Isobel

Preview:
Isobel, the daughter and only living relation of Sir Penwood of the round table is reluctantly given the task of running his intelligence agency when he passes away. Along with the agency comes a werewolf that her father caught in Romania and forced into servitude, however it is a very weak bond that holds him in her control. So she must seek the help and guidance of her father’s colleague, Sir Integral Wingates Hellsing to confront a FREAK invasion and her vicious servant before he destroys her.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hellsing characters (Sigh…).The character Vicious is my invention; however the name comes from a character in the Cowboy Bebop anime by Shinichiro Watanabe.

Here’s the first chapter, hope you enjoy!


Chapter 1: Power in the Palm of a Virgin Martyr

“Mademoiselle Isobel?”

She woke from her day dreaming with a start, reality sinking in. “What is it?” She said with a heavy sigh.

Sophie, the maid pocked her head through the door and said timidly. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you need to leave for school now, your transport is waiting.”

Isobel did up the final button of her suit jacket and proceeded to pull her bobby socks higher up her legs. She ran her hands down her skirt, picked up her heavy bag and walked towards her bedroom door with a tired frown on her face. Halfway down the hall she sensed something behind her and turned around, suddenly facing her fathers servant werewolves malicious, and blood thirsty grin, two inches in front of her contorted face of surprise.

She jumped back and put her hand on the silver knife she always carried strapped to her leg, for exactly these kinds of situations. He grinned and ran his tongue over his canines to scare her and his eyes went to her hand as she eyed him warily.

“What the hell do you want Vicious?” she demanded, spitting her mistrust in his direction.

“I wanted to see you before you left for school, just to tell you that your father really isn’t doing well and will probably be dead before you return.” He said with a sneer and clasped his hands behind his back.

“How can you mock him, I suppose your happy he’s dying! I should tear you apart and impale you on a silver stake!” She raged as she expressed her disgust by spitting at his feet.

“Careful, little girl and watch your dirty mouth!” he growled, and took her hand away from the knife, twisting it behind her back and slamming her into the wall.

She let out an involuntary cry of pain and shock and tried to get out of his grasp, which made him hold her arm tighter and push his body against hers. She could smell his reeking breath and her eyes widened in horror as he began to take little nips at her neck with his teeth.

“How dare you! Let me go THIS INSTANT!” she screamed, and in desperation and bucked her head up which collided with his chin and sent shocks of pain through her body.


“Listen little Red Riding Hood” he murmured as he ran his mouth down her blood red coloured hair. “Don’t think for a minute that you can order me to do anything, you will never have the power to control me!” he chuckled, “and if you try…. I’ll rip you apart and bathe in your sweet virgin blood as you squirm in my arms and beg for mercy!” he hissed in her ear. He held her there for a little while longer to let his threat sink in properly and then let her go, disappearing into the morning gloom. She picked herself up; visibly shaking and holding her sore arm in her other hand, eyes searching into the quickly retreating darkness of the hallway for his threatening form. “Shit, that bastard will pay for this, how could he do this to me!” she exclaimed through barred teeth, her tears threatening to spill. She picked up her bag slowly and with some difficulty, and started walking towards the stairs.

She was sitting at her desk worrying about her father while her English teacher droned on about Hamlet, when she got a call over the intercom to come to the principal’s office. She rose wearily from her desk and excused herself as she walked into the hallway and proceeded to the principal’s office. Her school was beautiful and very old. She normally loved to look at the old paintings as she walked down the marble hallways, but today her mind was full of dread for her father, but mostly for her future. The principal Mrs. Bennet looked at her sympathetically, “I’m afraid you need to return home with much haste Miss Penwood, your driver is waiting for you downstairs” Isobel turned to leave, “I’m very sorry about your father, I sincerely hope he makes it through.”
“Thank you ma’m” she said quietly and rushed out of the office, running until she reached the waiting car and threw herself inside.


The walk to her fathers room had never seemed so long before and the dark hallways so threatening. It seemed like years had passed by before she walked into his room and saw the sombre crowd standing around his seemingly sleeping form. She had never had great love for her father; he never had time for her and always held it against her that she was not a boy, a proper heir to run his organisation. He wasn’t very good at his job either and only cared for his fortune, he had no sense of pride. He also held her responsible for her mother’s death; he never forgave her for the accident so long ago.


“He lived a weak man, and died a weak man” she hissed under her breath as she approached the other Knights of the Round Table and the smell of death that intoxicated the room.



It was Sir Integra that spoke to her first, in her strong and commanding voice;
“Your father, rather unwillingly, handed over the organisation to you as you were his only living relative.”

Isobel smiled “I have always known he resented me for being a girl, and not thought me worthy of such an honour, to serve the queen and my country”


Lady Integra smiled sardonically, “Let’s hope you do a better job than he did at running this intelligence agency, if you ever need any help I am always at your service. I have been in this position myself, and know well how much women are resented in this particular field of work.”

The other knights gasped at her rudeness as she turned, her blond her whipping around her beautiful and strong face and looked at the portrait of Isobel’s mother hanging over her fathers bed.


“Well as you can see we are faced with a bit of a problem.” Sir William said while giving Sir Integra’s back a dark look. “We need to be certain that Vicious is bound to you today and as soon as possible, or else he may free himself from the bonds and then, God knows what could happen!”

A shiver ran up her spine as she recalled his threat this morning, “God wouldn’t know” Isobel said quietly, “Because Vicious is not in the grace or knowledge of Gods divinity.” “He is an animal and his very presence makes my skin crawl, yet you ask me to bind him, make him my servant and have him breathing down my neck and trying to kill me at any opportunity! He is no use to me or this organisation, I should have him put down like the dog he is!” She screamed as she banged her fist down on the table, shattering a crystal glass, and causing millions of shards to rip into her skin and draw blood.

Sir Integra turned slowly and smiled as she saw the surprised faces of the rest of the knights. “I like this girl”, she thought to herself, “She’s got a temper, I think we will be very good friends.”

Isobel was in intense pain but her expressionless face showed nothing of her turmoil as she started pulling glass shards out of her hand, bleeding all over herself and the floor. Just as she was thinking that things couldn’t get any worse, her skin started crawling. Vicious was standing behind her, his cold blue eyes studying her bleeding hand and his tongue liking his colourless lips in anticipation.

“Miss Isobel, I did not know your dislike for me was so intense”, He said in a mocking tone as he grabbed her waist from behind. She turned around and smacked him as hard as she could, making him fall back in surprise, his chuckles reverberated in the silent room.

“Do not ever touch me again without my consent, you piece of dead, maggot crawling dog meat”, she said quietly.



He chuckled again and licked the blood left by her hand off his face,
“Delicious, simply delicious your virgin blood, I think a lifetime of servitude is worth having some more”, he said with sneer.


Isobel watched as he licked her blood and tried to make a decision in her mind. “If I don’t bind him he will kill me and many more people, and if I do he will try to kill me and free himself. Either way I die now or eventually, however it’s better if only I am in danger.”


“Very well” She spoke aloud, “I will bind him to me, however only because I am putting other innocent lives in danger if I do not.”


Vicious smile broadened slightly into a more insane grimace as he thought of the pain he would inflict upon her for the rest of her life. “I will tear her heart beating from her chest and posses her in a way she could never imagine to posses me.” He thought sadistically as he eyed his little girl.

Isobel reached for another glass from the pool of blood on the table and contracted her hand into a fist so the blood would flow quickly into the crystal glass that was to seal her fate. “When this is done, I know I will wish for my own death” she thought as she handed the glass to Vicious.

He grabbed her hand and proceeded to lick the wounds, sucking the warm blood from them and sealing the cuts in an almost caring way. Then he took the glass from her other hand and drained it until the glass was clear of blood again. Instantly she felt a pull towards him. On her hand and saw a silver ruby ring forming on her ring finger. She looked up into the grimacing face of Vicious that was looking down at an identical looking dog collar that had formed around his neck.

“Now we are married in darkness my bride” He said, his voice full of irony and distinguishable hatred as he looked down at his own binding.


Vicious:
“Was her blood really worth this?” He thought. I could have destroyed her right now yet I feel compassion. She has always been mine, since the day when she lay beside me in my coffin, her little fingers twirling in my hair terrified that the ghost of her dead mother would come back to haunt her after the accident. She still had her mother’s blood on her dress and her little white hands; I only wonder why she sought comfort in me.”

He looked at her standing there facing him, her defiance visible through her cold dark blue eyes, challenging him to explain why he had hurt her this morning, raping her trust and love of him.

Isobel saw him turn and walk through the door, she frowned at his retreating back that disappeared into the darkness of the hallway and breathed in the smell of her fathers decaying body.