Midian Evolution

“Police girl,” my master’s voice called to me.

I started upright in my coffin so fast I hit my head on the lid. Stunned, I flopped back down. “Master?” I asked, rubbing my temple.

“It’s an hour past sundown,” he said. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes, I am.” I slid the coffin lid back and sat up. I looked up at him in time to see a bewildered look vanish. “What?”

“What is that on your head?” he asked.

“Oh!” I’d put the dye in before sleeping, wrapping plastic wrap around it. “I have to wash this out!” I shot out of my coffin and darted past him, grabbing a random outfit from the closet. “It won’t take me fifteen minutes, master!”

His chuckles followed me down the hall. I ran into the bathroom, started the shower and jumped in it before the water heated. Shuddering, I quickly washed my hair and applied the toner. While it set, I soaped the rest of myself. I cursed a blue streak at myself for not waking up in time.

In record time I’d dressed. I ran back to my room at top speed. Bursting in, I barely gave Alucard a glance. Taking up the eyeliner from my dresser, I began to apply it. “Where do we go tonight, master?” I asked, drawing heavy, black cat’s eyes.

When he didn’t answer, I looked in the mirror to see him slowly putting down Dracula. He met my eyes. “Your bookmark is an oak leaf,” he murmured. “Did you know white oak stakes are traditional in killing a vampire?”

“Yes.”

He came over to me, examining my hair and the process of my makeup. Smiling, he grabbed a lock of Vampire Red and twirled it. “Close to blood,” he commented. “Pretty.” He then skimmed over the rest of my hair, which I’d hit with the Virgin White toner. “Very pretty.”

I watched him view my clothes. His eyes gleamed masculine appreciation. I finished my makeup with the silvery lipstick, turning to face him. “Thank you, master.”

He put his thumb on my lips and rubbed. Shocks of awareness bolted through me.

“I thought this would come off,” he said, looking at his thumb. “It isn’t.”

“No, I have to use cold cream to remove it.”

Must he have such gorgeous eyes? I almost resented him for his feral beauty.

He blinked at me, and I knew he’d heard my thoughts.

Damn it.

I put my shields up quickly. “Are we going somewhere?” I asked again.

My master nodded. “Not for a few minutes. Sir Integra wants us to visit Stonehenge, of all places. She’s had reports of freaks congregating there.” He picked up Dracula again and held it before my eyes. “What do you think of this?”

I sighed. “Honestly, master, it bores me,” I confessed. “I like the Count, though. He’s so formal and earnest in his desire to speak English properly.”

My master favored me with a smile so like Walter’s last smile to me, that I felt a prickle of unease. I was missing something here, something obvious to everyone else but so unclear to myself.

“Police girl,” he chuckled. “Have you never gone to the cinema or to an All-Hallow’s Eve party? The Count is the villain of the piece.”

A bit offended, I took the book away from him. “I got that impression,” I said crossly. “But, history is written by the winner of the war. Maybe the Count would tell a different story than Jonathan Harker, if given a chance.” I opened to my place and pointed out a passage. “I am no longer young,” I read aloud, “and my heart, through weary years of mourning over the dead, is attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken. The shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may."

I finished the passage and put the book down. “Are these the words of a simple villain?” I asked, looking up at him.

His eyes seemed to burn. I’d never seen such hunger, not even in him. Swallowing hard, I thought about backing away.

“Could it be?” he said aloud, his voice soft and low. “Could it truly be?”

“Master?” I questioned. “What’s wrong?”

He stared at me a moment longer. “Nothing,” he said finally. “Nothing at all, Seras.” Once more, he offered his arm to me. “Let’s see what trouble we can finish in Wiltshire.”

“What about my gun?” I asked.

He smiled. “Do you really need it?”

I smiled back. “Maybe not.”

“We need to ask Walter to give you something more… portable, anyway.”

“Something like your guns?” I asked hopefully.

“Maybe,” he replied, now grinning.

********************************************************************************

Oh yes, they were freaks. They had a veritable army of ghouls behind them, so many that they didn’t bother with subtlety. They simply attacked.

The lust for death spurred me. I jumped into the fray, heedless of my lack of a weapon. I felt my nails growing, my teeth expanding, my muscles swelling with power.

Ghouls fell. I mowed them down like the Reaper’s scythe, exulting in destruction, in the spray of blood and guts. Though they were stale and flat like the bags of blood my master and I were forced to drink to sustain ourselves, I enjoyed spilling them. I didn’t know what my master did and I didn’t care. I heard the sounds of his gunfire and considered it a comforting, accompanying symphony to my demolition.

Rip, tear, shred.

Gut, spill, slice and destroy.

Mania seized me. I laughed while yanking out entrails, took my time as I crushed skulls and caused dead grey matter to spurt. I pulled out arms, legs, and beheaded, shrieking like a banshee with love of annihilation. This was beauty, life, the herald of a predator, and it was good.

I didn’t know how long I killed, but suddenly I stood among stone columns and long grass painted in blackish blood. The hand of my master descended upon my shoulder. With effort I took a deep, bracing breath and became still. “Master,” I said, slumping against him.

“Seras,” he answered. “Here, take,” he urged, thrusting a writhing, unharmed man into my vision.

I looked at the blood bag, utterly incensed and hopped up on killing. Without a care, I bit into him.

Oh, the taste! He was salt and savory and life and vitality, and I emptied him in seconds. I dropped him, rounding upon my master with an anticipation for more. Red heat in my blood, I sought the nearest life form, and found it. A man ran by me, his heart and mind a panic.

I didn’t care if he was innocent or guilty. I just took.

He screamed, cried and thrashed, and I found his fear to be a seasoning to my feast. I drained him in moments, letting his empty husk fall at my feet. Seething, twitching to kill again, I cast my eyes upon the grayscale landscape, attuned to the slightest movement.

And, I found it.

I ran upon the fleeing man in seconds. He screamed as I seized him, but his noises died into gurgles of pain and death in just under a half minute. He tasted of victory and sweetness.

“Police girl,” my master said, but I only barely stopped myself from whirling and falling upon him. Staggering, I pushed myself backward until I met the cold and unforgiving rigidity of a stone column. Another man darted out, his movements a study in desperation. I rushed toward him, felled him and drank.

“Seras,” my master sighed from directly behind me.

“Master,” I answered instinctively.

“It’s over,” he said. “We’ll see Integra, now.”

“Yes, master, whatever you say,” I told him. I dropped the man in my grip.

Alucard looked at me. For a long, long moment, he just studied me, his eyes bottomless with an indefinable emotion. Then, he took my face in his hands and stared into me. The peaceful quiet of his mind seeped into mine, filling my dark, angry places with serenity. Bloodlust and hunting receded from my foremost thoughts, replaced by my sense of self.

I suddenly thought of the four men I’d killed, and panic shot through me at what I’d done. Had they been guilty or innocent? I hadn’t questioned!

Guilty, master said in my head. Don’t worry. You haven’t compromised your hunting principles.

I immediately sank back down into the tranquility of his mind’s lake. Master, you make me feel so calm and still, I told him.

Good. Do you feel like yourself, now?

Yes. Why didn’t I stop? Why did I just keep killing?

You’re still learning. You held onto your humanity so long, when it snapped, it truly snapped.

Will I be alright?

There’s nothing wrong with you in the first place.

Relieved, I sighed. His hands spread to cup my jaw. You have so much going on in here, police girl. No one would ever imagine you think so much and so completely. Yet, you have gaps in your knowledge.

Walter says my education is limited, I admitted, smiling.

Slowly, he released me. Stepping back, he put his sunglasses on and hid his lovely eyes from me. “You have an eternity to fill in the blanks, girl,” he said softly. “Come. I’ll make my report to Sir Integra, and we’ll pursue a little knowledge together.”

“What sort of knowledge, master?” I asked, reaching for his hand.

“Anything you want, Seras, anything at all.”