide in reflections, become liquid, teleport, change into beasts, bats, centipedes and hounds!

I clutched at my heart as the obvious and incredible reason peeked around my astonishment. Master’s spirit retained humanity. I’d been so wrong to say he’d never been human. “It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul,” I said, quoting the last line of that poem he’d read to Anderson. He’d chosen that poem very specifically.

I was such an idiot.

“I’m an idiot,” I murmured, backing up my brain’s opinion. “Less than two months with a sexy, undead monster, and my police training goes right out a window. Defenestrated.” I reached down for the brandy and look another swig. This swallow went down like silk.

I had a chance to land Leviathan on my harpoon. I could have his love. It wasn’t an impossible effort. Suddenly, hope made me absolutely buoyant.

“’Ere, what’r’yeh grinnin’ like a loon abou’?” Anderson took the bottle back quickly. “Sit doon. Stop talkin’ abou’ how sexy he is an’ then thinkin’ abou’ it in front ‘o me.”

I laughed, stood Anderson up and twirled him around in a quick two-step. “I can do it!” I shouted as he stared and swayed, his clumsiness and confusion at nearly equal proportions. “I can… I can…” I didn’t know what to call it. “I can get his love, Angel Dust!”

“What th’ hell are yeh talkin’?” he asked, wresting free of me and maintaining his grip on the bottle. “He’s no’ capable o’ that, lass. Monsters don’love.”

I frowned at him and put a hand on my hip. “I’m a monster, and I love him!”

“Yeh’re a different sort o’ monster,” he argued, obviously agitated by what I said. He jerked his glasses off and wiped them on the sleeve of his cassock with quick, impatient swipes. “Ah know I said yeh both were different, but you have ‘im topped, there.”

He wouldn’t diminish my enthusiasm. I had hope again, which was more valuable than anything in this world.

I sat back down, looking at the cards I’d scattered. In a slew of red, the black eight of spades shown starkly. “What’s the problem with that card, anyway?” I asked, pointing. “It keeps popping up, and you and Alucard are shady about it.”

“Playin’ cards come from tarot cards,” Anderson said, scowling blackly at the offending bit of pasteboard. “That one there means yeh have a traitor in your midst.”

“Walter,” I said softly. I never used to believe in signs and omens, but my magical Midian education suggested I rethink matters. “But maybe it means you,” I said, brightening. “You don’t want to be a member of Hellsing.”

My Scottish companion heaved a huge sigh that seemed to actually move the air in the room. “Did I take a vow?” he asked irritably. “How can ah be a traitor if I never took a vow? Yer master gang-pressed me inta service.”

“Good point.” I picked up all the cards and shuffled them. “So, can you tell my fortune with these?” I’d never had my fortune told. The excitement of that possibility made me think about Walter drawing up my horoscope for me. My good spirits crumpled. I’d deliberately not thought about Walter being a traitor. Master had told me not to worry, and I’d just accepted that because I wanted to.

“Ah k’n do it,” Anderson answered reluctantly. “It’s not really ethical for a priest.” He swiftly shot me a look. “An’ don’ say ex-priest. I don’t know wha’ I am right now, and don’t need yer opinion fookin’ me up.”

“Fine, fine,” I said, waving my hand dismissively before he could work up a head of steam. “How about if I hold them and you tell me what to do and what they mean?”

“If yeh have to,” he grumbled, taking a swig of brandy. “Shuffle ‘em up first.”

I clumsily mixed the cards. Anderson let me carry on for five minutes before he signaled me to stop. “Right. Put nine out in a straight line, face down.”

I did as he said.

“All right, now turn ‘em over.” Anderson seemed to brace himself for something bad. He stiffened and kept his attention on my hand as I moved.

Of course, the very first card was the eight of spades.

“Eahh,” he grunted. “That’s the problem card, and yer problem is a traitor.”

“Let’s not look at that one right now.” I flipped over the next quickly. “We already know that card’s trying to get our attention." This next one was the ace of clubs.

“That represents your head, your crownin’ glory.” Anderson rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his ever-thickening stubble rasping. “That one’s about havin’ lots o’ friends and friendly acquaintances.”

“I have only a few friends,” I said sadly. “And one of them’s apparently no good.”

Anderson’s expression went one way and the next, first skeptical, then resigned. “Go on,” he prompted. “The third one represents yer foundation, what makes yeh strong.”

I revealed the king of clubs.

“A verra, verra good friend,” he said quietly. “Someone to trust in good or bad times. Someone that sticks with yeh no matter what.”

“Vlad,” I said firmly. “That’s my master.” I wouldn’t hear any argument on this one. I knew in my bones he’d never abandon me.

“Aye,” Anderson said, slightly wincing. “Ah hate ta admit it, but I agree.”

I flipped the fourth card to show the eight of hearts. “That’s yer recent past,” Anderson said. “A party.”

“The wedding.”

“Mos’ likely.” Anderson shifted and took another drink. “Number five is yer near future.” He looked at the card, the ace of spades, and frowned. “Illness, loss of someone…” He looked away for a moment, his fingers nervously peeling at the bottle’s paper label. “Miscarriage…”

“Oh, this is so heartwarming,” I grumbled. “Why did I want to do this?”

“Shut yer mouth and keep goin’,” Anderson insisted. “Yeh started somethin’ here and yeh have ta finish it.”

I showed him the nine of hearts.

“Yeh did a lot o’ wishin’ in yeh childhood, had a lot o’ obstacles in yer way.” Anderson gave me back the brandy. “Take that a’fore ah start throwin’ it down mah gwab.”

I took it, drank deeply and put it behind me. “Lucky number seven,” I said, hoping I could make it true. I turned over five of spades.

“Yeh’ll have a lot o’ success after an equal amount o’ hard work,” he said. “Not so bad, eh?” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, which I didn’t appreciate one whit.

“Number eight,” I said. “Five of diamonds.”

“Family pride, good, solid relationships, success with… children.” Anderson wiped a hand over his brow. “It hardly needs said, lass, but don’ you dare!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I muttered. I had an increasing apathy towards the hand of fate, now, and blamed the brandy. “Vampires shouldn’t have children, even if they can.”

“Good. Same page, we are.” Anderson looked like he might pick up the last card himself.

“Number nine,” I announced, touching the card but not moving it. “I really hope this doesn’t say I’m going to blow up or something.” The humor of this moment just overwhelmed. I was having my tarot read with playing cards, and Angel Dust Anderson played the reluctant seer.

“There’s no fortune fer blowin’ up,” Anderson argued.

“Two of diamonds,” I said, sitting back. “Go on; tell me I’ll step on a land mine.” I took another deep drink.

“It only means serious love,” Anderson said, quickly gathering up the cards and shoving them underneath the leg of our tiny table. “Yeh knew that one already.”

“God!” I kicked the table, pulling the force at the last second and barely avoiding reducing it to splinters. “Never do that for me again, I mean it! Now I have to think about all that on top of what I already have in my head!” It just wasn’t funny anymore. I’d go crazy if I didn’t get some relief somewhere. My head was so full of conflicting themes I thought I might crack.

“Wha’ did yeh just say?” Anderson asked. “I don’ speak Romanian.”

It was like a bucket of ice water on my wrath. I hadn’t known I spoke Romanian to him. Master’s blood knowledge had leaked out when I hit high temper with a bit of alcoholic buzz. My sense of humor came right back. If nothing else, I was an interesting Midian.

“I took the Lord’s name in vain, then asked you never to read my fortune again,” I answered.

“Shame on yeh, and no problem,” Anderson countered in a tone just this side of flippancy. He rubbed his gold cross with an absent sort of familiarity, showing me he’d accessed his touchstone many times before now. “We really shouldnae know our fortunes, lass.”

“We should know ourselves, though.” I wondered if I could ever claim I knew myself. Could anyone? Master was over six hundred years old, and he didn’t know himself. Anderson had some years, too, and he could barely stop the slide into being a basket case.

I settled on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “I miss Alucard,” I said. “It’s painful not to have him close. I think after a few days of this I’ll be barmy.” I grinned as I turned my eyes back down to Anderson. “Not that you aren’t decent company.”

“Ah ain’t interested in wha’ sort o’ company.” Anderson polished his cross a little more, then let it drop. “Fine if yeh like me, fine if ya don’t.”

“Liar.” I grinned a little more. “You’ve never had a real friend before, either. You like me.”

Anderson ground his teeth together. “I wish I didn’t,” he declared clearly, not looking at me.

“Too bad.” I wasn’t offended. I fully understood I was the reason he’d had a real crisis of faith. He’d found it easy to hate my master, but not me. Once he had to think of me as a person, my vampiric handicap had lessened just enough to let me under his skin. “I’m a great person to befriend. You actually got lucky.”

Anderson began to laugh quietly. He lifted the brandy once more. “Good luck or bad luck?”

“Hah-hah,” I countered snidely. We looked at each other a long, revealing moment.

“You can get over this,” I said softly. “You’re still a paladin, right?”

“Apparently God didnae see fit to strip me of his powers when he allowed my title taken,” Anderson admitted.

“I’d consider that a sign of favor,” I ventured cautiously.

“Is it a sign of His favor that your master, your godless, wicked, devil is allowed to overcome that power with his own?” Anderson shoved the bottle at me. “Answer that little conundrum, lassie.”

He didn’t want to hear my explanation, so I kept silent and just drank with him. I doubted he wanted to think that maybe God used Satan upon the odd occasion. Julianna had mentioned it, too, but maybe he’d been distracted by his attraction to her.

“You’re my friend, aren’t you?” I asked at the sixth pass of the brandy.

“Yes, damn it.”

For a priest, he used a lot of bad words.