KOOM!

The shot skewed Ren's leap, his body reacting to the kinetic force of the bullet tearing through his abdomen. He landed with a graceless flop on the wood floor. Ren felt a warm wetness spreading over his stomach, but he was too focused on rolling out of the shooter's line of sight to feel any pain. Unfortunately, he was roughly dead center in the empty floor of the atrium, and the silver-haired woman was above him.

Ren didn't even consider shouting out that he was an ally, that he was effectively a Niijima employee, or any other claim that might stop the attack. That look on the woman's face was death, and Ren instinctively knew words would be ineffective. He just had to survive. To survive: he needed to evade bullets. And in this situation, the only possible evasion was unpredictability.

Fortunately, frantic panic tended to produce unpredictable movements. Ren scrambled, rolled and tumbled across the wood floor; One part of his mind feeding him a hopeful fantasy of how he needed to move to avoid the next shot of a shooter he wasn't even looking at; meanwhile, the logical part of his mind impassively noted that this gun matched the heavy-caliber sound of Makoto's favored weapon. Oh, and the new slickness to the floor was probably from his own blood, and that meant he was bleeding heavily.

KOOM! KOOM! KOOM! KOOM!

Splintering wood followed Ren's frenzied path, evidence that his scrambling was somewhat effective. He felt debris strike his left side from a very near miss; he felt his cloak give a slight tug as something went through it; he grunted as another slug pounded into his lower back, but didn't seem to hit anything inside his body that impeded his movement. Meanwhile, a support pillar for the upstairs balcony was just ahead of him. He managed to get up on all fours and propelled himself forward unabashedly like a dog. Two lunges more and Ren would have some cover to-

His right leg violently jerked left.

KOOM!

Ren hit the hardwood, skidded. His head thumped against the base of the wooden pillar, and he scrambled to get it between him and the shooter. His newly injured leg didn't much help the process, but his body was seeping blood onto the floor, providing a semi-helpful lubrication to the effort.

Behind cover, Ren drew out his pistol and gave his wounds a quick inspection: there was no exit holes in his gut, which meant those first two bullets were still inside him. His armor had sapped their kinetic force enough to avoid a blowout on the other side of his torso, but the metal in his insides… That was really going to suck later- assuming he survived this ambush.

But the third wound: a moderate bleeding hole on one side of the meaty part of the thigh, and a mangled exit crater on the other side. This one had missed the plates in the armor. No wonder the damn leg wasn't working- a third of the musculature was ruined sinew, and it would be a miracle if the bone hadn't been hit- but the blood and slop of the wound prevented Ren from seeing. Regardless, he knew what he needed to know: he wouldn't be moving from this spot anytime soon.

Ren's brain realized these wounds should be painful. Agony began simmering around the edges of his mind, like a churning river threatening the banks. Ren took a deep breath and focused on the pistol in his palm, forced his hand to steady its shaking, to ignore the damage reports his body was sending his mind. He would heal (a bit more slowly with Morgana out of action) but heal he would. Already, the bleeding was slowing. Already, the two slugs in his gut were gnawing their way back out of him. He'd had worse and lived. Ren just needed to keep focus.

Meanwhile, there was the sound of small bits of metal clattering their way down wooden stairs. Shells falling, Ren realized, and footsteps on the stairs. The silver-haired woman was reloading while she descended the atrium stairway. Ren's hand tightened on his pistol. Now was an opening to return fire, but- but who was this woman?

Ren hesitated. The woman had Makoto's eyes. Makoto spoke of a sister. There was another girl in the Niijima family portrait in the map room. If this was her… Ren couldn't gun down Makoto's sister, could he?

Could he? Why couldn't he? Niijima Makoto was just his client, right? Did a client's relatives enjoy some sort of immunity from self-defense? Obviously not. But that wasn't really the point, was it? The point was: Makoto would hate him for it. Ren was sure of that. No justification of self-defense would save him in Makoto's estimation. And something about that idea…

Whirrrrrr….. CLICK!

Ren recognized that sound: the cocky completion of a reloaded revolver. His hesitation had cost him the window to counter-attack. If he tried to take a shot now, he was going to get a bullet in the face, and if he could even recover from that sort of wound… the shooter sure wouldn't let his body alone to try. His head would be off in an instant. Count on it.

Damn! Makoto's sister or no, Ren couldn't sit and let himself be slaughtered! He was sure his good leg was enough to propel him in a quick leap. Perhaps some sort of leaping shot from cover would surprise the silver-haired woman and give him an open shot. He could hit her gun arm or leg or something. Some non-lethal shot. Makoto would surely forgive that, right?

Ren shoved his back against the pillar and scooted himself up to his feet, using his one good leg and one free hand. His armor scratched softly against the polished wooden beam, his left leg dangled stiffly. The movement brought another surge of pain from his wounds, but Ren tuned it out. He focused his consciousness entirely on his sense of hearing: The cadence of the woman's walk; Her heartbeat; the momentum of her breathing. Those sounds would reveal the most perfect moment to try his desperate leap-shot.

There were slow, deliberate footsteps on the atrium floor. Ren realized the shooter was slowly circling the pillar at a distance, looking to flush him out. By the echoes of the steps, she was in the middle of the room, wide open, not taking cover against the possibility of Ren having a gun ready for return fire. She was either stupid or very confident- but stupid could aim a gun and pull a trigger, so it didn't change much for Ren either way: he would leap left, or he would leap right- and hope he can get a shot off of his own before taking a final bullet to the head or right arm: he was fairly confident he could keep his gun on target if he were shot almost anywhere else. But which direction would the shooter least expect? Left? Right? Left or-?

A clattering of boots on the porch announced the arrival of two people from outside. Ren was in the field of view of the front door, so he witnessed the arrival of the two diminutive gate guards, blond hair under blue caps, their rifles at the ready. The two runts who insulted him and threatened him at every chance. Fantastic.

"Lady Sae?! What's going on?" said one of the small women.

"We heard shots!" said the other.

"I was shooting at the vampire in my house," said Sae. "The one you two let through the gates!"

The tiny guards looked at each other. Looked at Ren. Looked at each other again. Then one said: "He had the physician on his horse. It didn't seem right to stop him."

"And Lady Niijima is woun-" started the other.

"I'M Lady Niijima," Sae's voice was incensed. "You say it didn't seem right to stop him? Where did Yoshida find you two?"

Both of the small guards frowned deeply, and to Ren's surprise, neither small woman immediately turned a rifle at him. Sae did not yet command their loyalty, perhaps? Meanwhile, a breathless Yoshida trotted back out of the lower hallway and into the atrium.

"Lady Sae! What are-?!" Yoshida's eyes locked on Ren, hiding and bleeding behind the atrium pillar. Then the man's eyes flowed past him, and Ren imagined the butler was looking at the blood-trail and bullet holes now all over the atrium floor.

"Sae!" shouted Yoshida. His voice took a tone that Ren had never heard from the man before. It reminded Ren of his Mother's voice when he was in serious trouble.

"Niijima Sae! Stop this! At once! Do you hear me?!"

There was a short silence. Ren took in a short breath, trying to keep the pain of his wounds from pulling him back down to the floor. If Yoshida could talk this Sae woman down, it would be a lot better for him- but he might still need to fight his way out of here.

"The hell he is," said Sae. He voice was still angry, but she sounded slightly cowed. A little doubt was in her voice now. "He's part vamp, Yoshi. Can't you tell?"

"I know he is! He's a dhampir! It's no secret! And he's a friend of the family. And more importantly: your sister is on death's door! Right down that hall! And she only lives now because of this man! And he's saved her more than once!"

"What?! Makoto is-?… I don't believe it! The vamp has you under some spell!"

"I'm under no spell, Sae," said Yoshida. "Just put down your-"

"Like I can believe that!"

"Sae!"

A few of the staff arrived in Yoshida's wake- a footman and two maids. Their eyes were wide and they looked fearfully from Sae and then to Ren, who was bleeding against a pillar just nearby. Ren recognized the footman and one of the maids, but he could not remember their names at the moment.

The footman swallowed. "Umm… Lady Sae? It's true. Mr. Amamiya has been here several times. I've served him tea, uh- and-"

"TEA?" Sae's voice was high and incredulous.

"Yes, Lady Sae. And Mr. Amamiya is always formal and polite."

"I was in a room alone with him once," blurted one of the two maids. "Um! I mean! He was in the library and I didn't see him and I was cleaning and cleaning because the shelves were dusty from the explosion and I didn't see him and he was right next to me in a chair reading a book and he was there the whole time and he didn't say a thing I mean he didn't do anything to me but when he saw that I saw him he did say something and he just said 'hello!' and I finished and I left."

Ren let out a slow breath. The staff was providing him character references? Just for some basic courtesy and not… biting them? He was held to an astonishingly low bar. Well, he couldn't exactly feel offended if it helped him get out of this situation.

"No. Impossible," said Sae, "You're all enthralled! All of you! We need to-"

Yoshida seemed be working himself into a full froth: "Sae! Listen to me! Listen to the man who changed your soiled rags and cleaned your swaddling ass! I was there when you came yowling into this world, red and wet! So when I say stop, *huff* you should listen to- *huff* to-!"

Yoshida sucked in a huge breath of air. His face went slightly red. One of his hands clutched at his chest. Ren was close enough to hear the man's heart thundering in his chest. Yoshida gasped, stumbled into the pillar next to Ren's, and slid himself gently to the floor with the help of the three junior staff members.

"Yoshi!" cried Sae. There was a long pause. "Damn it! Truce?!"

"Truce!" said Ren, though he held misgivings. Could he trust this woman's word? Would she trust his?

Footsteps sprinted across the atrium. Ren tensed up, expecting an attack. Yoshida's distress was drawing Sae over, but was the truce genuine? Would Sae honor it or would she come around the pillar and shoot him anyway? And Ren couldn't lift his own weapon as a precaution because she would take it as a threat immediately. There didn't seem to be anything Ren could do but wait- still and ready.

Sae was in Ren's field of view in a flash of silver hair. Her gun was half raised, but not quite pointing at him. She glared at him, but the gun didn't move. A cloud of air followed her rapid movement and her scent wafted into Ren's face. He impulsively inhaled it. So much of it like Makoto, and yet somewhat spicy in the differences. Ren was momentarily stunned by the aromatic sensation, but his stillness seemed to satisfy Sae.

"Yoshi!" said Sae, kneeling down toward the older man. "Are you-?"

"Fine!" gasped Yoshida. "I'm- I'm fine. Just a little winded is all. Just- just need a bit of a sit."

Ren had a clear shot at Sae. He could shoot her now, even as her wary eyes flashed to Yoshida and back to him every second. Ren thought that even with his injured leg, he could also just draw his sword and slice off Sae's silver head before she could shoot him. It would be the smart thing to do, would it not? If he gave her the chance, Sae might just change her mind, lift that gun, and shoot him right in the face.

But he could not. He would not: First; it was a fundamentally cowardly action, which Ren abhorred; Second, he would lose all his allies and especially Makoto's esteem- which he found he deeply wanted; Third, well… Sae smelled so much like Makoto…

"Sae," said Yoshida, his voice soft but maintaining strength. "Mr. Amamiya there has saved your sister's life multiple times. He is no foe."

Sae glared at Ren, but perhaps not as sharply as before. Instead her eyes flowed over Ren's body, as if seeing all of him for the first time. Sae bared her teeth in a sort of disgusted snarl.

That didn't seem a favorable response, so Ren took a chance and slowly holstered his own pistol. After a moment: Sae slowly, grudgingly, holstered her weapon, as well.

Everyone around them sighed in relief.

"I want it out of my house," said Sae. Still glowering at Ren. Her crimson eyes dark like the embers of a dormant fire.

Yoshida sighed. "There's time for that. For now, go see to your sister, Sae. She is in the Green Room. She's not conscious yet, but the physician is hopeful."

"I'm not leaving you alone with it," said Sae. "You two! Earn your pay and get this creature off my land!"

Ren realized she was talking to the two gate guards. Meanwhile, Yoshida gave Ren a sort of apologetic look and a small shrug, which Ren interpreted as a 'sorry, but this might be for the best for now.' It wasn't ideal, but Ren didn't see any way to object. It was their house.

"But Mr. Amamiya's wounds," said Yoshida, "at least let the physician-"

"It won't die," said Sae, coldly. "Yoshida, enough. I want it out. Now!"

"Justine and Caroline," said Yoshida with another apologetic look towards Ren. "Will you please escort Mr. Amamiya to the gate?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" came a small chorus. "Yes, Sir!"

Ren, bleeding and shot through multiple times, was being offered a free pass off the Niijima estate. He was worried about Makoto. He was worried about Ann. But Morgana was still gone, and he could do nothing for them himself. Peace and calm for Takemi to do whatever she might be able to do was the only thing Ren could provide those two, and that was best accomplished by leaving. And he could come back when Morgana was healthy and see what needed to be done.

"I understand," said Ren. He limped out from around the pillar, finding two rifles pointed at him immediately.

"Lead the way, vagrant!" said one of the guards, and both of them were smiling. They seemed to like this assignment.

"And if it ever comes within ten steps of the grounds again," said Sae, "Shoot it."

Yoshida sighed deeply, but said nothing. Perhaps he was unwilling to threaten the unsteady peace he had achieved. Though (so far as Ren understood matters) Niijima Sae was the true Lady of the House. Whatever authority Yoshida had over Sae, or Makoto for that matter, was that of any parental figure: it could only go so far.

Ren limped his way out of the atrium and across the porch, ignoring the dozens of eyes which followed his slow progress. It was a graceless exit, but he did his best to keep his shoulders straight and his head high with dignity. Outside, Ren's horse waited nearby in the endless loyalty of machines. Ren struggled to mount with his wounded leg, so he pulled himself up with his arms instead, bleeding on his saddle.

"Go on, vagrant," said one of the guards from the porch. Both rifles still trained on Ren's back. "Don't lose your way to the gate."

Too tired for a response. Ren turned his horse and set it off at a gallop down the driveway. He was glad to get out of there without needing to hurt anyone, but being banned from the premises was a problem. He needed to get Morgana back into contact with Ann and Makoto. They might heal naturally at this point. Or they might not. And so far as Ren knew, Morgana was the only one who could make sure.

Ren galloped out of the estate grounds. The junior guards closed the gate behind him, shutting it with a clang and a clattering of chain. The guardsmen glowered at him in the darkness, but these nameless subordinates did not carry the sense of menacing competency Justine and Caroline managed.

When Ren returned in a few hours to sneak back in, those two were going to be the real problem.

Meanwhile:

Niijima Makoto opened her eyes to red velvet. She lay in a bed of red velvet. Red velvet was draped above her, it was draped beside her, flowing down from the ceiling toward the floor. A minor turn of her head, which was an amazingly difficult task, revealed voluptuous pillows of red velvet under her cheek.

"Your consciousness is aware," said a nasally voice. It had a grating, high-pitch to it. "Undesirable but unavoidable."

Makoto tried to lift her head. The voice was coming from- from- whatever direction it was, she had no idea: but it came from down the length of her body, near her feet. She curled her head forward, stuffing her chin towards her neck, trying to see with a head that refused to raise itself.

Below Makoto, a young woman was stretched out on a bed of red velvet. Next to the bed was a man on a stool: a hunchbacked man, bald on the top of his head, but with a ring of white hair which was like an old-man's mane. He had the longest, sharpest, most beak-like nose Makoto had ever seen in her life. It almost made him seem inhuman, though in every other way, he looked like an old man, if very gangley. His long, thin arms worked steadily and rapidly at some task which Makoto could not see. But it seemed obvious the man was hard at work with something intricate, and something to do with the sleeping woman's chest.

Who are you? Where am I? Makoto tried to ask these questions, but found no sound escaping her mouth. She tried to reach up and see if something was gagging her, but her hands and arms did not answer to her commands. Beginning to panic slightly, she tried to move her legs. Nothing.

My God! What is happening?!

"Amygdala activity rising rapidly," said the old man, revealing that the high-pitched voice was actually his voice. "Heart rate increasing beyond acceptable levels. Introducing additional melotonin."

A sudden exhaustion dispelled Makoto's growing panic. She was tired. Really tried. All she needed to do was close her eyes and she would go right to sleep. But still- she was curious.

Who was that man? Who was that woman on the bed? She wanted to know. She needed to know before she fell asleep. Makoto fought off the sleepiness, forced her eyes to remain open. But she was delaying the inevitable- like a collapsing cave, her eyelids were coming down.

The beak-nosed man stopped what he was doing and looked up and over his shoulder at Makoto. His black eyes wide with an expression Makoto wasn't able to interpret. But he was grinning. And his hands were bloody.

Now that he had turned towards her, Makoto could see what the old man was doing to the sleeping woman; she had a hole in her chest, and a red, pulsing thing rested within. It was a surgery? This strange man was a physician? The patient woman seemed young, petite, with shoulder-length black hair and- she had the same face Makoto saw in the mirror every day. Her own face! Confusion and panic welled up, but they could not overcome the oppressive fatigue closing around her.

"Sleep now," said the old man, still looking up at Makoto. "There is much work to be done. Sleep."

Makoto's eyes began to close like a slowly cranking vise-grip. She just couldn't hold them open, and in moments, her eyes fulls closed. But in one final defiant struggle, she opened them halfway again.

The beak-nosed man was now looming above her, intently working at something in her own chest. She was not the woman floating above, but the woman lying down. Or she was both? But before she could decide, Makoto fell asleep.