I froze in place staring at him in disbelief. Was he really going to break my arm? Was this another test?
Test or not, it didn't matter. Arguing with him was useless and pleading with him would only make him angry. It wasn’t like I could outrun him so, really, my only option was to obey and hope he would change his mind.
I had to force myself to walk towards him. This was worse than the old game. If he decided to hurt me now it would not be an illusion, it would be for real.
I finally stood before him trembling. He stared at me hard for a long time then said, “Give me your arm.” I did not dare to close my eyes or look away. I held out my arm, delivering myself into the jaws of the mother of all tigers. His hand reached out and circled my wrist. “Sit.” He said lightly, indicating the chair next to his and giving my arm a little tug.
I sat. He rested my forearm across the armrests of our two chairs. Our gazes were still locked, his face was unreadable.
“I should you know. I should break your arm.” He said running his finger up and down my exposed wrist and forearm. His touch was as light as a feather, it sent thrills of fear through me. I was screaming with terror inside my head but managed to maintain my outward calm, praying that this was only a test.
He smiled, his eyes glowing as he savored my fear. “Angel how delicious you are. Your fear is so sweet. You will have to learn to control it or no matter how strong your powers get, the next vampire you meet will rip you apart just to taste it.” He stilled his finger over my pulse, slitted his eyes and literally rumbled with pleasure. The vampire blood within me responded to his pleasure, shivering with anticipation of the pain to come.
No, stop! This is sick. I could feel the bile rising in my throat, pushing up against the fear and panic. I began to sweat. It was just a matter of moments before my control snapped and I would begin to scream uncontrollably.
He closed his eyes and sighed. His nostrils flared as he breathed in my scent. “Lovely. So sweet.” His eyes snapped open. "You had better find a way to control that fear fast Angel or I will have to break that arm of yours just to keep myself from drinking every last drop of you.”
Oh my God he’s not kidding. Panic and elation shot through me at the same time. This is so wrong I thought but I had to do something fast so I grabbed on to the feeling of elation and followed it back to its source. To the place within me where Alucard dwelled. It was sick and dark but my blood sang through it, brushing up against it with both revulsion and secret delight. This is where the dark thoughts lived. I held on and rode the feeling through it, past it. Knowing that if I let go now I might be sucked in and lost there forever.
Finally I found it, bumped up against it. My core. I released the sick feeling of elation, wrapped myself around who and what I was and hung on tight. I took a deep breath, recaptured his gaze and looked back at him without fear.
He could break my arm if that’s what he decided. It would hurt dreadfully and I did not want him to but I had no control over that. He was stronger than I and I was in his power. He could tear off my arm if he wished to, tear me apart. He could even kill me but he could not touch me. Not my core anyway. For all his powers, even he could not reach me here without my consent. So I looked at him and for the first time, in a long time, I was not afraid.
He smiled. “Well done Angel.” He said, squeezing my arm. “I shan’t break it today.”
He pulled my hand up and over to his mouth dragging my chair towards his until they came together with an audible click. He brushed his lips against the inside of my wrist. I noticed dispassionately that my pulse quickened with pleasure. He smiled at me again. “But you will still have to be punished. This is the second time you have defied me and I can not let it go again. I have my reputation to consider.”
He tilted his head slightly and gave me a considering look. “Now let’s see...” He said. “It will have to be an appropriate punishment so that you will remember...” He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on my wrist. His glance wandered down to his other hand where he still held the strange lacy net he had woven from my hair. “Yes, that will do nicely.” He smiled. “Turn your head Angel to look at the door and don’t move until I say so.”
I glanced down at his hand then back up into his eyes, then turned my head to face the door. I felt his fingers comb through my hair.
“Ow!” I jumped a bit with surprise but did not turn my head.
“Hold still Angel.”
“What are you? Ow!”
“If you are going to make such a fuss over your hair, the least I can do is make sure it serves some useful function. Ah yes, these and these.”
“Ow!”
“Quiet! You didn’t make this much noise when I was really hurting you.”
“Well, you were strangling me at the time. Eeep!”
“You squawk like a chicken.”
“Those were baby hairs.” I could tell the lesson was over and he was just enjoying himself now.
“You mean like these?”
I hissed painfully and gripped the arms of my chair tightly. “What exactly is it that you are going to do with my hair?”
“Show you in a minute. Almost done.” He was actually humming a tune under his breath. “I like the reddish gold ones they are like blood on new copper.”
“Glimpt!”
“They weave in nicely with the gold and brown. Oh, here’s a grey one. Shall I pluck it for you?”
“Yes, I’ve named it Alucard.”
“Then we’ll just leave it there shall we? Here are two more.”
“They are all named Alucard. Take as many of the grey ones as you want.”
“Hmm. No, they are too stiff and lifeless. I like the others so full of light.” He yanked out a few more and swung his arm around to show them to me. “See? Walter’s right, you do have pretty hair. The strands are very fine, very reflective. Good for weaving and holding power. OK, done. You can move now.”
“Good. Ow!”
“Still needed a couple more.”
“That felt like more than a couple.”
“Squawks like a chicken, squeaks like a rat, gibbers like a monkey. Do you actually make any human noises?”
I turned to see what he was doing, rubbing my tender scalp. Andrew should have no trouble with those connections now, I thought wryly. He was weaving the new hairs into the lacy net giving it layers and making the pattern more and more complex. He had resumed his humming. His fingers were moving impossibly fast.
“Poor Walter.” He mused. “You know he was really something once. Cruel, cunning, arrogant. He knew no fear. He waded through hordes of the undead and killed without quarter.
"He was quite a sight to watch in action. 14 years old and both mortals and eldritch quaked in fear at the thought of him. The carnage was glorious. He truly was the 'Angel of Death'.
"Those were good times. What fun we had.” He smiled fondly at the memory .
“14?”
“Yes, he was beautiful. Full of horror and rage. And oh how he used that rage Angel. Took that bitterness and betrayal and the rape of his childhood and turned it into a powerful and determined hatred. He tore though Europe raining down death and destruction. They fell by the score and still there was never enough blood to slake his thirst.
"And the games Angel, the games we played. He was a master. One of only two humans who ever came close to beating me. What a magnificent vampire he would have made.
"But he wasted it, threw it all away and for what? For honour? A misplaced sense of duty to this house?
“Honour.” He spat out the word distastefully. “It was the one, so-called higher human virtue I never seemed able to cure him of. I blame all of those books that woman gave him to read about King Arthur.
He knew he was different. That others did not seem to relish the violence as much as he. So he sought to change his very nature by chaining himself to some ridiculous and impossible code of ethics instead of accepting and embracing who and what he truly was.”
“Which was?” I asked tightly.
“A born predator. A beautiful and vicious killing machine.”
“He was a boy!” I said angerly, trying hard to fight back the tears. “Who does this to a boy!? Turns him over to a vampire, teaches him to kill?”
“He was feral when we found him Angel. Life is cruel to the weak. He had already seen more horrors than you can imagine. He already knew how to kill.”
“So instead of helping him heal, he was given to a monster?”
“I assure you he was an eager pupil. We were well suited as companions. Monsters together. I think he even loved me a little.”
“What kind of a monster would do such a thing?” What kind of a bastard had the Lord of Hellsing been?
“Monster enough to control us both. Monster enough to kill other monsters. You cry for him Angel? Do you shed your tears for Walter? You should. Not for what he was but for what he should have been.”
“No, I weep for the boy.”
“Why? We were wolves together. Sharp and fierce. It was his own pathetic need to ‘ennoble’ himself that turned him into a dog so that he could better serve his master. So what is he now? An old, infirm hound lying in the hall. Nearly toothless, barely able serve. Too meek to even beg bones from the table.”
“Stop it!”
“I only speak the truth.”
“You pervert the truth to be cruel.”
“And you rise too easily to the bait. Look at you. Crying for a child who has been dead for decades. No matter, it suits my needs today.” He said as he reached up and wiped at my tears with the net he had woven from my hair. “Yes.” He said. “Tears of self pity and pain are useless to me but empathy and compassion, these hold great power.”
“Observe Angel.” He spread out his hand, opening up the ‘cloth’. Its pattern was both intricate and open, layered and flat like some magical spider web. It was amazing. And my tears, instead of soaking into my hair making it dark and damp, had beaded like morning dew and were glinting softly in the dim light. He flexed his fingers and twisted his wrist and the tears slid along the strands glittering like jewels. Reflecting, making the copper and gold highlights gleam.
“You see Angel. How I can create beauty from your pain? You are soft and weak but I can use you. Can use your tears." He stroked my cheek fondly. “I may be cruel Angel but I speak the truth. I can not feel compassion but if I did I would imagine that it would be hurtful to hear such terrible things about one’s friends. So, if I were to tell you the story of how your dear Captain Burnadett lost his eye...”
I glared at him.
“No. Not that one. You don’t love him enough yet. Besides, children are your weakness aren’t they?”
"......."
“Did the Police Girl ever tell how she lost her parents?”
“Don’t!”
“What she had to watch them do to her mother?”
And so I cried for Seras. Cried for her pain and gave my tears to Alucard because vampires do not feel compassion. Vampires do not cry.
