Bite Me: A Hellsing Fanfic

Chapter 1: Battle of the books



“I don’t get what is so special about vampires that sparkle.” I said in my heavy southern draw.  I sipped my orange juice, while my friend Krystal slowly killed her brain cells with a copy of Midnight.
“How can you not love the romance between Belle and Elric? That is a sin, Alyssa! And aren’t you the one who loves vampires?” Krystal replied in her lilting English accent giving me a smug look, while I shrugged.
“I hate to tell you this Krys, but those are not vampires. Those are sparkly glitter fairies with anemia. Real vampires don’t sparkle in sunlight. They either burst into flames, or are completely unharmed by it. And another thing there is not a romance between Belle and Elric. There is lust. It’s called hormones. Every teenager has them, its completely normal. And Elric drives me nuts. He can’t decide which personality to stick with. And he completely contradicts himself. ‘Belle, I am very dangerous. I could kill you. You should leave me. Better yet, I shall leave you. Tomorrow. But, then you’ll be sad. How about the day after that?’ As he lays his head on her stomach and glitters in the sun like a freaking disco ball.” I shook my head as Krys looked at me with tear-filled eyes.
“How could you say something so mean about Midnight?!? It’s perfect! Stephen Meyers is a genius! No! A god! For writing this book.” Krys hugged the book to her heart like a life preserver and glared at me.
“Krys, I don’t care what the hell you read as long as you keep your Midnight-germs on your side of the apartment. The last thing I need you to do is infect my stuff with that glittery vampire crap, ok?” I smiled at her ignorance in literature. A good vampire novel is Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Not Stephen Meyer’s lovey-dovey vamp mush. That book was rotting her brain. Krys tossed her flaming red hair and turned back to her reading. I finished off my orange juice and headed to the bathroom to shower.
Welcome to my life. My name is Alyssa Harker. I am 22 years old, currently seeking employment as a crime scene investigator, and share an apartment with my best friend, Krystal Rivers. Krystal and I couldn’t be more different. Her hair was the most noticeable shade of fiery red, while mine was a light brown. Her eyes were a light green while mine were blue-grey, depending on my mood. Krys was naturally from London, I moved here from Louisiana when I was six with my Aunt Opal. She was four foot eleven and I was five foot eight easy. And where Krys was bubbly, outgoing and slightly naïve, I was quiet, shy, and didn’t trust a soul. Apart we were unbalanced and tended to freak people out, but together we balanced out perfectly.
Stepping into the hot water of the shower, I felt the tension drain out of my muscles. I was uptight this evening because I had a very important interview tonight. This was the first call in months. Nobody wanted to hire a woman as an investigator. Everybody thinks that women will crack easily, seeing all the carnage of crime scenes day after day. What they didn’t know is that I had seen more carnage than they could stomach. I had seen my whole family tortured and murdered. Right before my eyes, when I was only five. If that doesn’t mess somebody up, I don’t know what would. Sighing, I rinsed the soap off my body and stepped out wrapping my towel around myself. I looked in the mirror and sighed. I looked bad today. I had bags under my eyes from not sleeping. My nightmares were coming back again. My pale skin looked unhealthy. I didn’t go out into the sun much. I was so fair skinned, that I burned very easily. My eyes were such a pale shade of grey today; they hardly seemed to have any color to them.
“Wow, Alyssa. How can the boys say no to you today? You look like you’re at the top of your game.” I said to my reflection sarcastically, as I plugged in the blow dryer preparing to tame the messy brown cloud that constituted my hair.
Thirty minutes, some make-up, and a hair straightner later I was digging in my closet trying to find a suitable outfit to wear. I pulled out a few options and laid them on my bed. This was something I was going to need some help with. I was not a fashion diva, but luckily, I lived with one.  Stepping into the living room, I put on my best innocent face.
“Hey, Krys?” Krystal tilted her head back just enough to see me, and glared. “You’re still mad about that ‘Midnight’ stuff aren’t you?” Krys just continued to glare at me. “What if I said I was super sorry, and that I need your fashion genius, and that Belle and Elric are perfect together?” Krys flashed one of her brilliant smiles at me.
“I knew you would come to the dark side eventually.” I rolled my eyes at her. She just scampered off the couch and into my room with a smile. “So what do we have to work with…Wow, Lyssa, you need to get a tan. And why are your eyes so pale? You haven’t been getting any sleep have you?” I gave her a shrug. “Lyssa….Fine, you don’t need to wear anything to dark or to light. No whites. I think this would be the best bet.” She held up a simple burgundy dress that clung in all the right places, was strapless, and came to about mid thigh on me.
“Uh…Krys? No offense, but….I’m going to an interview not a party.” I gave the girl a disbelieving look.
“Oh fine. You’re no fun….How about this?” She held up a pair of black slacks, a gold blouse, and a vest. It was perfect.
“Krys, you are wonderful!” I snatched the clothes from her and wiggled into them. “How do I look?”
“Like one of the undead. You should really try to get a tan, but other than being pale, you look fabulous. Wear those low heels I got you for Christmas. Their classy and professional, yet practical.” Krys stretched and glanced at her watch. “Alright miss working class, get going or you’re going to be late. Why do they want to interview you at 8:00 at night though? That’s what I want to know. If there is any trouble, give me a call. Ok?” I waved at her and walked out the door shutting it behind me.
“You can do this Alyssa. Just relax. No big deal.” I was repeating this chant over and over, as I waited for the elevator. I stared out the window looking out over London. It really was beautiful this time of year. The summer sun was just starting to sink below the horizon. I was so busy watching the fading purple and pink light that a loud thump right next to my face made me shriek. There, on the other side of the window, a brilliant red bird lay. Its blood pumping out of a small gash on its breast as it struggled to breath. One last little shudder and the bird was dead. I felt a cold chill run down my spine and was glad when I heard the elevator doors ding behind me signaling that they had opened. I couldn’t shake the ominous feeling I had.
Because back in Louisiana, when a bird hits a window it means someone is going to die. Soon.