The creature's screeching filled up the startled ballroom. Ren wrenched his knife arm. The scream ended with the punctuation of tearing flesh. Shocked into silence like everyone else in the house, Makoto watched Ren stand back up, hand dark with blackish blood. He then looked slowly around the room, seeming surprised at all the faces staring at him.
His grey eyes came to rest on Makoto. She couldn't read the subtle expression on his face, but the sight of his handsome features, his well-fitted tuxedo- his bloody knife-hand… Makoto felt a jolt of something go through her. Something like excitement, but in her lower body and more intense.
The sound of clapping broke the spell over her. Makoto turned to see Shido Akechi stepping forward out of the crowd, smiling towards Ren, and clapping his hands in applause. She realized every other head in the crowd had turned to Shido as well. They began to follow his lead, applause started up in multiple parts of the ballroom and then swelled into a roar that reverberated off the walls.
"A commendable kill!" Shido roared over the applause, which faltered at the sound of his powerful voice. The clapping quickly died away. Shido turned his golden-brown eyes to Makoto, fixing her with his gaze. A different sort of feeling shot through Makoto, one of uneasy wariness. Father had been an ally of the Akechi family, but he'd never been a friend. Makoto had heard him complain of the Akechis many times to Yoshida, late in the night when they were both in Father's room.
"As to be expected from the House of Niijima." Shido began firmly clapping again and the crowd quickly followed him again. The roar of applause rose over the previous crescendo.
Unsure of what to do, Makoto could only stand and accept the attention. She didn't know why they should applaud her or this house. She'd done nothing but watch, just like everyone else in the room. Why draw attention to her?
"But is it not a sign of the times?" Shido continued, the applause once again fading at the sound of his booming voice. "Has Tock-Yo become so blind? Has our great city become so weak? Is our city's leadership asleep?" He pointed at the corpse of the vamp-slave. "Our enemies are so brazen as to attend our parties! At the house of some of our finest vampire slayers, no less! How has it come to this?! How could this have happened?!"
As Shido's voice echoed into a new silence, uniformed house employees emerged from the crowd and converged on the corpse at Ren's feet. Makoto hurried over to join them as murmuring began to spread amongst the crowd.
"Mr. Akechi is right. This city is going to shit…"
"Yeah, has been since the last election…"
Makoto leaned over the group of waiters and waitresses. They were deciding who would take which limb. Yoshida must have sent them over.
"What are you doing?" she asked them. One of the maids looked up at her. Ms. Chujo was her name.
"Mr. Yoshida told us to take him- it... outside to the stables."
The stable was as good a place as any. It wasn't in the house, the main door was nearby so the thing wouldn't need to be dragged over carpets, and most importantly- Makoto didn't have a better idea. She looked over the tuxedo-wearing monster. Who was he? Before he was transformed by the noble vampire. And who was he now? Or rather, who was he supposed to be? How did he get into the party? Was he invited or was he a plus-one? Yoshida would not have allowed just anyone to come inside, so it was one or the other. And if he was a plus-one. Who was the one? His dance partner? It was a woman, but the surprise of Ren's attack had kept Makoto from paying any attention to her.
Makoto looked around the crowd, searching for a woman who seemed familiar. Yet the hundred-plus guests were bunched up. Many people were behind others and out of her view, and Makoto wasn't even sure if any of the women she could see directly were the creature's dance partner or not. And if it were one of those women, it might not even be the person the creature came with!
"You all know Tock-Yo has walls," continued Shido, a droning voice in the background of Makoto's racing mind. "But do you know that only 60% of the wall is manned at night? How easy do you think a vampire could climb a wall? It clearly was easy for that one there on the floor. And why is the wall criminally undefended? Lack of funds! Apparently! Our safety is too expensive! So I wonder! How is the City Council President spending all our tax money?!"
Some in the crowd gave off some grumbling murmurs.
Something warm touched Makoto's upper arm. She jolted and felt goosebumps flare up over her bare skin. Her head spun towards the touch. It was Ren. He was still looking at her with that unreadable expression.
"Sorry," he said softly.
Makoto's thoughts came to a screeching halt. Sorry? What? For what?
"Sorry?" she asked him.
Ren's eyes dropped. "Sorry for ruining the dance. And your party."
Ruining the dance? What the hell was he talking about? He was sorry for killing a vamp-slave invading her home?! Was he-? Was he embarrassed? Is that what the look on his face was? Embarrassment? That must be it. She'd not seen him embarrassed before.
"Ren-" she paused, her eyes taking in the nearby guests and the staff members lifting the corpse nearby. "Mr. Amamiya. This creature ruined the event the moment it passed our threshold. If you'd not slain it, who knows what it might have done to someone here." A sudden fear passed Makoto's mind. "Do you think there might be others?"
Ren's face lost its weird embarrassed look and returned to its usual placid seriousness. "I can check. Everyone is gathered here. It wouldn't take long to circle the room. Vamp-slaves can't hide their scent."
"Do it discreetly," said Makoto, "This one will be put in the stable. Maybe we can learn something from the body."
Makoto felt a touch on her other arm, a slightly cooler, but much smoother hand. She turned to find the physician, Takemi Tae, looking down at the corpse with an eager expression on her face. The short-haired woman was wearing a dress of similar style to Makoto's, but in Makoto's opinion, Takemi filled hers out much better. Even now men's eyes were wandering from the grandstanding Shido to Takemi's pale thighs.
"I can learn all sorts of things from this body, Ms. Niijima," said Dr. Takemi, " May I go with it to the stables?"
Makoto and Takemi had been stiff with each other for weeks. What genuine comradery they'd shared in the early parts of the Suzui Shiho event had vanished in the face of Takemi's display of jealousy for Makoto's lifestyle. Makoto had been offended and became angry. They'd been stiffly and impersonally formal with one another ever since. But it seemed Takemi was forgetting all of that in her current excitement.
It was a silly, emotional feud with an ally. It was long since time to let it go.
"Of course, Ms. Takemi," said Makoto in a hushed voice. "Do as you wish. And once we've learned everything we can from it, you may take it"
As the house staff began shuffling the body from the ballroom, Takemi tore her gaze from the corpse. She showed Makoto an expression of teeth-clenched excitement as she grasped Makoto's hand.
"Thank you, Ms. Niijima! Such a specimen!"
She then walked after the staff, seemingly all thoughts of the party now chased from her mind.
The party! Makoto looked around the ballroom. The guests were grouped haphazardly around the room- some watching the transport of the corpse, some were watching Shido Akechi, who was now in the middle of some sort of discussion in a large circle of prominent citizens. Still others seemed to be watching her, and a spare few were watching Ren. He was now on the other side of the room, walking slowly around different groups of people. Probably sniffing or whatever it was he did. Meanwhile, the small band was idle in their seats, as derailed as the gala itself.
What to do? Restart the festivities? Was that proper? Makoto would rather not. And in light of the slain intruder, Makoto would rather have all these people out of the house just as soon as Ren confirmed there was not another creature among them. But could she do that? Kick everyone out? Declare the party over? Well- yes, she could. She could do what she wanted. But should she? Makoto wanted advice. Where was Yoshida?
After a few searching twists of her head, she found him just outside the ballroom in the atrium. He was watching the corpse be carried out the front door. Makoto hurried over to him before he dashed away on whatever task might be next on his internal agenda.
"Lady Niijima," he said gravely as Makoto approached.
"Yoshi, what should I do? I think we should end the party. What do you think?"
Yoshida nodded shakily. "Yes, yes, I think that's probably best. This will be the talk of the town, and doubtful anyone is much in the mood for more dancing. They're more interested in Shido's early campaigning. That man never fails to seize an opportunity."
Makoto was relieved to hear Yoshida agree with her. She wanted these people out. She wanted to be out of the dress. She felt naked- not just because of her exposed back and legs, but because she didn't have any weapons: Father's gun and her gauntlets. The world felt a more dangerous place without them.
"I'm going to change out of this dress, Yoshi. Will you confer with Mr. Amamiya before you announce the closure of the party? He's checking the guests for any other intruders. And tell him I'll meet him in the stables."
"Yes, my lady," said Yoshida, all business. The major-domo had his orders from the lady of the house.
Makoto still felt uneasy ordering Yoshida like that. He was practically her parent. But that's what he wanted- it was part of his identity: the house butler. And Makoto was a Niijima, lady of the house, and ever since that morning but a few weeks ago, when she'd trailed Ren through the city- Makoto found herself using the Niijima authority she'd never thought she deserved. Like it or not, it was part of her identity. And it continued to prove itself useful.
She hurried up the stairs, unremarked in an empty atrium. In the rush, she missed the heelstep on one of her shoes and rolled her ankle slightly- but her athletic legs were strong and fit. She merely stumbled, cursed under her breath, and took the high-heels off. She then ran down the hall, the long slit of her dress flowing along her bare legs.
Once in her room, she slammed the door, flicked on the luxurious electrical light, and immediately shimmied out of the red dress. It covered so little of herself, there was no notable temperature change over her body. No goosebumps here in the sanctuary of her room. Clad only in her panties, she strode past her armoire of dresses and other such social, lady clothing. Everything she needed was in the wooden wardrobe next to her four-post bed.
She opened the sturdy oak doors of the wardrobe and found everything as it should be. Against the back of the right door, her padded corset was waiting. Black, utilitarian, and with padded protection for her breasts and pelvic region built-in: the corset was the essential element of her gear which protected her most sensitive areas from the hardened leather of her real armor. She slipped into it and tied it quickly up the front. Why would anyone want a back-tied corset, anyway?
Next, her hardened leather pants. The plates of leather were placed well to preserve the full mobility of her legs, and the softer leather of the leggings themselves were cotton-lined. A terror to launder, Makoto was sure, but comfortable to wear. The breastplate, however, was much less hospitable. It was solid around her chest and offered little wiggle room. It hung in the center of the wardrobe on extendable pegs. Makoto pulled these out, bent down, put her arms over her head, and stood up into the breastplate while threading her arms into the attached sleeves. With an awkward jump, she detached herself from the wardrobe pegs and went to work on the fastenings. A final touch: the chainmail scarf Yoshida made her. It settled heavily around her collar. It had already saved her life once.
That complete: she was armored. Now she just needed her weapons. She pulled open the wardrobe's center-top drawer. Father's hand cannon rested there, clean and polished. She took it from its indent and flipped open the cylinder with a now instinctual motion. It was loaded with six shells. Unloaded weapons had no place in this world. And it wasn't even the only loaded gun in the room. ((She kept another in her bed stand and still another in a hollow in the mattress near her pillow... Ever since that night a black pool of shadow attempted to infiltrate the grounds.))
She settled the gun in its holster on her right hip. Also in the drawer: her armor's two pauldrons. Each was dotted with spare rounds for her revolver, standing upright in circular patterns of six shells. She need only press her gun's empty cylinder to them to detach a new set of shells into her gun. There were no empty spots on the shoulderpads, so she attached them to her shoulders.
Her gauntlets waited in the lower shelf. The tops of each were solid steel, protecting the back of her hand and knuckles. They also concealed spring blades. Her palm was covered in hardy canvas, but her fingers were bare. She didn't trust her gunplay with gloved fingers. And finally, her boots. Thick leather uppers, steel toes and hidden blades. As much protection as could be afforded without being too heavy.
She turned towards the mirror on her make-up stand. Only hours before, she'd sat and carefully painted the mask of high-society on her face… a mask that was still on her face. She scowled at her reflection, strode to the bathroom, and rinsed her face- the water running milky chromatic into the drain. She toweled dry and looked again in the mirror. Makoto now saw herself as she really was: a Niijima. A vampire hunter.
She snatched up her armored helm and strode from the room. The hallway echoed lightly with the murmur of departing guests. It was almost the same sound the guests had made when they were awaiting Makoto's original descent in her red dress. Yet the apprehension Makoto felt then was absent now. She wasn't wearing a costume. Her face wasn't covered in a mask: No powder, concealer, blush, eyeliner, or curled lashes. Makoto was who she wanted to be, not who she was supposed to be.
Makoto's feet didn't falter as she strode along the balcony and quickstepped down the steps. As before, guests paused and watched her descent in awe- but perhaps a different sort of awe than before; slightly less admiration and slightly more intimidation- she was a lithe young woman... but spiny, hard, sharp. Some people took instinctual steps backwards from the stairs. Makoto wasn't aware- her eyes were on the open door and her mind on the stables beyond.
Two young figures stepped towards her and broke her focus. Ann Sakamoto, her figure bursting from her dress, and Ryuji Sakamoto, his tuxedo worn with minimalist attention to detail. Yet their faces wore the same look of curious eagerness.
"What's up, Ms. Niijima?" said Ryuji.
"What's the plan?" said Ann.
What? Plan?
Makoto's mind chugged into action. She realized she'd been thinking of nothing else but getting to the stables But something would need to be done, wouldn't it? Something aggressive. Her home invaded by vampires for the second time. Were they targeting her specifically? Or was it random? And did it matter either way? A vampire in the Niijima estate? It could not stand.
But who was the culprit? Who to look for? How to find them? What were their resources? How to kill them? All the essential elements of an attack plan were not established. She had nothing to tell the Sakamotos. Makoto opened her mouth to say as much, but the determined, set-jaws of the blond siblings made her pause.
She needed to have a plan- or at least appear to have one. She was a Niijima. A vampire hunter. When it came to vampires, she had to always know what to do- at least in public. And the Sakamotos were not just tag-along minors. They had abilities now- or at least, had been able to use some sort of magic at least once before in the final battle with Kamoshida. Did they still have those powers? Both reported an inability to manifest their powers at will, but Ren confided that he was sure they still possessed them. How he knew, he had not revealed. Like with so many things, Ren offered little additional information when pressed.
Regardless, the Sakamotos were eager allies with perhaps too much enthusiasm. If they thought Makoto didn't know what to do next, they might very well take initiative on their own. That could be disastrous in more ways than Makoto could imagine. She needed to tell them something… Anything… But what? She needed time to think!... oh! Time!
"We're going to learn what we can from it," said Makoto in a soft voice. She was sure they would know she was talking about the slain vamp-slave out in the stables. Now, to let the Sakamoto's down easy- let them be sure that she and Ren would take care of it. They would sit this out: "Then we will begin our hunt."
"Yes!" said Ryuji with a clenched fist.
"Er- umm..?" said Makoto. She was surprised Ryuji was excited about being left out.
"So when should we come back? Tomorrow?" said Ann.
Makoto blinked. What? Why didn't they understand?... Oh no! She'd used 'we'. It was a too inclusive pronoun! She'd meant her and Ren- and NOT them through omission. Dang it! Once again, she was losing control of a situation thanks to the poor choice of a single word. Denials and reversals formed on her lips, but the guests were all very close- she didn't want to make a scene. She didn't want the Sakamotos to have any more attention than they already had.
Makoto sighed in self-defeat and closed her eyes. "Yes, tomorrow afternoon."
"Awesome! We'll see you then," said Ryuji. "We gotta go now, though. Mom's waiting for us outside."
"Bye, Ms. Niijima!" said Ann, her eyes sparkling as she spun, her legs flashing in her dress.
Makoto watched them go with a sinking heart. Goodness. How was she going to dissuade them tomorrow? It might already be too late. Maybe Ren could do it. He probably seemed a more firm wall to the Sakamotos than she did. If she could convince him to deny the Sakamotos… assuming he was willing to do so. He didn't always do what Makoto wanted, and she didn't know him well enough to convince him of much.
But Ren was probably in the stables already, and there was nothing Makoto could do about the Sakamotos tonight. She pushed them from her mind and moved through her departing guests and out into the yard. No one tried to speak to her, but interested eyes followed her movements. Makoto wondered at that briefly. She must have an intense look on her face. She would have to remember it.
Yet another thought for another time. The stables were around the east-rear side of the house. Makoto hurried quickly along the estate's carefully-maintained gravel pathways, the murmur of departing guests fading into the night. The stable loomed in the darkness, barely illuminated by the electric light emanating from the windows of the main house. Except for the windows and opening of the stable itself, which glowed with lantern-light. Makoto strode for it, her feet gravel-crunching across the open space.
"Someone's coming," said a female voice from inside the stable. It was Dr. Takemi.
"It's Ms. Niijima," said a male voice. Ren.
Makoto rounded the corner into the stable a few seconds later. The dead vamp-slave, still locked in its monstrous humanoid form, was strewn out on the sawdust floor. Takemi was on her knees beside it, apparently unconcerned with dirtying the dress she was still wearing. She was intently examining the creature's clawed hands, but she looked up as Makoto entered. Ren was against the wall- already in his habitual, cross-armed lean. Though, the pose was more dashing in his tuxedo.
"It's the same scent as the first vial of blood you brought me," said Ren as Makoto stopped to look down at the dead vamp-slave. "And the ones we killed outside the school."
"Kaneshiro," said Makoto. She might have known. The name that kept coming up- or rather, the smell of that name. An assumed noble vampire, also in the city, and once a suspect of the Shujin Academy disappearances. But in the end, that had been the noble vampire known as Kamoshida; to whom Kaneshiro did not seem related. Or at least in no way that they'd become aware. But Makoto was sure the two names, Kamoshida and Kaneshiro, were related somehow- it was too coincidental to not be the case.
"Who?" said Takemi, now examining the creature's wrist.
Ren said nothing, but his eyes remained steady on Makoto. Was he trying to tell her something? Probably not. He was just looking at her, that's all.
"We-..." said Makoto, "We don't know. The name is all we know. And that we've slain four of his- or her's- servants, and another was shot by my night guard some weeks ago. Ren-"
Takemi looked sharply up at Makoto, then over to Ren.
"I- I mean, Mr. Amamiya," said Makoto, her cheeks feeling slightly hot, "Were you able to find anything else on the body? Anything in his pockets?"
Ren shook his head.
That was disappointing. Then there was no more information to be had here, except for the unique scent of the vamp-slave's master, which only Ren could detect. And presumably other dhampirs like him- and vampires themselves. But- hopefully, Yoshida's social memory would be able to identify the person the vamp-slave came in with, and which false name it had used in its false human form.
"Well…" said Ren, pushing himself off the stable wall. He hesitated a moment as Makoto looked at him. "I'll be leaving." He walked towards Makoto, came within a step of her, seemed to hesitate as she watched him. Then he walked past her. "Goodbye, Ms. Niijima."
What's with the excessive formality? It didn't just seem for Dr. Takemi's benefit. He's acting strangely.
"I told the Sakamotos we would have a meeting tomorrow afternoon," she said, turning her head to watch him walk into the night.
He paused. Didn't look back. "Sorry. I'll have left the city by then."
Shock rolled through Makoto's mind. "WHAT!?" she spun towards Ren, his back to her, shadowy at the edge of the lamplight.
Ren still didn't turn around. "There are no contracts here. I need to find more work."
No work?! They have a dead vamp-slave right here! Clear evidence there was at least one vampire in Tock-Yo! He could hunt that one!
"There's a vampire here!" she said, incredulous
"But no contract."
No contract!? Who cares about contracts!? Despair suddenly boiled up inside Makoto, fueled by this- this- betrayal! Abandonment! She was his partner!
"You're just going to leave!?" Makoto said, incredulous.
"...I don't-..." said Ren.
He finally turned, his grey eyes looking intently into hers. His eyes seemed placid, like normal, but was there something else there? Makoto couldn't read it. But who cares! The traitor!
"...I can't work for free," said Ren.
Money! Was everything always about money?! Why was everyone so obsessed with it?! It wasn't that big of a deal! Makoto felt her forehead go hot as the disappointment boiling in her chest burst up into her throat. The backs of her eyes were burning.
"Fine. Leave then," said Makoto. She tried to keep her voice even, but her throat was constricting. Her tone was slightly off-pitch. "Leave this vampire free to do as it wishes, 'Vampire Hunter J'. I'll hunt it myself."
Ren's face showed no reaction. He turned and walked away, heading for the estate gate.
Good riddance, then! Makoto turned away from him and towards the house, her face stinging all over from anger, sorrow, and welling tears. She instinctively wanted to be back in her room, door closed.
"So…" called Dr. Takemi, "I'll just hire a coach and take this body, then?"