Sirens' Guard Dog

Chapter 32: Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned

It's a normal afternoon when the Hellsing's Wild Goose Fleet starts to rise just over the horizon. The remainder of the Millennium crew had taken up a watch post just where Hans had set up the lightweight cannons; but this was only taken up after just about all other preparations had been exhausted. Zorin had managed to prepare baskets of ingredients for illusory and maddening spells. Rip had seemed to figure out how to control her new weapon, which allowed her to shoot musket balls that danced through the air like unbidden comets flirting with the sky. Hans had managed to fortify points on the shore with stacks of rocks from further inland.

His work looked like little in comparison and was quickly adopted as new spots to sun by the resident sirens; but internally he told himself that those could be convenient places to hide and shelter for any of the island's current residents. Even the Valentines.

Luke had all but given up on fleeing, relegating himself to stay at his stubborn brother's side as they took lessons on how to fire cannons from Rip. If nothing else, they could man a few cannons—two bodies on one side of the cove's opening while the werewolf could accompany Rip on the other. At least until he deemed it worthwhile to take to the water and swim out to the invading ships. But that then left the siren variable.

Try as they might to plan around the nightly fish roasting fire, the sirens were the one unpredictable thing. Would they approach the ships for a meal? Would there be too many men to overwhelm them? Would the men come prepared with earplugs to beat any potential siren offensive? Could Captain Alucard simply sweep over the waves with a tide of blood from the fallen, choking out the sirens?

The pit those thoughts left in Hans' stomach was awful. His women could easily be among them, and if they split there was little he could do to protect them. Surprisingly, Jan sympathized with him, routinely bitching to Zorin about how she should use her "freak-o mind-melt" powers to tell the sirens to hide when they saw ships.

"No;" Zorin had snapped, "we'll need all the bodies we can get in that fight." Hans hated to admit they were right, so he kept to himself and tended the fish every time Jan would bring it up. He just had to hope the wounded weren't any of his, as selfish as it seemed.

So when they finally do show up, Rip ringing the alarm on her watch shift and yelling back from the watch post just loudly enough that Hans could hear it over ambient siren chatter. "Wild Geese incoming," she had cried out, only to pause for a count, "There are four ships total!" Which wasn't a stretch—the nominal privateer fleet had five ships, one of which now sat on the beach and housed the valentine brothers. While there would still be a couple hundred men and a powerful vampire to face, it could have been one ship worse.

Unfortunately, with the island prepared and Zorin hellbent on letting the sirens involve themselves if they notice, there wasn't any real preparation to do other than take up weapons and wait. So Hans does his duty and informs Zorin of the approaching ships by picking up an empty conch shell Rip's sirens had brought to them and blowing into it, making a loud, low note.

While all siren eyes had turned to him, curious, Zorin came flying out of the jungle.

"They're here?" she asks, chest heaving with her exertion. Hans nods in confirmation and holds up four fingers, watching as the gears in her head turn. "Alright. Get your ass to your position and get ready to fire. Rip will know when."

So the werewolf nods once more, accepting his orders, and runs along the black sand beach while the witch behind him picks up her first spell basket to get to work at her altar. It doesn't take him long to reach Rip's position, but she's already fussing over the neat piles of cannon balls and yelling down at the Valentines as they scramble down from their ship and cross the mouth of the inlet.