LETTERS FROM HELLSING LIX

I bent down to look into the eyepiece.

"Oh"  I said.  Then, more softly. "Oh."

I was looking at a slide quite similar to the first with the notable exception of a blurry area in the upper right hand corner as if someone had smudged the lens.  As I watched, the blurry section expanded and flowed out over the sample.  As it spread, it seemed to be coating those horrible "spinners" with a shiny, opalescent film.

Thus hindered, the spinning of the pathogens slowed, then stopped.  Their scythe-like protrusions shrinking back into their bodies as if attempting to escape from the coating, squeezing themselves smaller and smaller until they resembled tiny glass beads glinting in the bloodstream.

 The shredded white blood cells appeared to be healing themselves, gathering their tattered remnants together then surrounding and absorbing the now disarmed and tiny pathogens at a leisurely pace.  The few remaining red blood cells began to plump up and grow bigger turning a healthy bright red, shiny and full of life.  Soon not a single spinner, alive or dead, remained.

Words failed me so I settled on saying "Oh."  one last time, feeling a bit of a moron but my head was spinning with the implications of what I'd just seen. I gripped the the table with my free hand to steady  myself.   "I'm doing that?"  I asked pressing the hand still holding my iPod against my chest.  I looked up from the microscope and tapped the iPod against my chest nervously.  "My tears are doing that?"

Three heads nodded in unison.

A thrill of joy shot with terror ran through me.  My tears had done that?  I touched my cheek thoughtfully.

"But how?"  I asked with a bit of a tremor.

I should be over the moon happy right now but...  But I could speak telepathically to vampires.  I healed faster than I should.  When I sang, I made others feel my emotions not to mention tap into, even blow up, electronic equipment.  And now, when I cried, my tears burned vampire flesh, killed the deadly pathogens they mutated from their blood.  Cold, cruel, vampire blood.  Some of which ran through my veins.  What was I becoming?  What was Alucard turning me into?

Not dead.  Not undead.  Not necessarily human.

Alucard chortled smugly through my mind.  "That's right Angel."  He sent. "I may not be remaking you in my own image but I am remaking you."  Aloud he said.  "Love."

"What?"  Asked Sir Integra.

"Love."  He repeated.

"I don't understand."  She said.

"Of course not."  He smirked.  "We are, after all, talking about love."

 "Oh as if you possibly could."  

"Ah my dear master, that is where you are wrong.  I may be incapable of love but that does not mean I do not understand how to manipulate it.  I need not feel an emotion to wield its power in others.  And love, for humans anyway, is a very powerful emotion."

 "So she blubbers love all over people and this will cure a vampire bite?"  She sneered. 

"So cynical."  He tsked.  "Your own God used love to create the world yet you fail to believe that I could use love to de-construct a molecular fragment?  I am distressed by your lack of faith."     

She snorted.  "I doubt it.  Now tell me how does this love-fest work?"

He pretended to look hurt but complied.  "It's quite simple actually.  As you know, it is the initiation of blood lust, not the vampire's saliva itself,  that triggers the mutation.  The saliva acting more as a medium for storage and delivery.  My blood blood runs through the Angel's veins which means the potential trigger lies within her as well.  Just one of many gifts I have given her."  He smiled at my involuntary shiver and continued.  "It was a mere matter of altering her hormones and brain chemistry to activate the trigger during certain heightened emotional states but instead of mutating a pathogen she generates antigens and instead of saliva I used her tears." He spread his hands as if he has just explained he obvious.

"Those 'certain' emotional states being?"

"Love."

"Back to that are we?"

"Of course."

 "But why?  Wouldn't it be easier to have made negative emotions the trigger?  It would certainly be easier to generate the tears."

"No, tears of pain or self pity are just that, tears but tears born of love, these hold power.  Power that I can manipulate, power that I can use.  Besides,"  He said smiling smugly.  "What challenge is there in making sadness the trigger?  Pain and sorrow are all to easy.  I never do easy."

"Hmmm."  She said sceptically.  "I still don't see you voluntarily doing positive emotions, regardless of the challenge."

"He's not."  I said.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"It's part of the deal isn't it?  Part of the bargain that was made that night?"

"There may have been a few ground rules, yes."

"Ha!"

"But I gladly accepted the challenge.  Just think,"  He sent cutting off my triumph.  "How much sweeter it will be to crush your spirit using your own capacity to love against you and do not doubt me Angel, I will."

I narrowed my eyes but refused to look away.

"You say production of the antigen is triggered by heightened positive emotions?"  Asked Walter.

"Yes."  Confirmed Alucard.

This would explain the first instance this evening when Ms.  Doyle expressed her happiness over her gift earlier but..."

"Joy."  Corrected Alucard.

"I beg your pardon?"  Asked Walter.

"She was experiencing joy."

"Very well then, I understand then how the trigger might have activated when Ms. Doyle expressed joy but this would not explain why the antigens were still present in her tears after Ms. Victoria was injured and we had brought them both to the laboratory.   Do the antigens continue to be produced for a period even after the emotion has ceased?"

No, it is quite transient."

"Then how is it there were antigens still present in the samples that were taken after Miss Victoria's unfortunate reaction in the bedroom.  Surely Ms. Doyle was not experiencing any positive emotions after being hurled against a wall?"

"In fact she was.  He tears were not for herself but for the Police girl.  She was crying for Seras' pain."

"So her concern over Miss Victoria..."

"No, not concern."

"Compassion then."

"No, no!  Not 'compassion', empathy."

"Are the semantics so important then?"

"They are vital.  The difference between life and death."  Alucard turned to me shaking his head.  "Poor Walter, he just does not understand but how can he?  He is rarely happy and I doubt he has ever experienced joy. He is noble enough to understand compassion but hasn't the humanity to experience empathy.  No Angel, of the occupants of this room, I fear you alone are able to feel true joy or empathy because you alone have the capacity to love."

Sir Integra opened her mouth to object but Alucard held up a finger.  "Unselfishly."  She frowned and compressed her lips but said nothing.

"No dear master, do not frown.  I have handed you the key to your self imposed prison.  No more ghouls wearing the Hellsing badge.  No more fear of turning.  No more having to shoot your own men."  He locked gazes with her.  "We may be heartless you and I but we can rejoice in your triumph.  You faith in me has led to this."

 Her eyes blazed with an almost unholy ferver.

Walter frowned slightly but quickly smoothed it over.  "This is a major breakthrough."  He agreed.

"Even now,"  Said Alucard gesturing to me.  "The Angel is not certain whether to yell at me for calling you heartless or cry over Walter's never feeling joy."

Sir Integra looked over at me her eyes still glowing with that intense light.  "Cry."  She said emphatically.

I snorted derisively and sent a mental apology to Alucard for doubting his 'heartless' comment.

He chuckled quietly and said.  "I am occasionally truthful, when it suits my purpose."

"What is that supposed to mean?"  Asked Sir Integra as she continued to glower at me.  "And why isn't she crying?"

I crossed my arms and glowered right back.  "It means you need to work on your people skills."


Alucard grinned widely and I swear I saw Walter's mouth twitch slightly with amusement.

Sir Integra blinked once then said drily. "Not really part of my job description."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

She turned to Walter.  "Make her cry."

"Ma'am?"

She glance disgustedly at Alucard then added.  "But in a positive way."

Walter tilted his head and looked at me. "Perhaps,"  He said soberly. "a sad story involving a puppy?  Or, I could tune the radio to a country and western station."  


I pressed my hand to my mouth to hold the giggles in but several escaped out around my fingers.


"No!"  She shouted.  "We're going in the wrong direction."

That did it.  I burst out laughing stumbling back to collapse onto a lab stool.  I laughed so hard tears began leaking out of my eyes.

Relief flooded through me.  Who cared if Alucard's blood ran through my veins?  He, himself had said I was still capable of love.  As far as I was concerned that made me human enough, sod anyone who said otherwise. And if Alucard's blood gave me the ability to save others from the vampires curse, well that was a blessing, something to be grateful for not feared.   As the weight of this evening's events lifted from my shoulders, I felt the tears begin to flow in earnest, tracing a hot, stinging path down my cheeks.  I didn't try to stop them this time.  I just laughed and let them go.


"Ah ha!"  Cried Sir Integra triumphantly then she leapt forward to hold me down while Walter deftly employed several pipettes to catch the tears streaming down my face.

 I tried to protest but the situation was just so ridiculous and when Alucard shook his head and said "Humans!" in a disgusted voice it only made me laugh harder.  Even Sir Integra was grinning albeit in a very disturbing manner.


Finally, the lack of oxygen forced me to wind down.  Sir Integra released me at my gasped "Please." and I sat quietly hiccuping a bit as Walter sopped up the last of my tears.

"I must confess Ms. Doyle,"  He said, handing me a handkerchief to dry my cheeks.  "That while I have made many people cry over the years, this was quite the most novel."

I grinned weakly up at him then wobbled my glance over to Sir Integra.  She stood a couple of feet away watching Walter place the last of the pipettes into a plastic bin.  Her face once again an emotionless mask.  Well, so much for that.  Warm and fuzzy moments just do not last long around here.

As soon as Walter sealed the lid, she turned her blank stare on Alucard.  "Will these work?'

He looked up from a bag of plasma he had been idly toying with and said in a bored tone.  "They won't be as strong as the first samples but they should do for your initial testing."

"Hmmm."  She said drumming her fingers on the table top.  "We shall have to work on getting more."  She narrowed her eyes sizing up her project.  I squirmed a bit.  "Best keep her hydrated.  Walter please make sure she drinks plenty of water."

"Of course ma'am."  Said Walter who was already handing me a glass.

"Very good."  She said.  She pulled pulled out a cigar and glanced at the lab equipment then up at the digital clock on the bulletin board.  "Dr. Levin will be here shortly.  Prep the slides and have a demonstration set to go within fifteen minutes. I shall return in ten."

"Very good ma'am."  Said Walter.

She nodded the, placing the cigar in her mouth and pulling out a lighter, turned on her heel and exited the room. 

Walter looked pointedly at my still full glass.

I sighed resigned to my fate of a chronically full bladder.  I took a sip.  "I still don't see why you had to wait this long to tell us about this." I grumped at Alucard.  I rubbed the aching spot between my eyes then tossed the pills Walter pressed into my hand into my mouth and washed them down with more water. "Seras was hurt and Walter and I could been killed."

"Bah!"  Said Alucard disgustedly.  "Are you still blathering on about that?  I make you into a medical miracle and you sit there whining over my methodology?  You are a pig headed, ungrateful little worm.  I often why I  even bother with you."  He paused mid-sneer then said.  "You are right about one thing however...  You stupid, useless twit!  HOW DARE YOU THROW YOUR SISTER ACROSS THE ROOM LIKE THAT!!!"  He roared as Seras bounced into the lab.

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LVIII

We all turned to Walter who was rolling down his sleeve, a syringe of blood on the counter before him.

"Finally."  Breathed Alucard.  "Someone brings something sensible to the game.  Think you've figured it out old man?"

"Some, not all."  Said Walter as he reattached his cuff link. He picked up the syringe and turned to a set of blank slides.  "I am still uncertain what you mean by redemption, beyond being provoking and blasphemous that is, but I  believe I know how you intend this new revelation to be used defensively."

"Do tell."  Said Alucard sarcastically.

"Shut it."  Said Sir Integra.  "I'm still annoyed with you."

Instead of getting angry,  Alucard looked mildly pleased.  I guess we were finally trending in the direction he wished us to go.  Or maybe he just likes mean women.

Walter simply ignored the rude remark.  "While Ms. Doyle's tears most definitely have an extremely caustic effect on vampire flesh," He said as he continued to process the slides.  "They seem to have no negative effect on normal human tissue and only a mild irritation, similar to rosacea, on her own.  Quite the opposite actually, her tears may possibly contain certain healing qualities." He paused a moment to retrieve one of the pipettes and Seras' samples.

We waited expectantly for him to continue.

"What,"  He asked as he added a small drop of some clear liquid to the blood on two of the slides.  "is the gravest danger our officers face when fighting a vampire or a ghoul?"

"Being bitten."  Said Sir Integra her eyes flashing with some unholy emotion.  "Or chipped."  She continued with distaste.

"Precisely."  Said Walter, his steely eyes reflecting Sir Integra's.  "Once infected, however they are infected, there is no saving them.  They will turn."

"Yes."  Said Sir Integra flatly.

"There is no cure Ms. Doyle,"  He continued, catching my eye.  "Only living death or the mercy of a bullet to the head."

"You suspect..."  Began Sir Integra.

He nodded.

Her face and demeanour were absolutely calm but I could practically feel the emotions boiling beneath the surface.  "Could it  be possible?"  She said almost absently to herself.  She watched intently as Walter added my tears to one of the two 'infected' slides and slid them both into place in the microscopes.  Then, practically vibrating with tension, she strode purposefully over to where Walter stood.  He made room for her and they silently took turns peering into the different microscopes.

Finally, they looked up from the eyepieces and at each other.  Sir Integra laid a hand on the microscope containing the treated slide.  "This could mean..."

"Yes."  Said Walter.  "There of course must be more research but..."

"Yes."  She said.

Their eyes locked and they spent several moments in wordless but obviously meaningful conversation.   

"So it's actually possible."  She said with wonder bordering on awe.  "I had almost given up."

Walter's eyes softened a bit then he murmured something too low for me to hear.

"...Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."  Finished Alucard.  "Yes, yes"  He said.  "Very moving.  Father would be so proud."

Indifferent mask back in place, she turned to Alucard.  "Feeling neglected are we?"  She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well,"  He said philosophically.  "Not that I mind throwing the old dog a bone once in a while but I believe the triumph is in fact mine."

Her lips quirked a bit and she turned to Walter.  "Well old man, apparently the light we currently bask in is Alucard."

"A wonder one can see at all for the glare."  Said Walter driely.

"Better?"  She asked Alucard.


It was an oddly relaxed moment.  Old and comfortable, almost a reminiscence. Even Alucard seemed inclined to play.


"Well, I did in fact make her."  He grumbled with mock petulance.


"My parents might disagree."  I muttered.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong my sulky little lab rat.  Your parents may have conceived and birthed a child named Corrine Doyle but she perished that night in the theatre and was reborn.  You, Angel, are my creation not theirs and the sooner you stop clinging to that poor, dead, pathetic creature you were and embrace what you have become, the happier we shall all be."

"As always, trying to remake us in your image Alucard."  Chortled Sir Integra.

"Oh no,"  Said Alucard earnestly.  "That is a privilege I reserve solely for you my dear master. Others, I simply 'improve'...or destroy."

"Hmmm" She said non-committally.  "It's hard to know whom to feel most sorry for in that scenario."

He grinned.  "The ones I improve, most definitely."  He said winking at me.  "Of course, it is often fun to do both."  His grin broadened to a leer.

"Pft."  I said, waiving away the remark.  Death threats were old news to me. "Yes, yes, wretched, ungrateful, balanced on the knife's edge between death and pain I know but will someone please just tell me what's going on?"

"Saucy little baggage this evening aren't you?"   He smirked.  "And slow.  Are you sure Walter didn't drop you on your head earlier?  Your tears, dolt, are the weapon!"

"Yes I know my tears are a weapon."   I said patently refusing to rise to the bait.  He, after all, called me 'dolt' so often that one might justifiably begin to suspect it merely a mispronunciation of my last name.   "It is a fact that has been graphically demonstrated to me this evening thank you but how,"  I said emphasizing each word.  "is this to be used as a defensive weapon?"

"Oh I despair of you at times Angel. We just explained it all to you.  Did you not hear a word?"

 "What explanation?"  I demanded.  "Walter said my tears burn vampires but not humans."  I said jabbing my iPod in Walter's direction. "Sir Integra," I said swinging the device over towards her.  "confirmed that being bitten or chipped is literally a fate worse than death. He"  I swung my arm back to Walter.  "Said, 'No cure Ms. Doyle.  Best shoot them in the head.'  Then they,"  I swung my iPod to indicate both Walter and Sir Integra.  "both got really excited over the slides.  There was a warm and fuzzy moment, then you two,"  My iPod glinted in the light as I swung my arm back and forth  between Walter and Alucard.  "quoted Hamlet!"

"Precisely."  Said Alucard.  "I am not sure how one could make it clearer than that."

"Maybe if you repeated it all in Morse code."  I snarked.

"You know, I'm beginning to like her."  Said Sir Integra. 

"One has to admit she was listening."  Said Walter drily.  "Although I think the accent was a bit over the top."

"Do you think so?"  She asked.  "I found it rather spot on if you ask me."

Walter sniffed his opinion then said.  "Perhaps, Ms. Doyle, it would expedite matters if you simply came over and examined the slides."

I jumped down from the table  and crossed over to the microscopes giving both Alucard and the first set of slides a wide berth.  "All of them?"  I asked, giving the first slides a look of distaste.

Sir Integra frowned at my lack of scientific curiosity and Alucard, of course, sneered at my cowardice  but Walter simply said; "No Ms. Doyle, not if you do not wish to.  These," He said gesturing to two fresh slides he was preparing. "are the ones pertinent to your question."

Cautiously, I peered into the eyepiece.   I had seen blood sample slides before in biology class with their rubbery tire-like red blood cells,  puffed, pollen-esk white and raggedy jaggedy  platelets.

But this slide had something more: For mixed into the bucolic blood stream were several horribly disturbing small objects.  They were round but not quite circular as they had two scythe like protrusions extruding from their perimeter.  They arched out then back in towards the body like scimitars or a satellite view of the arms of  a hurricane the ends tapered and tipped cruelly like claws or thorns.  Their colour was that of old, dead blood.

They seemed to spin on some unseen current separate and faster than the other cells and as I watched, one of these "spinners"  bumped into a red blood cell.  Instantly, it spun itself until one of its scimitar arms slashed at the larger blood cell, its thorn-like tips easily penetrating and sinking into the surface.  The object continued its rotation until it had spun itself completely inside the red blood cell.

Within moments, the rich opaque red became transparent and the deadly object could be seen turning within.   Faster and faster it spun the blood cell becoming clearer and clearer, rapidly draining from red to pink to blush until no colour remained.  The spinning became blur of motion then suddenly, the empty shell burst apart and there, where moments before a healthy red blood cell had been, were two of those terrible objects rotating in unison.  I gasped in horror as this little scene was repeating itself over and over throughout the slide The objects doubling themselves exponentially every few seconds.  Any white blood cells attempting to halt the attack were shredded like tissue and the hapless platelets simply shattered on contact.   

"Dear God what are those things?"  I asked. 

"They are a pathogen, mutated blood cells actually, which are carried within a vampire's saliva and introduced into the victim's blood stream upon being bitten. As you can see, they spread quite rapidly destroying the blood cells until the body can no longer carry oxygen and the tissues suffocate."


"How horrible."  I shuddered.


"Yes." Agreed Walter.  "It is the fortunate victim who is actually drained by the vampire as death occurs more swiftly."

I shook my head and stepped back from the microscope as Walter prepared another slide.  

"The broken down components of the victim's blood are ingested to feed the vampire and the pathogens are simply reabsorbed into its blood stream whey they revert to their dormant form until they are needed again at which time they are pumped into the saliva glands to be re-activated.  A quantity are left behind in the victim's body which is how we believe the vampire can control their actions after death.  Quite an elegant system actually."

His mouth quirked slightly at my look of horrified disbelief. "Terrible, but highly efficient."

"It's evil is what it is."  I said

Walter's hard stare bored into me.  "Yes Ms. Doyle,"  He said.  "it is evil.  It has long been this house's mission not to just destroy the vampire but to also find a counter agent to its bite.  For decades we have risked lives to study and obtain samples of every stage of the turning.  We have subjected infected human tissue to every test and substance imaginable and while we have gained a great deal of understanding of the process and can even tell you the biological conditions that will trigger the creation of a vampire instead of a ghoul, we have not, despite all of our research, been able to find a way to stop it.  Nothing, I repeat nothing has ever come even remotely close to counteracting the pathogens once they are introduced."  He placed the new slide under the microscope clips and stepped back gesturing to the eyepiece.  "Until now."


 

LETTERSFROM HELLSING LVII

It all happened so quickly, I didn't even have time to be terrified, much less scream.

I would have been dashed against the wall had Walter not moved, faster than I would have thought humanly possible, to insert himself between me and the mortared stone.  I slammed into him hard.  His only outward reaction was a small wumph of air as we hit the wall and he bore the brunt of the impact.

Seras' wailing cry cut across the room. Walter quickly righted me and strode over to where she stood sobbing and clawing at her neck.

"Ahhh! Walter it hurts, it hurts, make it stop!  No! Don't touch it!"  She screeched as Walter reached towards her.  "Ohhh it hurts so much!"

"Miss Victoria.  You need to hold still"  Said Walter calmly.

She screeched and began clawing at her neck again.

"Miss Victoria!"  Said Walter in a loud commanding voice.  "You will cease this caterwauling immediately and stand to.  Is that understood?"

Seras ceased screaming and snapped to attention. 

"Right."  Said Walter briskly.  "Now remove your hand so I can see."

With a small whimper she dropped her hand to her side revealing her injury.

Walter frowned and I gasped.

Her skin was raw and bleeding from her scratches and in the centre was a red, angry hole with black edges.  There was a whiff of smoke and burnt flesh in the air.  Her right hand was twitching and I noticed her palm was red and coming out in blisters.

"My God!"  I said reaching for her.  "She's burned!"

"Fetch the pitcher please Ms. Doyle."  Said Walter nodding towards the food tray as he removed the water bottle from my night stand and upended the contents over the wound.  She flinched a bit as the water hit her but otherwise remained still.

"What could have possibly caused this?"  I asked, handing him the pitcher and napkin from the tray and wiping absently at the tears streaming down my face.

"It's odd."  He said pouring a bit of the water on her hand then dipping the napkin into the pitcher.  "It almost appears to be a silver or even a holy water burn but neither of these items are present that I can see.  Try holding this Miss Victoria."  He said handing her some ice wrapped in the wet napkin.  "Are you under any geas of which I am unaware?"

She frowned.  "Just the blood thing."   She whispered morosely.

He eyed her shoulder  again critically.  "This will probably be wanting some grave dirt."

"Seras will be OK won't she?"  I asked still swiping at my stupid tears.

"Most likely."  He said.

"At least no killer bees this time."  Said Seras, wincing a bit as Walter sluiced her wounds with the rest of the ice water from the pitcher.

"Well that's a relief then." I said sniffling and trying out a watery smile.  "Bee bites are the worst."  I reached out to comfort her but was brought up short as Walters hand clamped onto my left wrist.

"Perhaps,"  He said.  "you should tell me about these bees."

Bewildered, I stumbled through an abbreviated version of the 'Killer bee incident'.    While I was speaking,Walter placed the empty pitcher on the night stand and flexed his free hand.

"Tell me Ms. Doyle,"  He asked quietly once I'd finished.  "did you happen to be crying at the time?"

"Um, yes?"  I said.

He looked at Seras' angry wound then back down at his hand thoughtfully.  He flexed it once more and looked back at me.  "I think,"  He said.  "we should proceed immediately to the lab."

"But Seras is going to be OK?"  I asked as he tugged me towards the door.

"Don't,"  He said firmly, when I reached up to brush at my tears.  "touch your face...Please."  He added almost as an afterthought.

"But, I, um."  I said cleverly as he steered me down the hall.

We arrived at the lab just as Andrew was packing up to go  home.  Walter strode across the room and over to the examination table with me in tow.  Seras followed looking almost as confused as I felt.

"Saline eye wash kit and two sterile pipettes please Mr. Young."  Said Walter without preamble.  "Ms. Doyle, on the table."  He ordered, unshackling my wrist.

"Me?"  I asked, becoming more and more confused but still hopping up onto the table.

"Don't touch your face."  He admonished, a bit more gently this time.

"Very good Mr. Young."  He said as Andrew brought over the requested items.  "Now please assist Miss Victoria in flushing out her wound."  He took the pipettes and turned back towards me.  "Please hold still Ms. Doyle."  He said, raising one to my face.

Andrew gave a low whistle as he looked over Seras' burn."Holy water?"  He asked, opening the package and shaking the bag.

Seras shook her head and craned her neck  and stared intently over at Walter as he carefully dabbed a  pipette under my left eye.  "What are you doing Walter?"  She asked.

"Playing a hunch Miss Victoria."  He said.  Placing the first pipette on the instrument tray and picking up the second to repeat the process under my right eye.

"Well that's ruddy informative."  Grumbled Seras holding the eye cup against her shoulder  as Andrew squeezed out the contents of the bag. 

"One does one's best Miss Victoria."  He said coolly.  "And seeing as how you seem well enough for sarcasm I think you are sufficiently stabilized to go to your room and apply some fresh grave dirt to your wounds."

"But, what are you do-"

"Now, Miss Victoria."

"I'm not a child you know."  she said petulantly.

"Then stop behaving like one and follow the protocols."

She looked as if she wanted to say something snarky then slumped a bit.

"Be sure to pack plenty of it on Miss Victoria."  He said a bit more gently.  "And I want you to rest for at least forty seven minutes, I will be checking."

She gave a curt nod and, clutching the towel Andrew handed her against her damp chest, turned to go.  She stopped by the table and gave me a searching look.  I felt the brushing of her mind against mine, soft as a butterfly's wing.  Normally we don't indulge in our silent communications when others are around as it seems as rude as whispering but she wasn't sending words just emotions.  I felt her pain and confusion over what had happened and I felt here sorrow and fear.  Fear of losing control and hurting me fear of losing my friendship.

I raised my arm to take her hand but was brought up short by a warning look from Walter so I instead reached out with my mind trying to send comfort ant reassurance.  I crooked the index finger of my partially raised hand and bent my wrist down to make 1/2 of the ASL sign for friendship.   She smiled wistfully and mirrored my gesture upside-down to make the other 1/2 of the sign. Then, before Walter could chastise her again, she was out the door.

I narrowed my eyes at Walter as he placed the second pipette down on the tray.  "Any particular reason you just gave Seras the bum's rush out of here?"  I asked.

"Oh, most definitely."  He said unmoved by my glare.  "Mr Young I am going to need several blank slides and the freshest of Miss Victoria's samples you have available." 

"So, are you going to tell me or kick me out too?"  I asked switching to pouting.

He thought about it a moment and said.  "No, you should stay Ms. Doyle, we may need you but"  He said as he began arranging several blank slides on the tray.  "I must warn you, if my suspicions are correct, you may feel somewhat conflicted emotionally."

Both Andrew and I watched in open curiosity as  Walter quickly marked and measured out small daubs of Seras' blood onto eight of the slides.  He then picked up the first pipette and and added a drop of the contents to two of the slides.  He repeated the process with the second pipette on two of the other prepared slides then carried the tray over to the microscopes.

A horrible chill crept over me.  "You think it was me."  I gasped.  "You think I did this to Seras."

"I'm not quite certain but I suspect so."  He said as he placed the first slide under the microscope.

"No."  I whispered to myself.  "I would never."  I touched a hand to my face.  I had stopped crying but my cheeks were still flushed and damp.  That's why he wouldn't let me touch Seras earlier.  I had wiped my face and he thinks that my tears...  My thoughts drifted back to the night Alucard had pulled out my hair and woven that web. 

He compared a few more slides then looked up at me for a moment his eyes dark with some unreadable emotion then back down at the slides.  I started to open my mouth to speak but before I could say anything he had stepped back from the microscope and pulled out his cell phone.

"Ma'am, you may wish to come down to the lab.  There is something here I think you should see. Yes ma'am, right away."  He paused a moment then added.  "You may wish to summon Alucard.  Very good ma'am."  He snapped the phone off and turned to Andrew who had moved over to sneak a peek into the microscope.

"Christ!"  Swore Andrew in amazement.  "It's tearing through those cells like nothing I've ever seen!"

"Mr. Young, please page Dr. Levin immediately."

"They're actually exploding!  What?  Oh, yes sir.  Right away."  Said Andrew reluctantly tearing himself away from the eye piece.

I frowned down at my hands thinking.  I remembered  my tears that night, how they had looked like gleaming little jewels, sliding along the strands of the web.  What had Alucard said about them?  I bit my lip and thought harder.  I glanced up at Walter who was preparing several more slides.  My eyes slid over to the microscope and I shuddered a bit and looked away back to Walter who was now looking at me.

"Beauty from pain."  I whispered.

Walters hands stilled over the slides.  "Ms. Doyle?"

"He took my tears that night and said, 'You see Angel. How I can create beauty from your pain'."  I said sadly.  "I Thought he meant the way my they looked in the web he had woven from my hair.  But he didn't did he?  He meant that."  I indicated the microscope with an angry gesture.  "How is that beauty?  How is what I did to Seras beauty?"

 He paused as if parsing his words carefully.  "I believe..."

He was interrupted by a commotion at the door.  Sir Integra bustled in Alucard following breezily, a mildly amused look on his face.

"Report."  She barked, cutting to the chase.

Alucard leaned against the wall and crossed his arms smugly.

"I believe we've had a significant breakthrough."  Said Walter who then began a brief recap of Seras' injury and its probable source as he set up a fresh pair of slides.  "As you can see,"  He said, as she bowed over the eyepiece.  "The assault on the cell structure seems to emulate both the acidic effects of holy water as well as the incendiary qualities of silver."

"Ah, yes, lovely."  She said  sounding pleased.  "Those cells not dissolved literally boiling until they explode. Excellent."  She looked up at me with a speculative gleam in her eye.  "This could be quite useful."

I wrapped my arms around my waist and glared at her.  Of course she would find this 'lovely'.  I thought disgustedly.  Sick twists the lot of them.

"Your little experiment may prove some profit after all."  She said to Alucard with a hint of approval, either oblivious to or uncaring about my angry silence.  Probably the latter.  Oddly though, while he still looked smug, Alucard did not seem entirely pleased.

"If we can learn to synthesize this, the weapons potential could be enormous."

Alucard's eyes narrowed slightly but he remained silent.

"Doyle,"  Said Sir Integra  sounding almost cheerful.  "do you suppose your could provide some further samples?  I would like Dr. Levin to be able to begin his research as soon as he arrives."

I continued to glower at her in stony silence.

She dismissed me with an impatient waive and turned back to Alucard.  "How does one trigger the reaction?"

"I suppose, I could beat her,"  He said drolly.  "But she's gained quite a tolerance."

"Oh bother it!  you know what I mean.  Dammit Alucard, I need more samples.  This is no time for games!"

 "Oh right!"  I spat.  "And now you expect him not to play games?  That's all he ever does.  He's not ready for his grand reveal yet, can't you tell?"  I turned my glare on him.  "Some pawn not properly in position?  Deck not quite stacked yet?"

"Ah Angel, you are a fast learner."  He smirked.

I made a disgusted noise.

Alucard's lip twitched in amusement.

Sir Integra slammed her hand down on the examination table causing the instrument tray to rattle. "Spare me the theatrics Doyle,"  She said curtly.  "This,"   She said gesturing towards the microscope.  "is important."

I looked over to the microscope than back at her.   "That',"  I said calmly, coldly meeting her eye. "is Seras' blood.  That is what is burning and dissolving before your eyes.  That is what I did to her. " That, I thought to myself sadly, is what I'm turning into.  "Seras is hurt. Don't you even care?"

She looked mildly nonplussed.  "Walter would have informed me if her injuries were serious or debilitating.  Certainly,"  She said, her mouth twitching with slight humour.  "not life threatening."

 My jaw dropped and I emitted a high pitched growling-squeak  reminiscent, I am sure, of a rabid guinea pig. "Grr-wheek-rr!" 

"I don't think she appreciates your particular brand of humour, master."  Said Alucard sardonically.

"Few do."  She said wryly.  She glanced at my stony expression and sighed.  "Look Doyle, if this injury had been sustained on a human, it may very well have been life threatening or at the very least require hospitalization.  But you must understand that vampires can sustain a great deal of damage and still function and they heal at a remarkable rate.  She has most likely completely recovered by now"

"That didn't stop her from feeling the pain."  I said.

"Oh do stop being so maudlin." She sniped.  "Unless, of course, you think it might help you in providing more samples?"  She asked hopefully.

I glanced at her suspiciously, unsure if she was joking or not.  Knowing her, it could go either way.  I sighed with resignation.  She was who she was.  It wasn't as if she had ever even pretended to be a nice person.  Driven yes, kind no.  It just wasn't in her job description.

Besides, she wasn't the one with whom I really should be angry.  I darted a poisonous glance at the guilty party in question.

Him and his games!  I thought grimly and squeezed the iPod still clutched in my hand.   'He is what he is' wasn't going to cut it in his case.  Not this time.  He had pushed it to far and I had something they wanted.  Very much so if the gleam in Sir Integra's eye was anything to go by.

I couldn't challenge Alucard head on and ever hope to win but there was one person in the room who could and now I had a bargaining chip.  Sir Integra might never be my friend but she might very well suit as a protector.

I stroked the iPod thoughtfully for a moment, choosing my words.  If I was able to finesse it so that she thought it was her idea, I could gain a buffer from Alucard and still keep my bargaining chip.  Hmmm, what would Sgt. Marks do? I started to open my mouth then stopped.  No, much as I admired Sgt. Marks I had neither the deviousness nor the emotional armour to play hard ball with this group. I sighed again.  For better or worse, I was who I was so cards on the table and hope for the best. I squared my shoulders and began.

"Look, I honestly don't know how to feel about this new development." I said gesturing towards my cheek.   "But that's not really the issue here, it's happening whether I like it or not." 

Sir Integra lifted an eyebrow, indicating I should continue.  Alucard feigned indifference but I could feel his mind brush over mine, tasting my emotions.

"The issue is twice now, I have been placed in the position of injuring Seras, three times actually if Walter had not stepped in.  Scratch that, if Walter had not stepped in I would have been dashed up against the wall and it's doubtful I would have been conscious much less in any shape to cause her any further harm."

"Your point being?"  Drawled Alucard in a bored voice.

Sir Integra crossed her arms and frowned thoughtfully.

The point being, even if you hadn't anticipated the first incident,"  "which I doubt." I thought at him.  "There was no reason for allowing the second beyond sheer perversity."  I turned to Sir Integra.  "Surely indulging in his games is not worth needlessly placing Seras in harms way.  Even if you do not care on a personal level, I don't think you can afford to risk any of your senior officers not being at 100% should there be an emergency without good cause.  The time lost in potential research alone because of this delay should be enough to give you pause.  Not to mention the fact that had I hit the wall and broken my neck, all this,"  I said gesturing about the lab.  "would be rather moot."

Sir Integra's emotionless face turned towards Alucard.  "Well?"

"She wasn't ready yet." He shrugged.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, the time was not right, she still needed to be conditioned, seasoned if you will, Her powers needed time to simmer, to intensify and blend."

"She's not a roast you know."

"No, but like a roast, she's no good if you you remove her from the fire too soon.  I would not serve my master such an unfinished thing at her table.  I would give you a feast, not scraps for the dogs."

She scowled.

"Humans!"  He said disgustedly.  "You constantly complain about my ignoring feelings and now, when I have finally found a way to take them into account, use them for the greater good, you complain about that.  There is simply no pleasing you!"

 "This grows tiresome Alucard."  She said dismissively.  "I am inclined to end this right now."

He looked at her intently. "I promised my master redemption."  He said quietly.  "If her God would not grant it then I would."

"You dare!"  Hissed Walter.

"Always."  countered Alucard smirking.

"Ma'am he is..."

"I know exactly what he is."  Said Sir Integra raising her hand to still Walter's protest.  "You tread a fine line."  She said to Alucard.  "Take care not to cross it."

"I seek to serve my master."  Said Alucard unperturbed.  "If she will not forgive herself the burden of souls she carries, I will create that forgiveness for her."

"By bringing me another weapon to kill vampires?"  She laughed.  "I fail to see how burning holes in vampires will redeem me where explosive bullets will not.  It's good and I'll use it but it is hardly unique."

"Besides,"  I interrupted with exasperation.  "I thought I was supposed to be a defensive weapon.  How is this defensive?  Am I to sob them to death?"

"That,"  Said Alucard.  "Is almost the answer."

"What, sobbing?"

"No dolt!"  He said glaring at me.  "How is this a defensive weapon?"  He turned to Integra.  "How can it redeem what the vampire has stolen?"

"I'm asking you!"  Said Sir Integra thunderously.  "For once will you simply answer a direct question!"

"That,"  He said calmly.  "would be cheating."

"Alucard."  She said warningly.

"Come now,"  Said Alucard.  "The clues are all before you.  I have,"  He said gesturing to me.  "given you the key.  Simply unlock her."

Sir Integra made ready to yell.

"I think,"  Came Walter's calm voice, cutting across the tension.  "I know part of the answer at least."

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LVI

Zelig was right, drat him! I was running late.  Of course the fact that it was all his fault never even occurred to Bertie, he just kept yammering on and on about explosions and murals.

Rather than waste more time or risk a brain embolism trying to argue with the demented little dwarf, I smiled sweetly, distracted him with a promise of snickerdoodles and made a mad dash for the elevator.

I skidded into the bathroom 10 minutes behind schedule and rushed through my shower (lather, rinse, no repeat) hoping to make up some lost time. I wrapped my hair in a towel and damply squeezed into clean clothing.  Then, barefoot and be-turbaned, dirty clothes in one hand, hairbrush and scrunchie in the other, I trotted towards my bedroom to put on my shoes and grab the book Walter wanted to borrow.

I stopped short in the doorway surprised as my bedroom seemed to be occupied already by a rather odd couple indeed.

The man stood with quiet calm and almost unnatural stillness in front of the clothes chest, arms folded behind his back as he watched the other occupant of the room, who was sitting on the bed yet literally bouncing up and down with excitement, with infinite patience and perhaps just a touch of humour as she pelted him with an endless stream of nervous chatter.

"Oh she's late! {bounce} I can't stand it. {bounce, bounce} Do you think {bounce}she'll like it really? {bounce, ping} I mean it seemed so {bounce} perfect but what if I chose {ka-bounce} the wrong colour {bounce} and  I'm still {bounce, squeak} not sure about that one group {bouncety, bounce} I mean really, {bounce} I think that was a {bounce} joke don't you?  But still {bounce, squeak} it seems just the {bounce} thing you know? {ka-boing} But I've never been good at picking {bounce} presents and why isn't she here yet! {bounce, bouncety} You did tell her when to come and...Oh {bounce}Walter, she just has to like it. You do think she'll {bounce}like it don't you?"

"Perhaps you should ask her directly Miss Victoria."  Said Walter indicating my presence in the doorway with a nod of his head.

"Oh Corrine!"  Cried Seras happily.  "Your finally here!"  She bounced one last time on the mattress and sprang from the bed in a surprisingly graceful movement landing, cat like, on the balls of her feet.  

"You're up early."  I said smiling.

"We've been waiting." She said, bounding to the doorway and grabbing one of my hands.

"Yes I see."  I said as she tugged me into room.  "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, well," She said suddenly turning shy and dropping my hand.  "we, that is, Walter and I, we sort of that is, I thought you might..."

"Miss Victoria has a gift for you."  Said Walter simply.

Seras bit her lip and handed me a small package she had been clutching tightly.

"Why Seras, that's so sweet of you." I said, accepting the beautifully wrapped parcel.  "Oh, lovely."  I said, stroking the soft velvet bow and tracing the raised pattern on the paper.
 
"Open it."  She said tightly. Having no patience this evening for my quirky tactile tendencies.

"Of course."  I said.  Gently untying the ribbon and carefully peeling back the the taped edges of the paper.

"Oh, for the love of,...Corrine it's just wrapping paper not the Magna Carta."

"But it's so pretty. "  I said.

 "Corrine."  She said warningly.

I tugged off the remaining paper, wincing at the tearing sound, then opened the little gift box and tugged out something wrapped in a black velvet bag.  A warning look from Seras stopped my fondling and I quickly untied the drawstrings.

A shiny red  plastic rectangle, about 5 inches long fell into my hand.  I flipped it over and smiled at Seras with delight.  "An iPod."  I squeaked happily.  "Oh Seras you got me an iPod, A really nice one too and it's red!"  I said stroking the gleaming surface.

"So you like it then?"  She asked.

"Like it?  I love it Seras. Thank you!"  I said hugging her hard.  "Now, show me how to use it!"  I demanded, switching it on.

"Well,"  Said Seras.  "You can jack your headphones in here, I also got you a splitter or, you can put it in this docking station,"  She said, sweeping her arm towards Walter. "so we can all listen."

Walter stepped to one side revealing a very high-tech looking piece of  electronic equipment that seemed more appropriate for docking the USS Enterprise than an iPod.

"Wow!"  I said.  "That's really...Wow!"

I gabbed Seras' hand and bounded over to the dresser.  "I really should say 'you shouldn't have' and 'it's too much' but I can't because it's so cool and I love it and I want it and need to press all those lovely buttons so very, very much!" 

"I know."  She said laughing.  "We were going to get just a regular one then Walter and I saw this one and we knew we had to get it for you."

Walter showed us some of it's features and we all basked in the shared warmth of the brotherhood of geeky gadgetry love.

"I'm half expecting Tie fighters to fly out."  I said.

"Wouldn't be surprised.  And, Walter has modified it so it won't blow up when you start, ahem, your special sing-ey thing."

"You guys are the best!"  I said.   "Let's try it out shall we?"

I scrolled down the menu and let out a small gasp of surprise. Not only was everything from the CDs I had brought to England with me on there but pretty much every song from every CD, tape, 45 or LP I owned as well as several I didn't.  It was like looking at an alphabetical listing of every artist or song I had ever heard and liked from Abba to ZZ Top.  From "All that Jazz" to "Yesterday". 

"So many."  I said with awe. I shuffled through the Stray Cats, Talking Heads and the Ramones.  Gazed with amazement as Jim Croce, Pat Benatar, Meatloaf and Janis Joplin flashed across the screen.  "B-52s, Big Audio Dynamite, Yardbirds..."  I muttered.  "Ah, Little Feat, Elton  John, Patsy Cline, Violent Femmes..."

"Oh dear, it's not too much is it?  I mean we got the extended memory card so there should still be room for more songs but I suppose you could always delete a few."

"No! no, this is amazing you got pretty much everything I would ever want on here.  I mean look at this, you got Ray Charles, the Alarm, the Kentucky Headhunters, Buddy Holly....How did you even know I liked the Squirrel Nut Zippers or Screamin' Jay Hawkins?"

"Well, we called a few people..."

"This is beyond amazing you even have my favourite musicals, Chess, The Fantasticks, pretty much all of Andrew Lloyd Webber, original London casts no less."

"Of course."  Said Walter.

I twinkled at them.  "How did you ever get Clam Chowder?"

"Online. Your sister said she wants that tape back by the way."

"And I don't even think Catholic Boy was ever released on CD."

Walter spread his hands as if to say nothing was beyond his evil butler super powers.

I giggled.  "I think every album Air Supply ever made must be on here."

"Yes, about that."  Said Seras.  "I was pretty sure your friends must have been joking about them but Walter said best to include those too."

"I actually do love Air Supply." I blushed.  "My friends just couldn't break me of it, hard as they tried.  They're just so..."

"Pedantic."  Offered Walter.

"Treacle-ly."   Supplied Seras.

"I was going to say romantic you heartless louts but I forgive you because I now own the complete Beatles, Stones, Pink Floyd, Who and Kylie Minogue collec...Kylie Minogue?"  I asked holding out the I-pod to Seras.  "I don't think I know any of her songs.  Who told you I liked her?"

"Well," Said Seras. "Walter mentioned that you liked oldies."

"Hmmm."  I said mildly insulted and feeling a bit old.  "Well that's very thoughtful of you.  I'll have to give her a listen."

I was about to scroll over to the classical folder when an entry caught my eye.

Impossible, I thought, staring at the name of a high school Christian rock group that, as far as knew, hadn't played together in over 20 years.  "Malachi" I whispered.  "You have Malachi on here."

I looked up at them eyes round with wonder.  "How is that even possible?  They never made a real album, much less a CD.  They just sold tapes at their concerts.  There probably aren't more than 10 of those left in existence."

"One of which,"  Said Seras proudly.  "was mixed in among the tapes in your library.  Your mother read me all of the titles and your sister said this one was special because you all belonged to this youth group together and were friends with the band so."  She shrugged.  "She wants that tape back too by the way."

"But how?"

"Oh easy."   She said.  "I had your mother express ship it here then Walter transferred it onto the computer and converted the songs into mp3 files.  He even cleaned up the sound a little...are you all right Corrine?"

"Oh."  I said stumbling back a bit.  My legs hit the bed  and I sat down.  "Oh."  I was having trouble speaking so many emotions were crowding in on me at once.  They had done this for me.  They had put their heads together and given me probably the most wonderful and thoughtful gift  I had ever received.  When I thought about the time and care that had gone into creating it, I felt humbled and awed.  I looked up at them, eyes brimming.  "Seras honey, you did all this for me?"

"Well yes."  She said shyly.  "I wanted to find a way to say thank you for everything you've done for me and I know you missed having your music."  She blushed and looked down at her hands.  "Your the best friend I've ever had Corrine and I,"  She stopped and bit her lip.  "I love you."  She whispered.

Something within my chest broke loose and came bursting out of me until I was laughing and crying at the same time.  Right there, right then, in that room with these people I was, for the first time in a long time, well and truly happy. I launched myself off the bed and into her arms, tears of joy steaming down my face.

"Oh Seras, I love you too!"  I cried, squeezing her tight.  "And this is the best present ever!  Thank you both so..." 

Suddenly the world turned upside down.  One moment I was bending to kiss Seras' cheek, the next, Seras was shrieking with pain, her sharp nails clawing at me like a wounded animal.

Before I could react, she lifted me from the ground by my upper arms and flung me across the room like so much garbage.

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LV

"I'm not autistic you know."  Said Zelig.

"Hmm?"  I said adjusting the pound notes more comfortably in my bra.

"I'm not autistic."

"Never said you were Bertie."

"Well I'm not."

"OK."

He frowned and popped his jaw, folding his arms tightly behind his back.  We walked a few more paces towards the main house before he cocked his head back towards me and said.  "And the Asperger's has never been formally diagnosed."

The penny dropped.  "Ah Bertie, that's not why I'm reading the book."

"Humph."  He huffed.  "Stupid poinger learns a few languages and does a few math tricks and suddenly he's some celebrity expert on synaesthesia."

"Well he does have it."  I ventured.  "That kind of makes him an expert."

"He's not!  He's a performing monkey just this side of an idiot savant.'

"Now your just being mean Bertie.  He's overcome a lot."

"Humph."

"Now Bertie."

"My synaesthesia is far and away more interesting than his."  He grumped.  "And I'm much better looking."

"Of course you are Bertie."

"I just don't see why they couldn't write a book about me."

"Well, for starters, there's the fact that you have warrants out in five countries."

"Six,  I'd use a fake name."

"And the dust jacket photo?"

"Moustache,  I look quite sexy with a moustache."

"OK,"  I said.  Warming up to the subject.  "How 'bout this; Much as your book would be good, your art is even better..."

"It is quite steller."

"...So, I would think that you would rather people marvel at your artistic genius than be fascinated by your synesthesia."

"True, true."  He said, tilting his head thoughtfully.  "Still, the book would be bloody fantastic. Seems a pity to deny the world." 

"I know."  I said.  "You could keep a journal to write your memoires and publish them posthumously.  Then, people could say, 'Wow, is that really how his mind worked?  This explains so much.  He truly was a...'"

"Genius?"  He offered.

"Absolutely."  I agreed.

He stopped walking a moment and turned towards me.  "Say...your pretty good at this."

"Good at what Bertie?"  I asked.

"Handling me."  He grinned taking my arm.  "I like being handled, makes me feel important."

I gaped at him at a loss for words.

He laughed and tugged my arm to get me going again.  "It's a complement, really.  In fact when I'm  a ridiculously famous artist, you can be part of my entourage."

"Oh I can, can I?"

"Mmmmhmmm,  you can be the one who tells me what I need to hear  instead of  what I want to hear.  You know, to keep me grounded and such.  And, you can bake the brownies."

"A Herculean task indeed. but  Isn't that sergeant Marks' job?"

"What?  No, he makes terrible brownies."

"Bertie!"

"Oh, the 'grounding' thing.  No, he just hits me on the head and tells me to stop being an idiot.  I like your methods better."

"Hmm.  Well thank you, I think."

He nodded regaly.

"Speaking of 'grounding'," I said in  my most tactful manner.  "Haven't you told me on several occasions that most artists who are popular during their lifetimes are doomed to become talentless hacks, if they aren't already, due to the overwhelming pressure to remain commercially viable?"

"True, true."  He said.

 "So, then, why would you want to be famous?"

"Oh, I don't want to be famous."  He said soberly.

"But."

"I simply won't be given the choice."  He cocked his head.  "It's just that my art is so obviously sublime, that even something as dense as an art critic can spot its brilliance."

"Obviously sublime?"

"Hush now."  He said, wagging a finger at me.  "Genius speaking." 

"Of course, of course.  Please do continue."

"As I was saying...what was I saying?"

"Sublime art critics."

"Yes, yes."  He said.  "As I was saying, my art is so obviously sublime that even an art critic can recognize its brilliance so its just a matter of time before I'm 'discovered' and you know what that means don't  you?"
 
"Ummm."

"Exactly!  Gallery showings."  He shuddered.  "And you know what that leads to."

"White wine and pretentious hors d'oeuvre s?"

"Worse,"  He said gravely.  "commissions."

"I see."  I said sagely.  "No, sorry.  I don't get it."

"Corrine,"  He huffed.  "commissions mean money."

"Ah."  I said. Understanding dawning.

"Yes,"  He said glumly.  "Lots and lots of money."

"You do love money."  I said.

"I do.  I really do."  He said ruefully.  "There are just so many lovely things you can buy with money."

"True."  I said.  "And then there's the attention and adoration."

"I know!"  He wailed.  "I love being told how great I am.  I just love it!  And the more commissions and money I get the more people will love me."  He reached over to pluck at my sleeve.  "So you see why you have to be part of my entourage."

"No, not really."

He huffed, exasperated.  "So you can tell me who adores me for my art and good looks and who just likes my art cause it popular.  You know like the the slave who stood behind the Roman general in the chariot holding the laurel wreath.

"Whispering 'You are but a mortal man'?"

"Yes!"  He said excitedly.  "Only more modern and appropriate."

"So.... Poke you with a stick and tell you to get over yourself."

"I was thinking more like kissing me on the cheek and reminding me that art is more important than money."

"I can see why you wouldn't want St. Marks to do that."

"Cause of the kissing?"

"No, because saying anything was more important than money might just kill him."

He laughed and squeezed my hand.  "That's what the Sarge said!  He said he'd rather just hit me and say 'shut up and take the money!'.  So I decided he's going to be my agent and now that you're on board..."

"Now wait a minute Bertie I haven't agreed to this."

"But I decided."

"I do have a life you know."

He snorted, amused.

"Well I do."  I said mildly annoyed.

"But it's a boring one."

"Bertram DeGaul Zelig, you take that back!"

"But you told me so just last week."  He said confused.

"I did not!...Well maybe I did but that doesn't mean I meant....Oh, why do you take things so literally Bertie?"

He frowned puzzled.  He tapped his fingertips gently together a few times thoughtfully then brightened. "Is this about the asking thing?  Stewart says girls like to be asked first."

 I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.

"Well, if it means that much to you,"  He said  twining his arm around mine.  "I'll ask.  But we both already know your going to do it."

"Oh I am, am I?"

"Of course,"  He said smugly.  "I'm irresistible."

"The word you want is incorrigible."  I said, trying to sound stern but fighting back a smile.

"Of course."  He said dismissively.  "Most true geniuses are." He must have read my smile for acquiescence because he squeezed my  hand and looked up at me with a broad grin.  "Oh Rin we're going to have so much fun."

"Rin?"

"It's your groupie name."

"I think not.  Besides, I thought you didn't want to be famous."

 "Oh I don't."  He said.  "I'll be tourtured and miserable the whole time but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try to enjoy ourselves now is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"No."  He said patting my arm patiently.  "You should always try to find some joy in life Rin, no matter how miserable the circumstances."

I could not fault his philosophy, however flawed his logic.

"Besides,"  He said interrupting my thoughts.  "We'll be so busy planning my death, that I'll have little time to be miserable."

"What the What now?"

"My death."  He said excitedly.  "We have to start planning it right away so it will be just perfect."

"Bertie."  I said warningly.

"No, you see you've inspired me.  All along I've been resigned to having to be rich and famous for the rest of my life and quit the Geese and not blow things up any more, which would really be a shame cause a proper explosion is really just a practical application of performance art,  hmmm... performance art"  He mused.  "Perhaps I could still blow things up from time to time."  He whistled a couple of bars of music experimentally then shook himself back to reality.  "Anyway I'd still be miserable but then you suggested the whole posthumous memoires thing and I thought, hey! perhaps being famous wouldn't be all that bad if it included a gruesome yet stunningly spectacular, tragically premature death."  He wrapped his arms gleefully about himself bouncing on the balls of his feet.  "Oh yes."  He sighed.  Then, eyes gleaming,  he began whistling softly again.

"No Bertie!"  I shouted "Stop it. Stop talking like that right now!"

"But your my death muse."  He said with a little smile.  "Hmm, death muse..I'll have to paint you like that."

I growled and grabbed his shoulders.  Shaking him until his teeth rattled.  "Dammit Bertie! your not this crazy so stop it right now."   He fixed me with a baleful glare for interrupting his express crazy train thoughts of death but I was un-cowed  "There will be no more talk about killing yourself do you hear me?"  I commanded starting to feel the edge of panic.  How could he talk so calmly about orchestrating his own death?  How could I stop him?  "I'll tell Sergeant Marks Bertie"  I said grasping at straws.  "If you kill yourself Bertie I will cry for you but I will never forgive you and so help me God if you don't swear to me by your mother, Zidane and all that is holy to stop right now and never even consider suicide again, not one cookie, blondie or brownie I bake will ever pass your lips again!  Do you hear me?"

That got him.  "Now you listen to me Corrine."  He said angrily, bowing out his chest.

"Not one crumb."  I said, glaring right back.

His expression moved from angry to hurt then puzzled.   He cocked his head and said, "Did you just swear at me Corrine?"

A small strangled sound was all I could manage.

"You did,"  He said.  "I heard it.  But why would you..."  He stopped, comprehension dawning on his face.  "Why Corrine, you didn't think I was planning to actually off myself did you?"  He grinned with delight.  "Oh, bless you silly girl, you did!"  He chuckled.  "My, my, what ever gave you that  idea?"

I gurgled and clutched his shoulders tighter resisting the urge to throttle him.

"I mean really Corrine, suicide, me?  No, that's for poncey brooding poets and pathetic, anorexic actresses.  I'm far too brilliant a visionary to kill myself.  Besides,"  He said tugging experimentally on the fingers which were slowly ensorcoling his neck.  "everyone knows that narcissists rarely commit suicide."

 He flashed me a charming smile then sobered.  He reached a hand out and, eyes round, placed a finger on my cheek.  "You really would cry for me wouldn't you?"  He whispered voice tinged with awe.

"Oh Bertie"  I sighed, dropping my hand to my side.  "What am I to do with you?"

"Well...,"  He said craftily.  "You could start by baking me some walnut brownies."

I lunged. 

He laughed and skipped deftly back away from my clutching fingers.

"Tsk, Corrine."  He said wagging a finger at me.  "If your going to successfully attack people, you'll have to learn not to telegraph.  I mean it wasn't so bad for a first  try but that twitching eye's a dead give away."  Arms akimbo, he tilted his head.  "Don't worry Corrine,"  He said with a wink. "I'm an extremely annoying person so you're sure to get plenty of practice."

I snorted not wanting to laugh.

He bounced forward and clasped my hands in his.  "Oh Corrine."  He said with a beautific smile on his face.  "For the first time since I realized I was going to be forced to become rich and famous I'm not so depressed because now I can write my book and fake my death  then get back to making real art and blowing things up and gardening."

"Ah, um, good?"  I said tenativly.

"Yes!" He said swinging our arms wide.  "Cause now I have my own death muse in my entourage.  This is going to be the best fake death ever!"

"I am not your death muse Bertie!  I shouted.  "I refuse to be your death muse."

But he, of course, ignored me.  He had that inspired look in his eye and was already off on another tangent.  "Hmmm, 'death muse'.  I had planned on painting you as Demeter in the mural because Sarge said he'd kill me if I even suggested painting you naked.  Pity but makes sense you being a lady and all but now I think you will be the 10th muse.  Well have to come up with a Greek name for you of course.  εμπνευσμένη θανάτου?  No, too complicated.  Funny someone so sweet being a death muse but that just adds to the irony and what's art without irony.   Oh so much to do.  I'm going to have to make more sketches and.... are you coming Corrine?  Mustn't dawdle, I've got a lot to do and you'll be late for tea."  He said as he dissappeared into the main house.  Oddly enough, it wasn't so much the fact that Zelig seemed to say all that in one breath that impressed me so, it was that he was also managed to whistle Vivaldi's 'Spring' under his breath at the same time. 


Griffin was right.  Unless you're prepared to use violence, arguing with Zelig is both exhusting and pointless.  I smiled, shook my head and followed him through the door.

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LIV

"Great story."  I said patting the soil down around the last potato plant.

"And so well told." Gushed Andrew, clearly smitten.

Thomas smirked, probably calculating how much ice cream he could get out of Andrew in exchange for a good word with his mother, and continued attaching gator clips to the clock mechanism.

 "Yes,"  Said Zelig.  "Usually, you don't hear a story with nudity, koi ponds, and girls covered in dessert unless Griffin's in the room." 

I tried to give Zelig a stern look but had to stifle a snort.  "What?"  He said.  "It's true ain't it? Red goes here and blue there."  He said, turning to Thomas.  "Faster to diffuse...I mean disconnect for transport." 

Thomas blinked then rearranged the wires, glancing at Zelig with thoughtful calculation.

I made a mental note to warn Stewart to keep those two apart.

Sarah came over to help me clean up the work bench while Andrew and Zelig hauled the window box outside to give it a good watering.  "Strange,"  She said.  "It's been years since Walter has teased me like that or even been pleasant to me for that matter."  She frowned.  "He hasn't been mean or anything, just cold and distant.  Oh, he's always been reserved of course, that's just how he is but he would at least tease you on occasion to show he was a bit fond of you and once in a blue moon even smile.  But not for the longest time."  She gave me an appraising look. "Tea hmm?"

I nodded wiping up some dirt with a rag.

"In the study?"

"Yes."

"Often?"

I stopped cleaning and crossed my arms.  "Any particular reason your asking?"

"No...yes...I don't know." She tapped her fingers on the counter thoughtfully.  "It's just that, well, it's unusual."

"What, having tea?  We are in England you know."

She smiled tightly.  "Yes," She said.  "But having tea with Walter is very unusual.  Especially in that room.  I was just wondering...."  She raised a speculative eyebrow.

"I've only been here for a couple of months so I can't really say what's unusual or not."  I said.   "Perhaps you should ask Walter."


"Oh, it's unusual all right." She shrugged.  "So,"  She asked casually as she examined her nails.  "What's Walter into these days?  Whatever do you talk about?"

"Look,"  I said. "I am sure you have the best of intentions here but as you just pointed out, Walter is a very reserved person but he has been good to Seras and me, he takes care of us so I don't think I should repay him with gossip."

She made an annoyed sound, started to point a finger at me then dropped it and sighed.  "Your right of course."  She said ruefully.  "It's just that..." She dropped her voice and leaned towards me.  "I owe him for a lot more than the shepherdess. You see, if it weren't for Walter, Thomas,..."  She choked a bit.  "...Well let's just say it's important to me that ..."

"...tells the correct time and everything and Mr. Zelig said for another 20 quid he can grow a turnip right around an LCD clock display that's a ribbon for sure so can I grandpa please have the money?"  Came Thomas' voice as he followed Andrew and Zelig through the doorway.

"I don't know Tom, $40 quid's quite a bit, besides, the science fair is less than two weeks away.  There simply isn't time." Said Mr. Russell.

"Plenty of time." Said Zelig wiping off his hands.

Mr. Russell scratched his chin and said gently.  "Now Mr. Zelig, I know your clever with the plants and all but.."

"Genius, actually."  Interrupted Zelig.

"Yes now, but even so."

"You don't think I can do it?"  Sniffed Zelig.

"I know you can't. Good you may be, but even you can't warp the laws of nature."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that."  I muttered.

Zelig beamed and patted my arm.  "See, Corrine believes I can do it."

"Stuff and nonsense."

"Ha!"  Said Zelig eyes gleaming.  "Care to place a wager on that?"

I groaned.  Here we go. I thought.

"What you got in mind Private."  Asked Mr. Russell.

Zelig cocked his head and tapped his lips with a finger pretending to contemplate this. "Tell you what I'll do old man, seeing as I like the kid and your a veteran an all how bout we say, if I don't grow the clock on time as promised I pay you the 20 quid but, if I do produce the clock, and I of course will, you pay me the 20 plus an extra fiver for disbelieving in me.  How's that sound?"

"I don't know."  Said Mr. Russell.  "On top to the $20 I'm already paying for the one you just made.  Seems a bit steep for vegetables."

"Vegetable art."  Corrected Zelig.

"Still."

"It demeans us both to quibble over that which is priceless but I can understand how an old codger such as yourself is probably on a fixed income so let's say $10 for the one I just made and Thomas' pretty little mother here poses for me as a nymph in a painting the Capitan just commissioned."  He grinned winningly at Sarah.

"Sounds fun."  Said Sarah.

"Wait a minute,"  Said Andrew suspiciously.  "Not the 'The feast of Bacchus' mural you were sketching up the other day?"

"That's the one."  Said Zelig excitedly.  "It's to feature the Capitan as Bacchus."

"Absolutely not!" Shouted Andrew slamming some bills down on the counter.  "Here's for your poxey soup clock!...That is to say, I would be honoured to treat Tommy to this clock, if he thinks it will help his grade."  He said, back peddling his temper.

"It's Thomas, Andy."  Said Thomas petulantly but still scooping up the bills.  "Are you sure you wouldn't want to pose for Mr. Zelig mother?  I hear he paints a tasteful nude and I could use the extra tenner for that Lego Death Star kit I was saving for."

The cheeky little so an so.

"Now Thomas,"  Said his mother.  "mustn't Tease Mr. Young when he's being so kind."  She beamed prettily at Andrew who broke off staring daggers at Thomas to smile bashfully back.  She pried the cash from Thomas' resisting fingers and turned to Zelig.  "Here's for the lovely clock Mr. Zelig."  She said handing him the money.  I noticed she also slipped him her phone number.  "Sorry about the posing thing.  Another time perhaps?"  She said smoothly then winked with her back turned so Andrew couldn't see.

OK, now I see where Thomas gets it from.  She's a bit of a cheeky so and so herself.

Andrew, in turn, was giving Zelig a triumphant 'so there' look.  Gads, men can be stupid.

Zelig shrugged and turned to Mr. Russell.  "So, what do you say old man?"  He asked holding up the money.  "You gonna jump high or stay home?"*

*Zelig may be, without a doubt, obsessed with his art to the exclusion of most everything else but gambling runs a close second.   Perhaps this is because the Geese seem to have raised the practice of placing stupid bets to both the level of an art form and a blood sport. 

Mr. Russell smiled and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  "Well now sonny, it seems wrong to steal from a crazy man but if you insist..."  He said reaching for his wallet.

"Oh, that I do."  Grinned Zelig pulling out his betting book.

"Who's holding?"  Asked Mr. Russell.

"Oh, please no."  I whispered.

 "Corrine."  Chorused Andrew and Zelig.

"Ms. Doyle."  Said Dr. Levin at the same time.

"Why me?"  I moaned.

"Cause, you're the only one everyone trusts not to pinch the money Corrine."  Said Zelig.

"Oh, well, that's nice I guess."  I said.

"Umhmm."  Said Zelig.  "Plus, you got no pockets again so..."  He grinned and looked meaningfully at my chest.

LETTERS FROM HELLSING LIII

A lot of twists, turns and surprises today/night. Amazingly, most of them good.

For starters, Miss Pringle had decided to take a personal day and Dr. Levin had been tempted out of his office by Zelig to view a special exhibit on land-mines at the British War Museum leaving Andrew to finish up the lab work on his own. It was a beautiful day and I was chomping at the bit to get outside and dig in my garden plot so I pitched in, setting up the samples for the slides while he wrote out the labels in an effort to convince him to knock off early and play hookey for a couple of hours.

Andrew wasn't all that hard to tempt as:
a, I was doing his work and
b, Mr. Russell's very attractive and recently divorced daughter was supposed to be dropping by so, while our desires may have been mutually exclusive, our destination was not. An innocuous comment on the weather and the casual mentioning of Sarah's possible visit was all it took. We flipped on the centrifuge, snuck out of the lab and headed for the kitchen garden.

I had planned to transplant the strawberry runners Mr. Russell had promised me from the main garden plot for my border but ended up in the potting shed helping his grandson, Thomas, with his school science project on Eco-friendly power sources instead.

Silly, unimaginative tyke that he was, he merely wanted to make a boring old potato clock. Andrew, trying to impress the mother no doubt, suggested instead that Thomas make a clock that used a water battery so there would be no waste (I.E. no potato to throw away) at the end which would be more Eco-friendly. Thomas said "Ooo..." and Andrew ran off to lab for supplies.

I had read the same article and of course had to put my 2 cents (pence?) in and suggested that the clock be made from a living, growing plant so there would not only be no waste, but oxygen produced as well. Ha! super Eco-friendly. Thomas said "Aah..." and I ran out to my plot to find a good plant.

Then his grandfather, with a twinkle in his eye, suggested we create a window garden box deep enough to house several living potato plants so not only would there be no waste, there would be more oxygen and you could make potatoes Au gratin. Thomas said "Ooh!" and Mr. Russell went to pick out some wood.

We adults were elbow deep into the project when it suddenly occurred to me that Thomas was actually a pretty smart kid after all.

Andrew was stripping wires and I was applying primer to the window box when Zelig and Dr. Levin showed up. Zelig took it all in at a glance then immediately set to whittling a functioning mechanical clock entirely from root vegetables.

Dr. Levin didn't seem to mind the change in venue a bit as, like all good British subjects, he adored gardening. He had an especial fondness for orchids and Mr. Russell had an especially nice collection of them in the bromides section of the greenhouse. The two of them wandered over to the hot house to see the jejewoodia jiewhoei specimen that had just arrived from Borneo arguing amiably over the merits of cross-species fertilization. Zelig threw out a comment about plant propagation powders before turning back to carving cogs out of a turnip. Personally, I prefer grubbing through weeds and dirt to pollinating plants with a paint brush but hey, whatever floats your boat.

Walter arrived not too long after, having read the scrolling marquee note on the lab bulletin board's LED display. He took us all in with a raised eyebrow then deftly removed the comic book Thomas was reading from his hands, rolled it into a tube and firmly rapped the boy on the head with it.

"Ow! Mr. Walter!"

"Mr. Webber, I am quite certain that I have mentioned to you before that my staff is not to be used to complete your homework assignments." Thomas sighed, shuffled over to the planter and resignedly picked up a paint brush. "I would have hoped, of course, that the adults in this room would know better than to fall victim to your Tom Sawyer routine but I remain confident they intended to ensure you did at least a modicum of the work on your project."

Andrew and I grinned sheepishly and put down our tools.

Zelig glanced up and said, "What school project? I thought we were just making clocks." then went back to fastening the claw feet he had carved from some radishes to the timepiece. "Course little slick here can always buy it off me once it's done."

"Or we could make soup." Snickered Andrew, just before Zelig beaned him with a beet.

"I'm sorry Walter, I'm afraid he's incorrigible." Said Thomas' mother, gazing at Walter with her limpid blue eyes.

"Sarah Elizabeth Russell, it is my personal belief that that particular term was invented to describe you as a child."

"Now Walter, I wasn't all that bad." She said pouting her pretty pink lips.

"I seem to recall you convincing the cook to bake the 15 dozen cookies you needed to earn your Girl Guides baking badge."

"I had a cut on my finger." She said holding up a perfectly manicured pinky.

"Then there was poor captain Trent who unwittingly wrote your final essay on the Battle of Waterloo for your A levels."

"I listed him in the bibliography."

"Then there was the scale model wind turbine..."

"I never told him to use those engine parts from the Bentley I swear!"

"Hmm." Said Walter.

"Perhaps, I was a just bit incorrigible." She said, smiling winsomely at him.

"Perhaps?"

"But I never could get one over on you. Could I Walter?" She said playfully batting her long eyelashes.

"I am, alas, immune to your glamour Ms. Russell. Please practice your cantrips on a younger subject."

Instead of being injured by this rebuff, Sara laughed, delighted. She turned to us grinning. "Walter has long suspected me of being a changeling." She said.

I frowned and rubbed at a bit of paint on my hand. Inexplicably annoyed by this exchange.

"Oh, surely not." Said Andrew ingratiatingly.

"Interesting," Said Zelig. "Are you?"

"Could be." She said winking.

Walter cleared his throat. "Ms. Doyle, I am supervising upgrades to the roof''s gun emplacements." I smiled wiping off my hands on a rag prepared to go with him. "Perhaps we can meet in two hours in the study for tea?"

"Oh, OK." I said disappointed.

"Very good." He said putting his watch away. "Please do not forget to bring the Daniel Tammet biography you were going to lend me I am looking forward to reading it."

Zelig looked at me suspiciously.

"Sure." I said.

"Excellent." He said then turned to Thomas. "Mr. Webber," He admonished the boy, who was morosely dabbing the same spot on the planter over and over again with his paintbrush, "sooner started..."

"Sooner finished. Yes I know Mr. Walter." Thomas grumbled.

Walter raised an eyebrow and fixed Thomas with an icy stare his fingers drumming on the comic book tube.

Thomas squeaked with alarm and immediately began painting in earnest.

Walter nodded satisfied then handed the comic book to Sarah. "I would recommend corporal punishment but it never seemed to work on you." He said, then left.

"Ha!" Said Sarah to Walter's disappearing back. She turned to us arms akimbo. "He's awfully mean to me for a man who's seen me naked."

Andrew made a strange choking sound, Zelig put down his knife and looked extremely interested. I frowned and cast a worried glance over at her son. This did not seem an appropriate conversation to have in front of a 10 year old.

"Really mother," Said Thomas rolling his eyes but still painting. "She was four." He said to me.

"Five, actually." She laughed as Andrew and I sagged with relief. Zelig just shrugged and went back to carving veneer inlays for the clock face from a carrot.

"Well now I have to know." Said Andrew, his heart no longer broken.

"It's quite a funny story actually." She said. "There used to be an annual fete held for the staff on the summer solstice. There was music and games with prizes and all kinds of food and Father would have the whole day off to spend with Mother and me. It was better than Christmas.

Well, I had talked my father into buying me the the fanciest, most beautiful dress in the world the week before and, of course, insisted on wearing it to the fete. When mother found out how much daddy had spent, she went spare and forbade me to participate in the games. She said, as I was going to be wearing that dress to church for the rest of my life, I was to do nothing that might tear or stain it in the least. I almost said I didn't care because I looked so nice and already had lots of ribbons from last year but then I saw the prizes.

Sir Integra's grandmother has just returned from a trip to France and had brought back the most wonderful things. There were bottles of brandy and perfume, gloves and wallets and even a haute couture hat for the adults. For the children there was candy, treats and toys of all kinds but for the first first child to win two contests, they would have their choice of either a hand wrought silver belt buckle, a tin of the worlds best Turkish Delight or this painted china shepherdess.

That shepherdess was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life. She was perfection from the curly blond hair spilling out from a lovely straw bonnet covered with ribbons and violets to the black velvet slipper peeking out from the hem of her palest of pale blue gown. I loved her from the moment I saw her and and would do anything to win her.

I begged my mother to reconsider, offered to do extra chores, walk the dog, even clean my room but she would not budge. I tried getting my father on my side but he just patted my cheek and told me if I as good and listened to my mum he would buy me a china doll next pay day. Mother told daddy to stop spoiling me and that I was old enough to behave myself without being bribed. I tried to explain that I did not want a china doll, I wanted a shepherdess. I wanted that shepherdess and just knew I could win her so couldn't I just please, please, please, please, please sign up for the games.

Mother got cross and said that I had enough dolls and didn't need another and to stop whining. That's when I made the big mistake of correcting her and telling her it was not a doll but a china shepherdess. That's when mother, who was eight months pregnant with my brother Tommy at the time, started yelling. She said she did not care if it was a china shepherdess or a golden idol, that if I were to place one foot on the lower field while wearing that dress she would flay me alive and if Father said one more word about buying me dolls she would boil him in oil. She always did get a bit cranky in her last trimester.

Father, who knew better than to argue with Mother when she was angry and pregnant, tried to make peace by suggesting we go up to the gardens so Mother could sit in the shade while he and I fetched cookies and lemonade. Mother agreed and firmly took my hand to lead me away.

Sadly, I turned my head to take one last look at my shepherdess where she stood dainty and beautiful amidst the other prizes on the table. I could not stand the thought of another child winning her. My heart was broken and I would never smile again.

Suddenly, and I will swear this to my dying day, the shepherdess looked right at me and gave me a saucy wink. I gasped and stumbled. When I looked back she was once again a prim and proper china shepherdess standing frozen, a serene, knowing expression on her face but in that moment I knew, just knew she wanted me to win her. Mother gave my hand a jerk to get me going again and I complied, a plot fomenting in my brain..

As soon as we had settled Mother in the garden, I set my plan into action. First, I asked my father if I could go with my best friend Miriam to the gazebo to watch the tableaux then, right in the middle of Florence Nightingale's "Lady of the Lamp", I pretended to hear my mother call me. I dodged around the Splat a Rat and cut across the upper field to the top of the obstacle course. I carefully removed my dress, folded it neatly so it wouldn't crease then hid myself in a bush by the starting line and waited."

We all saw where the story was going but couldn't wait to hear what happened next. Only Thomas seemed immune rolling his eyes before starting the second coat of paint on his window box.

"Bang! went the starter gun." She said. "I leaped out of the bushes and on to the obstacle course just behind the other children wearing nothing but my undies, socks and patent leather shoes.

 By the time we hit the first wall, I had passed the stragglers and was in the thick of it. I soared over the rope pit and emerged from the crawl tunnel s neck and neck with Robert Parker who usually won everything but not today.

I scrambled up the last wall like a monkey, Robert Parker a hairsbreadth behind me. From the top of the wall, I could see the finish line, just beyond the sand hazard. I was going to win.

I swung my legs over the edge and jumped. Something tugged at me for a moment bringing me up short, then there was a loud ripping sound and I dropped lightly to the ground. I heard Robert Parker gasp and giggle before falling off the wall and landing face first into the sand. The crowed cheered as I raced across the finish line bare bottomed, covered in dirt and grinning like a fool."

"I like this story." Said Zelig, twirling his knife. "Lots of nudity and running about. Very exciting" Andrew and I nodded our agreement.

"Wait," Said Sarah. "It gets better."

We leaned forward all ears.

"Lord Hellsing almost fell over he was laughing so hard. He always loved a good laugh. I think even Walter smiled a bit. He used to smile sometimes back then." She said, a bit wistfully. "I did a little victory dance as I took my ribbon and had just turned to walk to the upper field for the next race when I spotted Mother waddling towards me at full steam her face like thunder.

I squeaked with fear and ran for the nearest tree thinking that in her condition, she wouldn't be able to follow much further up than a couple of meters. I flew at the trunk and had just gotten a leg over the first branch when Walter plucked me from the tree like so much reluctant fruit. 'I doubt you will be safe there Miss Russell,' He said, tucking me under his arm. 'I think perhaps it would be best to come with me.' Lord Hellsing laughed even harder watching me struggle in Walter's grip. 'Quite so Walter.' He said wiping a tear from his eye. 'You smuggle that hellion to safety and I'll distract the mother.' He stopped and gave Walter a sly wink. 'For once, I'll deal with the mess while you sneak off with the girl eh?' Walter nodded and began lugging me towards the main house.

You have to understand mind you that all of us children lived in awe of Walter. He was like some distant god, rarely interacting with us but was always watching. Not a cookie stolen or a prank pulled that Walter didn't catch you out and find some horrible chore for punishment. We weren't often allowed in the main house but heaven help the child who tracked mud in when we were. And the stories the adults told when they thought we weren't listening were absolutely terrifying. I mean, we all figured out about the Hellsing charter pretty early and Daddy was still on active duty back then but even he talked about Walter in whispers. He was never actually mean to us and kites would always find their way out of trees and broken dolls would invariably be mended. Still, when Walter spoke, we minded.

So, you can imagine his surprise when instead of snuffling quietly and accepting my fate, I began fighting back with a vengeance. I yelled at him that we were going the wrong way and when that didn't work I tried kicking his legs and pummelling his back. I even tried biting him but he simply folded me in half and tucked me back under his arm so I hung upside-down.

Still, I would not give up, demanding that he take me to the upper field. Refusing to tell him where my clothes were, insisting I was too dirty to put my dress back on anyway and that I would not take a bath no matter what, he could not make me so he might as well just let me go!

So he did. Right into the koi pond.

I thrashed about in the water kicking and sputtering. 'Are you clean enough now Miss Russel?' He asked. I jumped up, glaring at him prepared to make a run for it. 'I wouldn't advise it.' Said Walter. 'You won't get far.' At that moment I heard the starting gun go off for the spoon race. I burst into tears and sat right back down into the water for a good cry sobbing over and over that he'd made me miss it.

'We'll have no more of that Miss Russell.' Said Walter handing me a handkerchief. 'Perhaps you should tell me what this is all about.' So I sat dripping wet in the koi pond, fish nibbling at my toes and poured my heart out to Walter. finally I asked him if he hadn't ever wanted something so much that he would do almost anything to get it, even if everyone else thought it was stupid.

He was quiet a moment then said, 'Sometimes, it is not just a question of being willing to do what it takes to get what you want but also of being willing to face the consequences. Are you willing to face the consequences Miss Russell?' I nodded solemnly and hiccuped. 'Very good then Miss Russel. Blow you nose and come along' He said holding out his hand to me. He helped me from the koi pond and we started back towards the house.

'But Mr. Walter,' I asked quietly. 'How am I to win? the egg and spoon was my best event and we missed it. Robert's sure to have won and next up is the blancmange eating contest and no one ever beats Robert in that.' Walter just said he had absolute faith in me and while he would not allow cheating he was not adverse to evening the odds a bit in my favour. I looked down to where my little hand disappeared inside his big, capable one. He wore fingerless gloves back then and I could see the fine, lines of countless scars running along his fingers like a spider web. I knew how he had gotten them and I knew I should be afraid of what he was but he was the only one who understood. He was the one who was going to help me win that shepherdess.

And with Walter helping me, I couldn't lose.

I grinned and squeezed his hand. 'we're going to win.' I said when he looked down. 'Of course.' He replied and led me into the house.

As I sat down at the blancmange table I surveyed my competition. There was Robert Parker, of course, then George Pratchette who was rather cute but unfortunately prone to nose bleeds under pressure and finally William Morgan who didn't really care if he won but just liked eating blancmanges. Robert was the one to beat as his capacity for eating and belching was unrivalled by any child on the estate but thanks to Walter I had a strategy and a fighting chance. I double checked the garters fastened on the rolled up sleeves of the shirt Walter had lent me and prepared for battle.*

*Walter had dressed me in one of his old shirts which, even after belting it with a tie, still came well down past my knees. He then secured the sleeves with garters and had pulled back my hair in a tight pony tail. Lord Hellsing had taken one look at me swimming in Walter's old shirt and declared it marvellous to now have a new travel sized mini-Walter for his convenience.

The start was sounded and I plunged face first into the blancmange without thought or finesse. I didn't even chew. Per Walter's instruction, my one and only job was to consume.

While I mindlessly shovelled that sticky gelatinous mass into my mouth, Walter's tactics evened the odds. First, a word in cook's ear and the strawberry blancmange normally reserved for William, was placed in front of me while he was served the lime custard, his least favourite. That should slow him down a bit should he decide to make a go of it. Next, and I still feel a bit bad about this, Walter positioned pretty Melissa Smyth in the front row, just between Robert and George. Now, Robert had crush on Melissa while, Melissa had a thing for George and just before the signal, Melissa shouted out to George that if he should win, she was going to give him a big kiss.

Robert got angry and yelled at George to stop flirting with Melissa. George was so embarrassed, that he got a nose bleed right then and there. William, took one look at George and lost his appetite. By the time any of them remembered there was a contest going on, I was half way down to the plate.

I didn't stop to gloat, I just kept eating. Even when I heard my mother's angry voice as she ploughed through the crowed, I didn't slow down. I just kept shovelling that blancmange into my mouth until there was nothing left but plate.

Next I knew, a smiling Lord Hellsing had swung me up from the bench and pinned a 1st place ribbon to my sticky chest declaring that he'd never seen the like. Then, with swat on the behind, he sent me over to a waiting Walter forestalling my parents with a request to allow Walter to at least clean the condemned before her execution. Father consented, trying not to laugh. Mother frowned but nodded.

Savouring my last moments of freedom, I raced up the slope ahead of Walter and with a savage war cry, leapt into the koi pond. Walter, eventually fished me out of the pond and within 10 minutes I was dried, dressed, brushed and looking neat as a pin. My shoes, of course, were ruined but my dress was spotless.

Walter asked me if I was ready to pay the piper, I said yes and he bowed and offered me his arm. The stalwart knight escorting his brave princess to her doom.

It was the the happiest moment of my life. I mean I knew I was in trouble and I felt bad for making Mother angry but standing there, with the shepherdess in my hands at last it all went away. There was only me and my shepherdess. I stared down at her and stroked her cheek lovingly. Her serene gaze assured me she had never doubted for a moment that I would win her.

I missed two sleepovers and had to sweep the kitchen and feed the dog for a month but it was worth it.  I've never worked so hard for anything before or since."  Her eyes got a faraway cast.  "You know, I didn't keep a lot of things from when I was little but I kept her, I kept my shepherdess.  Still have her."  She smiled impishly then winked.  "That, and my hopeless crush on Walter."  She quipped.