LETTERS FROM HELLSING XIV

By the time Walter returned, I had worked my way up to the top of the spiral staircase in the corner by the windows which allowed access to the books on the second story level via a floating balcony. I had tucked myself up into the railing of the top turn, (I often find stairs more comfy than conventional seating. I am also partial to a nice sturdy shelving cart), and was surrounded by several interesting volumes I had accumulated along the way. I was so absorbed in the books that I didn’t notice him until I heard him politely clear his throat.

“Ms. Doyle?”

“Mr. Dollneaz?”

He was standing at the base of the stairs a bemused expression on his face as if he were trying to determine the best method of explaining to me the use of those pretty objects often referred to as chairs or perhaps he was just remembering the last time he had to deal with me on a staircase. I could not help but smile.

“I see you managed to find one or two things to your liking?”

“Oh yes! I don’t suppose I could borrow one?”

“As many as you wish.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I quickly gathered up the books around me into a nice, neat stack, scooped them into my arms then, using my chin to steady the pile, proceeded to wobble my way down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, Walter examined my enormous
stack with a critical eye.

“Are you sure you want so many?”

“Oh, um, too many?”

“No, if you think you can carry them.” He said. “Of course you could always take a few now then get the rest tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, I can bring you back here again tomorrow, if you would like.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I trotted over to a table and lowered my stack. I tried sorting them by age, dewy decimal order, even by color and size but could not produce a single volume I wished to leave behind. I stared at the stack hopelessly. Come on girl get a grip, I chided myself, this isn’t exactly “Sophie’s Choice”. Shaking my head at my own greed, I reached out and grabbed three volumes.
A book on illuminated manuscripts, a quirky pre WWI pastoral novel and, of course, a collection of the works of Jules Verne. I gave the remaining books an affectionate pat before turning to Walter. “Should I re-shelve these?”

“No need. You will want to look at them tomorrow.” He said opening the door for me.

The door leading to the hall.

Which lead to the elevator.

Which lead back to that horrible place.

Yet, somehow in that moment, I did not mind so much. Seras had promised to come visit me as soon as she woke up that evening and Walter had armed me books to read while the staff ignored me in the lab the next morning.

A friend. I had a friend. Somehow, just knowing there was one person in this horrible place who gave a damn about me. Who cared how I felt or even if I lived or died. Somehow, it made rest of it almost bearable. And now, a library to explore and books to read? I was actually fairly close to almost not being miserable.

I glanced up at Walter with my own appraising look as I approached the door. Who exactly was he?

More than a butler? Obviously.

Powerful? Yes. From what little I had seen and heard he seemed to rule over the household with unquestioned authority. Even over the lab staff.

Dangerous? Possibly.

Smart? Definitely!

Who was he to me?

My boss? My chaperon? My warden? Unknown.

A friend? I don’t think he makes friends.

An ally? Too soon to tell.

Well, whatever his motives, he had done me a great kindness today and I would not forget it.

That night with Seras, there was more laughter and less tears. We gossiped, sang, and told each other funny stories as we played some old board games she had dug up from somewhere. We even tried to talk Walter into playing Snakes and Ladders with us when he showed up with dinner. His polite refusal and look of mild horror at our appearance, (we had “done” each other’s hair*), sent us into giggling fits very unbecoming of both a young vampire and a professional librarian.

*Most men just don’t understand the therapeutic value of girls “doing” each others hair. It’s a form of bonding. It’s not meant to look good. Boys hurl phlegm and punch each other. Girls go through each others purses and do unspeakable things to each others hair. Judging from the incredulous look on Walter’s face, Sir Integra had obviously not hosted a lot of slumber parties as a child.

--------------------------

Over the next week or so we settled into something of a routine. Mornings were spent trying to get the lab staff to refer to me in the first person. Then, around midday, usually after one good departing jab with the needle from miss Pringle, Walter would fetch me for some exercise or “Walkies” as I liked to call it. Not from any low self esteem issues or anything mind you, I just like to make Seras giggle when I say it. We would wander through different areas of the manor but somehow always ended up back at the library just as my legs were giving out so I could take a “little rest” while Walter attended to “one or two things”.

While we walked, our conversation touched on a wide variety of subjects but we never seemed to discuss my alleged humanity or current events. He was always particularly interested in what I was reading. He was quite well read and despite the fact that there seemed to be very little modern fiction in the collection, he seemed to be up on most of my favorite new authors. I suspect, like so many bibliophiles, he was an intellectual snob on the surface but in the secret recesses of his heart he longed for pulp fiction.

If only my little boy were with me I could almost be content in this weird Gothic novel my life had become. His absence hurt worse than my still aching wounds. Still, every afternoon for a few hours, I had free reign of the library. That, and my friendship with Seras, were the best medicine this place had to offer. I wanted to find a way to thank Walter for the walks and not telling the lab about the time Seras and I were spending together. Verbal expressions of gratitude were always deflected or dismissed but the book in the bindery had given me an idea of how I might do it.

My nights belonged to the undead. Well, an undead anyway. I only saw Alucard on rare occasions and usually then he only popped into my room to say something cruel to Seras or something disturbingly ominous to me or just something horrible to us both. He seemed to take great pleasure in berating his little “creations”. Usually though it was just Seras and me and no one else. Apparently, I was being ostracized because no one knew for sure what it is I was. Seras, on the other hand, was being ostracized because everyone knew for certain exactly what she was. So what, we had each other.

We mostly hung out in my room. Seras would sometimes sneak me a treat from the kitchens to supplement the horribly bland diet Dr. Levin had me on. She would use her “abilities” to sneak in and out unseen. Where the cook must of thought all of the roast beef and Oreos were going I don’t know.

We would play cards or board games or do puzzles. Mostly what Seras liked is when I sang to her. There was no radio or TV in our rooms, the stone walls, floors and ceilings making reception impossible and my Walkman had been lost that night in the theater never to be found, so I was the only music box in town so to speak.

-----------

One evening, we were a bit bored. Forty years of television addiction had taken its toll and I was feeling a bit cranky. “Hundreds of rooms in this place, you would think there would be a television somewhere!” I lamented.

“Well, there’s a set up in the offices and one in the control center for monitoring the press but they’re for official use only.” She said listlessly trying to add another card to the fifteen story “house” she had built.

Official use only, I believed it. The thought of Sir Integra scarfing down a pizza whilst watching Eastenders was just too ludicrous to contemplate. I sighed.

“Then there’s the set in the barracks lounge,” she said “but we couldn’t go there.”

“Why not?” I asked smelling an opportunity.

“Well, it’s for staff.”

“We’re Staff.” I challenged.

“But the squad uses it when they’re off duty or on call.”

“You’re in the squad. You’re on call.”

“Yes but...”

“But?”

“Well, I don’t think they want me there.”

“Why?”

“Because...because of what I am.”

“Because you are a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Let me get this straight.” I said beginning to feel a bit angry. “You go out on missions with them?”

“Yes”

“You protect them?”

“Yes”

“They trust you with their lives?”

“I suppose.”

“But, they don’t want you to spend time in the lounge with them?”

She looked at the floor. And said nothing.

“You’re good enough to fight beside them but not good enough to hang out with them?!” I said. I was really getting mad. Seras continued to look at her shoes. I glared at her. “Have you ever tried just showing up in there and making them deal with it?”

“Yes.” She said quietly.

“Well, what happened?”

She looked up at me, miserable. “No one would talk to me. Some of them even left the room. Afterwords the captain said I shouldn’t come back because it made the men uncomfortable.”

I was enraged. “That is one of the most ridiculously asinine things I have ever heard! Big brave combat hardened troops can't even deal with one little vampire? Big giant babies more like!” I was so angry I could barely see. How dare they treat Seras like this! “You are going back there tonight!”

“They’ll just ignore me.”

“So what?”

“I’ll have no one to talk to.”

“Yes you will cause I’m going with you! Let them sit and sulk if they want. We won’t care!”

She was staring at me horrified. “No, you can’t!”

“Why ever not?”

“They won’t talk to you either.”

“Sure they will. I’m quite charming you know.”

“No. You don’t understand. They think you might be... Well that is, no one actually saw what Alucard did to you and well, they’re afraid that you might be also, you know...”

“A vampire?” I laughed.

“Well yes.”

“Really?”

“Um, well they’re not sure.”

“Reeeally?” I said thoughtfully glancing at my dinner tray. Evil plans began to take shape.

“Seras dear?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you can get your hands on some celery?”