AN: This isn't based on a single vampire story, it's more of a mashup of all the vampire lore that I really love. I've wanted to tell this story for a long time, and believe it or not, it started with an image of a vampire Kara wearing an ugly Hawaiian shirt. Recently, I read Jane Slayre and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and I thought a classic romance in a modernized setting—with the premise of enemies to friends to lovers—would be really neat. I know I'm no Bronte, but hopefully I'll somewhat hit the mark.
You'll notice the influence from those novels with the spelling I chose for "Slayre" and "Vampyr" (or maybe I just wanted to be different). I also really wanted to write an AU where the Luthors weren't horrible people.
The Luthors forged a remarkable legacy throughout history; their name alone conjures images of immense wealth and high social status—complete with elegant mansions and finely tailored suits. Wherever they traveled, the Luthors made their mark with acts of charity and noble sacrifices. What distinguished them across the ages was their ancestral bloodline of vampyr hunters. Every Luthor child was destined to become one, often showing signs of Slayre abilities by the age of thirteen, with the earliest documented case being Reginald Luthor in 1786.
It typically began with the child experiencing visions of past, present, and future Slayres, often serving as warnings of impending dangers. The second sign, while not definitive, was the child's natural talent for excelling in athletic pursuits—much to the envy of their peers. Lastly, a Slayre's coming of age was always marked by a unique prickling sensation at the back of their neck when a vampyr was nearby—an unmistakable indicator.
At sixteen, Lena had not yet displayed any of the signs. Lilian often looked at her with what Lena interpreted as guilt, though she couldn't pinpoint the reason. Lex, despite being supportive, couldn't hide the look of pity that furrowed his brow—and his noticeably balder head—whenever their eyes met.
It frustrated Lena immensely.
She was a Luthor, and as such, she used her anger as fuel to leave everyone scrambling to catch up to her ever-growing list of accomplishments. Her peers regarded her highly, instead of pitying the fact that her Slayre powers remained dormant still. Lacking the enhanced agility, stamina, and strength, Lena had to push herself to her limits to stay ahead of her peers and make her family proud—aspiring to have her portrait displayed at the school entrance alongside her mother, brother, and the many others from the Luthor legacy
The reason for her family's behavior crashed down on her like a wave of nausea and disbelief when she had the displeasure of discovering that she had never been a Luthor, but rather a bastard born from infidelity to some unknown family.
In fact, bile rose in her throat when she recognized that the betrayal went beyond just her mother and brother. As a young child, she had been taken from an orphanage by her cherished mentor and father figure, J'onn. It was his custom to scout these places for children with untapped potential who might one day become Slayres. He had an exceptional knack for it—his flawless track record proving that he had never misjudged a single child.
A life of travel was unsuitable for a child, which is why he had entrusted Lena to a woman he deeply respected: Lilian Luthor. Both she and J'onn were members of the Association of Vampyr Hunters—a group established by the Luthors long ago, with its presidency passed down through the family. They maintained large academies for gifted youth in every major city across the United States and beyond.
It was at one of those institutions that Lena underwent her training, and at the age of twenty-one, she finally manifested her Slayre powers. While her family was overjoyed, Lena couldn't shake the resentment she felt toward the deception and lies surrounding her past and true heritage.
Lilian and Lex were almost suffocating in their support, so much so that Lena often slept in the Academy's dorms to escape their constant attention. Of course, she understood how childish it was to be irritated by demonstrations of genuine love, but eventually, Lilian drove the point home one evening as they played a relaxing game of chess by the roaring fire in the Luthor mansion.
"I chose to raise you as my own, Lena. Whether or not you have our blood is entirely inconsequential. You are a Luthor."
Lena told herself that it was her vision blurred by tears that made her forget to counter Lilian's Back Rank strategy, ultimately leading to her loss in the match.
From that moment on, Lena's last few years at the Academy lacked the constant need to prove herself worthy of her namesake. Instead, she focused her studies on vampyr biology, even concluding that they did not possess superspeed but could instead teleport short distances. Hardly anyone was convinced, as this was contrary to what had been believed and taught for so many years.
Lena even made friends. Well, a single friend, to be more precise. The girl was plainly human, but her brilliance and blunt words had attracted Lena to her. Samantha Arias was her name, often referred to as Sam or Sammy—the latter of which she detested.
Her title was Lead Weapon Engineer at National City's School of Vampyr Hunters. She was five years Lena's senior, though that never hindered the rapport that quickly developed between the two, even after Sam referred to Lena as the "Late Luthor Bloomer" upon their first meeting.
Lena was now a proud graduate of that Academy. She slept during the day and worked at night, much like the creatures she hunted. It wasn't so bad though, since the world had been aware of the vampyr threat since the early nineties. Many stores and important amenities were open around the clock, which made it that much easier to navigate that particular schedule.
Many citizens considered it far too dangerous for humans to work night shifts, and their concern was certainly valid. In response, Lilian and other members of the association assigned trained humans and Slayres to cover those stations from dusk until dawn. While most states and countries had their own regulations, the overall consensus was unanimous.
Like her brother, Lena had been assigned to lead a team of Slayres tasked with protecting the southernmost district of North Carolina from vampyr activity. After a particularly dull night of surveillance, and with a few Slayres sent out to handle some unruly fanged fiends, she decided to pick up takeout for herself and Sam.
The night air was chilly, prompting Lena to wrap her arms around herself against the dark bomber jacket she wore, zipped up over an equally plain dark shirt. Black jeans and black boots completed her gloomy look, helping her blend into the darkness during her shifts. The bomber jacket was also a great way to hide all her slaying accoutrements. Not that the populace would bat an eye at the weaponry, but it was more about preventing unmentionables from marking her as a expertly trained dispatcher of their kind, which could cause mass panic if she were ever attacked in public.
Don't forget the extra sauce.
And extra pickles.
And grab a six pack, I'm not drinking your fancy Luthor wine again tonight.
A ding sounded, followed by several others. Lena's phone screen lit up with text messages from her aforementioned best friend. Her fingers rapidly typed a response, one hand tucked in the pocket of her jacket to keep her extremities warm.
You're very high maintenance, you know that?
Another message came in just as she was about to slip the phone back into her jeans' back pocket.
And you love the challenge, babe.
Lena rolled her eyes and opted to leave the message unanswered, though a smile graced her lips as she opened the door to the restaurant she was about to enter. She froze in her tracks, her hand still gripping the door pull. Her shoulders squared as a familiar tingle ran up her spine, instantly making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
She followed the tracks, unable to suppress the eye roll that came as she arrived at the deserted alley the feeling had led her to. She almost wanted to sayyou can come out now, but she spotted a metal door that was slightly ajar. Trusting her instincts, she slid an expertly carved stake down the sleeve of her jacket into her calloused hand, fingers curling around its familiar form.
She descended the long-abandoned stairs, the sound of her shoes sticking to them with every step made her stomach turn. Or perhaps it was the waft of dried blood and stale smoke that clung to the air.
It was quiet. In fact, the vacant bar she walked into must have been deserted for quite a while. Broken glass, upturned tables and chairs, and the aforementioned smells were now unavoidable. A perfect vampyr hideout, Lena surmised.
A hand clasped her shoulder. Lena's breath hitched momentarily, but she recovered in time to turn around swiftly, stake raised. Her wrist was caught in a vise-like grip before it could hit its mark, so she let go of the stake and caught it in her free hand. She had fully intended to plunge it into an undead heart. At least, that was the plan, before the creature stopped that rapid movement with ease.
What the fuck?
Her head snapped up to glare at the source of her annoyance, only to encounter the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen, paired with a handsome face framed by long, blonde curls. The woman wore an extremely vile and overly bright Hawaiian shirt; it was so distracting that Lena couldn't be bothered to hide her distaste.
"What is that abomination you're wearing?"
The blonde jut out her bottom lip in a frankly comical pout. Lena headbutted the stupid look off the woman's lips and caught a glimpse of unmistakable sharp fangs as the vampyr's head snapped back from the force of the hit.
Lena then adopted a loose fighting stance that would have made J'onn sigh at the sight of defense, he'd surely have said. Her eyes fixed intently on the woman before her, and she observed how the blonde bounced back from the blow with surprising speed. Fingertips brushed against a nose that should have been broken, and there was an air of fondness for the Slayre's strength rather than any sign of pain from the impact.
The blonde then looked down at the obnoxious pattern of sunsets and palm trees on her shirt, her smile far too fond for Lena's liking. "It's my favorite. Out of all of them."
"You own more than one of those…wretched things?" Lena's tone was a mix of exasperation and disgust. It was less a question and more a straightforward statement as she stepped forward and aimed a sharp elbow at the blonde's head. It would never hit its mark, as it was easily dodged. The goofy grin spreading on the vampyr's lips made Lena's jaw clench again.
"This," the blonde gestured between the two of them, "is totally unnecessary."
Right. Lena scoffed, growing increasingly frustrated as hit after hit was easily avoided by the offending fanged creature. What was even more maddening to Lena was how the vampyr simply wouldn't fight back. She would appear and disappear in front of the Slayre, sometimes flashing a grin, other times looking genuinely impressed by what Lena had thrown at her.
After a high kick was blocked, Lena found her back sharply pressed against the old mahogany of a dusty, sticky bar, her hands pinned above her head by a strong hand, and an irritatingly jovial blonde pressed against her.
A single neon light flickered above them, and Lena convinced herself it was the earnest words spoken in the next instant that made her freeze in place:
"You really are stunning, just so you know."
What the fuck? The words had entered her thoughts for a second time that night. It wouldn't be the last time, either.
If it had been anyone else, anywhere else, and in any other situation, Lena would have retorted,Wait until you see me in sunlight. Though this was far from the ideal situation, and the vampyre was far from the ideal suitor. Lena instead opted to push her boot between their bodies and kicked the vampyr's stomach with ease.
Tacky white running shoes squeaked loudly as the blonde was thrown backward by the force of the kick. The cough and grunt that resulted from the attack made Lena chuckle slightly. Her smile, however, was soon replaced by a frown as the blonde made a timeout motion, still bent over at the waist.
"Like I said, I'm not looking to fight you."
A scoff escaped Lena's lips once more.
"Look around," the blonde had said, with an all-too-casual motion of her hand. Her back straight now, one hand placed against her hip.
For a reason beyond her understanding, Lena did just that. There were indeed unmistakable dust piles on the floor, otherwise littered with trash, which indicated to Lena that vampyrs had been disposed of before her arrival. However, she couldn't understand how that absolved the blonde of anything.
Green eyes shot back to the vampyr, and her senses were assaulted by the sight of the Hawaiian shirt once more. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe you killed your own kind?"
What was that verse, a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand?
The straightforward question went unanswered as the vampyr chose to utter something so abhorrent that it made Lena's blood boil:
"Go on a date with me?" The blonde spoke without a hint of mirth or jest. There was nothing but honesty in her deep blue eyes. "I know this great Chinese place on—"
Lena pressed down the release of the gauntlet around her wrist. It launched a projectile, interrupting whatever stupid comment the vampyr had been about to make.
The blonde vampyr caught it—irritatingly enough—just a millimeter before it would have impacted her chest. It was a wooden stake, designed to be small enough to fit into the loaded chambers of the leather gauntlet on Lena's wrist.
"To be honest," the blonde started, and Lena could already sense that whatever she said next would drive her to the brink of fury. "That wasn't even close to the worst rejection I've had."
Lena saw red. And then, she saw her knuckles collide into the blonde's jaw. It was as if she had let the hit happen, which was the correct assumption. She hadn't even been looking at the Slayre, distracted by something else. A sound, perhaps. When the vampyr turned her attention back to Lena, she almost wore a look of nervousness and was completely unfazed by the punch.
Lena fumed.
"It's a real shame I have to jet before I get your name, but I have a feeling we're not on the same page right now." There was a pause, and then the blonde continued, as if Lena's icy glare did nothing to deter her. "Nice left hook, by the way," she added, punctuating the vexing remark with a wink. A second later, she was gone.
Lena understood the reason for the blonde's abrupt departure as the sound of footsteps descending the stairs grew louder. Sam and a few others barged into the deserted bar with practiced ease and weapons drawn.
Sam seemed out of breath when she stopped just in front of Lena, the worry previously etched on her forehead easing from her face. "I knew you weren't just ghosting me."
"I can definitely still go for a burger," Lena replied with a small smile. She hoped it sounded convincing, as her thoughts ranged from pure anger to bewilderment at what had just transpired. Sam's stern tone made Lena's attention snap back to the woman in front of her.
"Listen up, team! Round up any straggling uglies and secure the perimeter. Report to HQ once it's cleared. You know the drill."
"Yes, ma'am," came the team's well-rehearsed response, delivered in perfect unison.
Lena snorted a laugh at the term used to address her friend.
Sam lifted her middle finger at Lena while she spoke to whoever was on the other end of her earpiece. "Three uglies down. Perimeter search and clean-up in progress." With a sigh, she removed the ear piece. "You owe me," she told Lena with narrowed eyes, arms folded over her chest.
Lena dusted off her jacket, now properly soiled with God knows what. With an arched eyebrow, she stared at her taller friend with a perfectly apathetic look. "You're getting paid overtime, aren't you? I'm the one losing here."
That was true. But Sam, being Sam, simply rolled her eyes, took hold of Lena's wrist and pulled her toward the staircase with a familiarity that at least helped ease Lena's unsettled state. "Come on, grumpy, I'm starving."
As they sat on Sam's couch, reruns of an old show playing on the TV that Lena wasn't paying any attention to, she didn't tell Sam that the three vampyrs who had been dusted weren't her doing. And she wouldn't, under any circumstances, ever mention the flirty vampyr in the disgusting Hawaiian shirt.
The blonde had presented Lena with a puzzle to solve. The evidence seemed to suggest an obvious answer, but Lena knew better than to take anything at face value—especially not anything a fanged fiend said. There had to be an ulterior motive, some kind of dubious ploy brewing. What could it be? That was the puzzle Lena needed to solve before she'd ever mentioned this bizarre occurrence to anyone, lest she receive strange looks and stifled laughter in response.
That night, her dreams were haunted by blue eyes and the secrets they held.
A week went by, and Lena found her shifts growing increasingly monotonous. She roped Sam into helping her, promising food as a reward afterward. Lena insisted the night would be as uneventful as the others. Sam agreed, and although she typically spent her time sketching weapon blueprints and then crafting them, she often joined Lena on her nightly patrols when faced with what she called inventor's block.
"I'll take a look at it," Lena offered. She had spent countless hours helping Sam devise vampyr weapons during her time at the Academy, finding true excitement in coming up with solutions to challenging problems.
"The issue is making it small enough to conceal. It has to be functional, or—"
A dark-clad figure jumped down in front of them, clearly dropped down from the roof of the vine-covered mausoleum they had just passed.
Lena positioned herself in front of Sam. "I'll get him."
The lone vampyr who stood in front of them had growled something menacing—Lena was certain of it, especially given his stupid smirk. She chose to ignore it.
"Dude, it's totally my turn," Sam complained.
Lena could hear the pout in her voice, her eyes fixed on their enemy. "I'll let you get the next one," she lied and spun the stake in her hand.
"You said that four dust clouds ago."
Lena had been experiencing this unquenchable rage since her encounter with the Hawaiian shirt-clad fiend, and she couldn't, for the life of her, stop replaying that night's events in her head over and over until it made her feel ill. Fighting didn't exactly make her feel better, but it had taken her mind off the blonde vampyr, if only momentarily.
Like a grand cosmic joke, a hand snaked around her waist and grasped one of the freshly sharpened stakes holstered at her hip. "May I?" A shiver ran down her body, signaling the blonde vampyr's presence, as well as something else that Lena was far too cross to acknowledge.
She watched in disbelief as the blonde effortlessly dodged a punch, tripped the vampyr, and smoothly dropped to one knee to plunge the pointy wooden stake into his chest. Even though the creature attempted to hold Kara's hand back, there wasn't a hint of resistance as the object pierced into his flesh. The dust settled into the ground, as if he had never existed at all.
The stake was thrown back her way by the vampyr, and Lena caught it with practiced ease, barely acknowledging why the blonde was now in front of herandSam. A chorus of shits and fucks echoed in the Slayre's head.
Sam whistled and expressed her unfiltered thoughts about their new party member. "Damn, who's the hottie?"
"Kara Danvers, pleasure to meet ya!"
Lena's lips curled into a snarl as she watched Kara curtsy in front of Sam.
If the blonde had any vampyr-slaying weapons on her person, Lena couldn't tell. The woman wore an oversized jean jacket over another Hawaiian shirt, its horrid palette of colors searing into Lena's retinas. The look was completed with faded jeans and white sneakers.
Who the hell walked around a graveyard in the middle of the night in white sneakers? A maniac, that's who, Lena finally decided. She missed the rest of the exchange between Kara and Sam, who, under no circumstances, could find outwhatthe blonde was.
At least not at this moment. Definitely not without some food and drinks to sweeten the pot for Sam.
But before Lena had to do something shameful, like pretend the vampyr was just a friend—or worse, a peer—another fanged creature appeared before them. Thank God! Her heart sang at the sudden interruption, and she paused to look up at the heavens.
"Oh shit, Danvers!"
Lena's eyes bored into the blonde's back, her mind reeling from the tiny crumb of information she had gleaned from the vampyr's frightened reaction to seeing this so-called Kara Danvers. The blonde chuckled low in her throat, and Lena hated that it already sounded familiar to her, even if this had only been their second meeting.
"Didn't you overhear my introduction to the nice lady?" Kara teased, and Lena could practically hear the idiotic grin on her lips.
"F-fuck!" The vampyr tripped over herself, comically stumbling backward with her eyes wide as saucers.
Lena watched, mimicking the stance of a gunslinger ready to draw on her opponent, as Kara easily hoisted the vampyr up by the front of her shirt. She spun around, and held the squirming fiend against her front, eyes trained on Lena's.
The unspoken words were clear. Lena sent her stake flying, and it hit its mark dead center. Kara now stood empty-handed, grinning brightly. This vampyr's sunny disposition was such a whiplash considering what she was, that it left Lena even more perplexed about her true intentions.
"What unit are you assigned to?" Sam questioned, having fallen for the vampyr's Oscar-worthy performance.
"My unit? Yeah, I'm with her!" Even if a little gauche, Kara managed to make her answer convincing enough. At least, as far as Lena could tell.
The moment the blonde had the gull to throw her arm around Lena's shoulder in a far-from-consensual manner, she delivered a sharp elbow into Kara's ribs.
No reaction. Lena's jaw set tightly. Reminiscent of the previous night, Kara's heightened hearing seemed to have picked up something concerning.
"Watch out!" Kara shouldered an unsuspecting Sam out of the way as a large beast speared the blonde vampyr. It hadn't stopped in its tracks; instead, it gripped Kara's body tightly to itself as it bulldozed her through two mausoleums and about a dozen tombstones before they were out of sight. Though, not out of earshot, as an ear piercing scream sounded in the night and made Lena's blood run cold.
"Should we—" Sam began to speak, and Lena noticed the flicker of concern on her face.
"Wait," Lena commanded, her tone somewhat icy as she disregarded Sam's frown.
A minute later, Kara's figure emerged in the distance, now without her jacket.
"I'm, like, super concerned about the Shrtiga ripping my shirt, but honestly, I'm even more worried that we ran into one. Anyone else? Just me?"
If Sam had been about to comment on Kara's lack of wounds or limping, Lena would never find out. They were now surrounded by not one, but two of the towering creatures. Lena easily recognized the Shtrigas; they were not naturally turned vampyrs. Typically created through magic, they were much larger in stature, with increased strength and thick, hide-like skin. These monsters did not resemble humans by any stretch of the imagination.
"If I had a penny for every Shtriga I saw tonight…" The blonde's corny joke hadn't fallen on deaf ears, unfortunately.
"Shut the fuck up, Kara," Lena delivered the words sharply.
The blonde had only laughed in response.
Everyone present was acutely aware that Shtrigas didn't come alone, as a rite had to be performed to create them from freshly dead humans. Not only did they have to face the beasts snarling at them, drool dripping from their jagged mouths, but they also had an entirely different enemy to worry about.
"Sam, stay behind us." Lena knew her friend wasn't just a simple damsel in distress; she was trained to take down the undead too. However, a Shtriga required Slayre-like strength to defeat and Lena wasn't willing to gamble Sam's safety.
"I'll get the fugly one," Kara announced before leaping onto its back and applying a vise-like grip around its neck in a sleeper hold. The colorful word Kara used fit every Shtriga in existence, and Lena briefly wondered if the blonde could even utter words if they weren't twisted in some sort of joke.
The beast then slammed Kara into the rubble of the mausoleum her back had destroyed a few minutes ago, but she maintained her grip still. Lena felt like she was watching someone ride a very big, aggresive and toothy bull.
Not dignifying the irritating blonde with any sort of response, Lena's own giant-sized problem was starting to walk toward her. Once the Shtriga got close enough, she jumped up and smashed her knee right underneath its jaw. It doubled over from the impact, just as intended. Standing more than seven feet tall, Lena needed to level the playing field if she was going to reach its neck, their known weak spot.
She continued her assault on the beast, kneeing it in the stomach countless times. When an opening presented itself, Lena clasped her hands together and descended them into the back of the Shtriga's neck into a strong hammer strike.
One second she was standing, the next she found herself on her back, gazing up at the starry night sky. Briefly, she wondered how the creature had managed to trip her so suddenly after her flurry of blows. In the time it took Lena to blink, she was flung by her foot into the nearest tombstone. With a groan, she then pushed herself back up, bits of cement falling around her as she did so.
With renewed vigor—or, more accurately, unabashed anger—Lena stood up and sprinted toward the beast. She propelled herself upward and leaped over it, plunging a much larger stake right into its neck. It took a bit more effort for the stake to penetrate the tough skin, but Lena was ready to exert the necessary effort. The creature crumpled to the ground, immobile but not yet dead.
First, she glanced at Sam, who was currently shouting something into her earpiece. Lena let out a breath, relieved to see her unarmed. However, when she turned her attention to the blonde vampyr, the sight of her appearance made Lena mutter a curse under her breath.
Her face was twisted into a deep scowl, dark veins surrounding her eyes, crawling up to her forehead and jutting out from her jaw. The full length of the sharp canines were visible as she held the Shtriga down with one foot, attempting to rip its head clean off its head with both hands. The beast clawed at her, but to no avail. With divine-like luck, Sam only looked up after the grueling scene had concluded. Kara's Shtriga was now headless, and her face had returned to normal.
"We need a transport vehicle to clean up two regular-sized Shtrigas," Sam explained, one finger pressed to her ear.
As Sam relayed their coordinates to the dispatch team, Lena moved to join Kara by the headless Shtriga's body. She had a whole speech rehearsed in her mind, ready to scold the taller woman and tell her to get lost for good. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, she froze. The previously motionless Shtriga now stood behind her, pissed as hell, as indicated by the sound it made and the alarm on Kara's face.
Before Lena could react, Kara pulled her close and plunged a weapon into the monster's chest cavity with ease. The scream the Shtriga emitted was loud enough that Lena could already feel a headache brewing at her temples, and the smell of its charred flesh didn't help at all. Lena almost wished she could mask the scent with Kara's shirt, though she had absolutely no intention of touching that offending garment more than necessary.
Lena caught a glimpse of the weapon Kara had used to fell the creature, who hit the ground behind her with a loud, final thud. It was a finely crafted knife with a large handle and an even larger blade. It didn't emit any glow or show any signs of being able to burn anything. Magically infused, Lena guessed. That alone suggested that Kara must be either a very old vampyr or a very resourceful one to possess such an heirloom.
"Careful," Kara said. Her soft tone matched the look in her eyes—too sincere for Lena's liking.
"I think you can let go of me now," Lena said, her palms lightly pressed against the taller woman's shoulders. Even then, she didn't make any move to push her away. Something about their proximity felt strangely agreeable to her brain.
"I could," Kara replied, making no effort to let go. Once again, Lena's icy glare did nothing to deter the woman from her ignorant conduct.
"Do you think we're in some corny romance novel?" In retrospect, not the smartest thing Lena could have said to the blonde she was still very much pressed up against.
"Aren't we?" Another small chuckle escaped Kara's lips, and Lena wished she hated the sound.
It was as if Lena's mind suddenly clicked into gear. She pushed Kara back and turned to leave, but a hand wrapped around her wrist halted her progress. Lena pulled her arm free, fully aware that Kara could have easily held on tighter.
"Wait," Kara began, her voice still soft. "I think I earned the right to at least get your name."
Her words only served to infuriate Lena further. "What exactly makes you think you have the right to earn anything from me?"
"I'm not your enemy."
Teeth clenched, Lena felt the urge to remind Kara that their kinds had been mortal enemies since the dawn of time for very clear and widely recognized reasons when Sam's voice abruptly sliced through the tension like a sharp knife.
"Lena!" Sam jogged toward the pair, and Lena ignored the wide smirk on Kara's face. The fact that the persistent vampyr now knew her name was mortifying, but she didn't let any of that show. She was a Luthor, after all—able to make anyone believe their presence was welcome when, in reality, they hated their guts.
"Sorry for the interruption," came Sam's voice, tinged with a light chuckle. Lena had not been at all prepared to answer all the questions she could see forming in Sam's mind.
"You're excused," Lena replied a bit too quickly.
"I should get going. Sam, it was nice to meet you. And Lena," who currently wanted to scream at hearing her name utterd by the grining blonde. "I'll see you soon."
Still, Lena had to give Kara credit for walking away instead of resorting to doing something idiotic like using her vampyr abilities. She was smarter than she looked, and dressed, Lena noted silently.
Sam was going to believe that Kara was heading to HQ for a debrief, and Lena wouldn't have to ever tell her best friend that the very creatures they swore to eradicate from the face of the earth helped them tonight.
The two walked in relative silence, yet Lena could sense Sam's gaze on her.
"Stop it," Lena said, seemingly out of nowhere.
"I didn't say anything," was the older woman's weak defense.
Lena knew better, though. "You were about to, and I truly don't want any part in this conversation."
"Okay, sure. Tell me when you're ready, babe."
Lena's shoulders slumped in relief, grateful that Sam didn't press the issue further. She placed a hand against her bruised ribcage, feeling soreness settle in the muscles there. It would heal quickly, of course. A sigh escaped her lips. "I need a drink. No, make that many drinks. All the drinks, actually."
The only answer she received from Sam was a hearty laugh.
Once again, Kara had left a mountain of clues for Lena to overanalyze and agonize over. Not to mention they now had a Shtriga problem to worry about on top of a stupidly attractive vampyr with a penchant for wearing horrid Hawaiian shirts. Sleep didn't come easy that night.