The sound of a fiddle followed by the shrill screech of an accordion jolts Maka awake, sending her heart leaping into her throat. Chasing the sleep from her eyes, she blinks in confusion at the walls covered with posters of various orchestras. There is a phonograph smaller than the one in the living room tucked in one corner of the room and a boombox nearly identical to the boombox her father still keeps sitting on the dresser next to the phonograph.

"Are you awake?"

Soul hovers in the doorway, expression turning apologetic when he sees her start.

"Well, I mean obviously you are," he says quickly, rubbing the back of his head. He wears a similar kind of jacket to the one he had yesterday, though this one has a zipper and a hood but no lapels. The tiny pin of a smiling mouth with fangs near his collar matches the red and black pattern running down his boots. "Kind of hard not to with Asshole One and Asshole Two playing over there."

Maka sits up and runs a hand over her face. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep in the armchair while we were talking last night," he says. "And then you snored when I asked if you could sleepdrive."

"I'm a silent sleeper," she mumbles in halfhearted protest. The mortification of falling asleep in a stranger's apartment hasn't hit her fully yet but it's building. Her memories blank after Kid's arrival so she must have fallen asleep shortly after. "How did I end up here?"

"Kid levitated you," Soul says quickly. "I pulled the blanket over you."

There's a pause as Maka takes in her surroundings, completely awake now. "And this is your room," she says finally.

"Yes." Soul hasn't moved from the doorway.

"I'm surprised by the lack of coffins."

"They clash with the decor."

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed. Her shoes were taken off and lined up neatly by the bed, probably by Kid. "Where did you sleep?"

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes," Soul answers, brushing a hand through his hair before stuffing his hands in his pocket. The shadows tracing the skin under his eyes tell a different story.

Something like guilt pricks at Maka. "You should have woken me up."

"You said that you hadn't been sleeping so I didn't want to interrupt," he answers, toes of his boot tapping against the other. "And it would have been unseemly of me, as Kid would say."

It surprises Maka that he remember what she said in passing. She stands, fighting with herself for a moment before speaking again. "Thank you."

"Anything else wouldn't have been right," he says, shrugging a little. "Breakfast?"

She frowns in confusion. "Breakfast?"

"Dinner for you, technically." He moves to one side as Maka crosses the room.

"How long did I sleep?"

"It's nearly four."

"In the morning?"

"In the afternoon." They move down the hallway, though Soul stays slightly behind her. "Kid still insists on making pancakes, however."

The slowly burning flush on her face grows. "You didn't have to do that."

"I cooked nothing, Kid is the one who likes to keep up with cooking shows."

The fiddling and screeching increases in volume as they pass through the living room and enter the kitchen where Kid is sliding a perfectly circular pancake onto a plate. With his spatula, he points to a balcony door at the far side of the kitchen. "I already tried asking them to stop."

Maka winces as the music is joined by a high keening noise. "I think I'm losing feeling in my ears."

"That's a banshee's scream for you." Soul pulls a pair of overlarge sunglasses from his pocket and tugs his hood over his head, tugging the drawstrings until his face is covered entirely. "It's worse when it's a full moon and the werewolves join in." His voice comes out muffled as he stomps towards the balcony "I'll try to shut them up."

The music grows louder as he slides the door open, dimming when he slides it closed again.

Maka stares after him before turning to Kid, who is slicing the pancake with precise cuts. "How big is the supernatural population in Death City?"

"Most of the Witch's Eye is populated by us," Kid answers, handing the plate to Maka. The pancake is split into eight exact triangles, a single square of butter positioned exactly in the middle. "Though humans come through here regularly and a fair few live on the outskirts of the Eye."

A loud growl from her stomach keeps her from refusing. "And how do they not notice?"

"Death City is an easy place to live in plain sight." Kid joins her at the table next to the balcony window. "There is nowhere you need to hide if everyone else is just as strange, though there are a few exceptions."

"Like murder." She digs in her pocket for her phone. There's a text message from Patti and the usual voicemail from her father but nothing pressing.

"Murder would be an exception, yes," Kid agrees. He looks intrigued at the sight of the phone but doesn't comment on it.

Poking her fork through a pancake slice, Maka sniffs at it before tasting it. Her eyes widen as she digs in-for someone who has been dead for hundreds of years, Kid's cooking skills are far better than most people she knows.

Taking a sip of the cup of freshly bought tea Kid apparently bought while she was sleeping, Maka peers over at him. With his proper and careful nature, Kid is even less intimidating than Soul. "How did you and Soul meet?"

A thoughtful look crosses Kid's face. "I was taking a tour of eastern Europe so it must have been sometime in the nineteenth century. There was a mob in a Romanian town I was passing through and that was when I came across Soul, freshly turned. He was the son of a lord, which made it rather noticeable when his body disappeared from his grave." He purses his lips in slight chagrin. "That also may have been when I lightly shoved him towards the mob." He adds, "But I did help him escape so that is what is important."

"And you've stayed together since then?"

"Striving to keep up with fashion as a vampire is incredibly difficult and something we both care very much about," Kid answers. "As neither of us can apply our eyeliner on our own, we found it beneficial to stick together."

The balcony door slides open then and Soul steps through, neon purple silly string clinging to his clothes. "They said no."

"Perhaps I should have warned you about the string," Kid says as the music swells up again.

"That would have been appreciated."

Maka swallows the food in her mouth. "I'm going to talk to them."

"They still had more cans of string," Soul warns, picking off silly string with a scowl. "They're merciless."

She rolls her eyes. "I think I'll manage."

The apartment across the way has a balcony like Kid and Soul's, the buildings so close that the railings of the balcony aren't more than a foot away from each other. Unlike Soul and Kid's balcony, which only has two chairs neatly arranged underneath a giant umbrella, the werewolves have a wooden table with claw marks running across the top and chunks of the legs missing.

A burly werewolf sits on top of the table, fiddle perched on his shoulder. He has an eyepatch covering his left eye with the words "No Future" tattooed where his eyebrow should be and wears a black and white striped shirt that gives him the look of an escaped convict. Beside him sits a woman with long silvery purple hair in a polka dot dress who would look nearly human if it wasn't for her mouth being too wide to be normal.

It's the werewolf holding the accordion who notices Maka. "Look, the bloodsuckers brought home a meal for once," he crows. His mohawk, dyed vividly blue, wavers in time with his words.

"That is vile, Black Star," comes Kid's voice from behind Maka. He and Soul step out onto the balcony. "Maka is a-" Kid breaks off, glancing at Soul.

He looks at Maka. "Acquaintance?"

"Acquaintance," she agrees.

"And these are our neighbors, Free and Black Star," Kid finishes. "Eruka is Free's girlfriend."

"Considering I come over so often for band practice, I may as well live here," the banshee says. She sweeps her hair behind her shoulders, settling more securely next to Free.

Maka eyes the fiddle and accordion. "What kind of band are you?"

"Wolf's Bane, otherwise known as the world's first metal folk werewolf duo," the werewolf called Free speaks, arm casually slung around Eruka's waist. "Eruka is our vocals. We're going to break it big one day and tour all over."

"And we all can't wait for that day," Soul mutters.

Hiding her smile, Maka asks, "What about the full moon?"

"Just part of the act." Free shrugs. "A lot of fans get a kick out of eccentric stuff."

"Well," she says, starting off the polite way, "We appreciate the effort but we need ten minutes of silence."

Black Star scoffs. "You sent a human to shush us?"

"She volunteered," Soul rejoins.

The werewolf appraises Maka and then he grins. His teeth are not quite as sharp as Soul or Kid's but she can imagine what they look like on a full moon. "Tell you what, if she can beat me in an arm-wrestling match, you'll get your quiet."

Kid steps forward. "No need for visits to the emergency room-"

"Deal," Maka interrupts. She vaults over the railing and onto the werewolves' balcony in one movement.

Free and Eruka scoot off the table as Black Star and Maka take a seat from across each other. Behind her, Maka feels a presence and peers over her shoulder to see Soul. "Moral support," he offers.

She nods and turns back.

Black Star is already in place; he wags his fingers at her and grins. "I'll try to go easy on you."

"So will I." She takes his hand and weighs her movements, tensing.

"On the count of three," Eruka announces. "One...two…."

As soon as she says three, Maka hooks her foot around Black Star's knee and yanks forward. His head collides with the table at the same time as his arm.

Free howls with laughter. "She got you good!"

Black Star snaps his head up. "That was cheating," he says, scowling. "You tricked me."

"You didn't say how I could win," Maka says as she stands. She grins as smugly as Black Star had. "Only that I had to."

Soul offers his hand as they cross back to his apartment. "That was impressive," he says.

Maka takes his hand. "I took a series of self defense classes last year."

"Remember," she calls to Black Star. "Ten minutes."

Soul takes the seat next to her at the kitchen table when they return inside as Kid takes out a journal from his coat pocket. "Now that we are all here and can hear each other properly, we can begin our investigation," he says, opening the journal to a hand drawn map of Death City.

Maka eyes the map. "Did you draw this?"

"Drawing order helps my nerves," Kid says. "Not quite up to scale but it is precise enough."

"And why do you need it?"

"Vampires like your attacker don't usually leave an area once they have established themselves," Soul answers. "That means he's probably lurking somewhere instead of moving on like most vampires who prefer feeding in the traditional sense."

"I've seen the handiwork of one or two of these vampires." Kid closes the notebook. "Which is why I will be visiting the morgue shortly to bribe the ghoul who works there to let me view their records. If this vampire has been here a while, then he'll have left proof in his victims and we can use that to determine his hunting grounds."

"And if he made sure to leave behind no evidence?" Maka asks when Kid adds nothing else.

"Then we put out a flyer," says Soul as he wrestles with an especially sticky piece of silly string clinging to his hair. "Though we might get half the city calling to report on the other half."

"If we actually do find him, do we even have a weapon to kill him with?" Maka asks.

"We have that collection of silver spoons Kid refuses to sell."

Kid's tone turns indignant. "It is a family heirloom and a matching set of eight."

"An heirloom that will kill you for a second time if you touch it."

"We can figure that out later," Kid says in lieu of conceding the argument. "What is important is seeing if any of his scent is left in that alley."

Maka pushes her plate away. An impatience to begin itches at her more and more the longer she is still. "Soul and I can do that." She rises and picks up the plate, only to have it levitated out of her hands by Kid.

"There is a certain order to the kitchen," he says by way of apology. "I'll take care of it."

"I wouldn't be offended by it," Soul says in answer to Maka's perplexed expression. "Kid has driven himself and multiple cleaning ladies into nervous breakdowns so it's best just to leave him be."

"Being committed to a particular vision of order and harmony is nothing to laugh at," Kid retorts from the sink. "Also, we're also running low on-" Kid pauses. "Rations."

Maka raises an eyebrow. "You can say blood."

"Fine, blood."

Soul scoops up the small pile of silly string on the table and dumps it into the garbage can by the refrigerator before opening the fridge door to extract a pair of ice chests printed with a fading hospital logo. "Is Stein back from his honeymoon already?"

"I called and he returned a few days ago apparently." Placing the plate carefully on the drying rack, Kid wipes his hands on a towel. "His shift ends in an hour."

"Thanks for the warning." The look on Soul's face turns hesitant as he looks back to Maka. "I shouldn't take long if you want to wait here." Quickly, he adds, "Or if you want to go home and meet at Death Dive, that's okay too."

"I can go with you. If you want." She colors slightly at how her words sounds but curiosity isn't something Maka can resist for long, especially given in the current circumstances. "We can use my car so it'll be faster."

There's something in Soul's eyes that she can't quite read as he shrugs. "Only if you want to."

Outside, Eruka's voice joins the werewolves' music as they start up again and Maka cringes. "I think you know my answer to that."

The last time Maka visited St. Grigori's Hospital, she had been five and with a badly sprained wrist from falling from the top of the jungle gym on a dare. She'd been stuck in a cast for a over a month but the bully who had goaded her into climbing never bothered her again.

Nearly two decades later, the hospital shows signs of its age in the peeling paint on the outside of the building, fading hospital sign and the weblike cracks running up the sides of the building. Apparent laxness in the hospital's upkeep also translates into minimal security, however; it doesn't take more than flashing the ice chests at the security guard at the front to get clearance into the authorized personnel area of the hospital.

"How often do you do this?" Maka asks as they pace down a hallway. Soul moves with a practiced step, sunglasses still on his face even though the hospital lights are low and dimmed.

"We usually come the first week of each month," he answers, pausing in front of a door labeled 'Blood Technologist'. "But he eloped last month so we had to make do with what we had."

The door opens before Soul can knock and a man in a worn lab coat squints at the two through thick rimmed glasses. His sallow complexion and owlish stare reminds Maka of a ghost and she shifts uncomfortably as he continues to needle the two with his gaze.

"You have a human with you," he finally says to Soul.

A twinge of annoyance flashes through Maka. "You're human too."

"I'm a scientist," the man says, as if it clarifies everything. In the time since he's opened the door, he still hasn't blinked.

"Dr. Stein lives in the Witch's Eye," Soul says. "And is the wrong kind of observant."

"Like I said, I'm a scientist," Stein says. He lets the door swing open. "I have a transfusion to attend but you can wait inside."

The doctor's office is small and cramped, files perched on his desk in precarious piles. Maka picks up a glass jar resting on one of the chairs and examines the shriveled creature floating in the liquid within it.

Soul takes the chair next to her, finally pulling off his sunglasses. "He's eccentric, I know." His eyes glow faintly in the half-dark of the office but it's the shadows underneath his eyes, which have grown more pronounced somehow, that she notices.

She places the jar on one of the piles on the desk. "I hadn't noticed."

He laughs, and it's soft and light.

Maka glances at the door before speaking, "I feel like he could see what I was thinking when he was staring at me."

"His great-grandmother was part fae and he inherited her eyes." Soul's eyes slip shut as he settles back in his chair. "We had just moved in when there was a knock on our door and Stein behind it. He has a connection to everything supernatural, apparently. But his conditions for being our provider were fair and his prices can be odd but it was easier than finding someone else."

"Odd how?"

Soul swallows back a yawn as he answers. "He mostly charges money but he also like to…observe the things we can do."

"Like Kid's ability to achieve a killer wing?"

"That is my doing, thank you very much. Kid melts in the shadows sometimes and he likes to levitate things, as you've seen."

She doesn't miss his omission. "And you?"

There's a slight pause. "I shapeshift," Soul says carefully.

Maka sits up in her chair. "Into a bat?"

He opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling. "I'm not going to answer that."

"It is a bat," she says gleefully. "You're Dracula."

A strangled groan fills the room. "The werewolves made paper bats from the book and flooded our apartment with them once," he says. "We found bats in the strangest places for months afterwards."

She laughs, a mirror to Soul's laugh from earlier. "How did you discover this hidden side of yours?"

He casts a look of mock betrayal at Maka before admitting in a mumble, "I sneezed."

"What?"

"I sneezed," he says in a slightly louder voice. "One minute, I was standing on the ground and then, I was hovering in the air with wings for arms." He buries his face in his hands. "Fell to the ground out of shock," he says. "It took ages for me to shift back and another century before Kid let me live it down."

Muffling the laughter in her voice, she props her elbow on the armrest and leans towards Soul. From this angle, she can see his ears poking through his hair and the point they make. "Can I see?"

His hands are still over his face. "Over my dead body."

"So do I just step over you then?"

"Funny." He glares at her halfheartedly through the space between his fingers. "I used to charge a dollar for it when I was in the circus."

Maka rests her chin on the back of her hand. "So if I pay you a dollar, will you show me?"

He makes a sound somewhere between a huff and a laugh. "I'll highly consider it, at least."

The silence between them isn't as heavy as it was last night and Maka gazes at Soul contemplatively before breaking it again. "Do you like being a vampire?"

"It's what I am." His hands drop back to his sides. "There is not much sense in feeling too much one way about it."

"A practical way of looking at it for a poet," she observes.

"I aim to surprise." His fingers tap out a beat against the chair. "These past twenty four hours have contained more excitement than anything that's happened in the past decade, though."

"Being almost killed does liven things up," Maka agrees. "But I'm glad I didn't kill you."

He snorts. "Your compliments need some work but I'll take it."

"It was more of an olive branch," she says heatedly.

"An olive branch?"

There's a feeling that kindles in her bones at the look on his face but she can't quite identify it.

The sound of the door opening behind them cuts off Soul's reply. Stein enters, face buried in a medical chart. He doesn't appear to take notice of them, even after he takes his seat behind his desk.

After a minute of silence, Maka glances at Soul, who shrugs.

It takes another few minutes before the doctor looks up, places the file on top of the highest pile on his desk and rolls his head in a circle, neck cracking in series of small pops.

"So," he says, finally looking at Soul and Maka. "Blood."

"I accept the olive branch," Soul says when they return to Maka's car fifteen minutes later, ice chests full of blood in tow. He is heavily engrossed in his seat belt as he adds, "But I never needed it."

The lights in Death Dive are still dark as Maka parks on the sidewalk next to the club. She switches off the ignition and watches Soul wrestle into the hoodie he brought with him. "You didn't need that at the hospital or apartment."

"The balcony and the hospital had shade but the journey from here to the alley means turning into a smoldering pile of ashes without it."

She grimaces. "Painful."

"Not nearly as attractive as turning into a walking disco ball." Soul pulls the hood over his head and adjusts his sunglasses.

"You read the series?" she asks as they exit the car.

"Kid and I have a morbid curiosity over how literature deals with vampires. It generally ends in regret."

Soul exhales a sigh of relief as they enter the alley but Maka's heart starts to pound loudly in her chest. She dawdles at the edge where the dying daylight merges into shadow, wetting her lips and sucking in a breath when she peeks in and sees nothing.

"It's safe." Soul wanders back to the mouth of the alley, staying in the shadows. "No one's here."

She crosses her arms defensively. "I'm not scared."

He raises an eyebrow. "I didn't say that you were."

"Well, I'm informing you that I'm not," she says, striding into the alley.

"Good to know." Soul falls into step with her. He pulls off his sunglasses, tugs down his hood and runs a hand through his hair, which only succeeds in making it stand up even more.

There's an odd tingle in Maka's hands at the sight. She swallows, pointing to a spot just ahead of them. "It was there."

The phantom sensation of being sent flying into the air and knocked into the ground sweeps through Maka as Soul moves forward to where she points and she suppresses a shiver. She's safe, she reminds herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

She talks to hide her fear. "Are all vampires super strong or is that a myth too?"

"That is a fact," he answers, scrutinizing the brick wall of Death Dive. "But the ability is kind of like a muscle."

"One that you and Kid don't seem to exercise."

He sniffs. "I've had better things to do in the past two hundred years."

She moves closer as he paces the area she'd pointed to. "Such as?"

"Eyeliner coordination, for one," he answers. "Survival when you're the undead is also something that takes up a large amount of your time, ironically enough." He stops in the middle of his circling to wrinkle his nose. "All I'm getting is garbage upon garbage along with what might be the remains of someone's dinner."

"It's been nearly a month so that's not surprising," she sighs. "Now what?"

He considers for a moment. "Maybe-"

"Maka?"

She turns at the sound of her name, squinting at the figure standing at the opening of the alley. "Liz?"

The older Thompson sister stays where she is even after Maka draws close enough to see her face, her bright pink shirt poking out from underneath the biker jacket emblazoned with Death Dive's logo.

The self-assurance Liz usually carries herself with is replaced by a badly concealed nervousness. She tosses a glance into the alley before speaking to Maka. "What are you doing?"

Maka runs with the first thing that springs to her lips. "I was mugged. It happened yesterday so I was hoping to find my wallet or something."

The lie tastes obvious on her lips but Liz doesn't seem to notice. "It's not safe to go down this way at night."

"I know, that's why I had a friend come with me." She tilts her head to Soul, who had stayed behind in the shadows. "Patti told me that you had a scare too."

Liz's eyes linger on Soul and she swallows visibly before answering. "Yeah, I...got mugged too." There's a tremble in her finger as she pulls on her jacket sleeve the same way Patti does when she's lying and her eyes slide back to Soul again.

Maka frowns. "Are you okay?"

Instead of an answer, Liz gives a low scream.

Maka twists to see Soul walking out from the shadows. She turns back quickly. "Liz-"

The other girl has vanished.

"Well," Maka says lightly as Soul joins her at the mouth of the alley. "I think she knows what you are."