Air Force Two, any aircraft bearing the Vice President of the United States was so designated, took off from Dulles before dawn the next morning, Valens sat across from the Vice President in a nice couch aft of the main cabin, John was always happy to see reasonable people up and working at unreasonable hours, misery does love company after all. The VP was reading his morning brief, Valens head read it before he’d handed it off to the man, no need to waste paper making two copies. Most of the passengers were field agents for the BSAA’s Washington office, the Agency didn’t have a London office just yet and so had been invited cordially by the Prime Minister into the country to investigate and assist however they could. For once there weren’t any reporters on board and Valens was relieved not to have to worry about ducking the nosey bastards. Most of the agents were getting all the sleep they could, Valens decided to join them, at least he could get close his eyes and pretend to sleep while Robbie Jackson was caught between weather he owed the man his life or if he wouldn’t be happy to drop a hellcat missile on what had to have been a warlord from five centuries ago. Kade calling in when he did had made John Valens rather unpopular with the top staff just now. He’d figured as much when he picked up the phone and resigned himself to being seen as a pariah for a while.
Presidential orders were something Valens didn’t take lightly, but he might have had to let the boy go for a while anyway. Honestly considering it, he really didn't have the means to care for another vampire. Not discreetly, that is. Damn shame too, the boy had real promise. Buried under that sad bookish shell was true grit, the kind of backbone that could carry a man over long miles with blown-out knees. The boy’s mind really was something else, and just needed the right teacher before he was eager to learn. Valens had seized the opportunity and become that teacher, and he taught the boy war. That combat was a process; battle was an art, and war a science to be learned. A year and a half whipping close quarters and small arms fire into that reciprocal shell, a year teaching field craft, discipline, honor. There wasn’t a schoolboy alive that couldn’t be seduced with dreams of honor and glory, and John was a man who’d seduced many. The courier job was Kade’s first real intelligence job. Branwen had hated the idea of civilized white folks using boy soldiers, so let him be the judge if the Kid was ready for real work. A goddamn shame in fact, he hadn’t been handed a foundling this promising in decades, dropped right in his lap in fact.
He’d knocked on, then opened the door to his secretary’s apartment one night to find her using the boy like an ashtray. That had been the end of that. He didn’t enjoy being cruel with women but he’d been cruel that night. Put the fear of Fire into the bitch. Then carried Kade to his own place while the boy curled up and sobbed. He’d only kept the mother around this long to use her for his baser needs, but no. If the boy had to be given up he’d make it a point to lose the mother for good. Just one of those miserable lap dogs that had never learned to love anyone, and angry over a son she didn’t want, who’s mind worked in ways she didn’t understand, she’d turned that anger on the easiest target. A secretary and a concubine wasn’t a quarter of her bullshit.
A cheap investment maybe, but what was three years to a man with all the time in the world? Quite a lot, it turns out. It hurt losing the boy. Hurt more than he was used to. Why? Because that boys’ too good for you he told himself. That’s a rare, radiant soul, that. What the fuck? He hadn’t felt this sore in ages. Going maudlin in front of the Vice President was entirely out of the question. The boy hadn’t been just a good student, he’d been amazing. All the terrible rules of war there were to teach he’d sucked up like a thirsty dog from a mountain spring, but he hadn’t grown cruel. Hadn’t gone bad. Through three years of abuse and atrocity the boy’s good heart kept on shining, a belligerent light against the oceans of Wrong he swam through. And Valens realized too damn late that that singular shining heart was more valuable to him than all the vast hoards of wealth he’d amassed over the centuries. Just another pretty thing you pissed away!
He could cry for the boy later. Until then there was a perfectly good war to plot. That ageless glory sport he’d wed.
The Vice president coughed and that shattered the reverie. Valens cracked open one eye.
“So whose idea was ‘Dagger’ anyway?” Robbie Jackson asked.
A paper thin smile crept across his face. “Who else? I’d wanted to use ‘Ghost’ but it was already taken, thank the pricks out at Fort Bragg.” Direct Action Group, Espionage and Reconnaissance, “Dagger” was a department of the Secret Service like the Marine Corps was a department of the United States Navy, if you asked you were told they were the Men’s Department. Valens’ own contribution to the burgeoning rat race of hyper competent splinter cells that had started popping up in the military and intelligence world, groups for whom membership in the already elite Special Forces units was the barrier for entry, he’d even opened a betting pool with a few of the guys on the Detail weather the acronyms would get even dumber before they stopped trying. He lost that bet and when “Rainbow” was formed, and Agent Price had found herself enriched two hundred dollars. He still thought he could win that back come baseball season.
There was more, but the Vice President was uneasy about bringing it up. So Valens did it for him.
“Talk to me, Sir, it won’t be any less awkward if you wait.”
“John, I’m not ever sure what the hell you are. What we saw in the House the other night, I’d be just as happy I never see something like that again.”
The chuckle that came in reply would have offended any man in that office who hadn’t been a fighter jock. Valens reclined on the couch, closed his eye and held his head between intertwined fingers.
“Short Answer? I’m very old. I’ve had a long time to learn a lot of magic tricks. I hope you never have to see that again either. It’s really not fun-“ Bullshit it wasn’t, painting the walls with those pissants had been the most fun he’d had in years. “The Service could have won the fight without me probably, but it would have cost us more good people than I’m willing to lose killing mutts like that.” In fact they’d lost ten good Service agents before Valens had met the opposition and those agents had would be buried with forty other petty staffers and Navy stewards, the worker bees that really made the White House run from day to day.
“Honestly though, seeing that Chef work was a hell of a lot cooler than what I pulled off.” That got Robbie Jackson really laughing, and gods know how he’d need it. The Chef in question was one of those iron pumpers with arms as big as a normal man’s legs, three hundred pounds of sheer muscle and the kind of attitude expected of an Army Master Sergeant, and a hand to hand combat instructor, and they’d found him in the kitchens after he’d bludgeoned two of those pricks to death with his cast iron skillet, and had a third mutt in a choke hold after he’d smashed out those hateful fangs against a stainless steel countertop, before the a couple service agents stepped in to take him into custody. Now that’s Easter come early, a live one we can really put the screws to.
Valens and Jackson both wondered if he’d still cook with that skillet, or have it framed on the wall as a war trophy. Valens planned to pay for the case personally, Mahogany and silver.
Kade should have been sleeping. He’d tried. The mattress on the huge four poster bed was like laying on a cloud, the pillows were heavenly, he’d surrounded himself with some throw pillows from the couch and was curled up like a cat. The sheets and blanket? Gods! Did they call it Egyptian cotton because the Pharaohs had slept like this? He doubted that, he knew Egypt hadn’t become a major cotton producer until his country’s civil war, but he would have believed it. But he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t his arm, it didn’t even really hurt anymore. Okay it was sore, but sore was fine. He’d been more surprised at the bright pain than anything, he’d been burned a lot worse than that, he could even move his fingers around alright. He glanced at the digital clock across from the bed. Oh, that’s why. 02:30. I guess I’m nocturnal now. He was all alone and it was quiet. No orders to follow, chores to tend, no mother around to remind him he was her biggest regret, “and so God help me if you fuck this up for me-”. She’d stopped burning him when Valens had started training him, but the words weren’t much better. That’s why he hated the quiet. Nothing to do but think about how he had nothing to do when there wasn’t work to be done, or music or books to get lost in. Would they mind if I looked for a pen and paper? Nah, the room’s too nice for you without messing it up.
He felt something, not nearby but near. She’s nearby. That means you’re safe. He didn’t know why but he believed, no, he knew it. He felt that Seras was close by, and he knew as long as she was, he was safe. He wasn’t used to that feeling and it scared him a little.
If he was awake at least he didn’t want to be alone. He dressed himself in a pair of size-to-large pajamas and sheepishly poked his head out the door. Left? No, that’s the stairs to that clever little hidden entrance. Right, that’s it, she’d told him hers was the next door down. He stopped dead at the door when he heard her talking with someone.
“I ‘ave got to say something, it’s the last time I’ll ‘ave the chance to, come one now!”
“Well you certainly can’t say that, and I won’t, it’s boorish!”
“We are, kind of boorish, Ma Cher, it comes with being free boots.”
Was that a Frenchman she was talking to? She should have been alone, he certainly didn’t hear anyone else in the hall before him. But there was something off about the voice, it was here and not here, it didn’t sound like someone was on the other side of the door, just that someone was talking on the other side of the door. With Seras, where he wanted to be. He wanted to knock but couldn’t. So he spoke.
“Miss Seras, can… can I please come in?” Even he thought that sounded pitiful. You shouldn’t be bothering her. You should be used to being alone. But the die was already cast.
“Kade, is that you? Well come on in.”
Even if he was pestering her, she did invite him, maybe it wasn’t so bad? He turned the brass handle, even these basement rooms used polish brass, and stepped inside. It was only when he brought his hand back that he realized he was holding one of the throw pillows to his chest like an imbecile. You jackass he thought.
Seras had been waiting, almost hoping he’d knock. There were a few things she’d needed to learn, but besides that she’d come onto the idea of having someone as new to Vampirism as she’d been less than a year ago. Alucard was so bloody dramatic, it felt unnatural having a normal conversation with him about most anything, she found herself caught between a Bill wanting, no, needing to help an abuse victim, a Vampire who’d claimed the boy as her charge, and an overworked girl graced with someone to talk to who’d blundered into the same kind of mess she had. The door swung slowly open and she saw him holding a throw pillow to his chest like a teddy. Two of the three sides were trying to decide if it made him look adorable or if it was a learned trauma response. The third side wondered if “Both” was a bad answer.
“Who were you talking to?”
The man answered. “You can hear me?!”
The boy nodded, still looking around the room for someone who wasn’t there. “I heard that.” He reported.
Seras broke out giggling, and Kade was stricken by how sweet her laugh sounded, it was honey to his ears. The Frenchman answered through her laughter.
“My dear boy, we ‘aven’t been properly introduced yet, Je m’apple Peregrine Bernadotte, Captain of the Wild Geese.” This time Kade heard it clearer, it the voice was coming from that shadowy spraying mass that was Seras’ left arm. That arm probably should have worried him more than it did, he’d only seen Valens do something similar once, but what Seras had going felt tighter, more solid.
“So, you guys are mercenaries?” The boy asked, his ears twitched up and his eyebrows raised, eager to learn what he could about this place while he had the time.
“Indeed” said the faceless voice. “We’re the Wild Geese, a lot of ne’er do wells who carried our guns across a dozen countries before we found ourselves ‘ere in Jolly old England.”
“Like the old movie?”
“Everyone thinks that but no, there’s a proper history there too, do you know anything about the Irish?”
Seras knew right then they could carry on for hours if she let them, she hadn’t thought Pip was much of a history buff but then again she wasn’t either. She cut them off. “I can always leave you boys alone with the History Channel running, but really, we haven’t got all night. And this was your idea, Captain.” That she probably didn’t have the reach to leave them alone went unnoticed. She turned to Kade and explained. When she was done he just looked more confused.
“Why don’t you just both speak? It’s gonna sound too weird if you try to talk to them like he does, and you sound more-“ he found the word “Professional than he does. Take turns?”
That sounded reasonable to Pip, but there was one problem. “Kade, I’m surprised you can hear him, I don’t know if anyone else can.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Is there anyone on the night shift we can ask?”
She thought about that, she knew there were three good men on the night watch, could she let them in without spoiling the whole affair? The answer came from a knock at the door, and one of the maids’ voices chimed in.
“Miss Seras? I’ve brought some tea for you and the young master Kade, but he wasn’t around, would you like any?”
Kade’s ears twitched again at his name. Seras took a second too long to decide before Pip did it for her. “Is that you Lindsay? I thought I told you you’re too nice to be working in this dump!” and it was done before she could stop it. The door was fairly kicked open and the maid answered in a tone that Seras and Kade both thought wholly alien to housekeepers.
“An’ I thought I told you ‘Captain’, my employ is my own business, and I’m not going to be sweet-talked by some handsome Gascon pup!” That's right, Lindsey Wilkins! And she learned Pip could make himself heard when he really wanted. She’d have to keep an eye on that. She turned inward and grabbed him by the mangy ear, not even conscious she was carrying on the dialogue aloud. “You’ve been sweet-talking the staff, have you? Honestly, why did I have to go and fall for a dog?”
Lindsay composed herself, Kade looked at the newest spectator, a stout woman who he guessed was about Integra’s age, her face almost reminded him of his mother, the same impish nose and sharp, almost avian face that he didn’t realize he’d grown into himself, but the similarities stopped there, with a defiant spray of freckles across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, and her voice was a soft tenor, her face a little fuller against the sharp outline, and her green eyes weren’t mean, he didn’t think she was either. Auburn hair was tied back in a neat braid while his mother kept hers down. It was actually his first time seeing a maid outside of the comics he read when he could get his hands on them, she wore the uniform flawlessly, silver tea tray and all. He couldn’t help but notice she filled it out as well as Seras did her own duty wear. Pip had noticed too, apparently.
“Wait, Miss Seras,” Kade wasn’t actually sure what he was supposed to call her, but the superior sounded right, and hearing Miss Wilkins’ use of the same just affirmed it. “So, this Captain Bernadotte died, and you drank his blood?” he was as much asking as he was piecing it together, Valens hadn’t really taught him sorcery yet and he realized he might have to learn as he went.
Seras turned away from twisting her shade’s ear and nodded. Lindsay had set down her tea tray on a small table and let herself sink into a chair by the door, her face in her hands. She’d just realized she was talking to at least one dead man who wasn’t even really in the room and two of the living dead. And she thought the night watch could get a bit unusual when Sir Alucard had been popping out of walls. “Dear Lord, you really did went and get yourself killed for this place. Bloody gallant spanner.” But she could cry when she was of the clock, and she hadn’t actually come by come by to serve tea to these night owls , “I also meant to ask you Kade” she’d heard the name from Fargason and turned to the lad, “I do hope those clothes fit decently, if they do I’ve got plenty about the same size, brought them from home you see, shops have been closed for days, what with the State of Emergency, and I’m not certain when you’ll find time for shopping.”
“Y-you brought them from home for me!?” he was baffled by the idea. Why do that for him? Wilkins nodded and explained. “They were my brother’s you see, mum and dad wouldn’t hear of donations or binning them when he left for the Navy, I ended up with a couple boxes when they passed last year and they’ve just sat there, Lord knows Davey can’t fit them anymore, but he used to be about your size, I must say you’re a bit better built than he was.”
“The…pants are a little tight but the shirt fits really well. Is it really okay for me to have these?” he sounded worried, she reassured him. “Of course, love, well yeah I see how they might be, bollocks the shops’ closed upstairs, drop by after the service this morning, I’ll get you fitted properly.”
“What service?” he hadn’t heard about that, and Seras was surprised the maid had, but she supposed there really was no keeping secrets in an outfit this tight knit. She explained.
“We’re laying down the men who died defending the Manor, Sir Integra’s arranged a private service down the road, oh, that’s right, Lindsay would you mind hanging about? Since you can hear this dog I’ve got around, Kade’s given me a lovely idea.” The maid nodded and ten minutes later she and Kade were sitting Indian style beside each other like children watching a puppet show, watching Seras practice, an hour later the woman was panting like she’d run a marathon, but the job was done, and ready for a real audience.
On the fourth morning after the Battle of London, the forty-five private contractors of the Wild Geese who’d died in service to the Hellsing family and the twenty soldiers from the Estate’s antebellum employment were laid to rest in a cemetery three miles south of the Manor. Even before seeing the survivors in the hospital yesterday, Seras knew she was laying her own to rest. They’d died on her watch, and the victory they’d won was bitter and Pyrrhic. They’d died under her command, defending ground that was more home than place of employment. Her eyes counted the caskets individually and placed faces to them, the faces she’d known, men she’d eaten, trained, and laughed beside. She felt a dull hate that this many had died before she’d gotten her shit together. Pip’s voice was like an ice pack against that coal. “Don’t. There’s nothing good lies down that road, Seras. I promise you there’s not a single man among them who didn't know the risks. We took the work, we took Integra’s money. Honor, glory, Valor, men pissing themselves and praying for their mothers as we were torn apart. These men lived for that life. They wouldn’t ‘ave had it any other way.``
The attendees were in their Sunday best, Lindsey had actually picked the lock on the uniform department and rushed out a suit for Kade, and the boy kept close to his Sire in any case, Integra looming over the service just ahead of them. Soft rain came down and if the men cried, the morning wept with them. Lindsey was crying but Seras couldn’t. She’d cried during the battle when her mind had been violated and her arm sliced off. Cried when Pip died carrying her on his back; then buried those tears somewhere deep under a swift and terrible vengeance. The only man she could see herself crying for just now was hardly more than a boy, and stood dutifully beside her, paying respects to men he’d never known. No, she corrected herself. He’d fought the same enemy that night, and knew all too well how the Wild Geese had gone down fighting. Kade too was a man such as them.
The Vicar was a professor of literature, a member of the Lay Clergy from Cambridgeshire, he’d gone into that honorable profession after an Army career, where he mustered out as a Major before answering the call to serve his country’s Ministry. He was in his uniform this morning in deference to the soldiers he laid to rest, the sermon was tastefully nondenominational, citing Romans 13, and Revelations 12, that He is the Enemy of Wrongdoing who serves God, and that in Heaven they know war no more. Hellsing’s Able unit and the Wild Geese now mingled as a single force. Even the men who should have still been in the infirmary had grit their teeth against the pain, a total of thirty five fighting men in the service of the Royal Order of Protestant Knights. The Valiant dead were lowered to their just sleep.
Integra, Seras and Kade returned home, Seras behind the wheel of one of the family’s own backup cars, the stolen Vauxhall parked discreetly in an underground garage beside the Organisation’s armored troop carriers. Integra had her eye closed enjoying the quiet patter of rain against the window. “Sir Integra, I’ve got a question.” He’d meant to ask Seras last night but didn’t want to get in the way of her practice. It took Integra a moment to realize he was waiting for permission to ask the question like a schoolboy with his hand raised. Oh yes she thought. I’m already sick of that. “Out with it.” She really didn’t have the energy to bark at anyone this morning and didn’t see him flinch against her tone. Seras felt it but bit her tongue. “I really won’t be able to have garlic bread anymore? Or breadsticks and pizza and stuff?” Seras was chuckling before she could help it, but the boy didn’t know why. Integra sighed before answering. Well it had been her joke after all.
“It’s really the flowers you’ll have to watch out for, there’s a chemical compound in the pollen that’s going to give you an allergic reaction, if you’re around enough of them it might feel like pepper spray. On the whole you’ll find human food won’t sustain you very long. You should drink blood soon. It won’t get any easier putting it off and trying to starve yourself. Seras, don’t let him go on like you did. Tonight. If he won’t, then you make him.” It was an order that Seras knew she’d have to follow. She knew her boss was right. For Kade that made it easier, but gave him another question. “If I drink blood can I stay?”
Both women had been thinking about that, with rather different goals in mind. It was the Master of the House that answered.
“The BSAA flight is landing soon, you heard your commander, Valens is his name, correct? Don’t you think he’s stopping by to collect you?”
The kid looked out the window, the suburb was a mix of early century textured brick structures and garish new school buildings, the a few sparse pedestrians milling about of essential errands, and police cars roaming up and down, but the convoy of vehicles from Hellsing, now heading home was the only real traffic about. “I don’t know what he wants, I just know that I do what he tells me.” He thought about the chewing he’d get from her. “If I go back though…” No, he stopped there. It doesn’t matter and they don’t care. Be thankful they kept you this long. “Nevermind. Sorry. Thank you for your hospitality.”
For Integra that finally made something click. Oh, that explains it, you cold prat. He sounded like a beaten dog because he was, and she felt something ball up in her gut that had nothing to do with skipping breakfast that morning.
The manor was lively when they returned, Integra’s first order the previous day after Kade left had been to call in a contractor service from Birmingham who’d driven half the night to be punctual, and were fast as work, a backhoe loader and an articulated hauler already fast at work managing the rubble chunks that Seras had tossed out so haphazardly. Seeing the workers about their business made her feel sheepish about how haphazardly she’d tossed those huge chunks of brick about.
Most of the mercenaries hadn’t worn their Sunday best in years, and nobody had thought about changing before the meeting. Seras had had them all, including the surviving Able company assembled in an empty room off to the left of the main foyer, while construction workers set about canvassing off the opposite corridor. She marched in wordlessly and they saluted her, with Kade stood quietly on the opposite side of the room ready to motion lines. They really hadn’t had much time to rehearse this the night before. Ah shit she thought.
She came in strong and clear, leaning on the sharpest enunciation her three years at Exeter had given her.
“When I first saw you lot of chavs I admit I wasn’t impressed! I Bunch of drop out from armies that wouldn’t have, you playing soldier, I didn’t think you were ready to fight monsters! I certainly wasn’t convinced after finding some wandering hands the first few weeks!” The decision to dress them down before building them back up had actually been her biggest contribution to the speech, two of the survivors had owned those wandering hands in fact, and Pip had forced them fast to learn how to shoot off hand in light of sprained wrists and broken fingers.
“I admit I find myself humbled. You’ve stood your ground force on force against nightmares of men that have haunted this world for fifty years. You beat them! You stand alone as some of the most experienced monster hunters in the world! The service you have given this Estate will not be forgotten. In December you were signed on for a six month contract. That contract at present is three months in. Anyone of you who so desires, is offered a more permanent position here at the estate. There’s a Barrister available this morning for anyone who’d like to sign on. Gentlemen. I’d love to have you.” She finished with a smirk that was more confident than she’d felt. Fargason was leaning against the door frame with an absurd smile on his face, thought she saw it Seras didn’t know it was the kind of belligerent pride Officers had seeing their trainees really make it. The same obscene pride parents had for their children’s graduation. “That’s my kid, right there!”
The kept the stage, and her shadow arm broke out into a sprawling mass against the wall, and out of the wall emerged the “living”, spitting image of Peregrin Bernadotte, he’d taken off that ridiculous hat of his and his long red hair hung down in that just as ridiculous ponytail draped over his shoulder, one emerald green eye alight while a bang hung over his eye patch. Even as a ghost, if a ghost he was, his smile was warm and infectious. Even Kade wanted to smile back at the cocky bastard.
“Gentlemen! We signed on to this contract expecting the cozy house of some rich asshole in the English countryside where we could get paid to get fat and drink their beer, a few of us have gotten fat indeed!” The response started slow, some men still half shocked to see their Captain before them when they’d seen him die. Some still got queasy seeing the shadow play at work. Even Seras wasn’t really used to it just yet. First stop after this is Uniforms, get a bloody coat to cover up. Pip went on, savoring the last address he’d give to the men he’d lead into the grim jaws of Hell.
“The men we buried today died heroes; better than free booting louts like us really deserved. Their headstones are engraved with Full Honors, and their families have been compensated twice the contract rate, for service to the Crown and Her Royal Majesty. I was laid to rest today too, it’s pretty fucking weird seeing your body buried while your head’s looking out from a chest pocket,” That got a laugh, nobody cared that Sera’s jacket didn’t have the chest pockets that her uniform did, but she bared it gracefully. Not like it’s the first time. At least he’s not singing their Eskimo cadence.
“Meanwhile you boys ‘ave hit a tier one level of badass you couldn’t ‘ave dreamed of before we got in country, you bunch of pricks are the premier anti-monster special operators this side of ‘ze gates of Hell! I ‘ave died and will lead you no more. You already know who your new Captain is, give her a proper salute you bunch of deviants!” Even dead he couldn’t bring himself to say he loved them all. They knew it anyway. Pip faded back into a swarming shade against the wall, and Seras took a breath before contorting the dark thing back into shape. She was getting better at holding a solid form, a few stray wisps like bat’s wings up and down, but almost presentable. She at a room full of neat salutes, the Americans had even kept their palms out. She was desperately trying to remember the last part… and couldn’t. Her limits of public speaking exceeded, she improvised. “Right then, there you have it, men. You’ll… have all the time you need to think it over.” that wasn’t really true, but not did it matter, the men had already decided.
She was barely out of the room when Kade almost tackled her with a hug, and that was the best thing she’d seen all week, he’d reflexively jumped out of the timid shell he’d been hiding in and she loved to see it.
“You were so frigging awesome!” he beamed up at her, she realized it was the first time she’d seen him really smile. She returned the hug and even got away with a pat on the head before he knew how much he wanted it, and got a grip on himself hearing her soft girlish giggle, then tried to look away and relax from the hug he’d started.
“Really, you helped more than you know, I’ve never had to present like that before, Goodness knows you saved me reading over that mess I’d written!” her boy had proofread the jumbled sentiments she’d wanted to express and even set them in order, a skill wholly beyond her fields of expertise, and without knowing it he’d let her look into the studious artistic mind belying his fragile shell.
While Fargason stayed behind to fill in some of the more legalistic details, Seras thanked her lucky stars she’d only volunteered for the sales pitch, she showed Kade up to the east wing of the third story, where the Uniforms department sat with its door open overlooking east lawn and the quiet suburb beyond. She hoped Lindsey wouldn’t catch too much flak for picking the lock this morning, and the girl was fast at work guiding an industrial model sewing machine, she looked up to see her newest customers and they both noted the almost manic gleam in her eyes when she was set loose to a task she’d learned to love at her grandmother’s knee. “Miss Victor’ya you were spectacular in there!” That really was too fast for word to travel! A part of her mind was malding over where the place might be wired. Seras was late in hearing Wilkins’ accent slip the happier she was. Bollocks, that’s cute too! She thought.
Lindsey had slid out the trousers running through the machine without even looking at how close her hands swept past the danger zone. “Kade, love please grab a seat over there-“ her pinky finger pointed out to a green leather upholstery stool well shaded from any intrusive sunlight, when he’d sat down she’d fiddled around, and located her favorite measuring tape. She set to work faster than the boy had known he was being worked on, with Lindsey mumbling to herself and furiously scribbling his measurements on a scrap of notepaper . Seras chimed in before she had to leave. “Lindsey, I’ve got to see the boss, if this takes too long could you please show the boy about the library?” Kade was amazed, though he shouldn’t have been, to know a mansion this big should have it’s own library. “Of course Miss Seras, His tailor answered, that giddy gleam sparkling. She left the boy and the maid to their business and floated across the hall to Integra’s office, where one of the Signals people, Chambers? A ginger lad still fresh from University was at the open door and motioned her in with a a finger to his lips. Inside she heard a voice she recognized on speaker phone.
“Sir Integra, I’m glad to hear you’re well. I’m sorry to impose on you, but we’ve spent the last evening talking with some old friends across the pond-“ the Prince’ s voice was as weary s anyone’s, and the man had just as much right to be. Integra wouldn’t even consider losing face before the address, her measured, firm intonation could almost be smothering when she wanted it, and it was so now. “Sir, the Hellsing family stands ready as ever to serve the Crown, however Her Majesty deems necessary.”
The Prince went on. “Her Majesty, after deliberation has come to an opinion on three points, firstly that the Vatican, as a Nation state, is either directly culpable in the bio-terrorist attack on the United Kingdom, or responsible indirectly, and is harboring the responsible parties. Secondly, that the ‘special relationship’ we share with the Americans had been lacking if cooperation between certain, specialized departments. Thirdly, that a joint operation with the Americans may be the most appropriate response against the collaborators of this act of terror. While it’s well understood that Royal Order of Protestant Knights has never, nor should be one of the baser instruments of statecraft, Her Majesty wishes to express utmost, that there’s more than enough foxes for every rider to hunt, and anybody so interested will have their seat at that table.” Integra could almost hear the Prince grinning that same insidious, lupine smile she’d seen on Alucard. She’d seen it on Walter, and though the girl would deny it she’d even seen Seras wear it. That ravenous grim grin, thirsty for terrible vengeance. She wore it too, her enucleated eyehole pounding like hell against the strain of her facial muscles. “Yes. Sir!”
Now that it was settled, he told her whom to expect, and who would be by to visit it in the morning. She wished her Prince and Her Majesty the best health, and clicked off the line of her own accord before looking up at Seras, that horrifying grim plastered in place. “I do hope you’re up for the task, Seras. My orders haven’t changed. Search. And Destroy.”