My first serious foray into Multi-Chapter World. I'm using this as an opportunity to build my story-telling and character development skills to apply to my original works. Since I typically write short scenes, I hope this story will test me and force me to grow as a writer. As such any and all feedback you can contribute is much appreciated. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Hope you enjoy :)

The blessed silence prevailing over the mansion was punctuated by the gong of a great clock, hailing in the three o'clock hour. Witching Hour, Integra thought wryly as she eyed the grandfather clock from behind her desk. An unlit cigar hung loosely from her lips, and while her eyes ached for sleep her brain was wired.

Any moment now. Five nights in a row she'd been roused from sleep. Five. Surely tonight would follow suit. These were creatures of habit, after all, and she'd be damned if she was going to be caught unawares this time. She would stay awake all night if that's what it took, and the next night, and the next...
But the familiar, measured footsteps approaching the door told her that wouldn't be necessary. She counted down the seconds and right on cue there was a swift knock at the door.

"Come in, Walter."

Hellsing's retainer stepped in at the invitation and offered her a curt bow. "Glad to find you still awake, Sir. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

She saved him the trouble. "Don't tell me, there's been another attack," she withdrew a lighter from her breast pocket and flicked it to life, setting her cigar alight. "Where is it this time?"

"Tamarack Valley Forest Preserve in Cary, Sir," Walter's face darkened. "It seems a fifth grade class from Chelsea makes an annual camping trip and by the sound of things they chose the wrong week."

A school trip. Integra's jaw clenched in anger. Three orphanages had already been subject to attack. As well as two other childcare facilities. Most confounding, in each case the children had all but vanished by the time her forces had arrived. There was no sign yet of a vampire, but she knew what they were dealing with by the murder of ghouls left behind in the wreckage. But the children? There was no sign of them, as if Death himself had plucked them clean from the earth. All over the London, reports were cropping up of missing kids as well. More than usual. The thought that these disappearances were all connected set Integra grinding her teeth tensely. Why couldn't they find the vampire responsibly for this?

"The intelligence just came to us through a funneled recording of a female witness who tried phoning the police. She was hysterical at the time, so much of the recording is indecipherable, but she did describe the attacker as being a 'dead-eyed mother-effing demon' before being cut off. Sounds like our sort of thing, Sir."

"Indeed," Integra blew out a cloud of smoke, before rising to her feet without further preamble. "Alucard!"
The midian materialized almost instantly and Integra inwardly fumed at how positively jolly her servant seemed to be. Five nights of carnage, with a sixth one in the works. What she considered to be her personal hell was shaping up to be a right entertaining week for him.

"What is it that you need, my Master?" he asked, all-too eagerly.

"Alert the Police Girl. You two are heading for Cary immediately. A fifth grade class has been attacked by our Unknown at Tamarack Valley. Proceed with the utmost care, our enemy is a slippery one who has somehow managed to evade us thus far. Do not fail me, Servant. I want his head on a silver platter."

Alucard's grin would have put Lewis Carroll's Cheshire Cat to shame. "It will be done as you wish, Sir Integra." And with that he disappeared.

"Do ya guys know the one about Bloody Fingers?" Samantha asked the group as the flashlight was passed to her. They all shook their heads, doe-eyes growing big. Samantha smiled. She loved having the flashlight because it meant for five minutes all her friends would pay attention to her. They had to, it was the rules. But boy, did she have a good one for them. She cleared her throat and began her story. "Once upon a time there there was a man who loved his daughter very much. She was the prettiest daughter you ever saw with big brown eyes and bouncy golden curls."

"Did he buy her lots of presents?" Interrupted starry-eyed Louise.

"Er- yes," Samantha answered, peeved by the interruption. "She was very spoiled. But one day-"

"Did he ever buy her a pony? Daddies should always buy their daughters ponies," Louise blurted again, who had been doubting her own father's love since she had yet to be given a pony of her own.

"Yeah sure, he bought her a pony. Shut it, will ya and let me finish! I didn't talk through your stories," Samantha pouted. "Anyway, one day the daughter died from a rare disease and the funeral people took her away and buried her in the ground. But her father worried that his daughter would get lonely in the afterlife, so night after night he sneaked into the graveyard and dug and hole with his bare hands so that his fingers bled. Once he was sure he had a deep enough hole he would go into town and look into every window of every house until he found the perfect playmate for his little girl. When he finally had chosen, very carefully he would unscrew the bolts of their windows and he quietly would fall into their rooms and pluck them straight from their beds! He would then spirit them away back to the graveyard where he would drop them into the hole he had dug. It was only then that the kid woke up, but by that time it was too late. Handful by handful, Bloody Fingers would throw dirt on top of them while they screamed and screamed, until eventually he had them buried alive!"

There was a collective gasp from the group and Samantha felt a swell of pride. Another flashlight flickered to life from the tent connected to theirs.

"I think that's enough ghost stories for tonight, ladies," said an older voice, thick with sleep. "It's two in the morning- lights out. Time for sleep."

The girls moaned in disappointment. "But Miss Abby, I'm not finished yet," Samantha whined. That's when something hit the outside of their tent hard, making the girls shriek in terror.

"What's going on over there?" Miss Abby called, unzipping the door that separated their two tents. She found the girls scrambled together in a fearful pile as far away from the entrance as possible.

Louise pointed a finger at the door and shrieked, "It's Bloody Fingers!" Again another hit, like someone throwing punches, racked the tent and the girls wailed.

"Shhh" Miss Abby tried calming them. "It's just the guys playing jokes. It's certainly not your Bloody Fingers. Knock it off, boys!"

"Go see!" One of them exclaimed.

"Yeah go and see, Miss Abby!" The others all frantically twittered their assent and it was decided that Miss Abby would fend off whatever was out there.

"Oh, alright," she sighed as her decision was made for her. "I'll show you there's nothing to be afraid of." Wielding her flashlight, Miss Abby unzipped the entrance. She sucked in a breath as the chilly autumn air made the tiny hairs on her legs stand upright. Not for the first time, she regretted taking this extra credit opportunity. She had thought missing a whole week of school to go camping with kids as a part of her Peer Mediation project would be a breeze, but it wasn't all canoes and roasting marshmallows. The girls were nasty to each other and kept her awake all night with their gossiping. The boys were even nastier, but in a different way. Like, in a bodily functions sort of way.

She had come in contact with an alarming amount of poop in the last three days.

Hopefully there wouldn't be any poop involved in whatever prank these hooligans were pulling now. When she found them she fully intended to march them straight to Mr. Jenkin's tent for a good chewing-out. But looking around she found no one. To her left she could see the embers of the dying fire, and beyond that were the boys' tents. From where she stood the entrance flaps could be seen hanging wide open, waving in the soft wind. She frowned.

Then, there was a rustle of fallen leaves from behind which made her jump. She chided herself for letting the girls' silly ghost stories get to her. There's no such thing as Bloody Fingers. Don't be stupid, Abigail. She called to the girls, "Everyone just hang tight. I'm gonna go check on the boys."

She crept towards the boy's tents, mindful with her bare feet to step lightly over the crunchy leaves and prickly grass As she approached, a nagging itch began at the back of her neck, sending a jolt of apprehension through her. Like an uncanny sixth sense, her neck only itched if something bad was about to happen. The first time she felt it was when she learned her father had died and now it happened whenever she so much as watched a horror movie.

Against her better judgement she ignored it, not wanting to seem a coward in front of the girls. But as she approached the tents and found them to be exceptionally empty, a flicker of nervousness settled in. She couldn't let herself jump to conclusions just yet, though. After all, It was entirely possible that all of the boys were in on some elaborate prank, even the older guys. Hell, Ryan and Brady might have even started it.

Then, a low, miserable moan came from somewhere nearby. Ryan? She shone her flashlight every which way, her neck itching something fierce. She dashed towards the sound, having determined it to come from somewhere in the trees behind the tents.

But she slid to a halt, breathless and petrified at what she saw. Not twenty feet away were two lumbering figures and from their mouths came the most stomach-churning, gurgling noises she had ever heard. Abigail couldn't tell, but in the moonlight their skin looked sickly green and blotchy and peeled in places. A rank smell which could only be coming from them stung her nose. Between the two hideous creatures was very pale, very handsome man with auburn curls who grinned with a malicious sort of satisfaction down at a fourth person, who Abigail recognized as Ryan. The poor boy whimpered in a pitiful heap on the ground. With a snap of the pale man's fingers, the monstrous creatures were upon the teen in an instant.

"Please, no!" The boy begged. His voice was wild with fright."Mr. Jenkins, you gotta snap out of it! Don't do this, Brady! What's happened to you?"

Miss Abby covered her mouth to keep from screaming as she realized with sudden horror that the two gaunt, zombie-like things were in fact her classmate and the fifth grade teacher. What remained of Mr. Jenkins and Brady lifted Ryan's thrashing body off the ground. There was a moment right before their gnashing teeth tore into his throat that Ryan caught sight of Abigail. Her heart froze over as he looked at her with desperate eyes.

"ABIGAIL!" His scream was terrible. "ABIGAIL, SAVE ME!"

The tall pale man snapped his head in her direction. A ghost of a smile pulled at his thin lips, revealing two elongated incisors sharp enough to slice through the very air. She gasped and tried stumbling back but instead she felt herself compelled to walk closer. Her feet began to move on their own and she stared helplessly as the man held out his arms to her invitingly. It was then that a piercing shriek from the girl's tents echoed through the forest. With her focus diverted, whatever spell the monster had cast on her broke. She took the opportunity to turn heel and sprint back towards her tent. A rippling laughter rang behind her. Run, run, run as fast as you can. The creature seemed to sing directly into her mind. Without further prompting Abigail picked up her pace, knees pumping like pistons.

She flew through the trees and nearly tripped twice before reaching her tent. Making quick work of the door, her heart leaped into her throat when she found the space empty. Her girls were no where to be seen. Her mouth went dry. "No," she breathed. Falling backwards out of the tent she recovered and began turning wildly.

"Samantha!" She shouted. No reply. Tearing open the door again revealed complete vacancy. "Louise! Becky!" she continued to scream. It was no use. They were all gone. She gripped her hair at it's roots and felt herself start to hyperventilate. This couldn't be happening. This was a bad dream.

I have to get out of here. Powered by adrenaline, she bolted towards the path without a second thought. Her head whipped around to make sure she wasn't being followed by those monsters. A ways down the path, a canteen shop came into view as she rounded a corner. Thankfully, it was unlocked and she barreled through the doors, bolting them shut behind her. Spent and exhausted, she slumped against the door, grasping her chest as her lungs ballooned for air.

After a moment's rest she took in her surroundings. Heavy raincoats, hiking boots, sandals, swim suits, and all manner of outdoor wear for every imaginable weather condition made up the majority of the store. A glass case made up the front counter, inside of which was an assortment of Swiss army knives, lighters, and hand guns. Her spirits skyrocketed, however, when sitting beside the cash register she found a telephone. She rushed to it, fumbling with the receiver as she dialed the police.

"Cary Police Department, what's your emergency?" Came a bored, male voice after a few rings.

Abigail considered his question and found she had no adequate, nor credible, response. Finally, after gathering her thoughts, she settled on the truth. Her voice shook as she spoke. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think my camp was just attacked by zombies." Her throat felt like sandpaper.

"I'm sorry?"

She licked her lips. "Listen, I don't know how to explain what I just saw. S-some sort of monster. But something-someone!- is chasing me. Th-they murdered one of my classmates." She covered her mouth to keep the vomit down. "Christ, I still don't know what happened to the kids!"

"Miss, I need you to calm down," the voice implored her, a new urgency came into his tone. "What is your location?"

"T-tamarak Valley Forest Preserve." Abigail gripped the telephone cord so hard her knuckles went white. "I'm hiding in one of the convenience stores along the main path. Please, you have to send help. He could find me at any moment."

"Can you describe who "he" is?"

"Some dead-eyed, pale-faced mother fucking demon!" She screeched before the line went dead. Shit. A shadow moved across the moonlight shining through the window and she ducked to the ground. Her whole body tensed as the door knob jiggled from the outside.

"Come out, come out," that menacing sing-song voice came from beyond. Intuition told her if he really wanted to, he could get in no problem. He was playing with her, Abigail realized.

She eyed the array of guns protected by their glass casing and made a snap-decision. She shot to her feet and grasped the heavy cash register on either side. Clenching her jaw, she lifted, pivoted her body and- using her weight as extra leverage- threw it down with a mighty crash. Shards of glass flew like shooting stars across the room and she chose at that moment to remember with stark clarity that she wore no shoes. She picked up one of the hand guns, tentatively turning it in her hands. She had no idea how to operate one of these things. She couldn't even tell if the safety was on or-

She swore she barely even touched the trigger, but a shot fired without warning. It ricocheted off the wall, and she just barely ducked fast enough for it to soar over her head and smash through the window. Shakily, she held the volatile object as far away from her as possible is if it were some sort of wild animal that might bite her head off.

"Playing with guns, are we, my dear?" Came the mocking voice from beyond the door. "How very progressive of you. Now be a sweetheart and unlock the door so we can put an end to this awful suspense, hmm?"

She set her jaw tightly and gripped the gun harder. On her way to the door she grabbed a pair of boots off a rack and fit them onto her bloodied feet. She took a shuddering breath, heart pounding in her ears, before throwing open the door. Giving a wild cry, she emptied the bullets straight into the calm face of the auburn-haired man and ran like the devil himself was after her.

She didn't get very far, however, before something tackled her to the ground. A sickening crack told her a rib had just broken. She winced as she was roughly thrown on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. The dead weight settled on top of her, effectively pinning her in place. Her eyes widened in disbelief. The leering countenance of the auburn-haired man was as flawless as ever- with no sign a bullet had ever even grazed his porcelain skin. "How-?"

"It's so cute when you fragile humans try to kill immortals with your pathetic little weapons," his voice held mock sympathy. "Especially when you're fighting so desperately to stay alive. Ah- ah, stop that squirming now. You're the lucky one, my dear. You're not going to die tonight." He flicked out a pocket knife. An icy fear trickled down Abigail's spine and she began thrashing more violently. "The cleaning crew should be here soon enough and when they find you I need you to pass along a little message for me." He leaned his face close and hissed in her ear. "Tell that Hellsing bitch I'm coming for her."

None of what he said made any sense, but Abigail didn't have time to think too deeply on it because right as he finished was when the pain started.

"Look alive, Police Girl," Alucard yawned, motioning to three ghouls shuffling in slow circles out in the open. Without their vampire or anything to rip to shreds, ghouls were pretty much just smelly, skeletal imbeciles. This lot seemed especially dim-witted.

"Right, Sir!" Seras fired her canon, reducing all three to dust in a matter of seconds. How dull. They'd come all the way here, expecting a massive brawl with only three measly ghouls to show for it. It was enough to make Alucard sulk.

"Looks the same as all the others, Master," said Seras, pulling out a floppy-eared stuffed rabbit from a nearby tent. "All of the children are gone."

Before Alucard could congratulate his fledgling on her keen observational skills, an excruciating cry sounded from a distance, getting louder as it drew nearer. Both vampires perked up as the staggering form of what appeared to be a teenage girl came hurtling towards them.

"HELP ME!" She screeched, voice hoarse. "PLEASE!" The young woman cannoned straight into Seras' arms. The young vampire stiffened in discomfort as the warmth of blood soaked through her uniform. The girl shook violently and her voice quivered in between wheezing coughs. "Are you from the police?" She took in Seras' uniform. Then her head whipped around, eyes wildly searching the surroundings. "There's a maniac in the woods, you have to do something! Wh-where are th-those other things?"

"Shhh, it's alright now. They're gone." A nonplussed Seras tried her best to console her, smoothing the hysterical girl's hair. She was trying very hard not to breathe in the smell of her blood. "They're all dead now." Although she couldn't speak to this maniac of hers, which she could only assume to be their vampire quarry.

The young girl nodded, eyes glazing over. "Good," she became breathy and quiet. "...Good." And then she went limp in Seras' arms, eyes rolling back into her head. Seras shot an imploring look to her Master who was completely ignoring the scene and instead looking to the direction she came running from.

"Whatever was after her seems to have lost interest," he mused.

"Sir, I think we have a more immediate issue here," said Seras.

"That's not like any vampire I've ever met-"

"Sir, I think she's going into shock-"

"-Especially with all that blood. Vampires aren't known to leave unfinished business."

Shaking her head at her master's apathy, Seras lay the girl down and lifted the blood-soaked shirt to assess the damage. "Uh- master?""

Finally, at the sound of his fledgling's perplexed tone, Alucard deigned to look at the young woman. Ah, what have we here? Across the girl's abdomen there were words shoddily carved into her flesh. Luckily, for her the gashes were shallow enough, but they bled profusely. "Integra will be most intrigued."

"Sorry, Sir, but what do we do with her?"

Alucard's answer was automatic. "We follow procedure. Hellsing's infirmary will fix her up, analyze her blood to make sure she isn't carrying a dormant strain of the ghoul virus. They'll log her into the archives. I'll wipe her memory and she'll be sent her on her merry way." All pretty standard.

He picked up the gun she had dropped and examined it. They didn't come across very many survivors. All things considered, the girl had gotten off easy.

"Any news Walter?" Integra asked, eyes bloodshot. She hadn't been able to sleep after dispatching Alucard and Seras the night before, praying for news. Well, ask and ye shall receive. Her servants returned to her with their most valuable clue yet: a message. Though the words meant precious little, she allowed herself a moment's celebration. At least now they had something to go on. And the girl on which this message was carved had survived! Integra could've turned cartwheels down the hall, she was so ecstatic.

"Indeed, Sir. There's been a development with the survivor," came Walter's response, but there was something odd in his voice.

"Is she infected?" Integra asked tiredly. She could feel her breakthrough slipping through her fingers.

"No, but this morning I went to log her into our records and I noticed something rather strange."

'Go on," Integra prompted.

"Well, our people identified her as one Abigail Wilson, but upon logging her DNA scan, our computer systems already seemed to have her on file." Walter's lip twitched. "Only under a slightly different name."

Integra straightened, "And what name would that be?"

"You might want to have a look for yourself, Sir," Walter handed her the girl's file. "Though I must warn you, it may come as a bit of a shock."

Integra's eyes narrowed as her stomach churned with anticipation. It was unlike Walter to beat around the bush, meaning whatever was in this file alarmed him. And it took a hell of a lot to alarm the retired Angel of Death. A brief flash of precognition told her that she did not want to know what was inside, but she opened the file regardless and began scanning the first page. Her mouth grew thinner and thinner as her eyes moved down the page. A few minutes passed before she finished, closing the file and throwing it on the desk in front of her. It was a long time before she could speak.

"How sure are you that these are the same people?" She asked dubiously.

"There's no doubt it's a 100% DNA match, Sir. The first sample was processed when she was just a toddler. Soon after, the girl and her mother moved to Chelsea and were no longer affiliated with Hellsing. That would explain why her file was never updated."

Integra nodded, her head swimming. She took a composing breath. "Well, no need to postpone the inevitable Round Table meeting. No doubt they'll have a thing or two to say."

"I'll make the phone calls, Sir." Walter bowed before turning to leave.

"And Walter-"

The butler paused.

"Do let me know the instant Little Miss Sunshine wakes up. I would like a word."

"I'm sure you two have much to discuss, Sir," Walter quipped dryly and exited down the hall.

What next? Integra thought, brain completely fried. Would God never give her a moment's rest? She opened the file once more and placed the two pages side by side and tried to wrap her head around what she was seeing. That this particular girl should turn up in the midst of a crisis and find herself the lone survivor of a vampire attack only to be returned safely to the mansion was altogether hopelessly ironic. What were the odds? Astronomical, she decided as she studied the two profiles. The first had been written up by Walter this morning. It displayed a photo of a brunette teenager, out cold in one of their hospital beds. The photo had been taken by an orderly upon request. At the top Abigail Wilson was written in bold letters. On the second page, the edges beginning to yellow with time and the ink starting to fade, was a smiling, toothless toddler with barrettes in her hair. The name emblazoned on this one seemed to reach across the very fabric of time and slap her fully across the face: Abigail Maxine Hellsing. Daughter of her late dear- old uncle Richard. It seemed even from his grave he had managed to throw her a curve ball by bestowing upon her at the worst possible of times...

A cousin.

First chapter complete! /wipes sweat off forehead/