Author's Notes: If you don't follow me on Archive of Our Own, you may not realize that I'm rewriting this story. Please read from chapter one to keep from being utterly confused!

It felt like summer.

The moon was visible above London's skyline, although the last remnants of sunny warmth lingered in the atmosphere. A cool breeze promised rain, refreshing in the otherwise muggy dusk. The scent of fresh-trimmed grass, blossoming flower beds and fragrant bushes signaled the upcoming transition from May to June. It was sweet, but unfortunately overpowered by the bitter odor of the city itself, smog and sweat and food and fuel.

Seras Victoria let the taste of the city coat her tongue, vampiric senses enhancing and analyzing the myriad of flavor. Alongside the more potent smells that any human would notice were other, more subtle tones: the damp Thames, the dull musk of squirrels, the flowery remnants of women's perfume. She could taste the spicy blend of Hellsing operatives, adrenaline flavored with aftershave. Beneath all this was the aroma of the earth itself, loamy mulch and decayed leaves.

The night air was a veritable smorgasbord, and yet one key component was missing from the stew: the iron tang of blood.

Seras scanned the brush surrounding her position, homing in on each flickering leaf in the dark. With her so-called third eye she could see her men picking their way through the park, fanning out as they searched the area for anything out of the ordinary. She could even hear their heartbeats as they quickened, startled by the breeze tickling the limbs above their heads. Every so often one would whisper to a teammate, the male timbre low and resonating in the night.

Seras tilted her head, filtering out the majority of what she heard; they were unneeded sounds, distractions. She wasn't interested in what she already recognized… what she wanted was something unfamiliar. Her eyes slid shut almost lazily, nose twitching as she focused her other senses. They'd been canvassing the park for over an hour, but so far the only real disturbance had been the one they made.

A twig snapped under a boot, footsteps drawing near in a slow, methodical manner. Opening one eye she saw her second in command, Captain Corey Barkley, carving a path through the thick undergrowth. He pulled the night vision goggles from his brow as he stepped into the clearing, rubbing red lines from his cheekbones.

Although she was first captain and head of the troop, his graying temples and furrowed cheeks made him look more than twelve years her senior. In truth there was only three years and a handful of months between their ages; of course, a number of years had passed since he'd joined her troop, fresh from the organization's entrance exams. While stress and duty had aged him more than the passing of time, she had remained unchanged— at least in physical appearance.

"Have you found anything?" he whispered, leaning close to her ear. With her senses still so attuned to the world around her, there was no time to brace herself against the explosion of scent: mess hall chowder, cinnamon toothpaste, cigarettes and sweat and decay, a sour odor that all mortal creatures carried in trace amounts. Seras swallowed against an involuntary wave of nausea, dulling her senses the way she'd been taught until there was nothing but the faintest whiff of tobacco.

"No, not yet." Barkley rubbed a hand over the heavy stubble scattered unevenly over his jaw.

"I don't get it," he muttered. "Shouldn't we have found something by now?" She glanced up at the night sky through the trees.

"The night's still young." He shifted the weight of his goggles to his free hand, frowning at the tree line ahead of them. Seras knew that he couldn't see half of what she did without the night vision goggles; his human eyes blurred the detailed shadows until they were only vague things, barely reminiscent of proper shapes. It was easy to understand why humans were frightened of the dark.

On a clear night like this, she could see as easily as if it were midday. At first it had been hard to adjust, but as time passed Seras found that vampiric traits seemed to come more naturally. The shadows of night were infinitely more practical than trying to move in the blinding daylight; there was comfort to be found in them as well. She found herself loving the darkness more and more these days.

"Although," she added, seeing his discomfort, "It's strange that we haven't found any evidence yet. There should be trace amounts of blood, if nothing else." The vampires dealt with on a regular basis by the Hellsing Organization weren't the cleanest of eaters. Alucard had explained to her years ago that they were considered dangerous by the vampire community; they were wild, hunting messily and with clear disregard for vampiric bylaws. While not the most prolific of teachers, he did make an effort to clear up any questions she had.

"Most proper vampires prefer to keep a low profile," he had explained, long fingers laced as he reclined in his chair. "Not every immortal has a suicidal death wish, after all. They hunt for food, not sport, and otherwise maintain their distance from mortal mankind."

"However, these vampires…. Some, of course, are humans who've found a way to cross the line. Others are accidents, created in a hurry by inattentive fools. Bastard children," he'd laughed. "Rather than being taught how to behave, they're left to their own devices. Oh, don't pity them, Police Girl— don't try to deny it, I can see the look on your face —they're monsters, and it's your job to hunt them down."

When Walter had briefed her on the mission, he told her that the target was most likely a vampire. Seras was starting to believe that was mistaken. As annoying as her master could be, he'd always told her to listen to her gut above all else. Your instincts won't lie to you, Police Girl. Trust in them, and you'll never have reason to second-guess.

Right now, her gut was telling her that vampires weren't to blame for recent happenings in the park. Even if it had been a proper vampire, one that erred on the side of caution, her men would have flushed it out of hiding by now. If it were me, she thought, chewing carefully on her lower lip, I'd have already had an escape route. Even in full leaf, the trees would not be able to protect sensitive skin from the sun's powerful rays. No vampire in their right mind would hide here for long.

If this is a favored hunting ground, Police Girl. The voice was Alucard's, but it wasn't his. Rather it was her mind's snarky version of him, part mentor and part tormentor, surfacing every time she needed to work through a difficult problem. He didn't invade her mind these days, content to let her do her own thing now that she'd started "acting like a proper vampire".

Seras couldn't deny that their relationship was changing, and had been for some time. He answered when she called for him, either telepathically or physically; if he was in a benevolent mood he might even offer a single courtesy knock while in the process of barging into her bedroom. It was rare that he disrupted her schedule, dragging her away for an impromptu lesson. There were times where she slipped and called him by his name instead of Master; not once had he bothered to correct her.

It made sense. Alucard was becoming less of a master and more of a... confidant, an eccentric, somewhat scary acquaintance. She enjoyed their mocking banter, sometimes skirting dangerously close to the edge between teasing and flirting. She enjoyed being able to spar with him, without having to worry about pulling her punches. She even enjoyed boring evenings spent in his company, with nothing better to do than talk the hours away while cleaning her beloved canon. There was no way to be sure he wasn't treating her like white noise, but Seras liked to assume that he was listening to at least half of what she had to say.

Even if it were a chipped vampire, she said to the fake Alucard standing in her mind's eye, they would know better than to hang around in an open park. It's common sense.

If I had left you in that dark church, would you have common sense? He laughed snidely. You only know what you know because I was a good master, and taught you properly.

Yeah, yeah. Good on you. Seras licked her lips, tasting the breeze once more. Still no blood in the air. Her men were quiet, no startled gasps or cries. Hmm.

Take a moment to reflect. What do you know about this vampire? Alucard shifted his weight, crossing his arms beneath his red coat. If it is indeed a vampire. Seras thought back to Walter's briefing.

Walter thought it was a vampire because… because the signs were there, she concluded to herself.

What signs?

Humans waking up with no memories. The victims experienced lethargy and weak limbs. Several people, including a few children, reported seeing a strange woman along the park embankment. But when asked, they couldn't give the police a proper description.

Another classic sign of supernatural activity, Alucard agreed. Still, hardly conclusive evidence of a vampire.

One man said that the woman vanished like a ghost. And the victims spoke of strangely colored eyes.

And? What of the humans… were they harmed?

They were undressed, so— no, wait. They weren't fully undressed, she remembered. There were no signs of sexual abuse, no bodily harm, and no sign of theft beyond…. The victims were all missing articles of clothing, and strange ones at that: a striped scarf, a cap, a child's mittens. A woman lost her blouse, but kept her windbreaker. An infant's hair ribbons vanished without a trace. Even a pair of cheap cubic zirconia earrings were reported missing.

Trophies?

A magpie vampire, Alucard laughed mockingly. Or?

Or… I don't know, she admitted. I couldn't say.

"What if we put out some bait?" she suggested aloud. "We could throw a few pieces of clothing around, try to draw them out of hiding. If they're still around." Barkley hummed thoughtfully.

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?" She nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "While you were with Walter, I looked over the reports and noticed something a little strange. Out of all the missing clothing, none of them come from below the proverbial belt. Shoes, trousers, socks— nothing."

"It'd be hard to nip knickers out in the open," Seras pointed out. "But I see your point. The question is: why?"

"Maybe the vampire kept getting interrupted? That would explain why there were no puncture wounds on any of the victims."

"No." Seras shook her head. "If that were the case, they'd have stopped coming to the park. The whole point of the assault is to feed. Why waste the energy if it's never going to pay off?"

"Hmm." Barkley scratched at his maroon beret.

"It might be some teen's idea of fun," she mused. "There's a rush at the thought of getting caught, and it's otherwise harmless. Maybe they're practicing, testing the limits of their power."

"If that is the case, what are we going to do?" He sighed. "I know it's our job, and that it's a vampire, but it seems a little heartless to kill some kid over a prank."

"I don't think it'll come to that," Seras promised. "Hopefully, a stern lecture would make them stop, or at least think about what they're doing. If I can solve this without firing a shot, I will. I don't think Sir Integra would mind… much. After all, it's not like they're out here making Ghouls or anything."

"As busy as she's been lately, she might not even read the report until Christmas."

"You're right. She's been acting a little strange." Sir Integra had been traveling lately, or at least leaving the house more than usual. More than once Seras had woken to find both her master's master and Walter missing. She'd asked Alucard but had found him wholly uninterested in the affair, citing it to be none of her concern. She assumed that he would tell her about anything important, but perhaps it really was government business that kept the organization's leader so busy. Still, the fact that she looked more haggard than usual didn't help ease worries.

"I overheard Walter talking with Cook yesterday," Barkley admitted conspiratorially. "I was taking a shortcut through the back to get in line for mess hall, and from what I heard the Queen ordered Sir Integra go to the Vatican for some kind of psychological competency test." Seras's mouth fell open in surprise.

"Ordered?" she repeated, unable to believe her ears. "And what do you mean by competency test? Since when does the Round Table Conference listen to the Vatican's opinion?"

"Hell if I know. I'm just telling you what I heard." Barkley shrugged. "They were whispering too low for me to hear much, and I had to hurry to join the line before Walter found me eavesdropping."

"Hmm." Seras frowned, rubbing her throat.

In her eyes, the Vatican and that awful Section XIII were one and the same. She hadn't officially met anyone beyond her fateful encounter with Paladin Anderson, but she'd seen the silver-haired Bishop Maxwell from afar once. In addition, she'd come face to face with another member of Iscariot while on a mission in Armenia. The nun, a red-haired woman, had seemed surprised to see Seras; the two of them had formed a temporary truce until the vampire was ash. She'd even been kind enough to give Seras a head start before trying to carve out her heart.

"Anyway, do you think that—"

"Shh." Barkley's mouth shut with an audible snap as Seras whipped her head, listening intently. "Did you hear that?" He shook his head, cupping his palm around one ear and straining visibly. "It was a splash," she explained.

"A splash?" he repeated, letting his hand drop. "No offense, Captain, but the Thames isn't quiet. It could have been anything."

"It was a big splash."

"A fish, then. Or a branch falling into the water."

"Bigger than a fish," she snapped. "I know what a fish sounds like. This was like… an anchor, or something of that size." With her hands she crafted an imaginary anchor in the air between them. "That sort of splash."

"What do you want to do, then?"

"I'll go take a look. Is there a path close by that leads to the water?"

"I saw a handrail over there." Barkley pointed to the path he'd made through the underbrush. "But it's overlooking a fairly steep drop."

"Show me." Barkley nodded, slipping the goggles back over his brow. Seras followed as he picked his way through the thick growth, slowing as he searched the area for the handrail. She saw it before he did, situated at a natural bend just off the main path. It wasn't well maintained, rust clearly visible beneath heavy vines of ivy, but it was still a visible marker to anyone unlucky enough to stray from the well-marked areas.

Seras leaned over the handrail, looking past the foliage to find what lay on the other side. She could see a deep gully, the sides uneven thanks to years of erosion. There were rocks at the bottom of a moderate drop; just past the widest ones were more trees, the Thames sparkling through their leaves.

"I'll go down this way," she informed him, thankful for her trousers as she hoisted one leg over the railing. "Find a safer way down and join me, if you can."

"Aye, captain."

"If you see any of the others, tell them to keep up the search. If I do startle something down here, there's a good chance it might try to run back into the park area."

"Right." Barkley watched as she eased herself over the railing, teetering on the edge of the drop. She winked, waving cheekily before letting herself fall backwards into a natural flip. Her boots connected with one of the larger boulders and she turned, using the momentum to vault over to the soft soil at the gully's edge. She hit the dirt, rolling once before landing on her feet with the effortless ease of a parkour jumper. Other than the sharp staccato of her boots against the boulder, she'd made no sound.

Her heels skidded against the loose earth as she made her way to the waters' edge. She paused when she reached the tree line, peering out at the moonlit bank before easing herself into the open.

The embankment was a short stretch of marshy ground that stretched up the hill to the park and ended in a rocky peninsula a few metres from her position. The steep hill she stood on dropped straight into the water, tree roots jutting out from the crumbling soil. It was well lit, the moon high enough that the trees left few, if no, shadows on the embankment itself. The twinkling lights from the opposite side of the river colored the Thames in shades of orange and yellow, a reverse aurora that rippled in the breeze.

Seras approached the water slowly, keeping her guard up; the embankment was close to where the victims were found, too close for her to justify being caught by surprise. She looked across the water in both directions, searching for anything that could have been the source of the noise. There was nothing, not even a barge. She could hear activity on the far banks, but nothing she sensed there came close to what she heard.

With a puzzled frown she turned her attention to the bank itself. There was no place for anyone to hide; the strip was long, but narrow. Even if someone had gone into the trees, they would have come face to face with a steep climb. As for the water itself—while it was true that some vampires feared running water, the reason wasn't a supernatural one. Many vampires, especially older ones, had simply never learned how to swim.

At the edge of the embankment Seras dropped to her hands and knees, peering into the water. Even if the vampire had swam away, there would be evidence left behind in the shape of swirling sediment. The water was deep enough to hide a body, and clouded enough that she couldn't see the bottom, but… it looked empty. And not in a "recently left" way, either.

She leaned over further, her nose only a few inches from the water's surface and her wrists bearing the brunt of her weight. Her fingers knotted in the thin grass at the edge of the embankment, an extra precaution just in case her balance was somehow upset. The water was calm and undisturbed, lapping at the muddy bank; she could hear it trickling between the rocks as it flowed over the peninsula.

Discouraged, she sighed, her breath rippling over the water as she made to stand. Barkley would laugh at her on the ride back, but she really had thought— Seras blinked, something in the water catching her eye.

At first glance it looked like a large piece of driftwood, borne along by the grimy water. It was heavily knotted and covered in weeds, floating lazily beneath the surface. That in itself wasn't odd; trees fell into the water all the time. But the wood was unlike anything she'd ever seen before, at least in England. It definitely wasn't oak, or elm, or even sycamore. Probably it floated here from somewhere else, she thought, tilting her head at it inquisitively.

The driftwood tilted, too.

It wasn't a stray branch caught in the river, or a broken piece bobbing along at a different angle to the rest. The top of the wood had tilted, and at the exact angle of her own baffled gesture. Seras blinked again, her brain trying to make sense of what it had just witnessed and coming up blank. Driftwood couldn't move; it could be moved, but it didn't move of its own accord.

Maybe it was my imagination? The driftwood was farther than arm's reach beneath the water, which was cloudy. To make matters worse, the moon was at an odd angle. She tilted her head the other way, wondering if it was a trick of the light.

The driftwood copied her again.

Seras jerked backwards in shock, her rear connecting with the marshy grass. Dazed, she rubbed her eyes with both hands before looking back at the water. That was definitely not a trick of the light. Even if the wood were broken, there was no way it could move against the water's flow. Gulping, she gathered her courage and crept back to the water's edge, peering cautiously over the embankment to see just what had been looking back at her.

One wooden limb, glistening darkly, rose from the water and grabbed the same grass that Seras had been using to anchor herself to the bank. It smacked about as though trying to feel its way, and then the end split into four long, elegant tendrils. Fingers, her mind supplied as they wiggled in the night air; each had an extra knotted knuckle, and there was a fifth, thumb-like appendage farther down on what Seras could only assume was a forearm.

A matching limb repeated the motions, equally as eerie in the otherwise quiet night. Seras crawled backwards up the bank, unwilling to turn her back to the water. There is something crawling out of the Thames. Her mind was somehow calm, even as her throat closed with fear. The void in her chest that was her heart ached, as though it wished to beat against her sternum. It probably won't kill me, she reasoned. Maybe it only wants my vest.

With a mighty effort the bulk of the driftwood heaved itself from the water and rested— face-up or facedown, Seras couldn't decide—on the grass. Wet, slimy weeds fell everywhere, trailing over the wooden limbs and across the muddy bank. After a moment it shook itself, limbs bending at knotted joints to form elbows as it shook back the weeds, fingers expertly parting them like a curtain to reveal a face.

It was a wooden face in the literal sense, with skin the same grainy shade as aspen. By humanoid standards the features were ugly, and yet there was a certain daintiness to the unnaturally pointed chin and large, wideset cheekbones. The round eyes were entirely black and too large for the face, situated closely on either side of a thin, almost nonexistent nose. Seated above them were eyebrows, thick and fuzzy, with a texture similar to lichen. Full brown lips parted to show ragged teeth. It was naked, with an entirely smooth torso and small, firm breasts that resembled unformed branches on a tree trunk.

After a moment of shocked contemplation, Seras realized that the creature was staring just as intently at her. Not wanting to startle it, she warily maneuvered herself onto her hands and knees. The creature tilted its head again, more of the weeds (hair?) falling over one shoulder. Seras was calm, more cautious than afraid; her instinct told her that she was looking at an intelligent soul, one that meant no harm. As she watched, the creature's lower half rose from the water and hung, poised in the moonlight.

"You—you're a mermaid," she breathed, unable to believe her eyes. At the sound of her voice, the sinewy tail flicked back into the water with a splash; the sound was identical to what she'd heard while standing with Barkley. "I had no idea that you—mermaids, I mean—existed."

The creature stared at her, unblinking. Seras grimaced, wondering if the mermaid understood her. It was entirely possible that merpeople inhabited the Thames and yet spoke no English. Thankfully, the mermaid merely seemed taken aback, rather than confused. The brown lips parted further, wooden torso expanding with air, and then it spoke.

"I am syreni." The tone was sweet enough, but the words were so garbled that it took Seras a moment to understand what she'd heard. Ah, I see… this is a voice made for being heard underwater, she deduced. In the night air it sounded as though the mermaid were speaking with her head in a rain barrel. "Are you a nightwalker?" it asked kindly.

"I'm a vampire," Seras answered. The tail lifted from the water again, and Seras stared in awe at the thick tendons running down its shimmering length. Each scale appeared to be covered in a downy fuzz, with spots of lichen creating an intricate pattern. The caudal fins were the same span as a grown man's arm, translucent and segmented like a Siamese fighting fish. Paper thin adipose fins revealed a fine network of veins.

"Would it—could I possibly touch your tail?" She had no idea if it was considered bad etiquette or not, and almost didn't care. Her fingers fairly itched to explore the length of those beautiful scales. The creature arched a brow, mouth quirking in amusement. "Sorry if that's forward," she stammered, flushing. "It's just that I've never met a mermaid before and I'm curious—"

"Is that the land term for syreni?" The mermaid sunk down into the water. Seras followed, afraid that it might be getting ready to leave. But it was only twisting, returning tail-first to drape its soggy fins over the grass. "Mer-maid?" Seras placed one hand on the tail, feeling the muscle twitch beneath her palm. Its warmth surprised her, as did the velvety softness of the scales. Now that she could touch it, she realized that the downy fuzz was actually something more resembling algae.

"Yes, it is. In English, at least." Seras felt only a moment longer, committing the texture to memory before politely removing her hand. The tail dipped back into the water and she moved to sit on the bank, resting the toes of her boots casually against the water's edge. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome, nightwalker."

"Is that a… water term? Nightwalker, I mean." Seras wasn't sure what the proper terminology was for merpeople language, but the mermaid seemed to understand.

"Yes." It reached out a four fingered hand. "May I touch you in return? This is my first voyage to the surface, and you're my first land creature." It smiled. "I wasn't sure what to expect, but certainly not a nightwalker." Seras obediently ducked, bending her head so that the dripping fingers could gently probe her scalp. "Why did you think we did not exist?"

"I've just never seen one of your kind before," Seras tried to explain, keeping perfectly still as the fingers trailed down over the skin of her cheek. The mermaid's eyes lit up in wonder, its other hand touching its own face for comparison.

"Nightwalkers are so smooth!" it murmured to itself.

"Well, we're humans, only not—" At the term, the mermaid's eyes sparkled.

"Humans," it sighed happily. "I'd love to meet a human. I've heard that their eyes can be anything: the color of the sky, or kelp, or winter glaciers…." It trailed off, overcome by possibility. "Your eyes are the color of a red sea star," it added.

"Thanks?" Seras flushed. "Anyway, I wouldn't have expected a mermaid in the Thames, even if I did know they existed. I thought your kind lived in the ocean."

"We do." It nodded sagely. "We're on pilgrimage upstream, to create a haven for the Deceased."

"The… deceased?" Seras frowned. "What do you mean? I don't think it's legal to be bringing corpses into the river. If nothing else, it's unsanitary." The mermaid's brow wrinkled, taking on the appearance of withered bark.

"Corpse?" it repeated. "I do not understand. Is that another nightwalker term?"

"Alright, let's start from the beginning." Seras rubbed her eyes with one hand. "I assume that these deceased are other me—syreni." The mermaid nodded. "The human stories say that when a syreni dies, it becomes seafoam. Is that a myth?"

"Seafoam? Umm." The mermaid grew contemplative, picking at the grass beneath its fingers. "I am not certain… I am unsure how death must be on land. Our ways are most certainly different from your ways. But I will try to explain."

"Please."

"Do humans have Death Days? Do nightwalkers?"

"I don't… no, I don't think so." Seras shook her head. "What does that mean?"

"All syreni are created by the Mother Sea. It is She who grants us the knowledge of our demise on the day of our birth. When that day comes a syreni's soul rejoins Our Mother, leaving behind the bones of what was. These bones are The Deceased."

"Wait, really?!" Seras gasped. "You… you know what day you'll die? And you've known it since you were born?" The mermaid nodded again. "B-but what about accidents? An act of nature? Surprise attacks?"

"It is impossible to kill a syreni before their Death Day. That is considered by our kind to be both a fated and blessed occasion."

"Isn't that frightening, though?" Seras tucked her legs up and rested her head on her knees. "To know when you'll die."

"Why should it be?" the mermaid asked, astounded. "It is a goal, a joyous reunion." A look of bliss crossed its wooden features. "On that day we will be one again with Our Mother, and the other syreni who have passed before. Our knowledge, our passions—everything that we strive to become will be joined together in the vast waters of time. The syreni who come after will always be better prepared than we ever were, or ever will be, thanks to our own mortal struggles."

"Wow." Seras stared across the water for a moment, turning the thought over in her head. "Here on land death is something to be afraid of."

"Why?"

"I guess… I guess because it's a mystery. No one really knows what happens to your soul after you die. There's no way to avoid it, either; no one is immortal, not even vampires." The mermaid listened with an expression of keen interest. "Some people turn to religion, while others strive to live in the moment. And then some…." Seras thought, suddenly, of Alucard. "Some try to cheat death, so that they don't have to face it at all."

"How sad," the mermaid lamented. Seras blinked in surprise. "As a syreni I know where I come from, and where I will go. You, however, do not have that peace. How anxious it must be, for a nightwalker to ponder mortality." The mermaid pursed its lips. "Perhaps it is better that death comes as a surprise."

"Maybe," Seras agreed. "But back to business—so The Deceased are bones, right? Bones of what was."

"That's right."

"But why bring them to the Thames? Why do you need a haven for them? The ocean isn't safe enough?"

"The ocean may be safe, but the riverbed is safer." The mermaid pushed away from the embankment, swimming small circles as it spoke. "It was hard on our clan to move the Deceased from their undersea cavern. It is for the best, though. Here they will be protected by the ancient spells placed upon this land in the time of the Romans."

"Protected from what?"

"From—" It gasped suddenly, ducking down into the water so that only its eyes were visible. "Nightwalker!" It burbled in excitement. "Is that a human?" Seras turned to see Captain Barkley standing at the tree line. The whites of his eyes were visible as he gawked at the mermaid.

"It's alright," Seras reassured, holding out a hand. "Come here, captain, and I'll introduce you." He holstered his weapon slowly, inching forward until he was beside her. The mermaid watched him through its kelp curls, keeping submerged until he sank to his knees. "This is my second captain, Corey Barkley," she said. "Captain, this is—"

"Eione," the mermaid supplied. "May the knowledge please you, human."

"Nice to meet you," Barkley croaked. "I… I take it that this is what you heard earlier, Seras?"

"Seras?" the mermaid repeated.

"Oh! I suppose we never did get around to names." Seras laughed awkwardly. "I'm Seras Victoria."

"Like the star, Ceres." The mermaid granted her a small smile. "A lovely name for one destined to become a nightwalker."

"I don't know if destined is the right word…." Seras shook her head. "We've gotten off topic, Eione. What do the Deceased need protection from?" Barkley frowned, mouthing deceased? Seras waved his question away, her eyes focused on the mermaid. It rose to rest on the shore, beckoning them towards the water urgently. It was only when they were close enough to feel its damp breath on their cheeks that it ventured an answer.

"Necromancy," Eione hissed, the word harsh in its grating tone. Barkley winced at the sound, pulling away to rub at his ear. "Do not leave the island, human," it ordered in full seriousness. "You are safe here from those that speak to the dead."

"What do you mean?" Seras asked again. "Who is practicing necromancy? Why would they need the bones of a syreni?"

"I cannot say."

"You don't know?"

"I cannot say!" Eione wailed, tail slapping the river's surface sharply. "It is forbidden to speak of it!"

"Why?"

"Names hold great power in this world. Even nightwalkers and humans should know that much," it scolded. "To speak one's true name is to bind their soul to yours, however briefly. To those who practice the darkest of magics, that sort of invitation is too great to ignore."

"But I need to know!" Seras insisted. "I need to be able to warn the others… my organization, I mean, or even other vampires." It was entirely possible that Alucard had already deemed the necromancer as something unworthy of notice, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, both Walter and Sir Integra wouldn't be pleased if they found out that she knew of a threat and failed to report it.

"Well…" Eione tapped its lips thoughtfully. "I am unable to speak of it, but that rule does not extend to the elders. If I were to lead you to my clan, you might be able to speak with the Eldest and learn what you need to know. But you will need to bring an offering. Syreni who come to the surface must bring back something of interest to show the elders from their voyage."

"Like… clothing, for example?" Seras arched a brow.

"Perhaps," Eione replied smoothly.

"Stealing is a crime."

"I've been told our song has an effect on humans. It sends them into a harmless stupor. As for stealing… I cannot speak for the others."

"That's neither here nor there." Seras crossed her arms. "The syreni can't take things that don't belong to them. It's causing a lot of concern here on land. If the elders want an offering, it has to be something that's free."

"I will pass along the message," Eione said morosely. "But what am I to offer now?"

"Here." Barkley took the beret from his head. "This can only be worn by members of the Hellsing organization. I reckon that's special enough for an offering, don't you?" The mermaid's eyes glowed as it took the beret, fingering the shield logo before jamming it on its head. The beret looked odd, perched on top of the long weeds, but Eione seemed pleased with the result.

"Eione?" Seras leaned over the water. "Where are the syreni staying?"

"We've made a temporary home just beyond where the river meets the sea."

"If I meet you here tomorrow night, could you take me?"

"Perhaps." Eione shrugged. "I have no power over the elders. And tomorrow will be too soon. But I will tell the elders that a nightwalker by the name of Seras Victoria wishes to have an audience in three days' time, and then I will return here to meet you regardless of their decision."

"Are you sure about this, Captain?" Barkley scratched his bare head. "I know you can swim, but how are you going to talk underwater? And what if there's a mission?"

"I'll take care of all that, don't worry." Seras grinned, her fangs on full display as she reached out to clasp the mermaid's hand. "It's a deal."