Jeanne disappeared in the blink of an eye, very much mirroring the circumstances of their initial meeting.
While her display of power rendered his fellow chasseurs speechless, Vanitas slumped against the wall, letting the surge of adrenaline pass. Coming to think of it, Jeanne must have been the bourreau dispatched for the case. As long as she was there, Vanitas knew he could rest assured and let monster take care of monsters before making an appearance.
"Captain." Maria chastised, recovering from shock. "The second dose - your body wouldn't have been able to withstand that!"
"Calm down, Maria. I didn't use it, did I?" Showing the syringe that was still full with greenish liquid in his hand, Roland patted her shoulders. "Regroup and count casualties. I'll go after the Hellfire Witch."
She stared at him in disbelief, as if he'd grown a third eye.
"Oh! When Olivier arrives, let him take command. I'll explain everything to him afterwards!" Leaving Roland to face the music, Vanitas paid little attention to their conversation until it was too late to realise that a shadow was looming over him. "Let's go, Vanitas!"
"What?" He complained for being pulled up, his protests in vain for having a supervisor who wouldn't listen.
"I'll trust you with the rest, Maria." Dragging among a struggling Vanitas, Roland turned to follow the clouds of smoke that would lead him to the battle.
Jeanne was drawing too much attention. As they approached the main street, Vanitas noted fewer dents on the ground, evidence of her restraining the use of her gauntlet. However, as they had already caused upheavals on their way, people were starting to ask questions. He hoped the police wasn't on the move yet, or he wouldn't be getting a chance to inspect the body. It was difficult enough having Roland there.
"Since you're going after her anyway." Fed up with Vanitas' glares, Roland answered his unspoken question to which he denied almost immediately.
"I wasn't." His reply was automatic which Roland learnt over the years should be understood as the opposite of what he was saying.
They skidded to a stop upon hearing the sound of something blowing up. Running towards the direction people were escaping from, they soon came face to face with the refugee once more. She sure was in rough shape, a limp missing, hair as messy as a bird's nest. Her courage was admirable, though, that even on the verge of death, she roared at them with the same energy.
With a swing of Roland's spear, her head detached from its body.
It actually took longer than expected for her head to drop. Counting in the necessity to be discreet, Jeanne should still have taken her down in minutes. Has the Hellfire Witch gone soft after decades of nap? Vanitas dared a glance at Jeanne, who was closely behind but clutching her chest. Once she saw that the woman was done for, she turned to leave, staggering in her steps.
She wasn't severely wounded, at least not to Vanitas' eyes. There might be blood camouflaged by the colour of her dress, yet there were no noticeable gash nor signs of poisoning.
"I'll check you in to infirmary."
Talking about the peaks of being in Roland's team. With that, Vanitas ran after Jeanne.
Not getting any hints of her whereabouts, he had a much harder time locating her. First he deduced that she could be heading back to Altus, but she was nowhere to be found on the way to the nearest border. Then his chasseur instincts spoke to him, advising him to look in the city centre where she would go for a feast. This absurd idea was banished as soon as it was brought up.
Surely a bourreau who was summoned for the sole purpose of executing vampires prosecuted for harming humans wouldn't end up committing the same crime.
Or would she?
She wouldn't, Vanitas decided. She would have jumped on them otherwise.
Vanitas wandered around, taking in his surroundings instead of the scenery. He strayed away from the river, changing his focus to easily accessed back doors and buildings as he recalled the frantic look on her face which was unlikely a result of the battle. The mystery behind multiple attacks in one night came back to him, he froze in the middle of the street, connecting the dots. Although he didn't know what triggered the initial outburst, there was something in the middle of the fight that has been bugging him. Roland's unit had been split in two to address emergency in the immediate area which emerged right after the woman flipped out screaming. If the curse-bearer has the ability to interfere with the state of mind of other vampires somehow, it would explain Jeanne's behaviour.
She was resisting.
"Damn it. Where did she go?" Too much time has been wasted. He couldn't let her roam freely in that state but given her strength, she could have left Paris by now without even being spotted.
Then it hit him.
He was thinking human when he should be looking from Jeanne's perspective. Hadn't he seen her jump from building to building?
Aiming at one of the balconies, Vanitas shot out the wires in his dagger to reel himself up, an action he repeated again and again before landing on the tiles. Relying on the moonlight, he took cautious steps and navigated a different part of Paris. While he was at it, he could tell drama was over in the city beneath. White cloaks, easily spotted in the dark, reunited and were talking to witnesses. His former in-charge has arrived and was yelling at Roland. Vanitas would be owing that guy once for taking one for him.
He squinted to find pinkish hair flowing in the wind, thinking how much easier it would be if only Jeanne was wearing her white skirt. When he finally distinguished the outline of a person from chimneys, he almost thanked his creator.
"I didn't expect to see you again so soon."
Jeanne, hands around her throat, looked up, the flames in her eyes yet to be extinguished. She was sitting behind a chimney with a casket, which Vanitas assumed held her gauntlet.
"Don't come close." She warned with a trembling voice.
Vanitas drew his weapons, just to be safe.
"You're having the urge." He stated matter-of-factly, without intent of accusing her.
"I'm not like that." Jeanne gritted her teeth, eyeing the daggers he held. "It'll pass if you'd just leave me alone."
"You know I can't do that." Vanitas laughed, hinting at his outfit. Jeanne considered him for a second, possibly weighing her chances at winning without losing her mind.
"To the best of my knowledge, fragile humans will fall to their deaths if I was to push one down from here."
"Indeed. Poor humans." He agreed, not even taking her threat seriously. "You can't be that cruel to me, Jeanne. We're dance partners after all."
"That was you-" An intake of breath instantly ruined all her previous efforts of putting up a strong face. Sweet aroma of blood assaulted her nostrils, more appealing than anything she had ever encountered. Distracted by her thirst, she threw everything she had to say out of her head and swallowed hard.
He was bleeding, she realised. Blood was seeping through the cuts he received not long ago, calling to her with that wonderful smell. Why hadn't she noticed before, when they first met in the alley fighting the couple? If she had noticed then, the blood would have been hers weeks ago. The blood of Vanitas.
At the thought of him, she snapped out of the haze.
"Just… go." She closed her eyes to shut away visual of the red liquid, begging her hands not to go against her will and reach for him.
Convinced Jeanne would not be massacring the city, Vanitas slid his daggers back to their holsters. While the right thing to do would be taking her in custody and reporting it to his seniors, he began loosening his harness and took off his necklace of the sacred symbol.
"You can have my blood."
Jeanne was certain then she was hallucinating.
"Come on now. I'm sure it's not your everyday routine to be offered chasseur blood." He continued by undoing the top buttons of his cassock, sweeping his hair to one side.
When she opened her eyes to the touch on her cheeks, Vanitas was already there kneeling in front of her, exposing a dangerous amount of skin.
"I don't want your blood." She uttered the response her brain has been struggling to process, but it sounded pathetic even to her own ears.
Vanitas pulled her close so she has easy access to his throat.
"Not on the neck, though. People will talk."
Her resolve crumpled at that sight, giving in completely to her impulse.
He fell on his back as she pushed, the pain from hitting his head nearly overshadowing that of her fangs piercing his flesh. Mercifully it didn't take long for the chemicals entering his system to kick in, smoothing the pain. As Jeanne drank from him greedily, taking what she had been denying her body of, Vanitas relaxed into the sense of numbness. He could feel Jeanne's tongue against his skin, savouring the drops which escaped her lips. His heart began to race, an involuntary reaction to her bite, warmth spreading through his body in contrary to the consequences of blood loss. Icy night breezes bothered him no more. It was as if Jeanne was lending him her warmth instead of Vanitas giving her his blood.
He bit his lip before he could embarrass himself by making a sound. Paralysis, drowsiness, arousal, Vanitas remembered the lesson he took as a young chasseur on the possible effects of a vampire bite. Later in his youth, he had read in some medical researches that it varied on numerous factors and there was no exact formular despite years of studies. Now, experiencing it first hand, he understood why the church classified it a sin.
"I see. That's… not bad at all." He smiled as Jeanne leaned in for more, sinking him in an ocean of endorphins.