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Psalms for the Fallen	By : anyasy Category: Hellsing > General Views: 3357 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Psalms
for the Fallen

11

I

�A
visitor for you, Sir Hellsing. A woman at the gate, with several men.�
The gate guard�s voice sounded tense. �She says her name is Sister
Heinkel Wolfe.�

Integral
narrowed her eyes, tapping gloved fingers on the table. What in the world
could Iscariot want here? If it was a hit, no doubt they would have known that
Anderson and Alucard were long gone for Johannesburg� and Integral very much
doubted that an assassination attempt by Iscariot would have knocked so very
politely on the front gate.

�Should
I-�

�Let
them in.� Integral interrupted curtly. Beside her, Seras tensed,
frowning, but Integral merely leant back in her chair, refusing to show any
tension. Her mind had processed at least ten likely scenarios when
Heinkel was escorted through the door, followed by a posse of security guards,
the Iscariot Sister�s expression disdainful.

Heinkel
was dressed in civilian clothing: a long gray woolen skirt, and a white blouse,
brown boots, which though severe, hinted not at all at her profession or
calling. Her eyes flicked to Seras, who merely folded her arms, her red
pupils tracking the Sister�s every movement.

�Stand
down, men. Leave us.� Integral instructed, and the security guards
hesitated, then bowed and retreated from the room. �Sister Heinkel.�
Integral decided to dispense with pleasantries. �What business brings you
here?�

�I
read the file you gave me, on the flight back to Rome.� Heinkel�s expression
was almost dispassionate, but for the thin, angry line of her lips. �The
documents are genuine.�

�Aye.�

�Hellsing�
how did Hellsing know of these matters? The documents appended to the end were not
of the Vatican. Your documents.�

�Aye.
Ours. I thought the story was a little incomplete.� Integral
shrugged. �The information we had was from a lucky break. One of
the old prototypes, from before the �Anderson Project�, escaped en route to
another facility, and managed by sheer miracle to reach our territory in
Ireland. He gave his story to a Hellsing operative before passing
away. That man was once of Iscariot, and seemed to know our bases.�

�Father
Bartholomew Andrews.� Heinkel said quietly. �It was in the file.
I�ve seen his photograph, in the Iscariot Hall. �Missing in Action�.�

�After
that they stopped using full grown men, for their cell structures are already
stable.� Integral said idly. If she recalled, there were other
photographs in the file, of Father Andrews in his final state before
death. It hadn�t been pretty. �Used children instead, from the
orphanages, those of uncommon strength and resource.�

�Yes.�
In Heinkel�s tone there was rage. �I now have reason to suspect that the
regenerator projects were not the only experimental procedures used on
the children.�

Vaguely,
Integral remembered that Sister Heinkel did have a companion, another
nun known as Sister Yumiko, who had perished of grievous wounds in the
war. Yumiko had a fearsome reputation as a dual personality berserker, if
Integral recalled, though the Hellsing Organisation had thought it nothing
particularly curious. In the light of current information, however � it
seemed that the Vatican was indeed desperate to keep up with its battle against
monsters; enough that it was creating its own.

�What
will you do, Sister Heinkel?� Integral inquired. The matter of the
orphanages wasn�t particularly of her concern � not at the moment � but she
didn�t want any further complications with the Lamia matter.

�I
will return to Rome to satisfy the last of my suspicions,� Heinkel said
shortly, in her harsh accent. �I came here to warn you, and to see Father
Anderson.�

�Anderson
and Alucard have left for Johannesburg.�

�I
realized, when they did not greet me here. No matter.�

�A
warning?� Integral prompted, breathing out a plume of cigar smoke, her inner
curiosity evident by how she did not bother to savor the taste.

�Yes.
Do you know what is �Dominion�, Sir Hellsing?�

�It
was mentioned.�

�It
was in the Ninth archives,� Heinkel said, tossing the folder she had in her
hands onto the desk. � �Dominion�, or �principatus porta�, is actually a
�gate�, which in itself is a metaphor. The old Midians are formed by
Dominion � by committing acts of such violent and base evil that they are Judged
before the Revelations, and turned into monsters. The state of Judgment
is called �Dominion�.� Heinkel paused, to allow the information to sink in,
before adding, quietly, �Alucard was the last Midian known to the Ninth to be
created via Dominion.�

�Master?�
Seras gasped. �But he said he was also created from the �blood curse�!�

�That
is what he would like most to believe,� Heinkel said tightly. �He seems
unkillable, does he not? And your family files explained this on
�experimentation by Hellsing�. Tell me, Sir Hellsing, have you ever seen
non-documentary evidence of this �experimentation�? Was Alucard not imprisoned
in the cellars of your manor until your father�s time, and then again until
yours?�

Integral
thinned her lips. Her father�s locked journals, available to her only a
year after his decease, had made vague references to experimentation, but even
Walter had not recalled any such goings-on. She had not thought it
particularly worth looking into, what with having to fill her father�s shoes too
young, too soon, and then the matter of the Freaks.

�A
blood-curse vampire � like Seras � is far easier to kill, far less
powerful. A �True� Midian, born of Dominion, however�� Heinkel shook her
head slowly. �The Ninth knew this, and yet did not inform Iscariot.
So many of us have died against your monster.�

�He
remains well-leashed,� Integral snapped, though she could not keep the edge
from her tone, and Heinkel caught it, smirking.

�But
he did not tell you about his birth, did he? What else about your pet vampire
do you not know, Sir Hellsing?�

�What
does Aglione want of Dominion?� Integral countered. �Why would a holy man
want to create a �True� Midian?�

�The
state of Judgment does not only create monsters, Sir Hellsing. The Ninth
appears to believe that a man of a �pure soul�, passing through Dominion, would
�Ascend�.�

�Become
a messiah?� Integral sneered. �Aglione? Sheer arrogance.�

�Or
perhaps he wishes to become a �True Midian�. That seems more likely,�
Heinkel admitted. �That folder contains all the material I was able to
photocopy safely. The matter of Dominion, as much as I hate to think of
it, falls to you to resolve, Sir Hellsing.�

�You
return to Rome for the orphanages? Alone?�

�There
are still enough of us in Iscariot,� Heinkel shrugged. �And many of us
who were loyal to Father Anderson. The usage of children is a canker in
the heart of the Vatican that we will excise. But we do not have the
number or powers to resolve the matter of Lamia, not as we are now.�

�Lamia
was a problem born on British soil, and therefore will be Hellsing�s
responsibility to contain,� Integral said briskly, leaning forward to steeple
her fingers before her glasses. �But you will not be popular in the
Vatican, Sister Heinkel.�

�No.
Coming here to speak with you could be construed as reason enough to
excommunicate me, perhaps,� Heinkel nodded, her expression uncommonly resolved,
serene. �But occasionally, even one with hands as bloodstained as
mine can hear God.�

II

Anderson
was beginning to feel deeply suspicious. Admittedly, around Alucard, this
emotion could be construed as normal, and it wasn�t as though the
vampire hadn�t forced him before to wear clothing of his choosing.
However, since landing in Johannesburg Alucard had refused to do anything but
lounge in their palatial suite at the Westcliff villa hotel, curiously enough
not even attempting to make any perverse attempts on what was left of the
priest�s virtue.

And
when Anderson had finally lost patience and attempted to leave, the goddamned
monster had noted, idly, that they had a �dinner� booking at seven with
entertainment at �principatus porta�, and that if Anderson wandered off he
would be late, that Alucard certainly wouldn�t bother to wait for him, and also
that if Anderson did not wear the clothes laid out on the bed he wouldn�t be
taken along anyway.

The
tight-fitting, open white shirt was embarrassing enough, with its strange tan
checkered cuffs at his elbows; so were the dark jeans that rode low on his hips
even with the burnished brass-buckled belt, and the oxblood shoes pinched a
little, but Anderson had objected vociferously to wearing a collar. A
choker, Alucard had said slyly, but Anderson knew a collar when he saw one
� black leather, brass buckles, collar. He lost the argument in
the end, able to see Alucard�s reasoning that in the melting pot of
Johannesburg he�d have a difficult time finding the other vampire were Alucard
to choose to disappear and mask his presence, but it didn�t mean that he had
lost with good grace.

�The
more you pick at it, the more attention you�ll call,� Alucard murmured, and
Anderson could hear the smirk in his sire�s tone. He grit his teeth in
the dark, but forced himself not to rise to the bait.

�Where
are we?� he asked instead, gruffly. They seemed to have been descending
down a narrow, rusting iron stairway for at least half an hour, from a
graffiti-laden cast-iron door down a side-street just off the central business
district, and the air smelled sour, stale.

Alucard
had also �changed� for the occasion, into what Anderson thought of as his
�original� form: the masculine, bulkier man with the grizzled facial hair and
the long, writhing black mane, the eyes that seemed fathomlessly patient rather
than animal and insane. A rich white cloak was draped over Alucard�s
shoulders, over the wrought silver that formed the plated armor leafed over his
right arm, wrapped loosely in thin bandages that danced to a wind that did not
exist. A deep red surcoat was worn over a silver breastplate, caught in
heavy leather belts over his waist, and a large scabbard lay at his hip.
Silver greaves and plated boots adorned Alucard�s legs, but he made not a sound
as he walked.

Anderson
wasn�t sure which form he preferred, but he knew that taking this one meant
that they were very likely not, as he had previously thought, headed towards
some sort of prank.

A
short, deep chuckle. �Patience, fledgling.� The humor in Alucard�s tone
was almost patronizing, but it was oddly paternal, affectionate rather than
edged with the old Midian�s usual salacious sarcasm.

�We
dinnae seem dressed t�go t�battle,� Anderson tried obliquely fishing, instead.
Or rather, he wasn�t. But even Alucard�s clothes and armor seemed
too rich and ornate for war; the sword he had at his hip, for example, was
certainly not the broadsword Anderson remembered crossing blades with.

�We
are not.� Even Alucard�s diction seemed different in his �Count� form.
And he was� appealing in a different way, masculine and ruggedly handsome
rather than fey and almost pretty; still, Anderson knew his reaction for what
it was, given he hungered not so much for the carnal sin but for the
bite. The blood curse.

�Control
yourself, Alexander.�

�Aye?�
Anderson blinked. �Myself?�

�I
can smell your arousal from here.� The smirk in Alucard�s tone told Anderson
sourly that some personality traits were likely inherent. Reminding him
that seemingly gentler as this �original� version of Alucard was, he was still
essentially a Midian: cruel, violent, evil. �Did I not already
satisfy you on the flight?�

Anderson
flushed in the darkness and hated himself for doing so, for how memory made his
cock stir in earnest. Alucard had indeed taken advantage of the private
jet to ravish Anderson thoroughly on the comfortable seats, to his distinct
later embarrassment, given how the pilot and the stewardesses would certainly
have been at least privy, Anderson had realized, to the noise. And of
course, Alucard had found it so very funny.

The
bastard hadn�t even bitten him while fucking him.

Closer
inspection of that last thought pissed him off, as well as scared him.
The vampire�s bite was like a drug, highly and cruelly addictive, and he was
already victim to its pleasures. As Alucard had once promised, he now
craved it, and it disgusted him.

Still,
he wasn�t about to give the monster the satisfaction of answering, and kept in
a stiff, uncomfortable silence for the rest of their walk downwards into the
earth. His red eyes could see clearly in the dark, and he kept them on
the cracked brick wall as they descended, scowling.

It
was another ten minutes before he could scent additional smells other than the
stale air. Liquor, sweat, perfumes � myrrh, jasmine and rose oil, thick
and decadent and heavy; the faint copper of blood. A few more steps and
he could pick up noise, muffled as though behind a thick door, laughter,
chatter, music. Intrigued, he walked faster, trying to push past Alucard,
but one gauntleted hand pressed gently but firmly against his open shirt, and
it was akin to walking into a wall.

The
creature�s casual strength in this incarnation was almost frightening.
Growling, Anderson glared, only to meet the Count�s wry smile.

�Sometimes
formality is a necessity, Alexander.�

�Ah
dinnae ken how ye knew o� this,� Anderson said suspiciously. �Ye dinnae
do any-�

�Lady
Lamia extended a private invitation to me the moment the aircraft entered her
territory.� Alucard said as he reached the bottom of the stairwell, planting
his palm on the stone wall. There was a faint rumbling sound, then the
wall slid away.

The
room beyond was circular, with a raised, wide dais, the ground a richly
patterened mosaic depicting a repulsively realistic series of pictures of women
birthing then eating their children, while beasts of the land and air cavorted
grotesquely around them. At the center of the room was an odd slab of
rough-hewn stone, gray and pitted at the edges as though with age.

Four
inhumanly beautiful women reclined on separate divans set at even intervals
around the room, with one empty, and one space consisting of severe benches
upon which a silent group of hooded people sat. Anderson glared at the
women, recognizing them for the monsters that they were, if just from the
Iscariot files. The twins, Catori and Zafrinia, dark-skinned with black
dreadlocks, nude save for draping, diaphanous silk scarves over their bodies,
the Midian rulers of North and South America. A diminutive Asian girl,
child-like and cherubic, cross-legged on her seat and dressed in ancient,
imperial golden brocade: Meng. And Lamia, in an iridescent, off-shoulder
black dress, gliding towards them in welcome, threading her way through the
blank-eyed, liveried attendants belonging to Meng; the adoring, mindless
handsome males of the twins.

�Vlad
Tepes.�

�Lady
Lamia.� Alucard looked curiously at the other women. �May I inquire as to
the identity of the other guests?�

That
surprised Anderson: that Alucard didn�t seem aware of the other older Midians,
but he kept his counsel, as Lamia smiled prettily and gestured. �Catori
and Zafrinia, North and South Americas. Meng, of Asia. And the
gentlemen there are of the Vatican.�

Anderson
stared hard at the hooded figures, but they did not react to Lamia�s casual
introduction, continuing to speak in whispers to themselves. Alucard
chuckled, however, deep and rich, unlike his usual manic tone. �I could
not have guessed that others as us still shared this earth.�

�They
were in slumber until I called them,� Lamia acknowledged, �But they had been
near waking since your own awakening in London, Vlad Tepes.�

�The
only male,� Alucard quipped, his smile faint.

�Of
course. It is regrettable, but the males of our kind, for the most
part, eventually consume themselves in their excesses. Power turns the
males insane. Forgive me if I give offense.�

�None
taken, my Lady.�

Lamia
ushered them to the empty divan, and gestured for attendants to bring
refreshments. Anderson narrowed his eyes � even from here, he could tell
that the red liquid in the glasses consisted of oddly uncoagulated blood.
�It is quite the puzzle.�

�Perhaps,�
the Count said wryly, as he seated himself and accepted a glass, though
Anderson shook his head.

�Your
childe is far better behaved today,� Lamia said, with a gracious nod at
Anderson that made him growl. Behind her, Meng covered her lips and
tittered, and the twins whispered to themselves.

�He
is yet young enough to learn. Rest assured I will control him during the�
festivities.�

�Festivities?�
Anderson asked sharply, glancing at Alucard.

�Why,
did your sire not tell you, holy man?� In Lamia�s cultured tone there was
nothing but soft, feminine surprise, but the hard, malicious mockery was in her
perfect eyes and rosebud mouth. �We are opening principatus porta.�

III

Like
all old vampires, Vlad did not enjoy being fully awake, not for extended
periods of time, and he longed for the buried sleep under his operative mask of
Alucard; had to fight ennui and his awakened, ravenous hunger for blood.
The glass only whet his appetite, and Vlad was wryly aware of the truth of
Lamia�s words: the fully awakened male True Midians had wild appetites that
only ended up consuming themselves, in hunger and madness. Abraham van
Hellsing�s limiter was both his bane and the ledge before the chasm.

Fully
awake, he could hear the cacophony of souls within him, around him, barely able
to keep himself from drinking in his unlimited power, to lose himself in
sensation or to sleep, to deaden everything back to the merest veneer of
operation.

The
impulsive childe sitting sullenly at his feet helped focus him, drawing his
wavering attention. He was vaguely aware of the need to keep his current
form, at least until principatus porta was opened, though he could not
quite remember why if he didn�t concentrate, and he did feel a slight curiosity
as to the result and method. Usually, �opening the Gate� was a metaphor
for a highly personal change from human to monster; it did not involve anything
physical, and yet the altar seemed to contradict what he knew of the
process.

Absently,
he reached out to pet Alexander, who jerked away, growling a curse, then
shivered instead as Vlad dropped his fingers to trail against the nape of the
fledgling�s neck. Even over the thick scents of perfume, blood and excess
he could scent Alexander�s spiking arousal, and it amused him. The priest
was well-trained, already an addict to the bite, as much as he still fought so
valiantly against it. Still, particularly now, at uninhibited power, Vlad
had to be careful not to overwhelm the spark of Alexander�s will. A doll
would indeed be of little entertainment.

He
turned his attention back to the other vampires. The girl-child
disregarded him with what seemed to be contempt, staring intently and
unblinkingly at the slab of stone. The twins seemed content to speak only
with each other. That left Lamia, coiled lazily in the embrace of an
athletic, naked male human with skin so dark that it resembled obsidian.
Fresh, thin red scars marred his handsome, shaved face, and his dark eyes were
dulled from vampiric suggestion.

�I
may understand why you wish to open the Gate, Lady Lamia,� Vlad said idly, with
an imperious gesture at the priests, �But why involve those humans?�

�Curiosity,�
Lamia yawned, showing her perfect, pointed teeth. �Are you not curious to
see if the rumors are aright?�

�Forgive
me, my Lady, but I very much doubt any of those priests would fit the
requirement to become a messiah,� Vlad murmured, with a brief glance at the
hooded congregation. Petting Alexander�s neck had made the fledgling
pliant enough: the priest had his cheek against the cushioned divan, his
shoulders bowed and slack, his red eyes already glazing behind those
unnecessary eyepieces, and now Vlad shifted his hand back up to stroke
through short-cropped hair.

�Perhaps.
Perhaps not,� Lamia rolled one lovely shoulder in a fluid shrug. �But it
would at the least be entertaining, would it not?�

�Sufficiently
so.� Vlad lied, already bored and sleepy, already beginning to drift, when
Alexander made a small, breathy moan of protest, turning his face up to nuzzle
hopefully against the older vampire�s gloved palm, nipping at it and
whining. Carefully, Vlad drew more of his influence away from Alexander,
until the fledgling�s eyes cleared a little and he froze amid pawing at the
surcoat over his sire�s groin. Growling, Anderson turned away to glare
fixedly at his palms, and Lamia�s bell-like, soft laughter joined Vlad�s deep
chuckle.

�You
are starving him?�

�Not
my choice,� Vlad said, a little distracted. He had come too close to
breaking Alexander, and all by accident. A part of him wanted it, wanted
to bury himself within the priest�s willing body, even more so now that he
could smell Alexander�s startled, worried fear at how easily his will had caved
to his sire�s. Fear, then delectable fury: sweet, predictable
Alexander. Vlad smirked, reclined back, and recalled how even then,
on his first awakening in decades, crossing blades with Alexander had given him
a heady, violent rush that he had felt but infrequently in centuries of
battle. He was rather disappointed in himself for turning the
priest in the heat of the moment, but he supposed idly that at the moment, it
did so entertain.

He
curled a tendril of shadow into Alexander�s jeans, watching with satisfaction
as the priest�s eyes widened. A forceful, low �Alucard� hitched at
the last consonant as the tendril curled around Alexander�s arousal, the very
tip probing playfully at the slit, and the priest was biting his lip and
squirming deliciously.

�Alucard.
Nae here,� Alexander whispered then, thickly, desperately, and Vlad
chuckled again, with a half-lidded glance at the other Midians.

�The
cardinal sins of gluttony, lust, greed, sloth. Gula, luxuria,
avaritia, acedia.� His eyes turned to the hooded priests. �Ira,
invidia, superbia. And then the ultimate original sin, the
destruction of innocence. To open the gate, my Lady?�

�The
last is to come,� Lamia agreed languorously, as she curled a hand under the
chin of her puppeted lover, the sharp tips drawing blood. �After we sate
the previous seven. Then, Dominion comes.�

Vlad
turned his attention to the straining bulge in Alexander�s jeans, and patted
the space on the divan beside him. �Come here, fledgling,� he purred,
with just enough compulsion in his tone that the priest obeyed, though the
young vampire�s eyes narrowed with impotent rage as he fought against it.
�Perhaps we should� contribute� to the procedure.�

-tbc-
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- 11
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Psalms for the Fallen