Pan’s New Flute

Chapter 2: Carnelian Chameleon

 

Integra was aware of hushed voices around her, gentle fingers deftly changing bandages.  She smelled the pungent, tart scent of antiseptic.  The rip of surgical tape tore through her aching head, like a band-aid ripped off the arm.

            “I’ll treat her today, but it’s the last time.  I don’t want to become anymore embroiled in this than I already am.” 

            Integra opened her eyes slowly, the images fuzzy and somewhat shapeless.  All she could discern were colors.  Where were her glasses?  She winced from the high fluorescent lighting.

            The pain in her side had diminished into a dull, throbbing sting.  She couldn’t remember being awake before now, but she did recall the sharp, piercing pain of a bullet, then arms embracing her as she slunk to the ground.  Red filled her sight, and she didn’t know if it was the blood or Alucard.  Dimly, she wondered where he was.

            Walter sat in a corner, slumped in a small wooden chair.  His right leg was extended in a cast before him, beside a crutch.  His eyes were closed, and his single spectacle lay over his chest on the chain she’d given him nearly a decade ago.  His head lay against the wall in utter exhaustion.  Likely he was asleep.  He looked alright, though.  Tired and much older than his 57 years, but alive. 

            “Sir Integra!”  A soft squeal of delight and surprise reverberated through her ears.  Integra craned her head slowly to see Seras’ bright face hovering over her own.  Large red eyes that still had not lost their youthful naiveté blinked owlishly at Integra’s.  She was smiling, but that was no indication of the situation.  More movement on her left demanded her attention.

            Pain ripped through her side, and she gasped.  Seras’ cheerful countenance dissolved into one of concern and reproach.  And—distaste?  Integra thought suddenly that she was in a quite vulnerable position, as close as she was to a young and thus impulsive vampire.  But Seras ignored the blood that began to ooze again through the bandage, turning away and focusing on Walter.

            “Ms. Hellsing?”  A firm and somewhat annoyed voice snapped through the bite of her injury.  Integra hadn’t noticed the doctor herself, who was currently peeling back layers of blood-encrusted gauze.  Some of it stuck in dried scabs to her wound.  Integra winced at each pinch of the fabric. 

            “Ms. Hellsing?  Do you know where you are?”  What an asinine question.  How the hell would she know where she was?  She’d only just awakened.  Integra licked her lips and tried to swallow the sand in her throat. 

            “No.”  The voice that emerged was not her own.  Hoarse and barely above a whisper, Integra swallowed and tried again.  “Who are you?”  That was what she intended to say, but it sounded more like a boulder scraping on gravel.  Integra waited for an answer, but when no information was forthcoming, she gave up.  Seras leaned over and held a cup to Integra’s lips.  She sipped cool water.  Never had Integra tasted anything so sweet and wonderful.  She eagerly drank more, draining the glass.  After drinking her fill, Integra turned her attention once again to the doctor.  Whoever this person was, she wasn’t very bright or courteous.  Another pull from the gauze, and Integra let out a small curse.  Integra tried to survey the room, but couldn’t see and couldn’t concentrate past the pain of her wound.  Every time she breathed in, she imagined her skin tearing a little more. 

            “I am Dr. Ambrose.  Lili Ambrose.”  More peeling.  A soft sweep of iodine-soaked cotton.  Really, the doctor’s reticence was deplorable.

            “Alucard brought you here, sir.”  Seras said softly.  “Do you remember anything that happened at the Tower?”  Integra nodded.  Alucard had advanced toward her, so close they were almost touching, grinning ear to ear like a cat that’s finally cornered his mouse.  He’d shattered the wineglass.  She remembered it pooling on the floor, imagined her own blood in its place and backed away from Alucard.  Then the cell door had burst open and gunfire immediately ensued.  After that, all she remembered was the bullet, her less than graceful fall and Alucard’s arms.  She would not speak of that, however.  Damn the man, where was he?

            “How—?”  Integra began, cleared her throat and tried again.  “How did you and Walter come to be here?  Come to that, where is ‘here’?” 

            “This is my Da’s old office.”  She scuffed her foot lightly on the floor.  “It was the only place we could think of to go.  We’ve no friends, sir.”  That last was said bitterly.  For the moment, the girlish enthusiasm vanished, replaced by weariness uncommon in one so young.  It faded quickly, and she perked up for the rest of the story.   “I was never arrested.  Alucard came to me shortly after your incarceration, and together we sprung Walter from his confinement at the hospital.”  Seras grinned.  “Honestly, sir, you should have seen Master Alucard!  And the guards, they were petrified!”  She giggled nervously, aware how Integra tended to react to misconduct from her servant.  She was angry.  She wondered what damage Alucard had wrought on the guards.  The thought of the vampire’s rage against human beings, humans who once had hailed her and the Hellsing Organization as comrades, made her furious.  What of the Queen, and her oath as a Knight of England?  The Queen likely had a death warrant now with Integra’s name on it.  Even more likely as it was high treason committed by a knight.  Her eyes closed again, listening to Seras’ voice drone on excitedly about Alucard’s prowess in killing officers of Her Majesty’s army.  How could he act so rashly, so arrogantly?  More than that, what induced him to deliberately disregard his loyalties to Integra?  At that, a tinge of fear settled through her.  He had acted entirely independently of her orders, of his seal with her family.  Ignoring Ambrose’s protests, Integra struggled to sit up and broke through the drivel, speaking bitingly.

            “Where is Alucard?”

 

            The vampire in question was seated on a divan underground.  He mused silently that perhaps the police girl had her uses.  Certainly it was fortunate that her father’s city offices had been maintained by his daughter.  For once, Alucard found himself grateful for such sentimentality.  As it was, said emotions had a way of getting him into trouble.  Such as now.  Three days after the attack in Integra’s cell, and he still wasn’t up to par.  His wounds from the mercury still burned, though the bullets had long since disintegrated into his amorphous substance, the flesh physically healed.  His powers were weak.  His desire, his need for blood peaked.  Without the organization, he had none of the convenient, albeit distasteful blood packets provided him.  While he knew lack of blood would not kill him—at this point he seriously doubted anything could—it was certainly most uncomfortable. 

Integra had expressly forbidden him to drink directly from human beings.  Aside from the single exception with that disgusting journalist Kim, he was commanded to never again molest a human being.  Those were her exact words.  But he knew she’d watched, fascinated and longing.  He felt it; even as he drained Kim, all his senses were trained on Integra.  She hated that human woman as much as he did, and enjoyed his feeding just as he did.  He remembered Integra’s rapid heart beat, her chest rising and falling rapidly, the barely audible breath hissing between her lips.  Her face remained stoic on the outside—it was one of her many talents—but he knew how she felt.  He didn’t need to read her mind to tell she was aroused.  It was—erotic.  He couldn’t have cared less about the journalist girl; it was Integra’s reaction that fueled the fire in his veins. 

Alucard shifted in his seat, made uncomfortable not only from his wounds but the hardness he felt between his legs.  Not the first time, certainly.  Integra woke him up in more ways than one that night ten years ago.  He hadn’t been so aroused since—well, best not to think about how long it’d been. 

            Alucard lay prostrate on his back.  It disgusted him, being this weak.  He’d have to find a way to overcome this meager vulnerability of his.

            “Mercury!”  He spat out between his teeth.  The sound tasted like dead blood in his throat.  Immune to silver, holy water, blessings, starvation and hell only knew what else; but tiny little mercury bullets could wreak such havoc on his body.  He was uncomfortable with the idea.  But then it seemed like there were many tiny things that affected him in the most surprising ways. 

            Take Integra, for instance.  Treacherous, how his mind continually returned to her.  He’d betrayed himself, that moment in the cellar, that dungeon in which he’d been forced to rot into oblivion.  The seal had been broken.  Part of the bargain between master and slave, between Hellsing and Alucard was trust.  At that, Alucard grinned.  Well, perhaps not trust precisely, but recognition of mutual need.  Hellsing had the potential, so he’d claimed, to smear Alucard’s insubstantial existence into the floors of the castle if he were so inclined.  And Alucard supposed he could have.  He knew for a fact that Integra possessed such ability.  Hellsing in turn, found Alucard’s powers quite convenient.  In reality though, Hellsing simply liked to be called “master”.  Alucard noticed the British had a tendency toward control issues.  But it was true throughout the human species that there were those who ruled and those who were to be ruled.  Alucard was not one to be ruled.  He’d abided it over the centuries as a diversion.  At least, that was what he told himself. 

            That night in the cellar was his freedom.  It should have been.  He’d intended it to be so.  From the moment he’d felt Integra’s presence in the world, even in his comatose state he could sense her, smell her, feel her every breath, her lashes—slightly darker than her platinum hair—brush against her cheek as she closed her eyes at night to sleep.  He planned it from the beginning.  She would be his freedom.  Not revenge, never revenge.  A being as old as Alucard had no use for revenge.  Every human would die off eventually, and in Hellsing’s line of work the end would likely be violent.  Alucard didn’t care about humans.  Of course, the odd one every now and then amused him for more than just appetite…

            Alucard shifted again, gingerly straightening a leg.  If he could just lie here undisturbed for a few days, everything would be alright.  He dimly wondered if Integra would consent to a hunt. 

            Ironic, really, that the object of his freedom would become the woman of his obsession.  A chain in her own right, forged irreparably to him.  In her, he truly had become the slave he so despised.  How very Hegelian, he thought, and closed his eyes.

           

            “Where is he?”  Integra abandoned the idea of sitting up.  Above all she would not make a scene or provide her underlings with proof of frailty.  Though it galled her, she would lie in bed and order her servant to come to her.  That was how things were done anyway. 

            “He’s down below, in the storage basement.”  Why was he avoiding her?  Usually he missed no opportunity to taunt her in the midst of her human weaknesses.  An alien thought occurred to her.  Was he injured?  Surely not!  For that matter, Integra wasn’t entirely certain the monster could be truly hurt.  Weakened, certainly, but outright put down?  Seras was still talking.  “—mercury bullets.  Would you like me to call him?”  By call she meant psychically.  Unnerving how quickly a vampire’s power grows. 

            “No, leave him.  And leave me.  I wish to be alone.”  To think, sleep, cry.  Unshed tears would cloud her eyes at the loss of her purpose.  Her knighthood stripped and her holy obligation in ruin.  Her men dead or imprisoned.  It wasn’t the title Integra mourned, but her place in life.  She’d found her purpose and was damn good at it.  When it was stripped from her, her life went with it.  A wounded and bleeding fugitive of her liege’s justice, with naught but a limping old man and two vampires to aid her.  And a bumbling doctor, though who Dr. Ambrose was and how long she’d stay Integra had no idea.  Not that it mattered.

            Seras and Dr. Ambrose left the room, leaving Walter propped up against the wall.  Integra was loathe to move the injured man; he looked nearly as bad as she did, and his sleeping would not disturb her own.  She turned her head away and closed her eyes.  There was so much to do, but nothing to do at all.  Normally, there’d be paper work up to her ears, always a new horde of undead to face off.  There was always someone, or something, that wanted her dead.  Well, she thought miserably, at least that had not changed.  Tomorrow.  She would think on what to do tomorrow.

 

            Cold hands pressed against her face, turning it, directing her gaze.  Soft, reptilian lips brushed against hers, a tongue seeking admittance.  Integra hesitated one moment, leaning in to the embrace before she pushed away.  Low, feminine laughter echoed in her head.  Around her were walls, grey and smooth.  The floor was smooth and cool. 

            “Integra.  Push away now, but how long will you continue?  You deny your pet, but will you, can you deny me?”  Something long and thin and silver was in Integra’s hands.  She ran her finger down it, bemused and curious.  Red clouded her vision, and a feminine shriek reverberated down the walls, slinking into the floor, gliding across Integra’s bare feet.  She looked at her hands, and her fingers were bleeding.

Integra woke up to a change in the air.  Though nearly imperceptible, she’d grown used to the small alterations in space and matter Alucard made by his presence.  The air was heavier, substantial.  No longer just air, but Alucard himself.  She turned over slowly and gazed up him.

            His hat was off, but his yellow tinged glasses remained perched above his nose, his red eyes gleaming over the rim. 

            Integra cleared her throat, blinking fuzzily in the dark.  She fumbled at the table beside her for her glasses, succeeding only in knocking them to the floor.  A mumbled curse spilled from her lips.  Alucard bent and picked them up, examining the lens and the nosepiece.  He studied it like it was a foreign object.  Integra watched, curious as to what he was going to do, and not a little concerned by his proximity.  She was aware of her scant clothing, the light shirt open to her chest, exposing unbound cleavage.  Finally, Alucard placed the glasses on her face, settling them lightly on her nose. 

            “What are you doing here?”  She asked quietly.  She didn’t want to wake up Walter.  But glancing over to his post on the chair, she became slightly alarmed that he was, in fact, gone.  When had he left?  Why?  Now she was alone with Alucard.  Not that she hadn’t had occasion to be alone with him before.  But tonight she was lying wounded and vulnerable in bed, scantily clad. 

            “You called me here, don’t you remember?”  He meant earlier.  When she first awakened.  Had he heard her thoughts then?  She should have suspected it, but the idea still disturbed her.  What time was it?  For that matter, what day was it?  She’d been too out of it with exhaustion and pain to pay much attention to anything Seras told her. 

            Integra sat up slowly, feeling as though someone were pulling apart her insides.  Wincing slightly, she pointedly ignored Alucard’s intense gaze.

            “What did you dream?”  He asked her softly.  Integra stopped struggling and went very still.  Her breath stopped for one moment before she continued, as though he’d asked her what she was having for tea.

            “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Alucard.  Is that why you came?”  She’d succeeded in propping herself up against the wall.  She looked around and realized she was on a futon that had been unfolded into a bed.  She could feel the metal bars beneath her body; one was poking her in a very uncomfortable place.  “I was led to believe that your injuries were too gruesome for you to move.”  Her voice was in part mocking, part inquiring.  His face went blank, eyes hardening, mouth set in a grim line. 

            “Mercury bullets.  They are of no trouble now.”  Integra nodded absently.  She was preoccupied with her dream.  She’d never seen the woman who kissed her, who demanded her attention.  She felt like she knew her though.  When the woman kissed her, Integra had felt a shock of recognition, surging through her.  She knew who that woman was; she knew they’d met at some other time.  The thought disturbed her greatly.  More than once before, Integra had dreams that proved to be prophetic. 

            Integra’s eyes narrowed when she realized that Alucard’s gaze was fixed to her lap.  They were murky, almost black the red was so dark  He looked—hungry.  She’d only ever seen that look on his face when she first began menstruating.  After she realized his reaction, Integra had ordered Alucard to stay away from her at that time of the month.  Now she looked down and was startled to see her hand bleeding.  It wasn’t much, but the blood ran between her fingers.  She lifted her hand and frowned, studying the blood in the dark.  Her eyes widened, remembering her dream.  It couldn’t be.  It wasn’t possible.

            Alucard was suddenly leaning over her, his glasses gone, and picked up her hand.  She tried to jerk back, but he held fast. 

            “Let go of me this instant.”  She snarled in a low voice.  Alucard ignored her.  Her protests died when he raised her hand to his mouth, smelling the blood, closing his eyes against her skin.  His tongue darted out to taste, and Integra let a soft gasp of fear escape.  How dared he?  How dared he touch her, lick her, drink from her?  This time, when she snatched her hand back, he let her go.

            Alucard tasted the silver in her blood.  And he felt a bit of her dream, not much, but he tasted the woman’s lips as though they rested on his.  Heard her soft, cooing voice in his head.  Integra cradled her hand and glared at him, malice brewing in her eyes.

            “How did you injure yourself?”  He asked her.

            “Get out!”  Integra spat angrily.  She swept her hand angrily to the door.  Alucard remained where he was.  Integra was chilled by his expression.  Was that—was that fear she saw on his mouth?  Impossible.  Even when Incognito made himself known, Alucard had delighted in the challenge.  “Get out, now.”  Integra repeated.  Alucard hesitated a moment, then spoke.

            “We must speak of this.  You must tell me what you saw, what you did.”  Then he merged into the wall and disappeared.  Integra dropped her hand and sat a moment, breathing, thankful she could still breathe.  He was too presumptuous.  He enjoyed frightening her.  But tonight, she sensed there was something brewing behind those eyes.  Something was wrong, if Alucard was on edge.

 

 

A/N:  I tried to keep all in character.  If I failed, let me know.  So yeah, I’m a review whore, (but not the kind that refuses to update without them).  Hope you like.  I can promise that the rating will go higher.  If it gets to be too racy, you’ll find this fic either on my website or aff.net.  I’ll let y’all know if and when that happens.  Oh, and I guess I should note that I’ve only seen the anime.  I’ve never read the manga.  Dunno how it affects the fic, but there you go.