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Chapter 7: The Diaries of Abraham Van Hellsing
The young vampiress grinned mercilessly as she drained the blood from the teenage girl, her long red hair swishing furiously behind her, almost as though it reflected her mood. Her eyes hummed a deep crimson song, sparkling in the dark. When she had finished, she dropped the body to the ground, smiling with satisfaction as she licked her lips.
"Enjoy your meal?" said the man behind her. He wore an amused smirk.
"Yes, Master," she said, breathing hungrily.
"Hmm, you still seem to want something," he noted, reading into her thoughts. Her face turned a brilliant shade of crimson, her eyes falling to the floor.
"Why... whenever I kill...?" she whispered, her fingers twisting on the hem of her skirt. "I-I get these urges."
"It's natural," the man replied, snaking his hand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You shouldn't fight what's natural."
Her face turned even redder; tentatively, she reached up to him, moving her lips closer to his. When she began to hesitate, he overcame her doubts by finishing what she could not, pulling her into the beginnings of a deep, passionate kiss that ended in so much more.
July 19, 1885
Dr. Kupfur and I spend many hours discussing his theory. I am skeptical about the existance of these "vampires," though the name is not unfamiliar to me. There have always been tales of fierce blood suckers in the more remote portions of the world, though I would just as quickly believe those to be exaggerated truths of maniacal warlords and disturbed men.
I convey my doubts to him and he smiles his knowing smile, bidding me to rise and accompany him. We leave the lecture hall through a door I have never passed, and find ourselves in a small private laboratory of sorts, Dr. Kupfur's if I am not mistaken. He requests that I keep our conversation quiet and once I have conceded, he moves to the large cold drawers at the back of the room, the ones I suspect contain the recently deceased who chose to donate their bodies to the worthy cause of science.
He selects a drawer in the middle row, second column (out of five) from the end. I note that it has no label describing its occupant. Dr. Kapfur beckons me closer and I examine the body of a young woman, beautiful in the face, and yet alarmingly pale, even for one who is deceased. Dr. Kapfur explains to me that her blood has been removed, but not by any of the scientists. She was brought to him not a day ago, and she is not the first of her kind he has seen.
He clarifies his meaning by tilting her head so that her neck is exposed. It is then that I notice two small puncture wounds side by side on the ivory flesh. He closes the drawer when I am satisfied, and removes a log from which he reads every account of a victim with no blood in their body. He is patient with my insecurities and refutes my questions quite amiably.
By the time we depart, I, myself, am wondering if a vampire could truly exist. I tell nothing of our discussion to Elizabeth, having no desire to worry her. I have often observed that she fears that which is out of the ordinary. She has prepared lamb tonight; I eat it in silence, pondering my dealings with Dr. Kapfur. He strikes me as a man of good intelligence and sanity, so I am inclined to investigate the truth behind his theories.
Seras grumbled silently, shutting the first of ten volumes of Abraham Van Hellsing's diaries and re-shelving it. She'd been searching for hours and still she had found nothing. Perhaps she would get a clue from his actually enslavement of Alucard.
She randomly selected the seventh volume. She had read most of the sixth, and that was where he had first heard about "Dracula," and had failed to slay him when the two met. Abraham had referred to it in the following way:
I begin to wonder which of us is the hunter and which the hunted. He toys with me, a smile stolen from the devil himself carved into his noble, haunting features. He does not sleep by day as a normal vampire would. When I attempted to burn him in his coffin, he surprised me most cruelly. I fear my arm will not heal easily, particularly in these circumstances. I managed to escape after our second clash with no intention of returning for a third without better preparation. Tomorrow I depart to London to seek the help of a long forgotten friend.
Seras opened the seventh diary in her lap and flipped to the fifth entry, reading curiously.
November 5, 1886
Today, I learn a horrible truth. I make my way up the marble steps of Oxford, my ready notes stowed in my briefcase. I inquire from a young receptionist as to the location of Dr. Daniel Kapfur's office. She informs me that Dr. Kapfur is no longer living. When I press her for information, she admits that the university has succeeded in keeping his manner of death relatively quiet, and she knows only that he was out of town when he was killed. My better judgement tells me that his demise was not a coincidental one. I ask if his wife is still living in London and she gives me the address.
I waste not time in embarking on this knew journey through mystery. I tell myself that I will see his wife only to offer her my condolences though I know I am deceiving myself. Mrs. Kapfur is at home when I ring the bell; she opens the door, still wearing the black of mourning, and invites me in. Though we have never met, she does not seem surprised to see me. Her hands shake as she brews the tea and asks me to sit down in the parlor.
I tell her how grieved I am. She smiles sadly and tells me a disturbing piece of information. Dr. Kapfur departed for Germany in early September. His body was discovered in a river and identified only by the card in his wallet. His face, she tells me, was horribly mutilated. I again, apologize for having coaxed her to recount the tale to me. I begin to leave, but she holds me back, explaining that a box entitled "Van Hellsing" had been discovered in her husband's office. She asks me to take it and I politely agree, though this knowledge fills me with knew wonder. I begin to ask myself if Dr. Kapfur had known when he began his voyage that he would not be returning.
Out of respect for his wife, I do not review the contents of my prize until I am safely home, and even then I must wait until Elizabeth is asleep to examine them. When she has dozed off, I remove the lid. It contains a leather-bound journal, three sheets of folded paper and a small glass vile. Upon closer examination, I determine that the journal is not Dr. Kapfur's, but instead the property of a James Valerious. Though I cannot place it, the name sounds oddly familiar. Perhaps Dr. Kapfur, no, Daniel, mentioned it during one of our many conversations.
November 6 1866
The journal of James Valerious is no ordinary diary; it is a book of methods. The techniques I have thus far used to destroy the unholy seem as poor as the throwing of rocks compared to those concealed within these pages. Dracula's days are limited. These methods will surely destroy him and free the people of Wallachia from his reign.
November 6 1866. Seras commited the date to memory. Perhaps this was another wild goose chase, but on the other hand, it was a better lead than any they'd had thus far. She yawned and put the diary away for the time being; they'd had a mission ealier that evening and the effort involved had exhausted her.
She sank into the floor, eventually making her way to hers and Alucard's room, slumping onto the lid of the coffin as she felt the sun peaking over the horizon.
"Bed time..." she mumbles, falling through the lid and curling up into a ball. She fell asleep within minutes, her mind empty of all thoughts but one- November 6 1866. "Alucard," she whispered into the empty air, letting the darkness take her into the restful sleep of the dead.
When Seras awoke the next evening, there was still no sign of Alucard. It was possible that he had gone to bed after her and awoken before her, but Seras doubted it. When Alucard slept, he slept. She found it more likely that he had spent the day prowling around the corridors, frightening maids or tying the bootstraps of the soldiers together while they stood at attention.
Smirking to herself, she got to her feet, walking to the table where a fresh blood packet was awaiting her. Beside it on the table was an empty wrapper- so Alucard had at least returned to their chambers for a little while.
She bit down on the blood and drained it hungrily, throwing her wrapper beside her mate's. She proceeded to make her way to Integra's office. She phased through the floor to the room, causing a startled yelp and the cracking of a teacup.
"Oh, sorry, Sir Integra," Seras said apologetically, realizing that she had phased directly through the center of the desk. "Guess my aim was a little off." She stepped onto the floor and straightened her clothes, trying not to look too amused.
"It's quite alright, Seras," Integra replied, though she did not sound entirely forgiving. Walter stood beside her, mopping up the spilled tea with a white rag.
"Are there any missions tonight?" Seras asked, fidgeting with the edges of her gloves.
"No, not that require a vampire," Integra replied, trying to brush the moisture of her files. "Just the death of a family a few miles south of here. Alucard already examined the files. He says it looks like the work of a hungry fledgling."
"Alright then," Seras said with a shrug. "Let me know if you need anything." She was about to leave the room when a thought occurred to her. "Sir Integra," she said, turning back, "if this is the work of a fledgling, then there must be a master nearby as well."
"Yes, logically that would follow," Integra said, a little impatiently.
Seras took a deep breath and continued, "Well, if the only evidence we have is the work of a fledgling, then we have no way of knowing what level the master is. He could be a class-A vampire for all we know. I mean, when I was a fledgling, you'd never guess that I had someone like Alucard behind me."
"Perhaps," Integra agreed, pondering her words.
"So, should I go to? Or would you rather send Alucard?" Seras asked.
"Alucard was dispatched earlier this evening on a mission of utmost importance concerning a string of murders in Wales. He may not return for some time. If you would like, you may accompany the soldiers on their mission."
"May I bring Scipio?" Seras requested in the politest voice she could muster.
"If you wish."
"Thank you, Sir Integra. May I see the file? I'd like to at least know where I'm going..."
Hellsing agents flooded the house, first securing the premises and then investigating the remains of the family. Seras stepped into the house and paused, sniffing the air. Intermingled with the blood was a very familiar scent, though she couldn't quite place it.
"The vampires haven't been here for more than two days," she informed the commander, digging her hands into her pockets lazily. "But they are still in the viscinity. I can feel the fledgling calling me like an alarm bell. The master seems to have masked his identity."
"Then you are certain it's a male?" he asked sharply.
Well, the fledgling is obviously female from her aura, and therefore her master must be a male. Anymore questions? Or can I go put these miserable creatures out of their misery? I want your men to follow behind me at a distance. I'll confront the master and you guys take out the fledgling, understood? Shoot on sight. Even if this is the work of a fledgling, its still an abnormally blood thirsty fledgling. At the stage of vampirism, the child ought to still be resisting the consumption of blood. I can't wait to meet the master!" she added, more to herself than to the commander.
Seras stepped back out onto the street, feeling the cool moonlight wash over her, sending her senses wild. Such a beautiful night,she thought eagerly, walking down the street at an easy pace. She moved in the direction of the fledgling's aura, her tongue curling around her fangs hungrily; she greatly resembled her mate in that she loved a good fight. And on a night like this...
Down one street, then another, up the stoop, through the door. Time to play. Seras reached onto her back where the Harkonnen IX was strapped, awaiting use. She swung it forward, pulling a large shell from her trenchcoat pocket and loading it into the gun, taking a few steps forward.
Seras, having carefully concealed her aura just as the mysterious master did, crept down the long, vacant hallway, her eyes and ears alert. The fledgling was very close, just on the other side of the wall. Seras phased stealthily through it, and found exactly what she was looking for.
A young female was sitting on a couch watching the television, her long red hair flowing over the cushions, completely unaware that she was no longer alone. Seras moved behind her, making not a sound. She walked closer, a devious smile on her face as she bent down right behind the girl and whispered in her ear, "Boo."
The girl jumped with a shriek, rolling from the couch and entering some sort of fighters stance, her fists poised and ready, her crimson eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Who the hell are you?" the girl asked, baring her fangs.
"Your death," Seras said simply, raising the weapon. She pushed down on the trigger, but the explosive shell never made it to the fledgling. Something jumped in front of her, taking the blast, his entire left shoulder complete mauled by the encounter.
"Don't touch her!" the man snarled, drawing himself up as the wound slowly began to heal.
"V-V-Vanya?!" Seras stuttered, lowering her weapon.
Ah, don't you just love those cliffies? XD So now we've got drama on more than one time plane... oh, how thick the plot grows. Next chappie, I'm thinking, Seras goes to the past, but can she survive the methods of the expert vampire hunter and get her hands on that book? But what the hell is Vanya doing in London? Can Seras keep his presence a secret without getting her head blown of by Integra? And has anyone else noticed that it's always Seras who ends up in the obnoxious life-threatening situations? Anyway, review please! And check back later for the update!