Post by worldking on Mar 25, 2021 21:33:09 GMT
Hellsing Infinite #1
By worldking
Chapter I: Dark Origins
I’ve written a lot of fiction, fan fiction, and non-fiction over my 8-year amateur (and some professional) writing career. This story was my favorite fan-fic idea I ever came up with, but I didn’t do the idea justice in its first iteration. When Constantine’s title got dropped, I rushed to add him to my roster and shoehorn him in the story. I also didn’t properly proofread and structure my story. Here’s my second go. I’ve fixed some aspects of my story outline, changed up some character dynamics, and I’m excited to put fake pen to fake paper. I hope you all enjoy!
*
10 Years Ago, just outside New York City, at the van Helsing estate
“Are we there yet?” Integra van Helsing, just 6 years of age, asks, her feet kicking up and down in her black flats with pink bows on them. Abraham looks back for just a second, his eyes meeting his daughter’s and a smile slipping across his face, his heart swelling with pride. Her head whips out the window as they pass an elderly couple walking their dog. Her short brown hair is pulled back into piggy tails and her small ten-year-old body is shoved in a black poufy dress. Abraham turns back to look at the winding road ahead, just a few miles away from the pavement turning to dirt and the houses on either side turn to trees.
“Just a few more minutes, darling,” Elizabeth says. Abraham looks over at his wife and grabs her hand, resting it on the counsel.
“Are you nervous, dear?” He asks, staring into her crystal blue eyes, like the crashing tides of an ocean just moments after a storm.
“For what?” She asks, playfully rolling her eyes with a devious smile on her face. “To meet the infamous van Helsing family?”
“They are a part of a world you’ve never seen before, that doesn’t frighten you?” he says, the steering wheel slipping out of his hands momentarily as he hits the dirt road. Elizabeth breaks out laughing.
“Maybe you should focus more on the road and less on me meeting your family!”
“Come on, El, seriously,” Abraham pauses, looking back at Integra as she spaces out into the distance. “You know how much danger even being around them can be. We need to be careful not to get sucked into it.”
“And that’s why we decided to mostly keep our family away from them. If Lawrence has been here all summer long, how bad can it be?”
“Fine,” Abraham starts with a huff.
“Am I gonna see Lawrence? I haven’t seen him in FOREVER!”
“Lawrence has been staying with your grandpa, Integra, he will be here,” El says, looking back at her sunshine in the back seat.
“Why don’t I get to spend the summer with Grump?”
“Because, silly, you wanted to go to Water World. We gave you the choice, you chose Water World.” Integra sits in the back, her face scrunched in thought as her little brain runs at a million miles per hour. Before either of them can say a word—"
“We’re here,” Abraham says as they pull through the large, open metal gate, coming into the drive of a large, beautiful mansion reaching several stories high. “Welcome to Helsing manor—welcome to my childhood.” As the family drives up to the house, they see a dozen or so people standing out on the lawn—a few playing Frisbee, the others standing around sipping on drinks. Integra climbs up to the door, sticking her head out the open window.
“LAWRENCE!” She shouts, her eyes wide and filled with joy as she watches her brother catch a blue Frisbee mid-air and fall to the ground. He looks up and sees his sister and a large smile grows across his face. Abraham comes to a stop and presses a button to unlock the back doors.
“Go on, sweetie.” He says as he watches Integra fling herself out the window of the car, land briskly on her but and seeming to levitate to her feet, before starting a sprint towards her brother, colliding in a big bear hug with him.
“How many Helsings are there?” El asks, looking at the large crowd and seeing another dozen or so people at the side of the house.
“Well, there’s us, my brothers Jake and Arnold, my sister Lucy, and their families. That’s just those of us that are from my father. Who knows about his family? We could be massive, and Dad did everything he could to get as many of us here as possible.” Abraham parks the car behind a small grey Corvette. Abraham and El climb out of the car and are immediately greeted by Lucy, her long red hair whisking behind her as she runs up to hug her brother.
“ABES!” Lucy screams as she collides with her brother, the two siblings embracing each other. El just smiles at the reunited family.
“I thought I was the only one who called up Abes, honey?” She says.
“I just don’t want it catching on,” Abraham says, detaching from his sister and locking the door to his car.
“How have you been?” Lucy says, now hugging El.
“We’ve been good. Colorado is treating us great.” El says with a laugh as she hugs her sister-in-law.
“GOOD!” Lucy says, enthusiastically turning her attention to the front door where a large, burly man with a Marine-close cut on his head and a clean-shaven face stands, his body rigid and his stare icy-cold. As he stares down at Abraham, Lucy, and El, his icy-cold frown turns upside down to a glowingly warm smile.
“Son!” He says, extending his arms for a hug as he walks towards Abraham. Abraham embraces him with a strong hug.
“Dad, long time no see,” Abraham says as he embraces his father for the first time in years. “How’s the business?”
“Oh, you’ve always talked of it as though it is work, son!” His father starts as he detaches himself from Abraham and hugs El. A flick of his wrist motions the family to follow him upstairs. “This is a life’s work, a passion—an art-form, son. And your boy is very interested.”
“Father,” Abraham stops dead in his tracks, his body turning suddenly ridged.
“Oh, don’t be so damned worried,” his father says with a hardy laugh. “We haven’t told him a thing. He’s read some journals, but he’s been taught that they are fiction. Your generation is so…lacking faith,” Alfred van Helsing leads the three through the mansion, Abraham’s eyes darting around the massive house, towards the bookcases where he learned to read, the tables where he learned his manners, and the stairs he must’ve fallen a million times trying to learn how to fly.
The three walk through the large dining room into the kitchen, where a younger man stands waiting. The man, standing a little taller than Abraham, his eyes a passionate green, his smile twisted like a car salesman, his clothes neat and casual.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, brother?” Arnold says, his eyes piercing into Abraham as he sips on his glass of water, a short blade at his hip.
“Brother,” Abraham’s voice rings hollow against the endless wood panels of the home, deafening in its endless nature. He hadn’t seen Arnold in almost a decade, not after the family split over the business. Their father motions them into his office, his warm smile disappearing, replaced once more with rigid, cold existence.
Abraham takes a deep breath and pushes open the door, revealing a room cut squarely from the eighteenth century—no lights save that from candle wicks burning, the flickering flames casting menacing shadows of all the figures in the room, rocking back and forth as though a child in a new mother’s arms; the mahogany desk perched on a purple Prussian carpet, golden tassels marking a shining light from the candles’ glare; two bookcases sit in one corner with every volume of the van Helsing family’s legacy; a small wooden table with different whiskeys sits in the other. Abraham’s father takes his seat behind his desk, his shoulders broad and his gaze chilling.
“Please, take a seat,” Alfred says, motioning at the two available chairs in front of his desk. Abraham obliges, pulling his chair out and looking confused at the two men, clearly the only one in the room unaware of the peculiar circumstances.
“What’s going on, father?” Abraham asks, his breath growing short as his nerves grow long. Alfred just stares at his son, holding back tears, his body trembling.
“Son, I have respected your choice of putting aside your family of birth to go off to raise your own family. It was a noble decision born of a desire to preserve your loved ones. I applaud it,” Alfred says, reaching down and unlocking his bottom desk drawer. “But it is time that we all come to terms with where we are.” Senior sets a piece of paper on the table, uncolored, dusty, and old; signed dozens of times.
“What is going on? I demand to know!” Abraham yells, slamming his fist on the desk.
“Brother, please, calm yourself,” Arnold says softly, his eyes emotionless and unmoving.
“Do not call me brother!” Abraham spits venom at Arnold, his eyes narrowed, his mouth straight in anger, his body vibrating with rage.
“This is the deed to the manor, son,” Alfred says, drawing the two men’s attention back in. “I’m dying.”
Abraham’s anger suddenly simmers as he watches a tear drop from his father’s eye, the only tear he had ever seen his father shed. The room hangs in silence for a moment, the three staring at each other, the future and the past running together in one, single time.
“W-what’s happening?”
“I’ve got stage four breast cancer, son. I’ve only got weeks to live.”
“I don’t understand what the deed is for,” Abraham says with a short breath, his heart beating hard against his chest.
“The van Helsing family has stood for generations, thousands of years, fighting off the scourge of vampirism—"
“Just stop!” Abraham yells, cutting off his father. “You’re dying and you want to talk about vampires?!”
“You may have not chosen this path, Abraham, but some of us still believe in saving humanity,” Arnold interjects, his voice stony and cold.
“And where is it your place to even speak to me in a time like this?” Abraham asks.
“Ever since you’ve abandoned this family, I have been ten times the son as you. I have been here the whole time, helping our father to fight a scourge that threatens us all; helping him through the first rounds of chemo; raising your son in the traditions of this family!” Arnold says coolly and cruelly, his eyes burrowing into Abraham’s, countering the pure hatred with a silent resonance.
Suddenly, Abraham’s fist crashes through Arnold’s jaw, dropping him to the floor, both of their chairs dropping backward.
“Will both of you stop being children?!” Alfred yells, standing up himself and cringing from the pain, falling slightly and grabbing his arm. Arnold pushes himself up from the ground, whipping blood away from his nose and staring at Abraham.
“Carry on,” Arnold says, looking away from Abraham and at Alfred.
“As I was saying, the van Helsing family has been around for thousands of years, passed from father to son. The question is—who wants the family? Who wants to carry on our legacy?”
“You would give our family to Arnold—a cold, fearful man?”
“Would it not be better than bestowing the family onto someone ashamed to carry the name of van Helsing?” Arnold says with cold indifference.
“You two both leave, now—and decide who is man enough to take this responsibility,” Alfred says, putting the paperback in his desk and locking the drawer. Senior walks out of the room, but quickly turns to look at the two: “If you two continue to disgrace my family as you did in this office, neither of you will take the deed.”
*
Rain patters hard against the window as a strike of thunder booms through the night, like a slow, deliberate drum beat marching through the fields, the pale moonlight beating softly down on the van Helsing manor.
Abraham slowly opens his eyes, reaching across the bed for Elizabeth, only to find empty covers. “El?” He mutters, his breath hot in the cold night air. He pushes himself up, looking around the room, his vision blurry and unfocused, finding the door sitting just ajar. “El?” He mutters again. He stands up and pulls on a pair of elastic shorts, crossing the room to the door. He pokes his head out and looks both ways, not seeing anything out of place. “El?” He calls out this time, no answer coming from anywhere. As he slowly steps out of the room, a cold chill hits his body, his spine-shivering with the weight of the world.
He gradually makes his way down the hall, knocking on the bathroom door, looking in every open room, his heart pounding. Where is El? He keeps thinking to himself. He comes to the end of his hall where Lawrence and Integra are sharing a room. Surely, seeing those two will set his mind at ease. As he slowly cracks the door open, he sees two lumps lying soundly in their beds. A warm smile crosses his lips as he sees the two sleeping. It can’t hurt to kiss them goodnight, can it?
Abraham eases into the room, trying not to wake them up. As he slowly crosses over to Lawrence’s bed, he kneels and lays a soft kiss on his son’s head, only to be greeted by the soft embrace of a pillow. Abraham, perplexed, pulls the blanket from his son to find an empty bed and three pillows stuffed to look like a person. Now angered, Abraham crosses to find the same of Integra’s bed. Where have they gone? As fear and anger quickly overtake Abraham’s body he remembers—El’s favorite part of living here was midnight dips in the lake. She must’ve known he’d get upset, so she snuck out and took the kids with her.
Abraham eases out of the room again, being quiet for no real reason, when he hears a thud from downstairs. What could it be? Abraham quickly turns the corner of the hallway and begins walking towards the stairs when he realizes the blood splattered against the wall at the mouth of the stairwell. Abraham stops, his body suddenly rigged, his eyes filling with terror. What has happened here? Abraham backtracks to his room where he looks for his pistol but finds nothing. What happened to it? Did El take it? Unable to find his pistol, he grabs his blade, unsheathing it, and making his way back to the stairs, steeling his body for what he could encounter. He turns the corner of the stairs and sees his sister Lucy’s body lying motionless on the floor, her head turned backward like an owl’s, her eyes afraid and staring into Abraham’s. Holding back a spray of vomit, Abraham rushes down the stairs. He hears another thump. The killer is still in the house. As he passes his sister’s motionless body, tears spouting from his eyes, he sees the two small incisions in her neck. What has happened here?
Abraham rushes through the house to the kitchen, where he heard the thud, to see his father, impaled on a wooden stake, his eyes too afraid and motionless, his face white as a ghost and his body hard and cold.
As Abraham walks through the bottom floor of the manor, he sees every van Helsing’s body lying motionless, drained of blood, gruesomely murdered, strewn across the house. As he walks by a coat closet, he hears a shaking sound. Readying himself for anything, he grips his blade tightly and flings open the door to see the smooth silver metal of his pistol pointing back at him, Integra’s small body shaking as she struggles to hold up the gun, tears pouring from her eyes. Abraham kneels, lowering the gun, putting his finger to her lips to quiet her. A rotten smell comes from behind her. As he whips her tears away, he reaches around her and feels the soft, squishy blood and innards. He motions for her to move and she shakes her head. What is she hiding? He pushes her aside and his whole body drops as he stares into the severed head of his son, blood pooling on the ground as a bodiless head lies motionless, hauntingly afraid. Abraham stands, looking at his frightened children, and closes the door. This is between him and the monster now, no one else. Where is El?
Abraham turns and gets his answer, his body trembling with anger, his mind in a singular rage. Staring back at him are two piercing white eyes set on the backdrop of a cold, rainy night. A smile permeates the monster’s face, blood dripping from his shining white teeth. Abraham takes in the sight, every last detail, down to the golden ring on the monster’s finger, emblazoned with a six-sided star with a cross in the center. The darkness overpowers the finer details of the monster’s face, all Abraham can see is the blood dripping from his teeth, the whites of his eyes, and the moonlight reflecting from the golden ring—and his wife’s lifeless body dangling from the monster’s hands, her eyes filled with the same terror as Lawrence’s, her body limp as he drops her to the floor. Time stops as he watches El drop. Lightning lights up the room. Rain hits silently and slowly against the porch. His wife’s head smashes against the wood.
Abraham screams with rage and rushes the monster, but the monster is too fast and Abraham is out of practice. Is this how he dies? Is this how his family dies? As he turns to attempt another strike, the monster has disappeared. Abraham frantically looks for him, finally turning to stare out the door where the monster stands out on the lawn, the smile never disappearing from his face. With a wave of his hand, the monster disappears in a blur.
Abraham drops his blade and drops to his knees and cries out into the night sky.
*
8 Years Ago
The raindrops slowly on Abraham as he trudges through the moonlit forest, his eyes never resting as he searches between the trees, looking for his prey. The wind blows back his long hair and the mud kicks up onto his boots. He grasps his sword tightly, staring out into the whispering darkness.
He hears a laugh in the distance. Is that him? Abraham slowly crawls forward, his eyes focused on where the laugh came from, his body tight and his knuckles white. A strong wind blows past Abraham, carrying with it the scent of his enemy. He’s here, the strong scent of blood-curling it's way into Abraham’s body. How many victims? How many people has this man killed?
Abraham pushes past the brush and sits still, staring out into a clearing. The first thing he sees is the bodies—five by his count, all lifeless, lying on the ground, their eyes as dead and cold as the rest of them. Then he sees the vampire, short and thin, her legs bare and her long blonde hair shifting in the wind, holding a man in her hands as she drains the blood from him.
“Monster!” Abraham yells, charging at the vixen. She turns, her mouth turning up into a snarl, deftly dodging a swing of Abraham’s blade, dropping her victim lifeless to the ground. The two stand just feet apart, locked in an intense stare.
“How did you find me?”
“I followed the scent of blood,” Abraham says, plotting his next move. Should he go straight in with a jab, try to impale her, or go for the swipe and rip open her stomach? He knows one thing—start by taking her off guard. “You know, I thought you’d be a man.”
“Sexist pig,” she says, charging at him. He quickly dodges her strike and slashes at her heel, snapping one Achilles tendon into two. She tumbles to the ground but stands back up, her eyes locked on Abraham as she whips blood from her mouth. She charges again, and this time slashes Abraham’s chest, knocking him backward. Not letting up, she strikes a ferocious punch into his chest, knocking the wind from him. He throws his feet into her face, rabbit kicking her and using the momentum to backflip back to his feet. Where is his sword?
He doesn’t have time to find it as she quickly responds, grabbing his arm and flipping him in a circle, throwing him hard against an oak tree in the distance. Abraham can feel his left shoulder dislocate, but he can’t give up now. If he gives up now, the monster gets another victim.
The monster rushes him again, her teeth bourn and ready to bite. Abraham, using his good arm, pulls a small vial from his coat pocket and tosses it at the monster, where it explodes in her face, covering her in a green gas where she drops to the ground writhing in pain. Abraham takes a deep breath and jams his shoulder back into his socket, never letting his eyesight drift from the monster for even a moment. As she slowly pulls herself off the ground, she looks at Abraham and hisses. Why is she so strong? She stands up tall, staring down at Abraham, practically fuming from the nose.
“I’m done playing games,” she reaches behind her and pulls out a small revolver from a pouch hidden on her back, pointing it squarely at Abraham. With a grin cresting across her face, Abraham can see that this might be the end. The monster’s eyes grow wide as her hand goes limp, dropping the gun to the ground. Blood drips in a heavy stream to the ground as she falls forward, paralyzed, barely able to move. Standing behind her is a tall man, clad in a red coat, a red wide-brimmed hat adorning his head, his long, slick, shinning black hair billowing in the brisk night air, holding loosely his long, silver blade.
“You know what the stupid part about killing people in the forest is, love?” The man asks with a laugh, sheathing his blade and walking over to a tree next to Abraham. Abraham and the man lock eyes, and the man gives him a little wink and a smile, and that’s when Abraham sees it—the elongated fang, sharp and powerful, jutting from his teeth. Another monster? The man grabs a loose branch and yanks it from the tree, inspecting it to make sure that it is sharp enough, he crosses back to the woman, kneeling over her. “There’s wood around for miles.” The man raises the wood high and strikes it down, piercing it through the woman’s heart. As she lets out a ghastly scream, Abraham looks into her eyes as he sees the flicker of life disappear.
Abraham reaches into his pocket, grabbing the last small vile of vervain. One last chance. Abraham wings it at the man, but the man’s reflexes are too good, and he catches it mid-air.
“Come on now, I just saved your life, least you could do is say thank you,” the man says, dropping the vile to the ground. As soon as the vile makes contact with the ground, it explodes, sending green gas everywhere. Abraham smiles as he just got the break he needed. Alucard waves away the green fumes, looking more confused at Abraham.
“H-how did that not hurt you? It’s vervain!” Abraham yells, scrambling to his feet, fighting through the immeasurable pain of his shoulder.
“So, you do know about vampires. Interesting,” the man appears suddenly inches away from Abraham’s face, staring deep into his eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Compulsion won’t work on me.”
“I’m not trying to compel you; I’m trying to learn your name. Have manners been lost in this new world?”
“F-fine. I’m Abraham. Abraham van Helsing,” the man’s eyes grow wide as he hears the name—van Helsing.
“You’re the survivor?”
“Yes! And I will hunt you all down like the sick dogs you are!” Abraham tries to punch the man quickly, but his hand is deflected.
“Trust me, you aren’t going to win this fight,” the man says turning his back on Abraham and walking slowly away towards the body of the woman on the ground. “I’m a vampire hunter too.”
“Liar! I saw your teeth! You’re one of them!”
“Just because I’m one of them doesn’t mean I can’t hunt them,” the man reaches down, grabbing the revolver the woman was going to shoot Abraham with, and emptying the bullets on the ground. “You’ll need this,” the man says, tossing the gun to Abraham. Abraham fumbles the catch but eventually settles the gun in his hands.
“Why are you giving me weapons?”
“Because you need all the help you can get,” the man says, locking eyes with Abraham again. “I’ve got places to be, Abes, but if you need help, find me.”
“And how will I find you, monster?”
“Name’s Alucard. You’ll find me if you want to.” With that, Alucard disappears into the darkness, leaving Abraham standing in the middle of the forest, his eyes staring down at the empty revolver, then looking up to see all of the bodies strewn across the clearing. The darkness only grows darker as the night drags on and the moon fades from view.
*
5 years ago, the van Helsing estate
Integra’s foot slams hard against the wooden dummy, its oak body spinning in a flurry. Her blonde hair tied into a ponytail, sweat dripping slowly from her body. She bends over and pants, her hands on her knees, her body tired.
“That was some good work,” Alucard says, a small grin on his face. “Bet you can’t break its arm off with a kick,” Integra stares at the wooden dummy: a solid block of wood stuck on a metal pole, a sharpie smile and eyes drawn on it, two wooden arms at different heights sticking out. Integra smiles as she remembers putting this together years ago. She takes a deep breath and stands tall.
“How much you wanna bet?” She asks with a small smirk on her face, Alucard leaning against the doorway, his face clenched in a thinking manner as he taps his finger against his chin. The smile creeps back onto his lips and his eyes light up. He snaps his fingers and points at Integra.
“I’ll convince your dad to take you on our next scouting mission. Not an actual field mission, but scouting,” Alucard offers. Integra’s eyes light up like the sun as a devilish grin crosses her lips.
“Deal,” she takes a deep breath and focuses on the dummy. A deep breath is accompanied by a bloody image of her brother’s head. She shakes her head and lets the memory go. She steps up and unleashes a furious kick, just barely missing the dummy as she loses balance and falls to the ground. She sits there on her hands and knees for a moment, staring at the ground, panting hard. She looks up to see Alucard laughing to himself, his hand over his mouth, his eyes piercing with joy.
“I do have to apologize, but that was astoundingly awful,” Alucard chuckles, barely managing to speak through his laugh, walking over to Integra to give her a hand up. “I’ll still talk to your father. No chance in hell he’d take you on a field mission with aim like that,” Alucard laughs again. Integra smiles at Alucard, her eyes wide with wonder about the mysterious vampire that entered her life not long ago. Alucard, staring back at her, stops his laughing, it slowly rolls down to an innocent, playful “ha-ha.” Their eyes meet as the once cold room grows ever so slightly hotter. Then, at that moment, Integra’s eyes grow wide, her body stiffens, and her lips begin to shake. “What’s wrong?” He asks, his laughter completely gone, the unfamiliar feeling of the warm room growing chillier with the second.
“Dad?” She says. Alucard turns, and his eyes widen as Abraham waltzes out into the field with another girl, Integra’s age, at his side. Her long, flowing blonde hair reaches down her back; her bangs falling into the smile glued to her face; the diamond blue eyes filled with a mixture of glee and despair.
“Who is this?” Alucard asks, his voice harsh and cold, his hand motioning at the girl in a dramatic fashion.
“This is Seras,” Abraham says. “She’s going to be joining us.”
“This is our house. What do you mean she’s going to be joining us?” Integra asks as her face grows hot with anger, her eyes squinted and locked on Seras. Abraham motions for everyone to follow him with a wave of his hand, and then turns to leave the room, Seras at his side. The four walk slowly to the den, their footsteps echoing in the weight of the moment. They all take their seats on the plush coaches, Abraham sitting next to Seras; Integra sitting across the room, her arms crossed and the anger evident on her face; Alucard pours himself a drink and stands behind the family, sipping at his scotch.
“Would you like to join us, Alucard?” Abraham asks, motioning Alucard to take his seat in an empty chair at the head of the room.
“This, my friend,” Alucard starts, putting his hand up and taking another sip of scotch as he leans against the wall. “Sounds like a family matter,” he finishes, his eyes still locked on the new girl. “Best of luck to you,” Abraham sighs, steadying himself to explain to his daughter.
“This once was an academy, a place where the vampire hunters of the future were raised and trained. It’s where I trained, it’s where you are training, it’s where generations of vampire hunters have trained—"
“It’s where generations of HELSINGS have trained!” Integra cuts in, her voice breaking into a screech.
“Will you let me finish?” Abraham asks, forcing Integra to let out a high-pitched sigh and look away, her arms still crossed in vehement anger. “Generations of vampire hunters have trained here,” he pauses waiting, for another outburst from Integra, only continuing when none arrives. “And I’m taking the initiative to take it back to its roots. This will return to being Helsing HQ, a place to train and deploy the next generation and the current generation of vampire hunters, all under one roof.”
“So why the hell is she here? Why is she the ‘next generation of vampire hunters’?” Integra asks, still refusing to look at her father and Seras.
“Three years ago, her parents were killed by a vampire in front of her eyes. Since then, she’s bounced from foster home to f—“
“Do you mind if I tell my own story?” Seras asks, her voice hushed but assertive. Abraham shrugs and motions to her.
“Absolutely.”
“I bounced from foster home to foster home, researching everything I could about vampires. I found what I finally thought was a vampire and when I confronted him, well…I was right,” Seras says, her face starting to turn red with embarrassment. “But your father, Abraham, saved me, killing the vampire and telling me about this place, about a place where I could finally do something about the menaces that killed my parents.”
“Well that’s great, isn’t it?” Integra stands up, stomping her foot on the ground. “So now I have a new sister, is that it? Someone who wants this life? This life of blood and betrayal?! FINE!” Integra screams, rushing to her room. Abraham looks at Alucard, but Alucard's expression says it all.
“Sorry, I’m here to kill vampires—not to deal with teenaged drama,” Alucard says, walking into a different room, still sipping at his glass of scotch.
*
4 Years Ago, the Helsing estate
Seras’s foot slams hard against the wooden dummy, its oak body spinning in a flurry. Her blonde hair tied into a ponytail, sweat dripping slowly from her body. She bends over and pants, her hands on her knees, her body tired. She looks up at the wooden creature, the same sharpie smile that was on it when she got here a year ago, except now it has two little fangs coming from the corners of its mouth. She stands firm and lets out a powerful yell before she smashes the dummy again with a swift kick, knocking it off its support as she watches it flop to the ground, lifeless as its head smashes against the vibrant green grass in the dead of the snowy autumn.
Integra sits alone on a bench, the cold autumn air rushing through her hair, giving her goosebumps all along her back. A sole tear trickles down her cheek as she stares through the frosted window, her body shivering as her father crosses the small room and picks up the wooden dummy, setting it back in its support and motioning at Seras, most likely to take another kick. Abraham’s smile is wider than Integra has seen it in years.
“You’re just killing yourself doing this,” Alucard says, his voice carrying in the wispy autumn winds. His eyes hold steady on Integra as he sips at his drink, his tight black vest over a tailored dress shirt with close-fitting slacks on, just as he always wears around the house. Integra quickly whips away her tear and looks away from her father and Seras and instead at Alucard.
“I always wonder exactly what does he see in her?” Alucard takes another sip of his scotch and quickly crosses the meadow with the speed and ease only a vampire could exhibit. He motions to the seat next to Integra and she slowly scoots over, making room for him. He takes a seat in unison with another sip of the old whiskey sitting in his glass. “Maybe he doesn’t see anything in her. Maybe he intends to train the next generation of vampire hunters.”
“Why her? She looks…”
“So much like you,” Alucard finishes, taking another sip.
“Yeah. And now he doesn’t even notice where I am.”
“You’re strong. Maybe he just doesn’t realize that yet.”
“When will he?” She shouts, holding back tears.
Alucard stands up, motioning for her to follow him towards the house. “I can’t really feel the cold too well, but it has got to be freezing,” Alucard starts walking towards the house. “Why don’t you come inside?” Integra stares down at her shoes, shaking her head as another teardrop falls. “Suit yourself,” Alucard says before disappearing into the house.
Tears begin flowing freely down in streams down her cheeks, dripping down and forming puddles on the hard fall ground. She slams her right fist against the bench in anger. Why her? Why her?! WHY HER?!?! The cold winds chew at her skin, eating into every thought, every motion, every moment as she shivers and shakes until it all falls away in a cloud of warmth. She opens her eyes to see a thick red jacket draped around her, reaching down to the ground. She looks up and sees Alucard standing over her, a smile on his face and a hand on her back. She stands up and is met with Alucard’s arm wrapping around her as tears flow down steadily.
*
3 Years Ago, the Helsing estate
Light beams hollow on the wicker wood door through the slanted window glass as Integra stares out into the stretching grass she’s known for many years. This once was her escape, then it was her home, now it’s merely her prison.
A long black car begins rounding past the gate, heading for the school; its tires revolving, churning dirt to dust. Today is the day. Integra pushes her body off her window seat and looks around, her gaze dreary and her body directionless. She slips on a hoodie to combat the brisk fall nature of New York and slides out of her room.
The wood floors creak beneath her feet as she slowly makes her way to the foyer. As she stands atop the stairs, she sees Seras standing at the bottom, her long flowing hair touching the middle of her back, her arms crossed, waiting and expectant.
“You going?” Alaric Saltzman, the newest (and only) teacher at the Helsing school, asks as he slowly descends the stairs just ahead of her, his dusty brown hair sculpted and gelled into just the perfect place; a loose-fitting maroon shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows hanging off his shoulders; dirty blue jeans with a boot cut.
“Yeah, yeah,” Integra mumbles as she lumbers down the stairs, dreading this.
The three stands expectantly as they hear the car pull up to a stop. The engine cuts out and the door swings open and shut. All eyes on the large, wooden double doors at the front of the house.
“Just remember, Integra, they aren’t here to steal your daddy,” Seras says with a snide side-eye. Integra is used to this. She keeps her mouth shut and pushes her anger down.
Suddenly, the soft light of the evening pushes itself into the house, invading every corner, as the wood door swings open and Abraham and Alucard walk in, followed by three kids, roughly Integra’s age. The five stand in a line, from to right—Abraham in his stony silence; a blonde girl with a wide smile; a dirty blonde giant of a boy with broad shoulder and a look of nervousness; another girl, with flowing brown hair and a blank look on her face; and finally Alucard, clad in his normal red flair attire.
“Girls, I want to introduce you to your new classmates. This is Caroline,” he says, motioning to the blonde girl. “This is Matt,” he waves to the boy. “This is Elena,” and finally pointing to the brown hair girl. “Like you, they come from difficult backgrounds. We will welcome them,” he says, taking a cool pause and staring at Integra. “Together, we will all make the world a safer place from the monsters that took our innocence. That is the promise of the Helsing House.”
*
1 Year Ago, the Helsing estate
The door creeks open slowly as lonely strands of light sneak into the dark study. Integra pokes her head around the corner and sees her father’s desk sitting still at the back of the room; two glass containers of bourbon and cognac to the right and a picture of her family…her new family. Abraham stands at the center, his arms around both Integra and Seras. A small smile breaks on her face—Alucard can’t be seen in pictures, of course.
She shuts the door slowly and softly behind her as she walks silently through the room and pulls open the only unlocked drawer on his desk and pulls out the first thing inside. A paper folded three ways as to fit in an envelope. She partially unfolds it and sees it’s the deed to the manor. Seven names are written on it—the seven Helsings it has been passed down to. She sets the deed back on the desk and she pulls out her father’s newest journal. She opens it up, looking at the first page:
She is still young, but she is so strong. I can’t believe how strong she has gotten since her mother passed.
A small tear drips from Integra’s eyes as she reads through her father’s journal, a relieved grin sitting across her face.
She’s learned fighting well—so well, I bet she could take on anyone and anything to come at her—nothing like before. She’s fierce, and she’s smart. If a vampire crosses her, I feel sorry for them. I never thought I would have a family again, not after that night, but Seras has made me believe in the idea of a family once again.
Silence
“What are you doing in here, Integra?” Alucard whispers from the cracked door, his body fit into a tight black vest, his eyes locked on Integra, tears flooding from her, the grin that once adorned her face disappeared. She slams the cover of the journal and throws it across the room, her body shaking with rage. Alucard, in a blink of an eye, crosses the room and opens the book, reading the first few pages. His eyes go wide as he looks at the shivering ball of rage on the floor, her arms crossed her body. “You shouldn’t have read this.”
“BUT I DID!” She screams at him, standing up shakily, barely able to keep her balance. She storms from the room, throwing the door open, her blonde hair in a flutter behind her. Alucard quickly chases after her.
“What are you planning on doing, Integra? Tell your father you broke into his office and read his private journal?”
“Fuck him and his journal!” She yells, still stomping down the hall.
“Integra, stop.”
“NO!” She screams, kicking open the door to Seras’s room. Seras, sitting on her bed in her pajamas on her laptop, earphones in, looks up at Integra fuming in her doorway. She pulls one earphone out and raises an eyebrow.
“Everything okay?” She asks, slowly closing the lid to her laptop. Alucard softly places his hand on Integra’s shoulder, but she shrugs it off, lunging at Seras and delivering a placed blow to her face, knocking her sideways. Seras rolls with the momentum off her bed before springing up, a scowl on her face, the two women only separated by the bed between them. “What the hell was that?”
“You come into MY home and think you’re the queen of FUCKING ENGLAND?!” Integra screams lunging at Seras again and landing a shot on her stomach, now standing tall on Seras’s bed and at a better angle, throwing a kick at Seras that misses and knocks a lamp to the floor. Seras, taking advantage of Integra’s lowered balance, karate chops the back of her knee on her plant leg and knocks her over, her head hitting the floor hard. Alucard steps in between the two as Seras throws another punch, landing against Alucard’s chest instead of on Integra.
“STOP THIS NOW!” He shouts, his voice echoing around the house. Integra tries to get around Alucard to get at Seras but, with one simple motion, Alucard knocks Integra back into a chair at Seras’s desk. Seras, following suit, takes a seat on her bed. Abraham bombards the room and looks at the welt developing on Seras’s eye and Integra grasping her knee in pain.
“What the hell happened here?” Abraham asks, standing in between the two, not sure what to do.
“Why don’t you ask your fucking daughter?!” Integra yells, her eyes filled with rage.
“Excuse me?!” Abraham exclaims, quickly crossing towards Integra with anger in his own eyes. Alucard grabs his arm before he can get any closer. Abraham looks over his shoulder at Alucard shaking his head.
“We need to talk, Abes,” Alucard says in a fully serious voice, his body the only in the room not shaking with rage. Abraham takes a deep breath and shakes his arm loose of Alucard’s grip.
“My study then,” Abraham says as he turns his back on Integra and starts out the room.
*
“What are you doing?” Alucard asks, his voice smooth as he swiftly shuts the door to Abraham’s study. Their eyes lock in an intense fire, Abraham still fuming from his encounter with Integra.
“What do you mean ‘what am I doing’?” Abraham shouts, slamming his fist on his desk, his blood boiling with anger.
“She’s your daughter and you are treating her like gum on the bottom of your shoe. She’s trying to love you, but you aren’t trying to love her back,” Alucard’s icy stare pierces Abraham’s feeble body, his whole self still shaking with anger.
“And who the fuck do you think you are telling me how to raise my family?”
“You can’t treat her like this. It isn’t healthy for either of y—“
“I’ll ask again—who the fuck do you think you are telling me how to raise my family?!” Abraham shouts, turning away from Alucard and staring out the window into the darkness. He feels the cold embrace of Alucard’s hand on his shoulder.
“Who do I think I am?” Alucard starts, his breath hot on the back of Abraham’s neck. “I think I am a man who has lived a thousand lives; a man who has taken a thousand lovers, and a thousand wives; a man who has built empires and conquered kingdoms; a man who has slain his kind and fed on the blood of the richest men in history,” Alucard continues, gripping Abraham’s shoulder tightly. “But I am not a man who has been lucky enough to bear a child. I am not a man lucky enough to raise a warrior. I am not a man lucky enough to live through the slaughter of everyone I know and love and vow to make the world a better place. That is who you are.”
An icy chill swirls through the room as Alucard releases Abraham’s shoulder, crossing over to the scotch to calm his nerves. Abraham stares off into the dark distance, his eyes wide and his body shivering and shaking, with fear and with rage. He turns to see Alucard leaned up against the wall, his body calm, his lips sipping at a small pour of scotch.
“Do you know why liquor exists?” Alucard asks, his eyes still locked ferociously with Abraham’s. Abraham just shrugs, not knowing the answer. “This is just a legend, but it says that vampires made liquor because it calms our urge to feed. Vampires were in a frenzy, feeding for sport, for when we were happy, for when we were sad, for when we were angry. Too many bodies were piling up, so we made liquor because it calms our nerves.”
“Is that so?”
“Not a damn clue,” Alucard says with a shrug, taking another sip. “But it sure does calm the need to feed.” Abraham just laughs and walks over to pour himself a glass and leans up against the wall next to Alucard.
“How bad have I fucked up?”
“Pretty bad, Abes, pretty bad. What are you gonna do to fix it?”
“I don’t know what I can do? Seras needs my help, I brought her in under my wing, I can’t just ignore her.”
“So, let me get this straight—you can’t ignore Seras, but you can ignore Integra?” Alucard says, drawing a perplexed look from Abraham.
“I’m not ignoring Integra.”
“You’re ignoring her and you’re replacing her, Abraham. There’s no other way to look at it,” Alucard crosses the room, setting his glass down and grabbing Abraham’s journal.
“That isn’t yours, Alucard. We have boundaries,” Abraham quickly crosses the room, snatching the journal from Alucard’s hands.
“Do you know what started all of this, Abraham?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did Integra run across the house in a fury to beat up Seras?”
“Because she’s jealous of Seras excelling while she flounders,” Abraham says, eliciting a riotous laugh from Alucard who has to steady himself on Abraham’s desk to stop himself from falling over. “What?!” Alucard looks up at Abraham, whipping a tear from his eyes.
“You’re an idiot, Abraham,”
“Excuse me?”
“Look at Seras. Look at Integra. Look at their tragic lives. It’s like looking in a mirror.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abraham says, slamming his glass down on his desk. Alucard crosses the room to the door, opening it slightly.
“Read your own journal, Abraham. If you’re not careful, you’re going to lose them both,” with that, Alucard disappears into the hallway, the door shutting softly behind him. Abraham stares at his journal and his scotch, a small tear dropping down on the already cracked journal cover.
*
Today
Beams of moonlight trickle down from the sky like rivers of rushing water filtering downstream, never stopping, always moving. The beams bounce from building to building, illuminating even the darkest corners, until finally reaching the rocky roads of Red Bank, New Jersey, tilting in every direction, filtering the light to be a guide upon the dimmest of roads one will travel.
The hour is early as the clock strikes three, a light drizzle dampening the gorgeous glow of the full moon. The music has come almost to a stop as the masses head home for the night, readying themselves for another session of the daily grind their lives have fallen into.
Alone on the streets headed south from the square are two girls, Natashia and Elanor. Their dresses cut short and their heels in their hands as they walk sideways back towards campus, back towards their apartments for the night. They laugh because they can because their lives are whole and pure, their nights are long, and their vision blurry. Off in the distance, they see a shadow lumbering towards them, laboring with every step, its back hunched and its shoulders broad. Natashia and Elena stop dead in their tracks, their dizzy bodies staring into the distance at the shadow they aren’t even sure is real.
“Hello?” Natashia calls out, seeing if whoever it is could offer them peace of mind.
“Hello.” The girls jump forward as the cold chill of an unknown voice creeps in from behind them, the shadow in their sites leaping out of view, replaced with a new threat who has snuck up in the shadows beyond their vision. A tall, lanky man labors towards the girls, his eyes black as the night sky, his jacket ripped and flailing in the wind. “You girls have a fun night?” The cold whisper creeps on their skin, giving the girls goosebumps.
“I’ve got mace!” Elanor screams, reaching into her purse to find the small container of protection.
“I once had a mace, darling. Didn’t seem to do me much good. See what I’m getting at?”
“I’m not kidding,” Elanor pulls the container out, pointing it at the man, her hands shaking with fear as Natashia just stands dumbstruck, “Go away or I’ll use it.” The man doesn’t stop, his legs moving faster than his torso, his eyes focused only on her, the rest of the world slowly falling away.
“I’m a little hungry, darling, do you mind helping me out with—ahhh!” The man screams, clutching his face in pain as Elanor sprays him down. The girls spin on their heels to run the other way; their hearts pounding and their movements hampered by the weight of too many shots, swaying like an old house in a mild breeze. Natashia doesn’t get three steps forward before running into a shorter man, his shoulders broad and his back hunched, his eyes as black as the night sky. Her scream echoes through the near-silent night.
“We’re just hungry, baby. That’s all.” His eyes fixate on her neck, focusing on the blood rushing through her arteries. “Just one…little…bite…” He hobbles forward, his offset frame awkward and burdened. Then he leaps, the muscles in his body rippling with power as he jumps forward to sink his teeth into Natashia’s neck. Natashia lets out a scream capable of shattering glass; at a pitch barely able to be heard by anyone but a dog. Her scream goes on and on and on, drowning out the sounds of a gunshot, drowning out the sounds of a lifeless body slamming against the ground motionless.
Natashia opens her eyes and sees the hunched man lying on the ground, a hole shot right through the center of his chest. She looks around for the other man and Elanor and sees them both looking around in confusion. “Shit,” the tall man mutters, seeing a man atop a roof across the way with a rifle aimed at his heart. Another shot goes off, this one finding its home in the cobblestone walkway as the vampire runs off into the night. One, two, three…boom. That’s all the man on the rooftop waits before disappearing as the tall man runs into a figure shrouded in the moonlight and falls to the ground. He looks up to see a man more menacing than any gun could ever be.
A red brimmed hat adorns the man’s head, its golden lace shimmering in the electric moonlight; his long black hair flowing down like waterfalls on his back; his long red trench coat fluttering ever so lightly in the wind; a sword strapped to his right hip and a pistol to his left; a candescent white grin brighter than the sun on the hottest days of July; his eyes a glowing red like small balls of fire.
“W-who are y-you?” The tall man mutters, crawling slowly backward on his hands. The man in red kneels to get closer to the tall man.
“My name is Alucard.” He says, his words reverberating through the street, seeming to shake every building around them.
“W-what’s going on? I’m j-just hungry, man.”
“How long have you been a vampire, lad?”
“J-just a few months. M-my friend turned me. I thought it’d be cool.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jerry.”
“Jerry, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, yeah, anything. J-just let me go.”
“Jerry, I think we both know that isn’t going to happen,” Alucard’s glowing grin turns into a full-fledged smile, his eyes glowing ever brighter. “Have you heard of me?”
“N-no, sir.”
“Sir? I’ve never been called that before. Weird,” Alucard stands up and unsheathes his blade, turning it to Jerry the vampire. “Jerry, do you know what I’m about to do?” Jerry shakes his head and doesn’t wait another second, bursting to his feet and using every last ounce of energy to burst forward, but is stopped short by a swift swing of Alucard’s blade. Natashia lets out another blood-curdling scream as Jerry’s leg lands squarely in her arms like a newborn baby coming home for the first time from the hospital. Jerry drops quickly to the ground, his one good leg still trying to escape. “Now, now, Jerry, let’s not be hasty.”
“I’ll do whatever you want, man, anything! I’ll leave the girls alone!”
“Not good enough.”
“I’ll give you all the money I have.”
“Not good enough.
“I’ll be your s—“
“Just stop, please. You’re embarrassing yourself.” Alucard says, hovering over the vampire’s dismembered body. His eyes glow a deep, burning red, emanating heat like a million suns, his breath hot rolling from his tongue, pressing down like iron on Jerry’s face. Alucard stares into Jerry’s eyes, his red glow meeting Jerry’s black fear.
“P-please no…” Jerry mutters, his voice growing weaker.
“Jerry, I want you to take your hand and shove it into your chest. I want you to use every bit of strength you have and rip your heart out of your body, and use those final shreds of life to squeeze it and watch the blood flow down before it all goes dark. Okay? Thanks, be a sweety now and do it.” Alucard walks away from the man, his steps slow and measured, as he hears the sound of crunching bones as his hand rips through the rib cage, the screams of the vampire echoing through the street, the blood pooling on the ground creating an irony smell matching that of the rain. “The world is a sweet, sweet place isn’t it, Abes?”
“Please don’t ever call me that again.” The man from the roof walks towards the scene, his wide-brimmed hat fluttering in the rain, his brown coat whisking in the wind. “It’s still Abraham.”
“I like Abes more. Always have,” Alucard states, his grin ever-present. Abraham’s expression remains cold as stone, his body flat like Kansas, as he totes his sniper rifle in a case strapped around his shoulder.
“Was it really necessary to make him rip his own heart out?” Abraham sighs as he looks at the mutilated mess on the ground bleeding out from every part of his body.
“Probably not. But it sure as hell was fun.” Abraham shakes his head and ruffles around in his bag, eventually pulling out a box of matches. “You’re just going to burn them here?” Alucard’s question falls on deaf ears as Abraham strikes a match and drops it on the first body.
“Is this one dead?” Abraham asks, pointing to the second body lying on the ground, knocked out and vulnerable. Alucard shakes his head, his trench coat still billowing in the wind. “Should we burn him too?”
“Why waste perfectly good matches? I might as well tie him up on the roof and let him burn in the sun.” Alucard walks over, taking the man by the leg and slowly dragging him away. He walks up to the two girls, his glowing red eyes staring into the first one.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” She asks. Alucard’s red eyes pierce the girl’s, her body trembling, her eyes dilating.
“You’re going to forget this ever happened. You were walking home from the club, you tripped, you fell, and you’re just going to keep walking.” Alucard says, his eyes glowing more vibrant with every word. The girl sits silently for a second, before repeating.
“I was walking home from the clubbed and I tripped. I fell, and now I’m just going to keep walking.” A small smile pierces Alucard’s lips as he pats her on the shoulder and walks by her, dragging the vampire behind him. The girl just starts walking. Alucard’s eyes glow red again as he stares into the second girl’s.
“You were with your friend. She fell. You helped her up. Now you’re going to take her home.”
“I was with my friend. She fell. I helped her up and now I’m going to take her home.” Another smile crosses Alucard’s lips. The girl runs off, screaming after her friend, telling her they need to go home.
“You just control people’s minds like it isn’t even a thing. It isn’t right.” Abraham hollers out, his words hanging heavy in the air. Alucard turns around, his eyes still glowing a vibrant red. “You know your eye trick won’t work on me. Every part of who I am is covered with vervain.” Alucard’s eyes change from the glowing red to a dark, dusky black, still piercing and soulless.
“It isn’t a thing, Abes. I’m the devil incarnate, this is just another Tuesday for me.” Alucard turns without another word, looking up at the exposed roof of the building above and pushing off, being at the top with a single leap.
CON
By worldking
Chapter I: Dark Origins
I’ve written a lot of fiction, fan fiction, and non-fiction over my 8-year amateur (and some professional) writing career. This story was my favorite fan-fic idea I ever came up with, but I didn’t do the idea justice in its first iteration. When Constantine’s title got dropped, I rushed to add him to my roster and shoehorn him in the story. I also didn’t properly proofread and structure my story. Here’s my second go. I’ve fixed some aspects of my story outline, changed up some character dynamics, and I’m excited to put fake pen to fake paper. I hope you all enjoy!
*
10 Years Ago, just outside New York City, at the van Helsing estate
“Are we there yet?” Integra van Helsing, just 6 years of age, asks, her feet kicking up and down in her black flats with pink bows on them. Abraham looks back for just a second, his eyes meeting his daughter’s and a smile slipping across his face, his heart swelling with pride. Her head whips out the window as they pass an elderly couple walking their dog. Her short brown hair is pulled back into piggy tails and her small ten-year-old body is shoved in a black poufy dress. Abraham turns back to look at the winding road ahead, just a few miles away from the pavement turning to dirt and the houses on either side turn to trees.
“Just a few more minutes, darling,” Elizabeth says. Abraham looks over at his wife and grabs her hand, resting it on the counsel.
“Are you nervous, dear?” He asks, staring into her crystal blue eyes, like the crashing tides of an ocean just moments after a storm.
“For what?” She asks, playfully rolling her eyes with a devious smile on her face. “To meet the infamous van Helsing family?”
“They are a part of a world you’ve never seen before, that doesn’t frighten you?” he says, the steering wheel slipping out of his hands momentarily as he hits the dirt road. Elizabeth breaks out laughing.
“Maybe you should focus more on the road and less on me meeting your family!”
“Come on, El, seriously,” Abraham pauses, looking back at Integra as she spaces out into the distance. “You know how much danger even being around them can be. We need to be careful not to get sucked into it.”
“And that’s why we decided to mostly keep our family away from them. If Lawrence has been here all summer long, how bad can it be?”
“Fine,” Abraham starts with a huff.
“Am I gonna see Lawrence? I haven’t seen him in FOREVER!”
“Lawrence has been staying with your grandpa, Integra, he will be here,” El says, looking back at her sunshine in the back seat.
“Why don’t I get to spend the summer with Grump?”
“Because, silly, you wanted to go to Water World. We gave you the choice, you chose Water World.” Integra sits in the back, her face scrunched in thought as her little brain runs at a million miles per hour. Before either of them can say a word—"
“We’re here,” Abraham says as they pull through the large, open metal gate, coming into the drive of a large, beautiful mansion reaching several stories high. “Welcome to Helsing manor—welcome to my childhood.” As the family drives up to the house, they see a dozen or so people standing out on the lawn—a few playing Frisbee, the others standing around sipping on drinks. Integra climbs up to the door, sticking her head out the open window.
“LAWRENCE!” She shouts, her eyes wide and filled with joy as she watches her brother catch a blue Frisbee mid-air and fall to the ground. He looks up and sees his sister and a large smile grows across his face. Abraham comes to a stop and presses a button to unlock the back doors.
“Go on, sweetie.” He says as he watches Integra fling herself out the window of the car, land briskly on her but and seeming to levitate to her feet, before starting a sprint towards her brother, colliding in a big bear hug with him.
“How many Helsings are there?” El asks, looking at the large crowd and seeing another dozen or so people at the side of the house.
“Well, there’s us, my brothers Jake and Arnold, my sister Lucy, and their families. That’s just those of us that are from my father. Who knows about his family? We could be massive, and Dad did everything he could to get as many of us here as possible.” Abraham parks the car behind a small grey Corvette. Abraham and El climb out of the car and are immediately greeted by Lucy, her long red hair whisking behind her as she runs up to hug her brother.
“ABES!” Lucy screams as she collides with her brother, the two siblings embracing each other. El just smiles at the reunited family.
“I thought I was the only one who called up Abes, honey?” She says.
“I just don’t want it catching on,” Abraham says, detaching from his sister and locking the door to his car.
“How have you been?” Lucy says, now hugging El.
“We’ve been good. Colorado is treating us great.” El says with a laugh as she hugs her sister-in-law.
“GOOD!” Lucy says, enthusiastically turning her attention to the front door where a large, burly man with a Marine-close cut on his head and a clean-shaven face stands, his body rigid and his stare icy-cold. As he stares down at Abraham, Lucy, and El, his icy-cold frown turns upside down to a glowingly warm smile.
“Son!” He says, extending his arms for a hug as he walks towards Abraham. Abraham embraces him with a strong hug.
“Dad, long time no see,” Abraham says as he embraces his father for the first time in years. “How’s the business?”
“Oh, you’ve always talked of it as though it is work, son!” His father starts as he detaches himself from Abraham and hugs El. A flick of his wrist motions the family to follow him upstairs. “This is a life’s work, a passion—an art-form, son. And your boy is very interested.”
“Father,” Abraham stops dead in his tracks, his body turning suddenly ridged.
“Oh, don’t be so damned worried,” his father says with a hardy laugh. “We haven’t told him a thing. He’s read some journals, but he’s been taught that they are fiction. Your generation is so…lacking faith,” Alfred van Helsing leads the three through the mansion, Abraham’s eyes darting around the massive house, towards the bookcases where he learned to read, the tables where he learned his manners, and the stairs he must’ve fallen a million times trying to learn how to fly.
The three walk through the large dining room into the kitchen, where a younger man stands waiting. The man, standing a little taller than Abraham, his eyes a passionate green, his smile twisted like a car salesman, his clothes neat and casual.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, brother?” Arnold says, his eyes piercing into Abraham as he sips on his glass of water, a short blade at his hip.
“Brother,” Abraham’s voice rings hollow against the endless wood panels of the home, deafening in its endless nature. He hadn’t seen Arnold in almost a decade, not after the family split over the business. Their father motions them into his office, his warm smile disappearing, replaced once more with rigid, cold existence.
Abraham takes a deep breath and pushes open the door, revealing a room cut squarely from the eighteenth century—no lights save that from candle wicks burning, the flickering flames casting menacing shadows of all the figures in the room, rocking back and forth as though a child in a new mother’s arms; the mahogany desk perched on a purple Prussian carpet, golden tassels marking a shining light from the candles’ glare; two bookcases sit in one corner with every volume of the van Helsing family’s legacy; a small wooden table with different whiskeys sits in the other. Abraham’s father takes his seat behind his desk, his shoulders broad and his gaze chilling.
“Please, take a seat,” Alfred says, motioning at the two available chairs in front of his desk. Abraham obliges, pulling his chair out and looking confused at the two men, clearly the only one in the room unaware of the peculiar circumstances.
“What’s going on, father?” Abraham asks, his breath growing short as his nerves grow long. Alfred just stares at his son, holding back tears, his body trembling.
“Son, I have respected your choice of putting aside your family of birth to go off to raise your own family. It was a noble decision born of a desire to preserve your loved ones. I applaud it,” Alfred says, reaching down and unlocking his bottom desk drawer. “But it is time that we all come to terms with where we are.” Senior sets a piece of paper on the table, uncolored, dusty, and old; signed dozens of times.
“What is going on? I demand to know!” Abraham yells, slamming his fist on the desk.
“Brother, please, calm yourself,” Arnold says softly, his eyes emotionless and unmoving.
“Do not call me brother!” Abraham spits venom at Arnold, his eyes narrowed, his mouth straight in anger, his body vibrating with rage.
“This is the deed to the manor, son,” Alfred says, drawing the two men’s attention back in. “I’m dying.”
Abraham’s anger suddenly simmers as he watches a tear drop from his father’s eye, the only tear he had ever seen his father shed. The room hangs in silence for a moment, the three staring at each other, the future and the past running together in one, single time.
“W-what’s happening?”
“I’ve got stage four breast cancer, son. I’ve only got weeks to live.”
“I don’t understand what the deed is for,” Abraham says with a short breath, his heart beating hard against his chest.
“The van Helsing family has stood for generations, thousands of years, fighting off the scourge of vampirism—"
“Just stop!” Abraham yells, cutting off his father. “You’re dying and you want to talk about vampires?!”
“You may have not chosen this path, Abraham, but some of us still believe in saving humanity,” Arnold interjects, his voice stony and cold.
“And where is it your place to even speak to me in a time like this?” Abraham asks.
“Ever since you’ve abandoned this family, I have been ten times the son as you. I have been here the whole time, helping our father to fight a scourge that threatens us all; helping him through the first rounds of chemo; raising your son in the traditions of this family!” Arnold says coolly and cruelly, his eyes burrowing into Abraham’s, countering the pure hatred with a silent resonance.
Suddenly, Abraham’s fist crashes through Arnold’s jaw, dropping him to the floor, both of their chairs dropping backward.
“Will both of you stop being children?!” Alfred yells, standing up himself and cringing from the pain, falling slightly and grabbing his arm. Arnold pushes himself up from the ground, whipping blood away from his nose and staring at Abraham.
“Carry on,” Arnold says, looking away from Abraham and at Alfred.
“As I was saying, the van Helsing family has been around for thousands of years, passed from father to son. The question is—who wants the family? Who wants to carry on our legacy?”
“You would give our family to Arnold—a cold, fearful man?”
“Would it not be better than bestowing the family onto someone ashamed to carry the name of van Helsing?” Arnold says with cold indifference.
“You two both leave, now—and decide who is man enough to take this responsibility,” Alfred says, putting the paperback in his desk and locking the drawer. Senior walks out of the room, but quickly turns to look at the two: “If you two continue to disgrace my family as you did in this office, neither of you will take the deed.”
*
Rain patters hard against the window as a strike of thunder booms through the night, like a slow, deliberate drum beat marching through the fields, the pale moonlight beating softly down on the van Helsing manor.
Abraham slowly opens his eyes, reaching across the bed for Elizabeth, only to find empty covers. “El?” He mutters, his breath hot in the cold night air. He pushes himself up, looking around the room, his vision blurry and unfocused, finding the door sitting just ajar. “El?” He mutters again. He stands up and pulls on a pair of elastic shorts, crossing the room to the door. He pokes his head out and looks both ways, not seeing anything out of place. “El?” He calls out this time, no answer coming from anywhere. As he slowly steps out of the room, a cold chill hits his body, his spine-shivering with the weight of the world.
He gradually makes his way down the hall, knocking on the bathroom door, looking in every open room, his heart pounding. Where is El? He keeps thinking to himself. He comes to the end of his hall where Lawrence and Integra are sharing a room. Surely, seeing those two will set his mind at ease. As he slowly cracks the door open, he sees two lumps lying soundly in their beds. A warm smile crosses his lips as he sees the two sleeping. It can’t hurt to kiss them goodnight, can it?
Abraham eases into the room, trying not to wake them up. As he slowly crosses over to Lawrence’s bed, he kneels and lays a soft kiss on his son’s head, only to be greeted by the soft embrace of a pillow. Abraham, perplexed, pulls the blanket from his son to find an empty bed and three pillows stuffed to look like a person. Now angered, Abraham crosses to find the same of Integra’s bed. Where have they gone? As fear and anger quickly overtake Abraham’s body he remembers—El’s favorite part of living here was midnight dips in the lake. She must’ve known he’d get upset, so she snuck out and took the kids with her.
Abraham eases out of the room again, being quiet for no real reason, when he hears a thud from downstairs. What could it be? Abraham quickly turns the corner of the hallway and begins walking towards the stairs when he realizes the blood splattered against the wall at the mouth of the stairwell. Abraham stops, his body suddenly rigged, his eyes filling with terror. What has happened here? Abraham backtracks to his room where he looks for his pistol but finds nothing. What happened to it? Did El take it? Unable to find his pistol, he grabs his blade, unsheathing it, and making his way back to the stairs, steeling his body for what he could encounter. He turns the corner of the stairs and sees his sister Lucy’s body lying motionless on the floor, her head turned backward like an owl’s, her eyes afraid and staring into Abraham’s. Holding back a spray of vomit, Abraham rushes down the stairs. He hears another thump. The killer is still in the house. As he passes his sister’s motionless body, tears spouting from his eyes, he sees the two small incisions in her neck. What has happened here?
Abraham rushes through the house to the kitchen, where he heard the thud, to see his father, impaled on a wooden stake, his eyes too afraid and motionless, his face white as a ghost and his body hard and cold.
As Abraham walks through the bottom floor of the manor, he sees every van Helsing’s body lying motionless, drained of blood, gruesomely murdered, strewn across the house. As he walks by a coat closet, he hears a shaking sound. Readying himself for anything, he grips his blade tightly and flings open the door to see the smooth silver metal of his pistol pointing back at him, Integra’s small body shaking as she struggles to hold up the gun, tears pouring from her eyes. Abraham kneels, lowering the gun, putting his finger to her lips to quiet her. A rotten smell comes from behind her. As he whips her tears away, he reaches around her and feels the soft, squishy blood and innards. He motions for her to move and she shakes her head. What is she hiding? He pushes her aside and his whole body drops as he stares into the severed head of his son, blood pooling on the ground as a bodiless head lies motionless, hauntingly afraid. Abraham stands, looking at his frightened children, and closes the door. This is between him and the monster now, no one else. Where is El?
Abraham turns and gets his answer, his body trembling with anger, his mind in a singular rage. Staring back at him are two piercing white eyes set on the backdrop of a cold, rainy night. A smile permeates the monster’s face, blood dripping from his shining white teeth. Abraham takes in the sight, every last detail, down to the golden ring on the monster’s finger, emblazoned with a six-sided star with a cross in the center. The darkness overpowers the finer details of the monster’s face, all Abraham can see is the blood dripping from his teeth, the whites of his eyes, and the moonlight reflecting from the golden ring—and his wife’s lifeless body dangling from the monster’s hands, her eyes filled with the same terror as Lawrence’s, her body limp as he drops her to the floor. Time stops as he watches El drop. Lightning lights up the room. Rain hits silently and slowly against the porch. His wife’s head smashes against the wood.
Abraham screams with rage and rushes the monster, but the monster is too fast and Abraham is out of practice. Is this how he dies? Is this how his family dies? As he turns to attempt another strike, the monster has disappeared. Abraham frantically looks for him, finally turning to stare out the door where the monster stands out on the lawn, the smile never disappearing from his face. With a wave of his hand, the monster disappears in a blur.
Abraham drops his blade and drops to his knees and cries out into the night sky.
*
8 Years Ago
The raindrops slowly on Abraham as he trudges through the moonlit forest, his eyes never resting as he searches between the trees, looking for his prey. The wind blows back his long hair and the mud kicks up onto his boots. He grasps his sword tightly, staring out into the whispering darkness.
He hears a laugh in the distance. Is that him? Abraham slowly crawls forward, his eyes focused on where the laugh came from, his body tight and his knuckles white. A strong wind blows past Abraham, carrying with it the scent of his enemy. He’s here, the strong scent of blood-curling it's way into Abraham’s body. How many victims? How many people has this man killed?
Abraham pushes past the brush and sits still, staring out into a clearing. The first thing he sees is the bodies—five by his count, all lifeless, lying on the ground, their eyes as dead and cold as the rest of them. Then he sees the vampire, short and thin, her legs bare and her long blonde hair shifting in the wind, holding a man in her hands as she drains the blood from him.
“Monster!” Abraham yells, charging at the vixen. She turns, her mouth turning up into a snarl, deftly dodging a swing of Abraham’s blade, dropping her victim lifeless to the ground. The two stand just feet apart, locked in an intense stare.
“How did you find me?”
“I followed the scent of blood,” Abraham says, plotting his next move. Should he go straight in with a jab, try to impale her, or go for the swipe and rip open her stomach? He knows one thing—start by taking her off guard. “You know, I thought you’d be a man.”
“Sexist pig,” she says, charging at him. He quickly dodges her strike and slashes at her heel, snapping one Achilles tendon into two. She tumbles to the ground but stands back up, her eyes locked on Abraham as she whips blood from her mouth. She charges again, and this time slashes Abraham’s chest, knocking him backward. Not letting up, she strikes a ferocious punch into his chest, knocking the wind from him. He throws his feet into her face, rabbit kicking her and using the momentum to backflip back to his feet. Where is his sword?
He doesn’t have time to find it as she quickly responds, grabbing his arm and flipping him in a circle, throwing him hard against an oak tree in the distance. Abraham can feel his left shoulder dislocate, but he can’t give up now. If he gives up now, the monster gets another victim.
The monster rushes him again, her teeth bourn and ready to bite. Abraham, using his good arm, pulls a small vial from his coat pocket and tosses it at the monster, where it explodes in her face, covering her in a green gas where she drops to the ground writhing in pain. Abraham takes a deep breath and jams his shoulder back into his socket, never letting his eyesight drift from the monster for even a moment. As she slowly pulls herself off the ground, she looks at Abraham and hisses. Why is she so strong? She stands up tall, staring down at Abraham, practically fuming from the nose.
“I’m done playing games,” she reaches behind her and pulls out a small revolver from a pouch hidden on her back, pointing it squarely at Abraham. With a grin cresting across her face, Abraham can see that this might be the end. The monster’s eyes grow wide as her hand goes limp, dropping the gun to the ground. Blood drips in a heavy stream to the ground as she falls forward, paralyzed, barely able to move. Standing behind her is a tall man, clad in a red coat, a red wide-brimmed hat adorning his head, his long, slick, shinning black hair billowing in the brisk night air, holding loosely his long, silver blade.
“You know what the stupid part about killing people in the forest is, love?” The man asks with a laugh, sheathing his blade and walking over to a tree next to Abraham. Abraham and the man lock eyes, and the man gives him a little wink and a smile, and that’s when Abraham sees it—the elongated fang, sharp and powerful, jutting from his teeth. Another monster? The man grabs a loose branch and yanks it from the tree, inspecting it to make sure that it is sharp enough, he crosses back to the woman, kneeling over her. “There’s wood around for miles.” The man raises the wood high and strikes it down, piercing it through the woman’s heart. As she lets out a ghastly scream, Abraham looks into her eyes as he sees the flicker of life disappear.
Abraham reaches into his pocket, grabbing the last small vile of vervain. One last chance. Abraham wings it at the man, but the man’s reflexes are too good, and he catches it mid-air.
“Come on now, I just saved your life, least you could do is say thank you,” the man says, dropping the vile to the ground. As soon as the vile makes contact with the ground, it explodes, sending green gas everywhere. Abraham smiles as he just got the break he needed. Alucard waves away the green fumes, looking more confused at Abraham.
“H-how did that not hurt you? It’s vervain!” Abraham yells, scrambling to his feet, fighting through the immeasurable pain of his shoulder.
“So, you do know about vampires. Interesting,” the man appears suddenly inches away from Abraham’s face, staring deep into his eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Compulsion won’t work on me.”
“I’m not trying to compel you; I’m trying to learn your name. Have manners been lost in this new world?”
“F-fine. I’m Abraham. Abraham van Helsing,” the man’s eyes grow wide as he hears the name—van Helsing.
“You’re the survivor?”
“Yes! And I will hunt you all down like the sick dogs you are!” Abraham tries to punch the man quickly, but his hand is deflected.
“Trust me, you aren’t going to win this fight,” the man says turning his back on Abraham and walking slowly away towards the body of the woman on the ground. “I’m a vampire hunter too.”
“Liar! I saw your teeth! You’re one of them!”
“Just because I’m one of them doesn’t mean I can’t hunt them,” the man reaches down, grabbing the revolver the woman was going to shoot Abraham with, and emptying the bullets on the ground. “You’ll need this,” the man says, tossing the gun to Abraham. Abraham fumbles the catch but eventually settles the gun in his hands.
“Why are you giving me weapons?”
“Because you need all the help you can get,” the man says, locking eyes with Abraham again. “I’ve got places to be, Abes, but if you need help, find me.”
“And how will I find you, monster?”
“Name’s Alucard. You’ll find me if you want to.” With that, Alucard disappears into the darkness, leaving Abraham standing in the middle of the forest, his eyes staring down at the empty revolver, then looking up to see all of the bodies strewn across the clearing. The darkness only grows darker as the night drags on and the moon fades from view.
*
5 years ago, the van Helsing estate
Integra’s foot slams hard against the wooden dummy, its oak body spinning in a flurry. Her blonde hair tied into a ponytail, sweat dripping slowly from her body. She bends over and pants, her hands on her knees, her body tired.
“That was some good work,” Alucard says, a small grin on his face. “Bet you can’t break its arm off with a kick,” Integra stares at the wooden dummy: a solid block of wood stuck on a metal pole, a sharpie smile and eyes drawn on it, two wooden arms at different heights sticking out. Integra smiles as she remembers putting this together years ago. She takes a deep breath and stands tall.
“How much you wanna bet?” She asks with a small smirk on her face, Alucard leaning against the doorway, his face clenched in a thinking manner as he taps his finger against his chin. The smile creeps back onto his lips and his eyes light up. He snaps his fingers and points at Integra.
“I’ll convince your dad to take you on our next scouting mission. Not an actual field mission, but scouting,” Alucard offers. Integra’s eyes light up like the sun as a devilish grin crosses her lips.
“Deal,” she takes a deep breath and focuses on the dummy. A deep breath is accompanied by a bloody image of her brother’s head. She shakes her head and lets the memory go. She steps up and unleashes a furious kick, just barely missing the dummy as she loses balance and falls to the ground. She sits there on her hands and knees for a moment, staring at the ground, panting hard. She looks up to see Alucard laughing to himself, his hand over his mouth, his eyes piercing with joy.
“I do have to apologize, but that was astoundingly awful,” Alucard chuckles, barely managing to speak through his laugh, walking over to Integra to give her a hand up. “I’ll still talk to your father. No chance in hell he’d take you on a field mission with aim like that,” Alucard laughs again. Integra smiles at Alucard, her eyes wide with wonder about the mysterious vampire that entered her life not long ago. Alucard, staring back at her, stops his laughing, it slowly rolls down to an innocent, playful “ha-ha.” Their eyes meet as the once cold room grows ever so slightly hotter. Then, at that moment, Integra’s eyes grow wide, her body stiffens, and her lips begin to shake. “What’s wrong?” He asks, his laughter completely gone, the unfamiliar feeling of the warm room growing chillier with the second.
“Dad?” She says. Alucard turns, and his eyes widen as Abraham waltzes out into the field with another girl, Integra’s age, at his side. Her long, flowing blonde hair reaches down her back; her bangs falling into the smile glued to her face; the diamond blue eyes filled with a mixture of glee and despair.
“Who is this?” Alucard asks, his voice harsh and cold, his hand motioning at the girl in a dramatic fashion.
“This is Seras,” Abraham says. “She’s going to be joining us.”
“This is our house. What do you mean she’s going to be joining us?” Integra asks as her face grows hot with anger, her eyes squinted and locked on Seras. Abraham motions for everyone to follow him with a wave of his hand, and then turns to leave the room, Seras at his side. The four walk slowly to the den, their footsteps echoing in the weight of the moment. They all take their seats on the plush coaches, Abraham sitting next to Seras; Integra sitting across the room, her arms crossed and the anger evident on her face; Alucard pours himself a drink and stands behind the family, sipping at his scotch.
“Would you like to join us, Alucard?” Abraham asks, motioning Alucard to take his seat in an empty chair at the head of the room.
“This, my friend,” Alucard starts, putting his hand up and taking another sip of scotch as he leans against the wall. “Sounds like a family matter,” he finishes, his eyes still locked on the new girl. “Best of luck to you,” Abraham sighs, steadying himself to explain to his daughter.
“This once was an academy, a place where the vampire hunters of the future were raised and trained. It’s where I trained, it’s where you are training, it’s where generations of vampire hunters have trained—"
“It’s where generations of HELSINGS have trained!” Integra cuts in, her voice breaking into a screech.
“Will you let me finish?” Abraham asks, forcing Integra to let out a high-pitched sigh and look away, her arms still crossed in vehement anger. “Generations of vampire hunters have trained here,” he pauses waiting, for another outburst from Integra, only continuing when none arrives. “And I’m taking the initiative to take it back to its roots. This will return to being Helsing HQ, a place to train and deploy the next generation and the current generation of vampire hunters, all under one roof.”
“So why the hell is she here? Why is she the ‘next generation of vampire hunters’?” Integra asks, still refusing to look at her father and Seras.
“Three years ago, her parents were killed by a vampire in front of her eyes. Since then, she’s bounced from foster home to f—“
“Do you mind if I tell my own story?” Seras asks, her voice hushed but assertive. Abraham shrugs and motions to her.
“Absolutely.”
“I bounced from foster home to foster home, researching everything I could about vampires. I found what I finally thought was a vampire and when I confronted him, well…I was right,” Seras says, her face starting to turn red with embarrassment. “But your father, Abraham, saved me, killing the vampire and telling me about this place, about a place where I could finally do something about the menaces that killed my parents.”
“Well that’s great, isn’t it?” Integra stands up, stomping her foot on the ground. “So now I have a new sister, is that it? Someone who wants this life? This life of blood and betrayal?! FINE!” Integra screams, rushing to her room. Abraham looks at Alucard, but Alucard's expression says it all.
“Sorry, I’m here to kill vampires—not to deal with teenaged drama,” Alucard says, walking into a different room, still sipping at his glass of scotch.
*
4 Years Ago, the Helsing estate
Seras’s foot slams hard against the wooden dummy, its oak body spinning in a flurry. Her blonde hair tied into a ponytail, sweat dripping slowly from her body. She bends over and pants, her hands on her knees, her body tired. She looks up at the wooden creature, the same sharpie smile that was on it when she got here a year ago, except now it has two little fangs coming from the corners of its mouth. She stands firm and lets out a powerful yell before she smashes the dummy again with a swift kick, knocking it off its support as she watches it flop to the ground, lifeless as its head smashes against the vibrant green grass in the dead of the snowy autumn.
Integra sits alone on a bench, the cold autumn air rushing through her hair, giving her goosebumps all along her back. A sole tear trickles down her cheek as she stares through the frosted window, her body shivering as her father crosses the small room and picks up the wooden dummy, setting it back in its support and motioning at Seras, most likely to take another kick. Abraham’s smile is wider than Integra has seen it in years.
“You’re just killing yourself doing this,” Alucard says, his voice carrying in the wispy autumn winds. His eyes hold steady on Integra as he sips at his drink, his tight black vest over a tailored dress shirt with close-fitting slacks on, just as he always wears around the house. Integra quickly whips away her tear and looks away from her father and Seras and instead at Alucard.
“I always wonder exactly what does he see in her?” Alucard takes another sip of his scotch and quickly crosses the meadow with the speed and ease only a vampire could exhibit. He motions to the seat next to Integra and she slowly scoots over, making room for him. He takes a seat in unison with another sip of the old whiskey sitting in his glass. “Maybe he doesn’t see anything in her. Maybe he intends to train the next generation of vampire hunters.”
“Why her? She looks…”
“So much like you,” Alucard finishes, taking another sip.
“Yeah. And now he doesn’t even notice where I am.”
“You’re strong. Maybe he just doesn’t realize that yet.”
“When will he?” She shouts, holding back tears.
Alucard stands up, motioning for her to follow him towards the house. “I can’t really feel the cold too well, but it has got to be freezing,” Alucard starts walking towards the house. “Why don’t you come inside?” Integra stares down at her shoes, shaking her head as another teardrop falls. “Suit yourself,” Alucard says before disappearing into the house.
Tears begin flowing freely down in streams down her cheeks, dripping down and forming puddles on the hard fall ground. She slams her right fist against the bench in anger. Why her? Why her?! WHY HER?!?! The cold winds chew at her skin, eating into every thought, every motion, every moment as she shivers and shakes until it all falls away in a cloud of warmth. She opens her eyes to see a thick red jacket draped around her, reaching down to the ground. She looks up and sees Alucard standing over her, a smile on his face and a hand on her back. She stands up and is met with Alucard’s arm wrapping around her as tears flow down steadily.
*
3 Years Ago, the Helsing estate
Light beams hollow on the wicker wood door through the slanted window glass as Integra stares out into the stretching grass she’s known for many years. This once was her escape, then it was her home, now it’s merely her prison.
A long black car begins rounding past the gate, heading for the school; its tires revolving, churning dirt to dust. Today is the day. Integra pushes her body off her window seat and looks around, her gaze dreary and her body directionless. She slips on a hoodie to combat the brisk fall nature of New York and slides out of her room.
The wood floors creak beneath her feet as she slowly makes her way to the foyer. As she stands atop the stairs, she sees Seras standing at the bottom, her long flowing hair touching the middle of her back, her arms crossed, waiting and expectant.
“You going?” Alaric Saltzman, the newest (and only) teacher at the Helsing school, asks as he slowly descends the stairs just ahead of her, his dusty brown hair sculpted and gelled into just the perfect place; a loose-fitting maroon shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows hanging off his shoulders; dirty blue jeans with a boot cut.
“Yeah, yeah,” Integra mumbles as she lumbers down the stairs, dreading this.
The three stands expectantly as they hear the car pull up to a stop. The engine cuts out and the door swings open and shut. All eyes on the large, wooden double doors at the front of the house.
“Just remember, Integra, they aren’t here to steal your daddy,” Seras says with a snide side-eye. Integra is used to this. She keeps her mouth shut and pushes her anger down.
Suddenly, the soft light of the evening pushes itself into the house, invading every corner, as the wood door swings open and Abraham and Alucard walk in, followed by three kids, roughly Integra’s age. The five stand in a line, from to right—Abraham in his stony silence; a blonde girl with a wide smile; a dirty blonde giant of a boy with broad shoulder and a look of nervousness; another girl, with flowing brown hair and a blank look on her face; and finally Alucard, clad in his normal red flair attire.
“Girls, I want to introduce you to your new classmates. This is Caroline,” he says, motioning to the blonde girl. “This is Matt,” he waves to the boy. “This is Elena,” and finally pointing to the brown hair girl. “Like you, they come from difficult backgrounds. We will welcome them,” he says, taking a cool pause and staring at Integra. “Together, we will all make the world a safer place from the monsters that took our innocence. That is the promise of the Helsing House.”
*
1 Year Ago, the Helsing estate
The door creeks open slowly as lonely strands of light sneak into the dark study. Integra pokes her head around the corner and sees her father’s desk sitting still at the back of the room; two glass containers of bourbon and cognac to the right and a picture of her family…her new family. Abraham stands at the center, his arms around both Integra and Seras. A small smile breaks on her face—Alucard can’t be seen in pictures, of course.
She shuts the door slowly and softly behind her as she walks silently through the room and pulls open the only unlocked drawer on his desk and pulls out the first thing inside. A paper folded three ways as to fit in an envelope. She partially unfolds it and sees it’s the deed to the manor. Seven names are written on it—the seven Helsings it has been passed down to. She sets the deed back on the desk and she pulls out her father’s newest journal. She opens it up, looking at the first page:
She is still young, but she is so strong. I can’t believe how strong she has gotten since her mother passed.
A small tear drips from Integra’s eyes as she reads through her father’s journal, a relieved grin sitting across her face.
She’s learned fighting well—so well, I bet she could take on anyone and anything to come at her—nothing like before. She’s fierce, and she’s smart. If a vampire crosses her, I feel sorry for them. I never thought I would have a family again, not after that night, but Seras has made me believe in the idea of a family once again.
Silence
“What are you doing in here, Integra?” Alucard whispers from the cracked door, his body fit into a tight black vest, his eyes locked on Integra, tears flooding from her, the grin that once adorned her face disappeared. She slams the cover of the journal and throws it across the room, her body shaking with rage. Alucard, in a blink of an eye, crosses the room and opens the book, reading the first few pages. His eyes go wide as he looks at the shivering ball of rage on the floor, her arms crossed her body. “You shouldn’t have read this.”
“BUT I DID!” She screams at him, standing up shakily, barely able to keep her balance. She storms from the room, throwing the door open, her blonde hair in a flutter behind her. Alucard quickly chases after her.
“What are you planning on doing, Integra? Tell your father you broke into his office and read his private journal?”
“Fuck him and his journal!” She yells, still stomping down the hall.
“Integra, stop.”
“NO!” She screams, kicking open the door to Seras’s room. Seras, sitting on her bed in her pajamas on her laptop, earphones in, looks up at Integra fuming in her doorway. She pulls one earphone out and raises an eyebrow.
“Everything okay?” She asks, slowly closing the lid to her laptop. Alucard softly places his hand on Integra’s shoulder, but she shrugs it off, lunging at Seras and delivering a placed blow to her face, knocking her sideways. Seras rolls with the momentum off her bed before springing up, a scowl on her face, the two women only separated by the bed between them. “What the hell was that?”
“You come into MY home and think you’re the queen of FUCKING ENGLAND?!” Integra screams lunging at Seras again and landing a shot on her stomach, now standing tall on Seras’s bed and at a better angle, throwing a kick at Seras that misses and knocks a lamp to the floor. Seras, taking advantage of Integra’s lowered balance, karate chops the back of her knee on her plant leg and knocks her over, her head hitting the floor hard. Alucard steps in between the two as Seras throws another punch, landing against Alucard’s chest instead of on Integra.
“STOP THIS NOW!” He shouts, his voice echoing around the house. Integra tries to get around Alucard to get at Seras but, with one simple motion, Alucard knocks Integra back into a chair at Seras’s desk. Seras, following suit, takes a seat on her bed. Abraham bombards the room and looks at the welt developing on Seras’s eye and Integra grasping her knee in pain.
“What the hell happened here?” Abraham asks, standing in between the two, not sure what to do.
“Why don’t you ask your fucking daughter?!” Integra yells, her eyes filled with rage.
“Excuse me?!” Abraham exclaims, quickly crossing towards Integra with anger in his own eyes. Alucard grabs his arm before he can get any closer. Abraham looks over his shoulder at Alucard shaking his head.
“We need to talk, Abes,” Alucard says in a fully serious voice, his body the only in the room not shaking with rage. Abraham takes a deep breath and shakes his arm loose of Alucard’s grip.
“My study then,” Abraham says as he turns his back on Integra and starts out the room.
*
“What are you doing?” Alucard asks, his voice smooth as he swiftly shuts the door to Abraham’s study. Their eyes lock in an intense fire, Abraham still fuming from his encounter with Integra.
“What do you mean ‘what am I doing’?” Abraham shouts, slamming his fist on his desk, his blood boiling with anger.
“She’s your daughter and you are treating her like gum on the bottom of your shoe. She’s trying to love you, but you aren’t trying to love her back,” Alucard’s icy stare pierces Abraham’s feeble body, his whole self still shaking with anger.
“And who the fuck do you think you are telling me how to raise my family?”
“You can’t treat her like this. It isn’t healthy for either of y—“
“I’ll ask again—who the fuck do you think you are telling me how to raise my family?!” Abraham shouts, turning away from Alucard and staring out the window into the darkness. He feels the cold embrace of Alucard’s hand on his shoulder.
“Who do I think I am?” Alucard starts, his breath hot on the back of Abraham’s neck. “I think I am a man who has lived a thousand lives; a man who has taken a thousand lovers, and a thousand wives; a man who has built empires and conquered kingdoms; a man who has slain his kind and fed on the blood of the richest men in history,” Alucard continues, gripping Abraham’s shoulder tightly. “But I am not a man who has been lucky enough to bear a child. I am not a man lucky enough to raise a warrior. I am not a man lucky enough to live through the slaughter of everyone I know and love and vow to make the world a better place. That is who you are.”
An icy chill swirls through the room as Alucard releases Abraham’s shoulder, crossing over to the scotch to calm his nerves. Abraham stares off into the dark distance, his eyes wide and his body shivering and shaking, with fear and with rage. He turns to see Alucard leaned up against the wall, his body calm, his lips sipping at a small pour of scotch.
“Do you know why liquor exists?” Alucard asks, his eyes still locked ferociously with Abraham’s. Abraham just shrugs, not knowing the answer. “This is just a legend, but it says that vampires made liquor because it calms our urge to feed. Vampires were in a frenzy, feeding for sport, for when we were happy, for when we were sad, for when we were angry. Too many bodies were piling up, so we made liquor because it calms our nerves.”
“Is that so?”
“Not a damn clue,” Alucard says with a shrug, taking another sip. “But it sure does calm the need to feed.” Abraham just laughs and walks over to pour himself a glass and leans up against the wall next to Alucard.
“How bad have I fucked up?”
“Pretty bad, Abes, pretty bad. What are you gonna do to fix it?”
“I don’t know what I can do? Seras needs my help, I brought her in under my wing, I can’t just ignore her.”
“So, let me get this straight—you can’t ignore Seras, but you can ignore Integra?” Alucard says, drawing a perplexed look from Abraham.
“I’m not ignoring Integra.”
“You’re ignoring her and you’re replacing her, Abraham. There’s no other way to look at it,” Alucard crosses the room, setting his glass down and grabbing Abraham’s journal.
“That isn’t yours, Alucard. We have boundaries,” Abraham quickly crosses the room, snatching the journal from Alucard’s hands.
“Do you know what started all of this, Abraham?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did Integra run across the house in a fury to beat up Seras?”
“Because she’s jealous of Seras excelling while she flounders,” Abraham says, eliciting a riotous laugh from Alucard who has to steady himself on Abraham’s desk to stop himself from falling over. “What?!” Alucard looks up at Abraham, whipping a tear from his eyes.
“You’re an idiot, Abraham,”
“Excuse me?”
“Look at Seras. Look at Integra. Look at their tragic lives. It’s like looking in a mirror.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abraham says, slamming his glass down on his desk. Alucard crosses the room to the door, opening it slightly.
“Read your own journal, Abraham. If you’re not careful, you’re going to lose them both,” with that, Alucard disappears into the hallway, the door shutting softly behind him. Abraham stares at his journal and his scotch, a small tear dropping down on the already cracked journal cover.
*
Today
Beams of moonlight trickle down from the sky like rivers of rushing water filtering downstream, never stopping, always moving. The beams bounce from building to building, illuminating even the darkest corners, until finally reaching the rocky roads of Red Bank, New Jersey, tilting in every direction, filtering the light to be a guide upon the dimmest of roads one will travel.
The hour is early as the clock strikes three, a light drizzle dampening the gorgeous glow of the full moon. The music has come almost to a stop as the masses head home for the night, readying themselves for another session of the daily grind their lives have fallen into.
Alone on the streets headed south from the square are two girls, Natashia and Elanor. Their dresses cut short and their heels in their hands as they walk sideways back towards campus, back towards their apartments for the night. They laugh because they can because their lives are whole and pure, their nights are long, and their vision blurry. Off in the distance, they see a shadow lumbering towards them, laboring with every step, its back hunched and its shoulders broad. Natashia and Elena stop dead in their tracks, their dizzy bodies staring into the distance at the shadow they aren’t even sure is real.
“Hello?” Natashia calls out, seeing if whoever it is could offer them peace of mind.
“Hello.” The girls jump forward as the cold chill of an unknown voice creeps in from behind them, the shadow in their sites leaping out of view, replaced with a new threat who has snuck up in the shadows beyond their vision. A tall, lanky man labors towards the girls, his eyes black as the night sky, his jacket ripped and flailing in the wind. “You girls have a fun night?” The cold whisper creeps on their skin, giving the girls goosebumps.
“I’ve got mace!” Elanor screams, reaching into her purse to find the small container of protection.
“I once had a mace, darling. Didn’t seem to do me much good. See what I’m getting at?”
“I’m not kidding,” Elanor pulls the container out, pointing it at the man, her hands shaking with fear as Natashia just stands dumbstruck, “Go away or I’ll use it.” The man doesn’t stop, his legs moving faster than his torso, his eyes focused only on her, the rest of the world slowly falling away.
“I’m a little hungry, darling, do you mind helping me out with—ahhh!” The man screams, clutching his face in pain as Elanor sprays him down. The girls spin on their heels to run the other way; their hearts pounding and their movements hampered by the weight of too many shots, swaying like an old house in a mild breeze. Natashia doesn’t get three steps forward before running into a shorter man, his shoulders broad and his back hunched, his eyes as black as the night sky. Her scream echoes through the near-silent night.
“We’re just hungry, baby. That’s all.” His eyes fixate on her neck, focusing on the blood rushing through her arteries. “Just one…little…bite…” He hobbles forward, his offset frame awkward and burdened. Then he leaps, the muscles in his body rippling with power as he jumps forward to sink his teeth into Natashia’s neck. Natashia lets out a scream capable of shattering glass; at a pitch barely able to be heard by anyone but a dog. Her scream goes on and on and on, drowning out the sounds of a gunshot, drowning out the sounds of a lifeless body slamming against the ground motionless.
Natashia opens her eyes and sees the hunched man lying on the ground, a hole shot right through the center of his chest. She looks around for the other man and Elanor and sees them both looking around in confusion. “Shit,” the tall man mutters, seeing a man atop a roof across the way with a rifle aimed at his heart. Another shot goes off, this one finding its home in the cobblestone walkway as the vampire runs off into the night. One, two, three…boom. That’s all the man on the rooftop waits before disappearing as the tall man runs into a figure shrouded in the moonlight and falls to the ground. He looks up to see a man more menacing than any gun could ever be.
A red brimmed hat adorns the man’s head, its golden lace shimmering in the electric moonlight; his long black hair flowing down like waterfalls on his back; his long red trench coat fluttering ever so lightly in the wind; a sword strapped to his right hip and a pistol to his left; a candescent white grin brighter than the sun on the hottest days of July; his eyes a glowing red like small balls of fire.
“W-who are y-you?” The tall man mutters, crawling slowly backward on his hands. The man in red kneels to get closer to the tall man.
“My name is Alucard.” He says, his words reverberating through the street, seeming to shake every building around them.
“W-what’s going on? I’m j-just hungry, man.”
“How long have you been a vampire, lad?”
“J-just a few months. M-my friend turned me. I thought it’d be cool.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jerry.”
“Jerry, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, yeah, anything. J-just let me go.”
“Jerry, I think we both know that isn’t going to happen,” Alucard’s glowing grin turns into a full-fledged smile, his eyes glowing ever brighter. “Have you heard of me?”
“N-no, sir.”
“Sir? I’ve never been called that before. Weird,” Alucard stands up and unsheathes his blade, turning it to Jerry the vampire. “Jerry, do you know what I’m about to do?” Jerry shakes his head and doesn’t wait another second, bursting to his feet and using every last ounce of energy to burst forward, but is stopped short by a swift swing of Alucard’s blade. Natashia lets out another blood-curdling scream as Jerry’s leg lands squarely in her arms like a newborn baby coming home for the first time from the hospital. Jerry drops quickly to the ground, his one good leg still trying to escape. “Now, now, Jerry, let’s not be hasty.”
“I’ll do whatever you want, man, anything! I’ll leave the girls alone!”
“Not good enough.”
“I’ll give you all the money I have.”
“Not good enough.
“I’ll be your s—“
“Just stop, please. You’re embarrassing yourself.” Alucard says, hovering over the vampire’s dismembered body. His eyes glow a deep, burning red, emanating heat like a million suns, his breath hot rolling from his tongue, pressing down like iron on Jerry’s face. Alucard stares into Jerry’s eyes, his red glow meeting Jerry’s black fear.
“P-please no…” Jerry mutters, his voice growing weaker.
“Jerry, I want you to take your hand and shove it into your chest. I want you to use every bit of strength you have and rip your heart out of your body, and use those final shreds of life to squeeze it and watch the blood flow down before it all goes dark. Okay? Thanks, be a sweety now and do it.” Alucard walks away from the man, his steps slow and measured, as he hears the sound of crunching bones as his hand rips through the rib cage, the screams of the vampire echoing through the street, the blood pooling on the ground creating an irony smell matching that of the rain. “The world is a sweet, sweet place isn’t it, Abes?”
“Please don’t ever call me that again.” The man from the roof walks towards the scene, his wide-brimmed hat fluttering in the rain, his brown coat whisking in the wind. “It’s still Abraham.”
“I like Abes more. Always have,” Alucard states, his grin ever-present. Abraham’s expression remains cold as stone, his body flat like Kansas, as he totes his sniper rifle in a case strapped around his shoulder.
“Was it really necessary to make him rip his own heart out?” Abraham sighs as he looks at the mutilated mess on the ground bleeding out from every part of his body.
“Probably not. But it sure as hell was fun.” Abraham shakes his head and ruffles around in his bag, eventually pulling out a box of matches. “You’re just going to burn them here?” Alucard’s question falls on deaf ears as Abraham strikes a match and drops it on the first body.
“Is this one dead?” Abraham asks, pointing to the second body lying on the ground, knocked out and vulnerable. Alucard shakes his head, his trench coat still billowing in the wind. “Should we burn him too?”
“Why waste perfectly good matches? I might as well tie him up on the roof and let him burn in the sun.” Alucard walks over, taking the man by the leg and slowly dragging him away. He walks up to the two girls, his glowing red eyes staring into the first one.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” She asks. Alucard’s red eyes pierce the girl’s, her body trembling, her eyes dilating.
“You’re going to forget this ever happened. You were walking home from the club, you tripped, you fell, and you’re just going to keep walking.” Alucard says, his eyes glowing more vibrant with every word. The girl sits silently for a second, before repeating.
“I was walking home from the clubbed and I tripped. I fell, and now I’m just going to keep walking.” A small smile pierces Alucard’s lips as he pats her on the shoulder and walks by her, dragging the vampire behind him. The girl just starts walking. Alucard’s eyes glow red again as he stares into the second girl’s.
“You were with your friend. She fell. You helped her up. Now you’re going to take her home.”
“I was with my friend. She fell. I helped her up and now I’m going to take her home.” Another smile crosses Alucard’s lips. The girl runs off, screaming after her friend, telling her they need to go home.
“You just control people’s minds like it isn’t even a thing. It isn’t right.” Abraham hollers out, his words hanging heavy in the air. Alucard turns around, his eyes still glowing a vibrant red. “You know your eye trick won’t work on me. Every part of who I am is covered with vervain.” Alucard’s eyes change from the glowing red to a dark, dusky black, still piercing and soulless.
“It isn’t a thing, Abes. I’m the devil incarnate, this is just another Tuesday for me.” Alucard turns without another word, looking up at the exposed roof of the building above and pushing off, being at the top with a single leap.
CON