# Disclaimer: Vampire Hunter D belongs to Hideyuki Kukuchi and Urban Vision. I'm just borrowing it for my fic.

The Legend II

Tainted Angel

Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction

# Hey all! I'm back with the sequel to Once Bitten, Tainted Angel! Just to remind you all, there was a six-month time skip at the end of Once Bitten. In addition to that six months, two more months have passed. Well, here's the new beginning, so please enjoy! Cheers!

Chapter 1: The Novice

A scream pierced the night. The middle-aged woman who had made the sound collapsed in horror on the dirt road in front of the old church. The ugly, slimy creature that had oozed out of the drain in her home had caught up with her.

The creature was man-sized and vaguely humanoid in form. Its skin was grey and mottled with moss green. It was painfully thin; its ribcage was visible and bones jutted out from under the skin on its long limbs. Its hands and feet were webbed. A thin layer of transparent slime covered its entire body. It had a small round head, dominated by two huge, bulbous all-black eyes. A small sucker-like mouth was visible at the base of its head.

When the thing had crawled out of the broken pipe at the woman's house, she had been alone at home – her husband had taken the children for dinner at their grandmother's. She had done the only thing she could think of – running for the church across the road from her home.

The creature advanced slowly, cautiously. When it was close enough, it reached out with a webbed hand as if to touch her.

There was a long, dragged-out creaking sound. The creature froze and turned its gigantic eyes towards the church building.

The door of the small living quarters beside the main chapel had opened – that was what had made the creaking sound. The novice, who had lived there alone since the resident priest died of old age a month ago, stood calmly in the doorway. She wore the novice's habit but no crucifix. No one had ever seen her pray.

Even so, it seemed to the terrified woman on the ground that the petite, quiet girl indeed possessed some divine power. For although she was just standing in the doorway looking at the monster, it was slowly backing away, clearly afraid.

Slowly, the novice began to walk towards the monster and the woman. As she approached, the creature retreated. Soon, the creature was backed up against the wall of a house, and the novice stood between it and its intended victim.

The novice took just one more step forward. It was too much for the weak-willed creature. It broke and ran, going on all fours in its hurry. It scurried down the dirt road and out of sight.

"Sister, is it all right to let it go like that?" the woman asked, alarmed.

The novice turned her head to look at the woman. The young, pretty face was calm. "It won't stop running for a very long time," the novice assured the woman. "And it won't be back."

The woman's eyes widened in horror all of a sudden. She pointed. "Sister! You're bleeding!"

The novice glanced calmly at her left hand. Blood was trickling down her fingers and dripping to the ground. The older woman could not see, but the blood was oozing from two puncture wounds on her wrist.

"Don't be alarmed," the novice said, unfazed. "It's just an unfortunate side effect of using my … ability. The bleeding will stop soon."

The novice turned away and gazed at the sky reflectively. It was not her ability. The ability to frighten the daylights out of a monster like that belonged to him – the hunter who had bitten her by accident while she had been him feeding blood from a cut on her wrist to save his life.

He had told her to wait for him. The note left at the empty grave had been anonymous, but she had known it was from him. Two months had passed, in addition to six months that had passed before the note had appeared. Until it had, she had thought him dead, buried under tons of rubble at the site of the collapsed castle on the tall hill overlooking this hamlet.

"Sister, do you hear …?"

The novice's eyes snapped into focus. "Yes, I hear," she told the woman standing behind her. "It's a horse. A horse in a great hurry."

The sound of hooves grew louder, closer. The novice watched, tense but unafraid, as a silhouette appeared out of the mist that covered the open fields on some nights. It was indeed a horse – with a rider.

"It is coming into the village, Sister!" the woman hissed, close to panic. "Do something!"

The novice barely heard the woman. "There is no need. I think --"

The young novice fell silent as a streak of pure white light shot out of the mist, striking the rider, who was hunched over. Just at that moment, the horse crossed into the pool of light cast by the street lights nearest to the edge of town.

Blood splattered the ground as the pale, black-garbed rider fell from his mount. Ignoring the frightened woman at her shoulder, the novice ran forward. With surprising speed, she reached the fallen rider. Without bothering to slow down, she crashed to her knees by his side.

"D," she breathed, barely able to believe her eyes as she took in the stunning visage. The moment of ecstatic wonder passed swiftly when she noticed the horrible wounds on the dhampir's lean, strong body.

Something had torn large, cylindrical holes as thick as fingers through the pale hunter's left shoulder, the right side of his chest and both his upper and lower abdomen. The holes went all the way through his body. Half-cylinders from glancing hits adorned both his arms and his right leg. Thick, dark blood was leaking from the wounds, especially the freshest one on his chest. All the wounds had a burnt, cauterised look to them, although they were still bleeding.

The novice recalled the white light that had shot out of the mist. That must have been the thing that had made the hideous wounds.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, a feeling of tremendous murderous intent from straight ahead caused her to look up. A shaft of white light was beaming out of the fog, aimed low to the ground, at D.

The old priest lay, terribly weakened and no longer capable of moving about, in his hard bed. He was an old, old man, and his body was giving up. His heart, along with a dozen other organs, was failing. His bright blue eyes focused on the face of the young novice by his bedside.

"Vianne, go to the desk and open the bottom drawer," he instructed her in a hoarse, thin voice. "Yes, the one I told you never to open. Bring the thing inside to me."

Obediently, the novice went to the large oak desk on the other side of the room and opened the bottom drawer. She took out the object she found inside.

It was a bracelet made out of dark grey metal. An elaborate, swirling pattern was embossed all over the solid metal bangle with molten silver. It was surprisingly light. She brought it to the old priest and handed it to him reverentially.

He took the bracelet in shaking, wrinkled hands. Releasing a small clasp, he swung the bracelet open on a hidden hinge. "Give me your hand, child."

Vianne extended her left arm. No longer trembling as much, the ancient priest closed the bracelet around her left wrist. The clasp caught with a soft click. The accessory fit the girl almost perfectly. The priest slumped back into the thin mattress, exhausted just by that small exertion.

"I've kept watch over that bracelet for all my life," he said, his voice seeming even weaker than before. "It's the special holy talisman of this church. It's not as useful as a weapon in this dangerous world but, since I, as a man of God, cannot give you as such, this bracelet is yours. It will keep you safe. Safe."

It was as if that bracelet had been all that had been keeping the priest alive, as if he had been holding his last breath just so that he could pass if on to her. He gave her a look of fatherly fondness, then closed his kind blue eyes and breathed no more.

Vianne tore herself free of the instantaneous flashback just as the speeding bar of light was about to strike D's unconscious form. She flung out her left arm and struck the shaft of light, as if trying to wave it away.

The shaft met her arm with a bright flash. When the flare of light faded, a man holding an elegant silver longbow had emerged from the fog. He was tall and extremely slender. He was dressed like a fairy tale prince, in an embroidered dark blue coat and tight white breeches. His smooth brown hair fell in thick curls to his shoulders. The odd thing was, he carried no arrows. There was surprise etched on his graceful, aristocratic features.

Vianne knelt by D's side, her arm still intact and uninjured. Most of her sleeve had been burnt off, revealing the metal bracelet on her wrist. That, too, was unscathed. A white spark danced across the surface of the metal and was gone.

"Interesting trinket you have there, Sister," the archer commented. His voice was genteel and every bit as aristocratic as the rest of him. "I'm sorry if you had to defend yourself – I meant you no harm. My soul arrow was aimed at the dhampir scum on the ground in front of you."

"I will not allow you to kill in my village," Vianne said smoothly. "Leave."

"That won't be a problem," the archer said, smiling charmingly. "Let me just take the dhampir and leave your village. I'll kill him later."

"You can't have him," Vianne said in a steely voice. "Leave, now."

Truth to be told, she was terrified. She could sense the distilled hatred spilling from the archer in front of her. D was critically injured and unconscious. If the archer decided to attack, she had no way to fight him.

Her eyes narrowed when the graceful archer faltered. Then she saw what she had missed before. When he looked upon D, the archer gave off poisonous, murderous vibes. But when he looked at her, what filled his eyes and showed in his posture was a sort of … respect.

"If you want the dhampir, you will have to kill me first," she told him.

The archer lowered his silver bow without hesitation. "It is against my principles to harm the disciples of God," he said. "I will retreat for now, Sister. But I will return. You cannot protect the dhampir forever."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and vanished into the mist. Vianne did not know what to make of that, but she had more pressing issues at hand.

She turned and looked back down the road. The woman she had saved earlier was still standing in front of the church, gaping.

"Stop looking so stunned!" Vianne yelled. "Come over here and help me carry him!"

The village doctor stifled a yawn as he hauled his medical case towards the church, following the hysterical woman who had roused him from his sleep with a story about archers who shot light and a terribly injured man. It was all too much for an aging man like him at this time of the night. He reached up absently and stroked his thick moustache.

They arrived at the door to the novice's living quarters. "He's in there, he's in there!" the woman squawked anxiously. "He has holes all the way through his body, holes that you can look right through! She took him inside, said she was going to save him. But she's just a slip of a girl! How could she possibly save someone with wounds like that? That's why I went to find you!"

The greying doctor held up a hand to silence the overexcited woman. He knocked briskly on the stout wooden door. "Sister, this is Doctor Heimlind," he called. "Open the door. I was told you have a gravely injured traveller in there with you."

The door flew open. Vianne stood there, her face damp with perspiration. She looked pale and drawn, and very tired. "I appreciate your concern, Doctor," she said, sounding rather light-headed, "but your services are not necessary. Normal medical care cannot help this man."

"Why not?" the doctor asked, rather affronted.

"He's a dhampir," she explained. "Don't worry, I know what to do with him. I can handle it. Thank you once again, and good night." She shut the door in his face.

D awoke on a hard, narrow bed that was probably quite uncomfortable by human standards. He felt a dull, throbbing ache where the arrows of light had pierced him. He was healing.

He could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. As much as he did not want to, he remembered the taste of that blood. He had tasted it twice before, a year and a half ago, once when he had been on the brink of death, and once to save its owner's life.

With a little effort, he sat up. Sitting on the wooden floor, with her body slumped against the headboard of the bed, was Vianne. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was even. She was asleep. D could see the wetness of blood around the puncture wounds on her left wrist. She had forced blood out through the old bite wounds.

D left his horse at the edge of the little village and walked in carrying Vianne's slight form in his arms. She was still unconscious and burning with fever.

The village head pushed his way out from behind the frightened but curious crowd of villagers that had gathered. "You're finally here," the tall, thin man said brusquely. "The vampire has taken two of our women. He's retreated into the castle. The castle's at –"

"Wait," D said softly. Soft his command might be, but the crowd melted away like water. Even the village head stepped aside unresistingly.

D's impassive dark eyes surveyed the villagers around him. No, all of them looked too suspicious, too afraid.

Then he caught sight of the old church and the aged priest standing in the churchyard, watching quietly. His clear blue eyes were kind, non-judgmental. D moved towards the church. The villagers cleared themselves from his path automatically.

"What can I do for you?" the priest asked when D got close enough. D walked past him, entered the chapel and laid Vianne down on a pew.

"I have a favour to ask of you," the hunter said. "Watch over her."

The priest smiled. "Until you return from your task? But of course," he agreed readily. In a louder voice, obviously meant for the crowd to hear, he asked, "But might I enquire as to who the young lady might be?"

"She is someone I saved from a vampire," D replied. It was not untrue. "She walks in the sunlight."

The priest glanced at the sun, partially obscured by clouds, overhead. "Evidently."

D turned away to listen to the village chief's instructions. Under his breath, the priest muttered, "I will look after her for you, stranger. No harm will come to her. Godspeed to you."

Only D heard him. It was enough.

Back in the present, D looked down at the sleeping Vianne. He took in the conservative black long dress she wore, and the black cloth partially covering her head. So this is how you have been living.

His eyes fell on the strange, antique-looking bracelet on her left wrist. The priest had given it to her, no doubt. After a few moments of inspection, he recognised it for what it was. The priest had been true to his word.

D looked around. Yet how had such an object come into the possession of an old priest living in a sleepy hamlet like this one? The kind old man had been more than his black cleric robe had suggested. D wondered vaguely who he had been before he had become a priest.

D saw movement below him. He looked down. Vianne was stirring. A few moments later, her dark almond-shaped eyes opened.

"You're awake," she said woozily.

"So are you."

Vianne smiled sleepily. "When I stop feeling so tired, you're going to explain to me why … you … took … so … long …"

She trailed off, and her head thudded lightly against the side of the wooden headboard once more. She had gone back to sleep.