Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Lamb to the Slaughter ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Lamb to the Slaughter

Chapter One

by Muscolic (better living through political incorrectness)

Standard Disclaimer: Hellsing does not belong to the authors of this work of fanfiction. Suing will only get you about $80's and some pocket lent. This shall be the only disclaimer.

It was an oddly beautiful night in the ruins of Montségur perched precariously on the French Pyrenees. The blood red crescent of a moon had risen slowly, occasionally obscured by ethereal clouds that moved like dark riders bleeding across the sky. Man-made thunder echoed through out the crumbling Cathar castle sending loose stone tumbling down the ancient mountainside.

"Do you honestly thinking you could possibly kill me, you pathetic human?!" Alucard roared, mocking the battered man he held by the throat. Smirking at the hateful gaze of his intended prey Alucard raised the man with impossible ease, enjoying the almost frantic clawing of his victims large hands trying to gain freedom from what would surely be a fatal grip.

Choking on blood and saliva as his throat was being slowly crushed in the grip of the No Life King; Alexander Anderson struggled feebly as he felt the energy draining from his limbs as the oxygen content of his blood was approaching a critical low. Green eyes burning with hatred he loosened his grip on the monster's arm and allowed his arms to hang limp, suppressing a low moan as he felt the tendons and bone of his neck straining in the impossibly strong hand of his enemy. Fighting unconsciousness, Father Anderson shuddered as he made one last ditch effort to free him self. Flicking his right wrist forward there was a quick glint of silver in the bloody moon light before it was buried in the stomach of the vampire holding him.

"No! Master!"

A figure in a powder blue uniform carrying a large anti-tank weapon erupted from the shadows. A she ran, her crimson eyes widened with fear as she watched her master snarl and throw the lanky paladin through one of the newly restored stained glass windows of the Cathar cathedral.

Watching with fear as her master pulled the offending blessed sword from his torso; Seras ran her tongue nervously over her needle sharp fangs. The Judas priest scared her, he seemed almost as strong as her master and just as violently determined on his mission.

Alexander Anderson crashed through the window in a beautiful rain of colored glass and falling scaffolding. The few brief seconds it took him to fall seemed and eternity as he braced himself for impact, knowing he'd survive but it would make him vulnerable to an attack by the abomination. His free falls was jerked to a sudden stop as he felt the wires from the scaffolding tighten around his arms, jerking him to a stop a few feet from the ground. The groaning of shearing steel screamed and echoed around the room as a weakened part of the structure collapsed flinging Anderson to the ground and into the arms unconsciousness.

Groaning, Anderson opened his brilliant green eyes. Everything hurt, even his hair. Struggling, he tried to move only to find his arms tangled above his head in the suspension wires of the scaffolding. Shaking his head to clear the lingering cobwebs from his mind, Anderson realized that he was on his knees and completely at the mercy of anyone that entered the cathedral.

He felt the blood pounding in his head, the constant beat drum of his heart collaborating with it in a hideous tattoo. It make him shudder, sending waves of mixed horror and outrage down his spine. That bastard of a vampire...degrading him down to this level of humiliation. Is there no peace for the Heaven's Punisher?

"Apparently not."

Anderson's head jerked up to meet the cold fiery red of his nemesis's eyes, and snarled with indignant frustration. Longing for even a splinter, a fork, anything sharp enough to stab one of those leering orbs out, the monster's subordinate just had to show up then. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening in disbelief. The enemy she so had feared for so long....was captured?

Impossible. Simply...impossible.

"Master. You finally got him...you...how?"

The elder vampire simply grinned, and pointed upwards with childish glee.

"The mystery and balance of cathedral windows. Police Girl, what you see before you is what we call a mistake. A mistake in blood, a mistake in genes, a mistake in the race of humanity itself. A worthy being for minor usage perhaps, and seemingly invincible; but the paradox can be solved the most simplest of ways. A bullet from my gun would do, maybe two or three.....but the choice is up to you."

Seras turned her gaze back to the silent, ensnared priest. His bright green eyes were lowered in shame and his hands were up in the air as if in a silent plea, and she couldn't help the trickle of pity that ran through her. He was the ultimate bloodthirsty hunter, a madman, Van Hellsing's deranged incarnation; a mortal that seemed as inhuman as the creatures he stalked....but nevertheless, he was still a living creature. Her eyes flicked over to the Jackal in her Master's hand. A living creature...but, not for long. Her Halcannon, which seemed so light as she ran from the shadows, grew heavier and heavier with each passing, aching moment. She had dreamed of this moment for a long time now. She had rehearsed her last words to the priest, dreaming of the delight she would have taken in seeing his face distort before it relaxed into Death's mask.

But not like this. Never like this. This....was heartbreaking. Evil. Sinful. To kill when one was helpless was, to her, worse than drinking the blood of a child.

"No."

"No, police girl?" inquired Alucard, his crimson eyes widening in mock shock. Smiling sardonically, cruelly, the tall vampire put away his awesome weapon and walked a complete circle around the snarling priest. "No, I didn't think you would, little coward."

Ashamed at having failed her master yet again, Seras cast her eyes to the ground, hoping to hide the tears that threatened to pour down her cheeks at any time. Fighting back a sob, she asked for forgiveness. In an instant her master was before her, tipping her head up with gentle finger tips to meet his gaze.

Pursing his lips as if to speak, Alucard was interrupted by the hoarse laughter of the ensnared priest; frowning, he released Seras' chin and turned to face the laughing priest.

"You pathetic abomination; can't even get your servant girl to obey you? I'm truly honored to see a mutiny in the ranks of the devil." Anderson spat out, enjoying the dark look that flickered briefly in Alucard's crimson eyes. Grimacing as the dull pain of his flesh regenerating and knitting itself together as his body slowly healed itself from his previous fight and fall through the window, Anderson coughed and smirked up at his enemies. "Not even the mark of Lucifer can taint the soul of the pure, you stupid demon." Softening his voice and expression, the priest addressed the wide eyed young vampire as she peeped at him from behind her master, "Child, turn away from this dark path and liberate me and I shall set you free…"

Anderson's address to Seras was cut off sharply by Alucard back handing the bound priest hard enough to hear the cracking of bone.

"Know your place, human. If I were you, I'd be praying to my impotent god for salvation." Watching a thin stream of blood drip down the cheek of the stunned paladin, Alucard paused briefly before wiping the warm stickiness from Anderson's face with one long white glove covered finger. Bringing the bloodied material to his lips, the vampire tasted the Judas Priest's blood.

Seras watched her master intently, confused by his actions. She never knew exactly what the elder vampire was thinking and he had her more confused than ever. A few seconds ago he was comforting her like a father, now he was sucking on his bloodied glove after having nearly smashed the Iscariot priest's face in. Moving her gaze from her master to the monster that haunted her dreams, Seras found herself once again pitying the entrapped man. Had he not tried to kill her or her master on several occasions, she might have called him handsome. As it were, he was beautiful. Deadly. Coldly. Beautiful.

Both Seras and Anderson visibly flinched when the chamber was filled suddenly with the echoing baritone of Alucard's laughter. Meeting the confused red gaze of the young police woman, Anderson blinked then lifted his gaze to the tall man standing above him. Catching the gleeful look that Alucard was giving him, Anderson felt a sinking feeling of dread over come him. It seems that death would not come easy this night.

"Oho…it seems that our dear priest here has been keeping secrets, police girl!" a very amused Alucard sniggered as he grabbed Seras' hands and dragged her closer to where Anderson knelt. Smiling knowingly and triumphantly, Alucard cupped Anderson's chin and forced him to look at the very confused police girl. Baring his fangs in a horrible grin, Alucard turned to Seras and asked, "Do you remember what I asked you that night in Cheddar, Seras Victoria?"

Blinking at the suddenness and obscurity of the question, Seras ran her tongue over the tips of her fangs before stuttering out her answer, "You…you asked if I were…a…well, a virgin."

Green eyes burning with hate and the beginnings of panic, Anderson realized where the big vampire's train of logic was heading and started struggling against the wire cables that held his arms and the impossibly strong hand that held his face. A not so gentle shake of the hand holding his chin had Anderson fighting unconsciousness as he listened to Alucard continue.

"Very good, police girl. Now put that quick mind of yours to work…what would this pathetic human and you have in common?"

Eyes widening in shock and a little bit of amusement, Seras looked first at her master then at the burning green eyes of Anderson, "Wha? You…you mean he is a…?"

"Virgin? Oh yes, Father Alexander Anderson is…untouched," answered Alucard, his red eyes dancing with amusement. "Now my little coward, I give you two choices."

Whipping her gaze back to Alucard, Seras shakily asked, "Master?"

Reaching into his jacket, Alucard produced his Jackal and extended it to Seras, "The choice is yours, police girl. Either fill his worthless head full of silver or," pausing for effect, and grinning wolfishly Alucard studied the reaction of his servant then continued. "Or, you can…turn him. Make him yours. The choice is yours, police girl."

Bringing a trembling hand to her lips, Seras looked at her master with horror, "I…I can't kill him…"

"Then you know what you must do, police girl."

"But…"

"Surely the blood of such a prize is tempting, is it not? I know you hear it screaming through his veins just as much as you can smell its sweetness already covering his skin." Leaning closer to his student, Alucard whispered his order, "Taste him. Take him. Make him yours, police girl."

Taste him...take him...mingle blood with blood and heart with heart. So dangerously simple. So killingly real. So deliciously wrong.

Could this be real? Her master's eyes burned into her, the red dripping with joyful aloofness that sent a chill down her back. She turned her head back to the half conscious paladin, who had his head bowed and breathing hoarsely. His hands were still up in his pain, the red on his face covering his lips. She saw the strong hands...the wine on his lips....his strength would be comes hers and hers alone. His will would meld with her and he would learn to love her if possible. She wanted it to be.

Want. Selfish, undying want that made her lick her lips and set fireworks alight in her brain. He could be hers. He would never try to kill them again, once he was hers. He would be happy, once he understood. He'd be happy with her...he'd be very happy in fact...wasn't she suitable for his needs, his desires, the cravings?

Was she..?

Seras gulped only once, and walked shakily towards the fallen priest. Alucard smiled widely; a drink AND a show...what his utter luck! If only dear Sir Integra or even dearest, traitorous Radu could see him now! They would gawk with utter horrified jealousy if they knew. Too bad he had killed poor Radu. May his spirit be clinging to the rooftop and peering down agape.

He laughed quietly as he whipped off his glasses, and sat down on a pew. He watched intently as Seras kneeled before Alexander, lifting a nervous hand to brush away a few bloody droplets near his eyes. Feeling the ripping urge to announce tonight's event ala wrestling style, he caught himself in time before his voice boomed out the sardonic words...after all, they were in a church, and a statue falling would totally ruin the tedious mood.

Seras took a deep breath as she took the priest's head in her hands. "I'm sorry...am I hurting you?" she whispered as she used both hands to lift his chin up to meet her eyes with his closed ones. Letting out a groan, he opened one eye and lifted his head with the most painful of movements. Fire raged in his neck, and for once he cursed God for his regenerating powers.

"If I said yes, would you take pleasure in it?"

Seras shook her head fervently as she moved closer to pillow his head on her shoulder. Anderson shuddered when he felt her cold skin, holding himself stiffly as she leaned into his bulk. Her hand came up flittingly to touch the back of his head, and maternally wrapped a arm around his torso. She was so young...fresh and new and unbroken...innocent and so much like him it hurt. Her cold skin against his cheek, a lovely, steel wrapped in silk pressed tightly against his body, feeling the ripeness of her bosom containing the unbeating heart...if she had not been dead, he would have declared her holy.

"I can do this...we can do this....it will only hurt a little and then it will be all right..." she whispered into his ear. "Then no pain. It's...it's like getting a shot of morphine from the doctor, only...nicer. You'll see..."

She drew away and studied his face intently, licking her lips nervously. He opened his eyes and stared at her with a patient, dead trust that had been hiding away for many years. The open innocence on her face made him want to pray, damning the monster that was forcing her to do this to him. He was ugly and huge and grizzled; an old religious war dog who had the blood of hundreds on his hands. What if he hurt her, ripped her, tore her, squeezed the soft little throat as they entwined? Would the monster laugh at their pain? Why here? Why must she be dead? Why was he the chosen man of God? Why not in a normal bed, with normal bodies, with normal hearts, with normal lives?

A million questions ran through his head and fled as she leaned in with parted lips.

The cool press of her lips against his forehead, the smell of her shampoo and the gentle caress of her fingers against his scarred cheek sent a shiver of anticipation mixed with fear down his spine. His eyes drifted closed at the gentle contact, and his racing heart seemed to calm. The gentle press of her lips moved down his face, lightly fluttering over his own blood smeared lips, and then lightly tracing his scar down his jaw line to his throat and to where his pulse was the strongest. A slight prickling sensation told him that the police girl was taking her time to taste and test his flesh her sharp teeth barely brushing the trembling surface above his pulse. His breath hitching in his throat, Anderson braced himself for the tearing sensation when those now gentle teeth would turn violent and she would begin to feed.

As if sensing his apprehension, Seras murmured, "Shhh…it's okay, it won't hurt." That said, she licked the tender flesh just a few bare inches from his ear and as gently as she could, sank her teeth into Anderson's external jugular vein. The warmth that flooded her mouth was sweeter than any candy she had ever had as a human and as soon as the first droplets reached her throat, instinct took over.

The burning, ripping sensation of flesh being rendered and savaged that Anderson was expecting never came. Instead he felt the quick prick of needle like teeth then the building of heat from the bite that spread throughout his body. The fire raged through his veins, soothing and calming his fears. 'So this is death,' he thought as his body began to feel warm and heavy, as if he was slipping into a drug induced slumber. But before he fell into the gentle arms of eternity another spark began burning replacing the fading warmth of life. This was a burning need to touch and taste.