What Do You Suppose a Friend Is? (Witch's House Fanfic)

Prologue

        The girl awoke with a gasp on a small twin bed in a dimly lit stone chamber. She sat bolt upright and looked around feverishly as the white covers slid off of her and partially onto the floor. She saw the room, and the little lamp that sat on a nightstand next to her bed, and then a sudden realization hit her.

        "My eyes! I can see!" She thought aloud. She reached up and patted her face, feeling it up and down and all around. Then she examined the palms of her hands. No blood? She asked herself, allowing herself a sigh of relief. Was it all just a dream? She looked at her hands more closely. They seemed smaller than she remembered. Her brow furrowed a bit. That was strange, but whatever. She grabbed the covers and threw them off completely, and her eyes widened and she let out a gasp. Her legs! They were back! She wiggled her toes and flexed them. They felt real enough. Then she noticed something else. Her body no longer screamed in agony. Her throat no longer burned from the "medicine" she had taken. It was all gone. The blood, the pain, the betrayal, the sickness. They were all figments of her imagination or a dream. She smiled and couldn't help but let out an almost manic laugh of sheer and utter joy.

        "It was all a dream!" She shouted, allowing herself to fall back into the soft pillow, absolutely giddy with the simplicity of the truth. "Yes! I'm still me!" Then she heard a chuckle, and sat up again with a quick scream and looked around.

        "Not quite, my dear," said a low and powerful voice that felt like it reverberated through her soul. She looked down toward the edge of her bed and saw a very tall figure standing there looking down at her through a pair of red-orange-lensed spectacles. He wore a very wide-brimmed crimson fedora on top of a head of jet black wild hair that ran down to his shoulders. His hair ever so slightly touched the crimson duster-coat he had on over his immaculate charcoal suit. He stepped to the right of her bed and looked down at her. The lips on his pale face slowly curled into a smile as he held out a small blue hand-mirror.  His hands were clad in white gloves inscribed with a black upside-down pentagram.

         "Take another look." The words seemed to glide off the tip of his tongue to be carried to her ears by the cadence and tone of a voice that was as mysterious and dark as it was seductive and mesmerizing. He gestured to the mirror as the girl shrunk back a bit in fear. She swore she had heard his voice before? She thought he was in her dream, but it was all sort of a blur right now.

       "Look," he repeated, with slightly more force. Something about the way he said even that one word made her think that it was not wise to question him. She took the mirror from him and held it up.  When she saw the face staring back at her, she shrieked and nearly leapt out of bed.

        "No!" She breathed in shock.  It couldn't be, could it?  She immediately looked over her body, legs, and arms. They were all wrong. Her hands were indeed smaller, as were her legs and feet. Her skin was also paler than she recalled. She wore a red and white dress that ended in a long flowing red skirt, all of which was covered in various reddish-brown stains and smears. Those weren't her clothes, but she recognized them only too well. Seeing that face in the mirror with the beautiful long violet hair with a red bow and golden eyes filled her with terror.  This was a joke, it had to be. "No way! This isn't happening! The switch with her never happened! It was a dream, wasn't it?" She looked at the stranger in red with tears in her eyes.  She wanted so badly to hear him say that she was just seeing things.  She needed to hear him say it.

        "You already know the answer to that," said the tall man cooly. "Don't try to deny the truth, especially if it's a horrible truth."

        The girl looked up at the man and then down at the mirror and the face staring back at her. That was the face of her "friend."  The last time she had seen, it was practically melting away and bloodied by Ellen's chronic and mysterious illness. She opened her mouth, and saw to her surprise and relief that it was no longer bleeding.  Then she saw the teeth, and clasped her hands over her mouth in shock.  Her canine teeth had become longer and more pointy than a normal persons. She reached up and gently touched one with her finger. She felt a prick of pain as the tooth punctured her skin as easily as a knife through butter.

       The crimson stranger snickered softly. "Tell me, child, how does it feel to be a vampire?"

        "A what?" She had to resist laughing at him. "Vampire? What are you talking about?" The man smiled, this time exposing his teeth, and her jaw dropped. He had canines just like hers!

        "You chose this path when we met inside that witch's house," he answered flatly. "You chose that over dying, over having your soul devoured by a demon and condemned to an eternity wandering through the pits of Hell. I drank your blood and brought what was left of that body here while you 'slept.'" No doubt seeing the confusion on her face, he continued. "I guess you don't quite recall all of it yet. That's to be expected after an ordeal like yours. It will come to you soon enough."

        "A vampire?" She asked again, still totally lost. The muddled images and memories of what happened to her raced through her mind, but she couldn't make heads or tails of any of it.  At the moment, she had no choice but to trust him.

        "It's a lot to take in, I know," he said. "But, I'm afraid we'll have to continue this conversation later. My orders are to escort you upstairs so that my master and I can de-brief you as soon as possible."

        "De-brief? Hold on a sec, where are we anyway?"

        "We're at the headquarters of the Hellsing Organization. You'll be working with us from now on. That's all you need to know, for now. Hurry and get on your feet, Sir Integra Hellsing isn't known for her patience. We need to know as much as we can about that witch and what happened between you two. The questions should help jog your memory. After that you're free to get cleaned up and take some time to let this sink in. Now, stop gawking at me and get moving, my little Draculina!"

        With that he turned and walked quickly out of the room into a darkened hallway. She did as she was told, noting that this body was much more nimble and sturdy than she recalled. She hurried out of the room and followed along behind the man as his red duster billowed out behind him a bit.

        "Sorry, but I've got one last question," she began, hoping not to agitate him. "Who are you anyway?"

        "Hm?" He asked as he stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned to face her, peering down at her through his glasses. "Oh, that's right! I was so rushed when we met that I didn't have a chance to properly introduce myself. You may call me...Alucard."

        "Alucard," she repeated with a nod. "My name's Viola."

        "Well then, Viola," Alucard said with a smile before turning away and continuing. "If you'd be so kind as to continue following me, my master and I will help you to get acquainted with your new accommodations and life...or rather un-life."

        Viola cocked her head, wondering what he meant by that.  The answers to all her questions were waiting for her. All she had to do was follow this Alucard guy...