“She belongs with me,” he said. “I feel that in my bones. And I belong with her. I have been thinkin’ on that a lot. Family. Responsibility. Where I do the most good and where I cause the most trouble.”
Here it came.
“The Church reached out,” he said. “After we took Bael down. Word spread. They heard about what happened. They also heard about what I can do, and they offered me a job. A chance to train new priests and hunters, to guide people who want to fight but don’t know how to.”
“And you want it,” I said.
“I think I do,” he said. “I think it’s my callin’. I have never been good at anything else. I can fix engines and patch wounds, but this… this is where I know what I am doin’. Grace says Virgil would have wanted me to take it.”
“And the club?” I asked.
He looked around the room, at the photos on the walls, at the baby on my lap.
“I love this club,” he said. “You gave me a family when I needed it the most. You gave me a patch, a chair at the table, a place to park my bike where I didn’t have to sleep with one eye open. But I can’t sit in two worlds forever. I am no good to anyone if I keep pretendin’ I can do both without fallin’ apart.”
“And Sinnerman is back,” I said.
He nodded.
“He is a preacher,” Hellsing said. “He always was. He can stand in front of your brothers and sing them down from the ledge in a way that I never could. He knows Scripture and he can provide them with the comfort they need without draggin’ Hellthrough the door every time. He is better suited to guide them day to day.”
“You don’t think you can do that?” I asked.
“I think I am the man you call when something is crawlin’ on the ceiling,” he said. “I am the one who walks into basements with salt and water and comes out busted but breathin’. That is a different job. I will still answer when you call, Jameson. I will always come when there is somethin’ unnatural in your yard. But the patch that says Chaplain on my chest… I think it belongs to him again.”
He fell quiet as I looked at him. Hellsing had never asked me for much. He had taken every order I gave him in stride, even when he did not like it. He had walked into fires for this club. Now he sat in my living room, asking to lay down a title so he could pick up a crib and a Bible somewhere else.
“You know what that means,” I said. “You step back as Chaplain and Sinnerman takes your seat at Church, the men are gonna look to him. You sure you can live with that?”
“I can live with it if it means I get to keep my callin’, and if Grace and my kid still get to be a part of this family.”
He looked me dead in the eye. “I came here tonight to give you this,” he said. “Officially. If you will take it.”
He reached up and touched the small patch on his cut that marked his role.
“I will always honor what this club gave me. But I think it is time I step aside as your official Chaplain and let Sinnerman carry that weight.”
I let a beat pass then took it.
“You were a good Chaplain,” I said. “Better than you give yourself credit for. You stood over Virgil’s grave, and you said words that mattered. You stood in that damn witch shop, and you fought like hell. You carried brothers through some dark shit. That will always belong to you, patch or not.”
Something in his chest loosened. I could see it in the way his shoulders dropped a little.
“Thank you,” he said. “That means more than you know.”
“You always got a place with us, Hellsing. You need a bed, you come. You need backup, you call. You need someone to take the kid for a night so you and Grace can remember what sleep feels like, you bring that baby over and drop her on Sadie’s lap.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth.
“She’ll like that,” he said. “She keeps sayin’ she wants the baby to grow up around family.”
“She will,” I said. “She already has.”
He stood. I shifted the baby carefully and got to my feet as well.
“Tell Grace I am happy for her,” I said. “And that Virgil is probably up there braggin’ to whoever will listen that his girl landed the only exorcist dumb enough to go to Hell for her twice.”
That pulled a real laugh from him. “Yes, sir,” he said. “She’ll like that.”
