Midian Evolution

Knocking sounds awoke us together. My master groaned. “What, Walter?” he demanded, rolling onto his back.

“Sir Integra wishes to see you, Alucard, and only you,” Walter informed, his voice muffled by the wood between us. “I’ve left blood.”

My master released a very human sigh. Using his mind, he pushed the coffin lid back. His candles lit. He climbed out gracefully, and took a bag of blood without preamble. I rolled out and promptly fell into the floor.

Cursing, I gained my dignity and stood. My master’s orange eyes sparkled with humor over my clumsiness. “So efficient and lithe while hunting, but so awkward in a coffin,” he commented.

“It’s the sides. I feel like I’m trying to climb from a covered dish.”

“You are a covered dish while in a coffin.” He drank the first bag down and opened the next.

I went into his unused bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and held it under the sink tap. The ancient, stiff plumbing complained, but I soon had water without particles of rust. I carried the damp rag back to him and reached toward his face.

Alucard held very still while I cleaned dried blood from his skin, his eyes only upon me. It wasn’t until I pulled away that he saw I’d been removing blood. He touched the corner of one eye. “Thank you, Seras,” he said, sounding almost humble. “It wouldn’t do to show my master I have dreams.”

“I wouldn’t hide my dreams from you,” I pointed out softly, throwing the cloth toward the bathroom.

“Women are expected to feel things, to dream and to admit a weakness. Men, even undead men, are not.” He offered me the third bag and I took it. “I have a well deserved reputation for invulnerability, and it benefits me to maintain it.”

I thought of the name he’d whispered. My heart began to beat strongly. “Master, I’m sorry, but the longer you live and lose things, the harder that’s going to be for you.”

He smiled sadly. “Very true.” He put on his hat and slid his sunglasses on with practiced ease. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Even if Sir Integra sends you out?”

“If she sends me out, I’ll inform you. In the meantime, read your book.” He stepped backward, melting into a dark void in the wall.

I thought seriously about disobeying. The book bored me. The archaic way of phrasing things, my apathy for the central characters, and the bewildering lack of clear paragraphs made the story so difficult to grasp onto. But, I opened the thing up and sat in his chair to read.

Not ten minutes later, Alucard returned. “No mission,” he informed, his voice tight.

I met his gaze, nodded, and forged ahead on the page. He would tell me what he wanted me to know.

He opened a bottle of wine, poured a glass, then walked over to me. “Give me your arm,” he said.

Without hesitation, I obeyed. Using a fingernail, he sliced my wrist open and let a good measure of blood fall into his drink. He licked me, a sweet, gloriously hot sensation, and the wound healed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, master,” I told him. “Is it good with wine?”

“It’s an acquired taste. I enjoy it.” He took a small sip. “Your blood is very, very high-quality.”

Pleased, I just smiled.

“Any questions about the book?” he asked, settling opposite me.

“What’s all this nonsense about garlic?” I held my place and looked at him. “Walter uses tons of it, and it doesn’t make me sick or repelled. I used to really like the stuff.”

“A folklore fancy modified by Stoker. He needed something to give his characters a little more control over the odious Count.” Alucard smiled as he swirled his glass’ contents. “Still like him?”

“The Count?” I shrugged. “Honestly, I like him more than anyone else. I just can’t get into the touchy-feely relationship between Lucy and Mina, and the men are so undeveloped in the story. The asylum director is okay, though he’s a bit stiff.”

“Touchy-feely?”

I blushed. “They hold hands and stuff, the two women. I know it was a different time, but that’s odd to me.”

“They were lovers.”

I gaped at him. “Really?”

“Yes, lovers without the physical consummation. They were so innocent sexually that they didn’t know how to even initiate anything more.” Alucard finished his wine, laced his fingers together, and smiled. “I happen to enjoy seeing such things, but I’m a man.”

Now I felt my blush would burn me. “Did the author tell you this?”

“Do you think a Victorian gentleman would speak openly of such things?” Alucard laughed. “He might think about them, intimate knowledge, but not blurt it out like a common animal.”

“Your ability to read minds comes in awfully handy, doesn’t it?” I said.

“I can’t deny it.” He poured another glass of wine, but didn’t ask me for more blood. Because I felt generous toward him, I got up, opened my veins for him, and added my blood to his glass myself.

“How easily you please me these nights,” he murmured, catching me as I drew away. Once more he healed me with a swipe of his tongue.

“Maybe I respond to a little attention from my master,” I suggested airily. “It’s easier to deny you when you aren’t helping my vampiric transition.”

“If I had known you wanted some attention, I’d have given it,” he argued softly.

“I would think me following after you like a puppy would be obvious.”

“Most women do, so why should I have taken special note?” he countered.

“You are a very arrogant man, master.” I couldn’t help but smile at his answer, though. “Sir Integra is all that keeps your ego in check.”

His answering grin made me chuckle.

We fell to silence again while I read and he drank.

“Ah!” I said, frustrated and maddened by the beginning of chapter nine. “How could he give her that diary, and then she didn’t even read it?” I put the book down and paced a moment. “I would want to know what drove my boyfriend to madness! I would read it before I nicely sealed it up and threw a pledge over it! He even told her she could read it, just not to ever speak to him about the contents unless it was very important.”

“A show of faith and silliness, to be certain,” Alucard replied.

“I liked Mina,” I went on. “Of all of them, she was proving the most level-headed. Now, I see she’s a bint just like Lucy.”

He chuckled. “You’re so hard on her. She was in love, Seras, deeply of a mind to prove her dedication.”

“She didn’t even write about his long absence, though, in her letters to Lucy,” I protested. “She seemed to believe she couldn’t even think about what worried her lest she bring an ill omen down upon herself.”

“A bad coping mechanism,” he agreed.

“It seems so stupid!” I thumped my fist down on the book, stopping a full strength motion at the last second. “They were the most tempting prey! So hopped up on propriety and what things should be, that they missed what things really are.”

“So, you still like the Count?” Alucard questioned and laughed. “I suppose he’d call to you, being a predator.”

“It’s not like that,” I protested. “He’s self-possessed, mature, and aggressive. All these other people are so…so milk-toast!”

“You respect power,” he murmured.

“It isn’t just the power. He knows what he wants and he acts to get it,” I argued. “The rest of the characters in this book are the watch-and-wait sort, content to act only when things push them to it. I don’t like that, master. I like it when people know what they want and go for it, right or wrong. This ridiculous vacillating makes me impatient and eager for action.”

He seemed to study me a moment. “I knew you had that marauder mentality the very moment I clapped eyes upon you,” he disclosed softly. “The author of this book, and nearly all of the characters, were all of a disposition to let fate come to them; it doesn’t surprise me that you find them to chafe your sensibilities.”

“Well, master, it isn’t just that.” I said, warming to the discourse. “When someone writes a book, or whatever, they have to give the villain proper time and motive. Without that, it just falls into a good versus evil piece. That’s so tiresome. If you don’t know why the bad character acts, why do you care how the hero acts?”

“A good point.” Alucard smiled.

“Right!” I grinned at him. “Why was the Count so determined to reach England? Why did he wish to blend in with the natives? Why did he, when arriving upon the soil he so badly desired, seek out such a weak female to nourish him? If he just wanted to eat, why let Lucy linger?”

“Maybe he wanted a sexual toy?” he ventured.

“The Count?” I snorted. “He could have taken a toy anywhere he wished. Instead, he chose a woman closely paired with another woman.” I sank down into the chair. “He wanted more. Maybe he was like you, master. Maybe he wanted more than one woman. Maybe he wanted girls that could be a team, a close unit that could survive without him.”

My master closed his eyes and shivered. “I won’t spoil it for you, but he didn’t get that,” he said in a strained voice.

“I’m sure he didn’t,” I said. “I don’t have to read the rest of this awful book to see that.” I spread my hand over the tome, feeling the pleasant tactile stimulation of leather. “I’m sure that the Count got staked and left to die. Almost all books like to give the hero a happy ending.”

“You would have a happy ending for him?” Alucard asked quietly.

“Yes. I think he was lonely. I think he wanted to laugh and live. I think he wanted a family of some sort, in whatever way he could get one, and that as I read, I’ll discover he probably almost succeeded.”

Alucard got up and strode to the door. Standing in the threshold, he looked out into the hall for a very long moment. I looked at the expanse of his broad shoulders, seeing tension. In fact, he radiated persistent pressure. It worried me. I didn’t like seeing him upset.

“Master, have I said something wrong?”

“No, Seras, you haven’t,” he answered, finally turning to meet my eyes. “I’m going to the music room. If you need me, you can find me there.”

And, with that, he simply vanished.