Hellhounds

“Tell me he did not just abandon me here.” I said dryly as I saw the last vestiges of Alucard vanish into whatever world he went to when I disappeared.

“Alucard.” Summoned Integra once again

“Yes Master?” came the annoyed voice from the shadows.

“I do not think William can move through the shadows like you can,” said Integra calmly, while I stood there glaring at the spot I knew the vampire to be, “please walk him to the sublevels.”

“As you wish, Master.” Was the Vampires quick reply, as he re-materialised and walked to the door without a look to the man he was meant to escort.

“Come now, Youngling,” he said as he walked through the door, glancing over his shoulder at me “no time to waste.”

With a final flash of his crimson eyes he vanished through the door. I stood there for a second, simply staring at the spot where his head had just been. He was arrogant, self-centred, egotistical and seemingly uncaring of others. Looking at the place he had been I came to a complete and total realization and understanding that I had to kill the son of a bitch.

“The bastard has to die.” I said to myself running to the door and throwing it open to find Alucard leisurely walking down the right hand corridor.

Fully understanding that if I lost sight of him I would most likely end up walking these damned hallways in circles the rest of the night I ran to catch up with my vampiric guide. Slowing to a walk when I reached him I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, a glare starting to rekindle just at the sight of the pale man. Turning to look forward we walked on in strained silence, only the occasional distant barks of Murrfy broke it, what the hell was that dog up to anyway?

As we passed a large ornately framed full body mirror I kept on walking, moments later realizing Alucard had once more vanished. Stopping and turning on the spot I looked for any trace of the blasted Vampire, but to no surprise, I found nothing to tell me where he had gone. Swearing loudly I kicked the wall again and I again jumped up on the spot clutching my foot as all the toes in my right foot throbbed painfully.

‘I really needed to stop doing that.’ I thought as I leaned against the wall next to the mirror and slid to the floor defeated.

That was it, I had had it, too much too fast with too many strong emotions flying all over the place. I needed a brake for a few minutes to clear my head, which I felt it was best to take now before I levelled this whole place looking for that damned Vampire. It was then, as I sat there against the deep red wall of the Hellsing mansion that I smelt it, something I had not smelt in a very long time, so long in fact that I couldn’t remember what it was I was smelling.

Turning my head left, then right, I sniffed trying to locate the source of the smell, what was it? I know I had smelt it before, a long time ago I think, maybe when I was a kid. As I was looking to the right I felt something cold hit the side of my face. Taken aback I looked quizzically at the side of the large mirror, the coldness and that smell seemed to be coming from a small slither of space between the mirror and the wall.

Narrowing my eyes at the slither of darkness I managed to dig my nails into the space and pulled, the mirror glided open like a door and behind it was a large, long, dark stone set of stairs leading down into an all consuming darkness. The slow drip, drip could be heard from within the shadowy depths of the sublevels of Hellsing, as a pipe leaked some of its contents from deep within the bowels of the place.

“Huh,” I said to myself still sitting on the ground, now leaning to look down into the compressing darkness, “Think I’ve found the sublevels then.”

Getting to my feet I stood in the entrance way of the sublevels, looking down the long stairs I thought of all the shadows that filled the deep, dark places of this level. If that damn bastard wanted to screw with me again then no doubt it would be much easier to do in his own bloody domain. In this place were every last thing was shadows it seemed painfully obvious to me that I would be so fucked if he did decided to have some fun.

On the other hand, however, that alluring and unidentifiable smell that had caught my attention was once more permeating my nose and its call was undeniable. What the hell was it? I thought as I began to walk down the many stairs leading to the sublevels, I was almost certain I had smelt this smell before, and before I became a vampire too. It was so familiar, it was right there on the tip of my tongue and mind, what the hell was it?

As I reached the bottom of the stairs the darkness stretched on before me, seemingly without end. If Alucard was going to mess with me I was giving it to him on a silver platter, but all the same no good ever came from standing around…unless your Ghandi but that was him. Making my way cautiously forwards I followed the scent, that smell, that thing that was calling to me luring me deeper and deeper into the very heart of this place.

Alucard turned into the mirror that led to the sublevels, accidentally forgetting to tell his temporary companion where he was going. He’ll figure it out eventually, thought the Vampire as he vanished into his shadow realm, reappearing in a large empty room located near to Seras’ one.

This would do for that bastard, it was near enough to Seras that she could keep him inline if need be and as far away from his room as he could get and still have actual rooms. He would have selected one of the old ‘interrogation’ rooms for their new comrade but he didn’t think Integra would appreciate the deed.

Integra, his Master, his thoughts wondered back onto his eternal source of fascination. The last of the Hellsings, the last of Abraham’s blood, that last of his Masters. Once she died than his bond to the Hellsing name would be broken and he would be free…free. Was he ever free, he thought as he stood there alone, was he ever truly free? Even before, before he became this monster, could he have been called free?

Bound to his land, his title and his God he had done all he could to please all of them, never once thinking of himself or others he did what he thought needed to be done to satisfy them all. No, he was never free then, he never truly once did anything then that was done by ‘free will’. No, it was always done for God, or for his country or his lords or whoever it was. Always doing what they wanted, always against what he wanted, what he truly wanted…

But what of when he was a vampire, when he was known and feared as Count Dracula, what then, was he free then? When hundreds, thousands feared him for who he was, for what he was, what then? First he thought yes, of course he was free then, free to chose his own path, to do what he wanted and pleased without care for others or their petty needs.

Then again, crept in a quiet voice in his ear, you were still bound to things weren’t you? Still bound to your home, the need to hunt and feed, bound to the blood which gave you life and to the coffin, your last kingdom. No, he was not truly free even then and most certainly even less free for all the passing Hellsings he was forced to serve over the centuries.

“Free.”

He scoffed at the thoughts of all the Hellsings he had been made to serve, some not even worthy of the name of their house. By the Devil he had hated them; hated them for what they were, for the freedom which they flaunted never knowing how glourious their lives truely were, even if they thought it was nothing, fouls the lot of them. Then his eyes narrowed at the thought which floated to the surface of his ancient mind.

He didn’t hate her for being his Master though; no, not his Integra, he supposed it all started with her father. That man, that monster that had rekindled his love for battle, the one which had sent him to war for the first time since his days as the Count. That man that would have made an incredible Vampire, the one who could have brought the world to its knees if he had chosen it, the Sir Arthur Hellsing, the once and future Hellsing.

Then he had imprisoned him and 40 years passed him by in a dark oblivion of nothingness, it was very peaceful he had to admit. Then she came, only a child then but in her blood he could taste it, taste what she would become. He could taste the battles in her future, all the hardships she would have to endure and he knew then and there that she would become and do even greater things than her father. He knew all this even before she killed her Uncle.

He had been right; he had watched over the successive decade as she had to deal with more hardships than most dealt with in a life time. Most certainly he saw a child deal with monsters and men as if they were the ones who were children, watched her off foot even the most steeled bureaucrat and make the hardest of choses leading to the deaths of her men. She was incredible, better than her father and far more worthy of the gift he could give her. Then when she fully blossomed and she was like an angel, his angel sent by his old God, the one he was waiting for.

He smiled to himself, a smile which vanished as quickly as it had come at the image now filling his minds eye. An image which re-sparked the hatred he had so wistfully forgotten, one of his angel, his Integra, kneeling on the ground as she cupped the face of that pathetic little insignificant speck of a man, pretending to be a Vampire. That man! That one who was right now wondering the dark halls of the sublevels lost as a rat in a maze.

As his mind filled with his favoured methods of torture, all of which he applied to an image of the Youngling, he faded into the shadows not sure were he was going, just somewhere he could shoot his gun in peace and furry. With that he vanished, never thinking that something was soon to happen which made his current rage look like a starting spark for an explosion.

I was lost; I knew it, I couldn’t have told you how to get back to the entrance of these catacombs if my life depended on it, though the thing was I knew exactly where I was going. I was following the scent, which had been leading me nearer and nearer to I don’t know were but going down several sets of stairs in the process. However, what I did know was that the more steps I took forwards the stronger the smell got and it was really bugging me that I couldn’t remember where the hell I had smelt this thing before.

For the better part of half an hour the soul topic on my mind had been the source of this scent; as well as where I had smelt it before, which I was unfortunately unable to remember, it was infuriating. Managing to restrain myself from kicking the wall I stopped at the sight of a very large very heavy looking steel door directly infront of me.

It was large and mostly plan and didn’t look too different from any of the other doors I had seen down here, but there was something wrong about it. Placed alone at the end of a narrow corridor which seemed to stretch on forever; it emanated some presence, some dark energy which gave it a life of its own. I could swear, as I stood there and looked at it; that a whisper came to my ears, stretching along that dark hallway from the crack beneath the door. It was almost a silent thing which made sweet promises into my ears next to twisted threats and it scared me.

There was something evil behind that door or something evil called that room home, I didn’t know which one and I didn’t wish to find out the answer. There was only one problem, only one thing which kept me from running the other direction as fast as my legs allowed, and that was that the source of the smell I had been following lay beyond that evil thing. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat and I always knew mine might one day kill me, but I had to know, I had to figure out what the hell this smell belong to.

So, steeling myself I griped the hilt of my sword and slowly walked towards the door. For what seemed a life time I slowly inched my way forwards, never taking my eyes off it, until I was finally standing before the thing causing me such dread. Looking it up and down I slowly placed my ear to the doors cold surface, listening for any noise on the other side.

Nothing, no noise what so ever, not even that strange whispering I thought I heard before. Sniffing again I smelt only the source of my current interest and, figuring there was not point beating round the bush, slowly pushed open the door which glided soundlessly ajar to reveal a large cavernous seemingly empty room completely bathed in darkness.

After scanning the room for threats, and aparantly finding none, I entered, all the time ready for a sudden attack. As I continued to walk deeper into the room I began to relax slightly, if something was going to attack me I doubted that it would wait this long to strike. Looking around I saw a massively backed wooded armchair with red cushioning, which looked more like a throne than anything, next to a small circular side table holding a bottle of wine, a couple of wine glasses and a pair of yellow tinted circular heavily famed sunglasses.

Moving past them I walked until I saw something which made me stop dead, there was a coffin. Before me stood a large beautiful black coffin with gold edging, which was raised to lean against the back wall so someone could simply lean back into it or step out of it. As I moved closer I noticed the white writing across its front;

“The bird of Hermes is my name, eating my wings to make me tame.” I said quietly to myself.

Sniffing suddenly I realized I had found the source of the smell, the damn thing was coming from inside the bloody coffin. Seriously thinking about what I should do it was inevitably decided, by a very explicitly mental argument, that I should at least open the damn thing to see what it was, even if it did turn out to be some strange, evil, demented, head eating monster of some description. I had no idea how utterly wrong I was.

Stepping forwards I reached out for the coffins lid, after taking a deep breath and steadying my self to run the fuck away if need be, I pulled it open then blinked in disbelief several times at the sight before me. A woman, much too small for the coffin which could have comfortably fit me, stood there weakly leaning against the coffins black silk lining.

She had very long midnight blue hair, reaching her ankles, which was splayed across her head to conceal her face. Asides from that the description is much easier, nothing…at all. She stood there stark naked from head to foot; except, I leaned forwards to make sure I was seeing it right and discovered I was. She wore a silver coloured necklace, a very long one which reached her stomach, it was a simple long chain weighted down by a metal image of…

“Oh no,” I said in a pained voice as I recognised the swastika hanging from around her neck, “Fuck, thats never a good sign is it.”