Hellsing: Unexpected Sin

Alexander Anderson hates two things more than anything in the world: Vampires and Protestants. When a radical group determined on becoming immortals make attempt after attempt on retrieving Anderson's blood, thinking its regenerative properties might help them, Maxwell decides it's time for him to reveal the Catholic church's hidden treasure: a vampiress named Juliet.


3. Unexpected Conversation

Anderson fought against his heavy eyelids, not daring to take his eyes away from the creature sitting across from him. Her legs were crossed, her vision hidden by the large newspaper she was currently reading.

"You should sleep, Master," he startled at the sound of her voice, "you need it."

"I'll sleep when you're dead."

"If it makes you feel better, you could order me not to make any attempts on your life while you slept."

"It doesn't," he snarled, "I don't trust you."

"Understandable, given what you are and what I am."

"And what exactly would you know about me?"

The paper shifted slightly as she glanced over the top of it at him, "When I drank your blood, I received your memories. You've had a very hard life, but you're strong. You overcame every obstacle God threw your way."

"He was testing me," the priest replied sharply, "and my faith."

The pair fell silent as the vampire returned to her reading. Anderson crossed his arms tightly over his chest, struggling to stay awake.

"So," he snarled, not really wanting to ask but welcoming the distraction, "what's your story?"

Juliet blinked in surprise as she slowly folded the paper onto her lap and gazed at her master in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I mean who was the girl before she became the beast?"

Her curiosity faded away as she flicked the paper open once again, "She was nobody important."

Anderson found himself surprised at her sudden attempts to end the conversation, "Is that why you became a vampire?"

"Contrary to popular belief," she sighed, but did not move the paper, "not all vampires wake up one morning and decide to become a hellspawn. Most of us don't have a choice."

"Did you?"

"If I said no, would you believe me?"

"Depends on how convincing your story is," he said sternly, snatching the newspaper out of her fingers and crumpling it into a large ball, "start from the beginning."

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and refused to speak for many moments.

"I was born in a small village outside what is now Cambridge, England," she began slowly, causing him to lean forward in attempts to hear her, "up until I was twenty three years old, I had a normal life; a family that loved me, a job to support me, and a man I adored with all of my being."

Anderson's eyebrows raised in spite of himself. This emotionless creature had loved someone at one point? Impossible.

"There had been many strange disappearances in my village," she continued, her eyes sliding closed, "girls vanishing right from their bedrooms in the middle of the night. Local authorities feared it to be a vampire, or worse an entire coven. I soon learned that it was in fact a cult of humans kidnapping these girls to be used in the "Bride of Dracula" ceremony. They wanted immortality and thought that by giving the creature a suitable bride, he would grant their wish," she paused when Anderson gave a disgusted scoff, "but the ceremony never worked. Dracula never appeared and the girls were killed due to being insufficient."

"I suppose you know this because you were a part of the cult?"

She frowned, opening her eyes to gaze at him evenly, "I know this because I was their last victim. They took me from my home and killed my lover when he tried to save me. They told me I would never have to fear the trials of the world when I became Dracula's bride. And they told me how greatly they'd be rewarded for delivering me to him."

"And let me guess, the ceremony worked this time?"

"It did," she nodded, "but not in the way any of us were thinking."

Anderson raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"The ceremony did not call forth Dracula," she shivered, "but Carmilla the Bloody Countess."

Anderson's eyes refused to widen any farther as his hands began to shake. Carmilla the Bloody Countess was known for bathing in the blood of women to keep herself beautiful and young. In all his years of vampire hunting, he had heard of the she-demon's trail of destruction and death. He had always hoped to run across her one day and end her sorry existence.

"Carmilla was so pleased with the offering that she decided to grant the cult's wish and turn them all into vampires," Juliet's voice shook as she continued her tale, "and she took me back to her home in Wales where I lived with her for the following 150 years learning to control my new strength and abilities. I tried so hard to get away from her, but she always seemed one step ahead of me."

Anderson leaned back in his chair as he listened.

"Liberation finally came when Father Lawrence led a small battalion of Iscariot agents against Carmilla and her cultist coven. The vampires were killed, but Carmilla escaped and left me behind," she sighed, "I knew it was too late for me. I knew what Carmilla had turned me into and was ready to face the church's judgement. But when I threw myself at Father Lawrence's feet and begged him to kill me, he denied me release and instead brought me to Italy. He taught me the word of God and the goal of the Iscariot. Eventually, he felt I was ready to hunt down the creatures of the night."

"You killed your own kind," Anderson asked, "did you ever regret it?"

She shook her head, "I often wondered if the vampires I killed were forced to become the monstrosities they were like I had been. But I knew that, whatever they once were, was dead and that killing them would be a kindness."

"I see."

Juliet nodded, "I served the church and the Iscariot for the following 80 years until Father Lawrence shut me in my coffin. He told me that whose blood I drank upon awakening would be my new master, and that I had to obey his every whim until such time as the contract is broken."

"And how do I break this contract?"

"Either when you free me or death take me."

Anderson fell silent, processing every word the vampire said. He wasn't sure how much of it he believed. She certainly gave a convincing enough performance, and it seemed as though she herself believed in what she was saying.

Giving a little huff, the priest crossed his arms over his chest and turned to stare out the window. He could hear Juliet pick up the newspaper ball and uncrinkle it so she could continue reading.

"Why do you read that garbage," he asked, "the papers don't know half of what's going on in the world."

She shrugged, "It occupies the time."

"You do know I brought your coffin, right? You could have just slept the whole flight."

He heard her giggle as he tried to stifle a yawn, "Speaking of sleep, you should really get some."

"You think that just because you shared your tale of woe that I'll trust you?"

"You asked to hear it."

She had him there, "I'm not sleeping around you."

"Well, we still have an hour before we land," she sighed, standing up and tucking the paper under her arm, "if you'll excuse me, Master."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To sleep in my casket," she smirked, "get some sleep. Can't have you passing out mid-fight."

Anderson scowled as he watched her disappear around the corner. He waited for many moments, fighting his heavy lids. Forty minutes before the jet landed, however, the priest finally welcomed the heavy blanket of sleep with fell upon him.


Down in the cargo hold, Juliet smiled as her ears picked up the unmistakable sound of snoring.

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