Hellsing: Resurrection (WIP)

Chapter 28: Checking in

The air buzzed faintly, carrying the faint chemical tang of floor cleaner and plastic packaging, and her boots whispered against the linoleum, steady and soft. Overhead, fluorescent lights hummed and flickered, leaving faint reflections on the slick tiles. The shelves were packed too close together, stocked with boxes and jars and labels she didn't read, colors smudging together like a painting. Alucard was just ahead, his coat moving with the subtle weight of fabric, it swayed a little with his stride, crisp at the edges but not dramatic. His hands were in his pockets, and he didn't glance back, but she followed anyway, because it felt like she was supposed to.

She glanced to her right and noticed a boy walking alongside her. He looked normal enough, with short, curly hair and a casual, almost slouchy walk. He didn't seem out of place here, not any more than she did, anyway. "I hope he hurries up," she said, not really expecting an answer. The boy just kept pace with her, staring ahead. "He's our ride," she added, her voice dry, as if the absurdity of it all wasn't worth mentioning out loud.

The shelves blurred, edges smearing like wet paint, and the boy was gone. The air thickened, too warm, then too cold. Suddenly she was standing in the woods. The trees were stripped bare, clawing at the sky, their branches thin and sharp as broken ribs. Somewhere nearby, a house slouched into itself, the walls crumbling, sagging like it had lost its will to stand. The ground was soft, sucking at her boots, and the smell of damp rot filled her lungs.

Before she could move, hands pinned her shoulders, rough and clawed. She felt the sharpness of teeth breaking her skin, a hot, wet pull at her neck. Another man, no a second, a third, stepped into view, his mouth smeared dark, his eyes flat and hungry. They were feeding on her. Her arms were heavy, her legs numb, and the cold in her spine felt like it was coiling tighter with every heartbeat.

The trees leaned closer, their branches twisting like fingers, and the men weren't men anymore. Their mouths pulled back too wide, too sharp, their teeth gleaming with blood. One of them held a candle, its flame sputtering as he tilted it over her. The wax dripped down in thick, hot globs, searing her skin where the bites still oozed. She couldn't move, her limbs locked in place like a doll's, her skin tightening under the cooling wax. Another drop splattered, rolling down her collarbone, and she felt it harden almost instantly, sealing the wounds as if they were marking her.

The air was thick with the smell of smoke and something sweet, like burnt sugar. Their faces hovered too close, voices whispering nonsense, but the words slid away before she could catch them. The wax kept dripping, each drop a slow, deliberate burn, until she could barely feel her own body.

She blinked, and suddenly the woods were gone, the crumbling house vanished. The smell of wax and blood faded into the sterile buzz of fluorescent lights. The shelves were back, close and cluttered, humming with silence. Her breath came out in a shudder, and her body felt too light, as if she'd been falling and was caught just in time.

Alucard's hand was on her shoulder, his fingers steady, anchoring her. He leaned in close, his voice low against her ear, smooth as velvet and cold as stone. "It's okay," he whispered, his breath brushing her skin. "I understand what you went through..."

She nodded, the motion small, and let her hand drift to her neck. Her fingers grazed the skin there-smooth, but too smooth, as if the wax from the dream had sealed itself beneath her skin. The ache was faint but real, pulsing under her touch. Alucard had already stepped away, standing in front of a wall of flat-screen TVs, the shifting colors reflecting across his face. His posture was casual, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing faintly as if he were considering which one to buy.

Integra stood there, rubbing at her neck, and turned her eyes to the other side of the aisle. Appliances, vacuums, toasters, blenders, lined up like silent spectators. Her gaze drifted over them without purpose, her mind distant. She wasn't looking for anything, just letting her eyes move from one object to the next, feeling the weight of it all settle back into her bones.