Bound by Blood

by JayEmEl

Vampires have struck in Vale. Yang and Pyrrha are sent to investigate these human disappearances and murders. But when they discover that an ancient vampire has been at the heart of Vale, S.U.N orders its execution. Yang finds herself torn between the sacrifices she made to keep humanity safe, and her growing affection for the very creature she's been directed to destroy.

4. Killing of Heart

Chapter status: FULLY REVAMPED. I apologize for the reposting of this chapter, but there is a bunch of new content, mostly expanding on what was already there, and the biggest change is a whole new scene with Yang and Ruby between the two main scenes this chapter has. Over 14k words total, eep. Also I highly recommend you go back and read chapter 3 because I made A LOT of changes. Like, tbh, you could probably just start from chapter 1 again, even, because there's so much new content and edits to catch up on.

Also, TRIGGER WARNING for suicide-related conversations in the last scene of this chapter.

---

"Holy shit. We're never going to find anything." Yang slumped her shoulders and stared in shock.

Vale's Historic Library and Museum was gigantic. That was the most defining thing about it. The other defining things were the hushed quietness and the impression of having just stepped into an entirely different century with the old wooden floor, graying banisters, and gothic columns and arches rising all the way up to the ceiling.

Pyrrha was ogling the sheer ten-story height opening up before them, the shaft for the elevator cage spearing the middle of the chamber, walkways connecting it to each level. The gray light from outside poured in through the roof in a ray, made the floating particles of dust look just slightly mystical. "It sure is beautiful..." But she still shot Yang an amused side-eye. "Have you not been here before? I thought you grew up in the area."

"Yeah, on Patch, but I never had any reason to come here." In hindsight, maybe she shouldn't have missed the day her class had visited this place back when she was in high school at Beacon. Boring was, in fact, not how she'd describe it, after all, and she suddenly found herself regretting her lack of interest in historical academics when she was a teenager. Yang never thought she'd see so many books in one place – there must have been millions of them, with each floor containing exhibits, skeletons, statues, paintings, and artifacts on display related to the genre or kind of books that could be found on that level.

It would be a collector's and a bookworm's wet dream.

"I don't even know where to start." Yang passed both of her hands through her hair, dreading the amount of searching they were going to have to do.

Just the fact that they had been directed by Glynda and Raven to research what amounted to science-fiction to weed out truth was wild in itself. But it really went to show how little information they had. Still, it was better than nothing. Worse than credible, though.

"I might have an idea." Pyrrha motioned for Yang to follow her, and they descended the large mahogany staircase at the entrance and headed towards the left side of the giant lobby. It was strange – despite the wood flooring, their footsteps remained muffled and quiet. Pyrrha stopped in front of one of the desks where a sign indicated Administration. "Hello!" she cheerfully greeted the library technician behind the desk.

Yang's eyes widened at her partner, but the redhead ignored her.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"We're looking for documents about Vale's history, starting from its founding, and also anything you have about Vale's legends or mythology." Pyrrha paused, and then added, "Specifically about vampires."

Yes, hello, where are the children's scary stories? Thanks.

Yang wanted to grab Pyrrha's shoulders and shake her silly. She was really just putting it out there, making them both look out of their minds. Yang elbowed her in the ribs, and Pyrrha elbowed her back.

Case in point, the technician arched her eyebrows at them, taking in their practical attire and weapons with a frown, and asked, "Do you have a permit for those guns?"

Pyrrha and Yang immediately showed their fake VPD badges, and the technician nodded her understanding. "Oh, okay, I see. You just didn't look like…well, never mind. Vampires, then, you say? Hang on." She typed on her computer for a moment, and Yang was getting ready to apologize for her friend's stupid request, but then the lady said, "Go up to the fifth floor, in the East wing, section V. One of the pages or librarians there can help you further."

"Thank you very much!" Pyrrha smiled, and as the two women turned away from the desk to head towards the elevator, she added in a hushed tone at Yang, "You have so little faith in me. I bet they get asked much weirder things. You obviously don't visit places like this enough."

Yang rolled her eyes as they got in the elevator – it was a cage with ornate iron bars held between pieces of dark wood, allowing them to look down and around as they ascended. The view was actually mesmerizing by the sheer size of the area, and right ahead of them on the first level, the banister showcased a majestic recreation of the Brothers in their dragon form – light and dark, good and evil, facing each other, either grappling for the upper hand or showing their strength of unity. At least, it rendered justice to the debate a lot of people on Remnant had about them. Their eyes twinkled topaz and amethyst. "Look, in my defense, I just –" Yang stopped, gaze all of a sudden catching someone staring up at her from the middle of the lobby when it wandered down.

Long, black, silky waves. Faunus cat ears. Bright eyes. Yang leaned forward, hand gripping the iron, and looked back at Pyrrha to see if she was seeing the woman, too.

"What is it?"

But when Yang returned her attention to the lobby, the woman was gone. And there was no one walking away anywhere nearby. "Uh..."

Pyrrha looked down, too, but naturally saw nothing. "Are you okay?"

Yang straightened her stance. "Yup!" But the truth was that tension had formed in her back and a bad feeling like nausea had settled in her stomach. "I thought there was a...cat running on the floor down there."

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor, and as the door opened for them, Pyrrha said with a teasing grin, "Don't try to weasel your way out of this. So, in your defense, what, hm?"

"Cat, not weasel. And, uh, in my defense..." Yang's mind had pulled a blank. She forced a smile, though, and said, "You know what, you're right – I'm an idiot."

The duo began following the signs to the East wing, bringing them away from the open center of the vast library and further into the closed spaces and secrets of the past. Pyrrha chuckled. "I never called you that. Just trust me next time – maybe we'll only spend a week here instead of a month."

"I dunno, Akouo," Yang drawled, pretending everything was fine, "I think you could've done better and made it so we could leave today."

"I can let you talk to the next librarian if you want."

"I'd rather eat rocks."

Pyrrha shook her head, but they were approaching their destination, and they found an older man up on a ladder, organizing books that were up on the much higher mahogany shelves.

Yang hopped in front of Pyrrha, giving her a wink, and called out in a loud whisper to the man, "Hey, excuse me, sir?"

"Oh, Ember," Pyrrha muttered with a smile, crossing her arms. "What happened to the rocks?"

"I ate them."

The man noticed the duo and began to climb down. Once he was in front of them, Yang said, "We're looking for documents or books about Vale's past and mysteries, maybe something with vampires."

The librarian nodded – as if the request made perfect sense. "Right this way."

He walked forward for a bit before veering into an aisle of bookshelves to the left, and the enforcers followed him. It almost seemed to get darker here, away from the light – which, duh, but this seemed a little too dark. And a painting on the stone wall grabbed Yang's attention. She slowed and eventually stopped before she passed it. It was a portrait of a woman, old and faded. She was wearing a necklace with delicately crafted flowers as its pendant, the loose braid of her black hair draped over one shoulder.

"Oh, that's Madam Bella Akel," came the librarian's voice as he and Pyrrha returned towards Yang when they noticed she wasn't following anymore. "She was the founder of this establishment, when Vale was only a century old. Did you know she donated over two thousand books from her own collection to start the library, and during the next twenty years donated another thousand along with hundreds of artifacts?"

The founder of this establishment, some four-hundred years ago. Huh.

Pyrrha raised her eyebrows like she either didn't believe the guy, or…

"Why does she look so…upset?"

…skepticism about something else she wasn't saying. And that was certainly one way of putting it. There was a…haunting in the intensity of the eyes, in the lines and darkness under them, in the light playing against the brow and forehead betraying furrows of tension, in the ever so slight downturn of the mouth…

Her hairstyle was different, appropriately pulled back for the century and hiding her cat ears from obvious view, but those flowers hanging against her chest… They were belladonna flowers.

The deadly nightshade.

It was her.

We are literally standing right smack in the middle of one of her lairs. Fucking fuck.

The librarian shrugged in response to Pyrrha's question. "Nobody really knows why. There are some theories that she committed suicide. I'd believe it was something tragic like that just by looking at this painting."

Yang couldn't stop staring. Couldn't believe how well the image captured Nightshade. Couldn't stop wondering what could possibly cause the aching depth of pain concealed in her expression. Couldn't stop panicking about what this place represented now.

"Caught by her pretty face, Ember?" Pyrrha teased lightly. "Come on, I know you're lonely but a painting's not gonna help you with that."

Yang swallowed hard and put on a fake smirk. Her next words made her want to vomit, and only because being so attracted to a dangerous vampire made her sick to her stomach, but she said them anyway. "Madam Bella Akel, huh? I mean, she was pretty hot." Yang glanced at the painting again and stretched the act-not-act out a little longer, asking tentatively, "What, uh, what actually happened to her?"

The librarian grinned and motioned at the image, "If you're looking for mysteries about Vale, that's one right there. She transferred the library's ownership to Mr. Cedric Beryl's son out of the blue, and not long after that, Bella just...disappeared one day. Nobody found the body. We have a few records and letters from different people at the time mentioning and inquiring about her, if you'd like me to show you?"

Yang couldn't stop from meeting Pyrrha's gaze. Of course nobody found the body. She's still alive. And Pyrrha had her eyebrows arched, like she suspected there was more to this than what was being presented at face-value. "Beryl," she mouthed with a pointed look.

Realization dawned at Yang. The Beryls. The owners of Vale's Cryolife branch.

And of this historical library, apparently. Thanks to Nightshade. But Pyrrha didn't know about that connection because she didn't know who Bella Akel really was.

Oh, this is huge.

And Yang didn't like the implications one bit. If she tried to brush this off now, it would make her partner even more suspicious – but about Yang instead of Bella. And Yang couldn't have that. So, she said, "Well, I suppose it's better than the nothing we started with, right? I'll look into her and the Beryls, Akouo." It killed her to lie by omission like that, but she wasn't supposed to even know what Nightshade looked like to associate this painting to her.

Wasn't supposed to be aware of just how monumental, exactly, the stinking pile of shit they were standing in was.

Was I dreaming or was I not?

Because there was no denying that was the same captivating face Yang had seen through the haze when she thought she'd been dreaming. Maybe…maybe she'd seen this painting somewhere else before, and her mind had conjured it in its delirious state?

Feels like a reach. No way would I have forgotten that face.

Pyrrha nodded, "You're right, it's a start."

Yang nodded back and addressed the older man, "Okay, show me."

He motioned for them to come along, and he and Pyrrha turned their backs to Yang. The blonde started trailing behind them, but she found herself gazing at the portrait for one last look.

She swore those eyes suddenly looked real and redder, tracking her.

Yang turned away from it, her nape tingling and cold dread reaching up her back. There was one thing becoming disturbingly apparent. Nightshade is here.

Pyrrha and Yang were directed to wait in a cozy lounge area with dark hardwood couches and plush white cushions on them. Their gazes wandered. Yang saw the outlines of vast mountains carved into the stone of the entire back wall, shimmering gold drawing the eye to the jagged peaks. They were the mountain ranges far into the Emerald Forest surrounding Vale – Yang recognized them because they were a constant visible, albeit distant, point of reference for orientating oneself on Patch.

"Well, this Bella Akel woman did have great taste," Pyrrha commented, arms crossed as she seemed to be admiring same thing Yang was, and the blonde almost snorted at the use of taste. If she only knew what kind of taste Bella Akel really had. "Although, I suppose she could have only been the money well."

"I'm sure she had some influence on the designs," Yang muttered, eyes glancing around for more proof of Nightshade's presence. There was none. At least, none that she noticed.

A few moments later, and before Pyrrha could decide to ask Yang to explain herself, the librarian returned and handed Yang a few copies of a couple old letters, along with a some more official-looking documents that seemed like they might have been from the law-enforcement department of the time – also not the originals. He then left with Pyrrha to show her other books relating to Vale's history.

Yang cautiously sat down at a table nearby. She looked around, caught with the realization she was now alone. Pyrrha would probably be coming back soon, but still. The only lighting came from the rustic lamps on the walls, and a sliver of outside gray ambiance coming from a window somewhere – it was a rainy day. Yang turned on the lamp near her on the table, chest tight with apprehension. I should tell Pyrrha. This is putting more than my own life in danger.

She sighed deeply, massaged the bridge of her nose for a moment, and then fixed her attention on the papers in front of her. She took the document from the law department first, unfolded it, and then took out her scroll to snap a picture of the contents. She made sure the image wasn't blurry, and was then about to put the document to the side, but something caught her gaze and she did a doubletake.

Floating there on the bottom of the page, mist like hazy black ink in elegant cursive... I'm thirsty, enforcer. The words drifted and vanished quickly. Yang's stomach dropped and her heart began pounding in her ears. It was happening. Nightshade had come to feed. Yang put the document down and away from her and gave her surroundings an intense once-over. Still no sign of anyone else in the vicinity.

But she was one-hundred percent being watched.

I'm so fucked. Madam Bella Akel's ghost was haunting her. Gods, what do I do? Do I leave? Do I keep pretending everything's fine? In her anxious state, Yang stood up and started pacing. She couldn't focus on the records. But she had to. They contained information about an identity Nightshade had donned some four-hundred years ago – and that was invaluable. What if Nightshade didn't want her finding out, though? But then wouldn't Nightshade have had the ability to make these records disappear if she didn't want them discovered?

"Just give me a fucking minute," Yang muttered, mostly to herself – although a tiny part of her hoped the vampire was listening. She then stopped pacing and sat back down, newly resolved to learn as much as she could as quickly as she could – before the very creature she was trying to read up on attacked her. Yang took a picture of each of the three letters and then put them aside.

It was then that Pyrrha finally joined Yang in the lounge. She had a few books in her hands and she got comfortable in the chair facing Yang on the other side of the table. "I got a journal by someone who moved to Vale a few months after its founding – could be promising. And then just some history books about Vale in general. Did you read anything yet? I gotta say, Madam Akel is literally the most vampire-looking woman I've ever seen in my life, I'm willing to bet there's something there. And her involvement with the Beryls makes that twice as likely." Pyrrha paused, considered Yang's demeanor and lack of response. "Are you okay? You look...kind of on edge, to be honest."

Yang opened her mouth, ready to spill the truth and then make a run for it with Pyrrha in tow, but nothing came out. Just tell her, you idiot. But Yang wasn't even sure what was real and what was dream anymore. She'd left too much unsaid. Maybe Nightshade wasn't even here and Yang's paranoia was showing. And then there was the whole other issue of Yang knowing very well Raven would see it as cowardice if she ran away before a threat properly even made itself known. It wasn't like Nightshade had attacked yet.

Man, why do I even care what that woman thinks of me?

But she did care, as frustrating as it was. She did want Raven's approval, to some extent. To the extent of not being seen as a coward or a failed enforcer by her, at least.

And Raven and Glynda were their superiors, their direct reporting link to their standing within SUN's officer ranks. If anything, this case was going to prove whether Pyrrha and Yang were ready for more dangerous and complicated work.

Yang did not want to let Pyrrha down.

And, so, instead, Yang found herself muttering, "I'm fine. There's just a lot on my plate with this case. And I'm not a big reader, so this whole thing is...bleh."

Pyrrha nodded sympathetically. "I'm right there with you – about this case being a lot, that is. I do like reading, though. Let's see what we find here, maybe we'll be able to leave earlier than we thought."

Yang said nothing, instead glancing at their surroundings again to make sure, and then bringing up the first document to read it. It was a report from law-enforcement searching for Bella, as she had been missing for over a week at that point. Her maids at her abode stated they hadn't seen her, only that they worried about what would become of them without their mistress – there didn't seem to have been a follow-up on that, though. Or, at least, if there had been, the paper trail was missing. Mr. Cedric Beryl was questioned, but he didn't know anything, either, and no proof could be found linking him to her sudden vanishing. After a few months of searching and finding nothing, the police had determined that Bella was most likely dead, and had gotten in contact with her attorney to settle the matters of her will – only to find that Cedric's son, Hugo, would be inheriting her property and wealth. It seemed that the Beryl family had been close to Madam Akel – in fact, that she was their financial benefactor – and she had no other next of kin to speak of.

For all intents and purposes, having nothing to suspect the Beryls for and finding no evidence to accuse anyone at all, that closed the case of Bella Akel's disappearance.

Yang reflected on what she had read for a moment, crossing her arms and leaning back on her chair with a frown. Pyrrha seemed too engrossed in what she was reading to notice.

The thing with all of this was that Nightshade could have very easily reappropriated her possessions and money at a later date, when it wouldn't have been suspicious for her to have done so. Assuming the Beryl family was mortal – and everything pointed to that being the case – Nightshade could have controlled them, ensuring her movements throughout society and time remained anonymous when necessary and then reappearing in the public eye when there was nobody alive who could recognize her anymore. It was the perfect cover for an ancient vampire.

And it also showed she was a skilled mastermind operating in the shadows, someone who knew how to maneuver in the law – and that was another great cause of concern.

But she built this library and museum and made it accessible for all sorts of people to gain knowledge and information. She didn't even hide these documents about her own brief identity as Bella Akel.

And what about how many fundraisers and charity events the Beryls hosted? They were given control over Nightshade's assets by Nightshade, herself. There was no way she would be letting them do whatever they wanted with them. And, so, if they were acting on any kind of directive from her…

It didn't make sense to Yang. What kind of person was Nightshade, really? Because, so far, Yang was getting extremely conflicting messages. On the one hand she was dealing with a bloodthirsty, horrifying demon harassing and threatening her, and on the other hand was a fucking gorgeous and generous philanthropist.

"How's the moon looking these days?"

Yang realized she was zoning out, and Pyrrha had caught her. The blonde laughed a bit at her friend's concerned amusement – or maybe at the insanity of her own predicament. "It's looking like it needs me to stop taking up so much real estate. I think I made it shatter some more. Have I said how much I hate reading?"

Pyrrha's smile widened. "Come on, Ember. I believe in you. We'll be out of here before you know it."

"Thanks." Yang shook her head, but she still pumped her fist in the air halfheartedly to show she hadn't given up and that she did appreciate the vote of confidence.

"That's the spirit."

Yang picked up the papers in front of her again as Pyrrha returned to her reading. She gazed at them thoughtfully. The letters from the few citizens inquiring about Madam Bella Akel enforced the impression that this mysterious benefactor was good. People seemed to have thought she was respectable, kind, and very helpful, and were saddened to learn of her death. One person, a man whose messy signature spelled Ralph Moore, had directly asked the police for news of her, stating he missed her dearly – he'd even left a note for them to give her if she was ever found. Just a small, yellowed piece of paper that read in faded ink: Bella, I'm alright now. I promise there is nothing to forgive. Please, meet with me again.

It left Yang's head spinning a bit, more questions than answers twirling there and taunting her at the periphery of her mind. She couldn't figure out what any of this meant.

And if any of those letters had ever received a reply, they didn't seem to be here, either.

The only conclusion Yang could make was that whoever Nightshade had been four-hundred years ago, it wasn't who she was now. At least, not really.

Or, of course, she excelled at deception.

That seemed a lot more likely.

Yang stood up from her chair, and Pyrrha raised her eyebrows at the same time without actually looking at her partner. "So? Find anything useful?"

It was another chance to come clean. Yang still didn't take it. "Nope, nothing. Just an unfortunate case of someone going missing and eventually declared dead." She glanced at the journal Pyrrha was still intently focused on. "What about you? You seem fascinated."

Green eyes finally looked up from the book, blinking. "Um, yeah, actually. This man, Peter Port…he calls Vale Veil, like a covering instead of a valley…and he seems to allude to an actual veil of darkness around the, well, village at the time."

There was something about that piece of information that made it hard not to nervously look around again, added to the pile of shit that somehow just kept getting bigger, made the dread weighing in Yang's stomach heavier. At the same time, though… "Is he, like, a storyteller? That doesn't seem possible." But the ancient vampire in Vacuo is able to make the whole city see a temple out in the distance…

"He definitely reads like he embellishes things, so, I don't know, maybe Vale just used to be pretty gloomy, but…" There was a look that passed in Pyrrha's eyes, a look that betrayed apprehension, maybe even fear. "You saw those shadows, too, Ember. You heard what Agents Omen and Dust said. You were there when Ruyi spoke about the ancient in Vacuo. What if Nightshade's power is just that strong?"

Yang swallowed thickly. She'd been trying to convince herself things couldn't be that bad, trying to downplay the nightmare that was Nightshade for her own sanity's sake, but it was right about then that Yang realized she was doing herself a massive disservice. She'd never be ready to survive an encounter with Nightshade again if she didn't accept the reality of this monster.

Nightshade was exactly that strong, if not stronger. Peter Port's recount was almost five-hundred years old. Nightshade's already great power would have had time to grow even more since then.

The only thing Yang could find her voice long enough to ask was, "Does he seem…scared?"

"That's the weird thing…" Pyrrha frowned at the realistically frayed and cracked leather-bound journal in her hands. "He views it as a protection. He claims that it's what attracts new travelers to settle there, if they've heard about it from someone already inside. Nobody and nothing approaches if they don't know what it is."

Yang couldn't comprehend the implications of that, couldn't even begin to make sense of the sheer contradiction Nightshade was turning out to be.

But then Pyrrha added, "I mean, this could also be some creative man's fiction story, too, I imagine. But…I don't know. I'm going to try to cross-reference what he claims with a bit more of a credible source."

She was right. If Vale used to be called Veil, and a cloud of darkness had existed over it at one point, then that would be part of the city's history, maybe even heritage. There would be other mentions of it somewhere, somehow.

Strange that this is the first time I hear about it, though, even if I grew up in the area…

Yang started gathering the letters and documents on the table in front of her. "Sounds good. Let me know what you find." She chose to stop addressing this topic altogether for now. "I'm gonna go bring these back to the librarian and ask if he has anything else, maybe more about the Beryls. Could lead somewhere."

Pyrrha nodded, and Yang started walking back to where they had found the librarian the first time. She had to turn into the aisle of shelves where Bella Akel's painting was, and just like before, it felt like the light got significantly dimmer when she got there. Yang hunched her shoulders, advancing uneasily, and she couldn't stop her eyes from locking onto the painting when it came into view.

Why couldn't she be a man? I'm too gay for this.

Oh, my gods, shut up.

Stupid intrusive thoughts.

Nothing strange happened this time, though. Yang walked in front of it without incident, and she let her gaze fall away. She was about to breathe a bit of a sigh of relief, and instead it practically came out as a squeak when something suddenly touched her shoulder from behind, causing Yang's bracer to warm up, and a dark voice murmured, "Meet with me, please."

Yang whirled around, cold goosebumps racing up her spine, just in time to see a woman-shaped shadow fade out of existence like a ghost becoming the darkness, eyes flashing red once before disappearing.

It was as if Nightshade had never even been there at all. Yang's heart was beating wildly. Holy shit. If this really was part of what Nightshade could do – especially the veil of darkness over a town – nowhere was safe. Nowhere at all. In her panic, Yang disregarded if anyone was nearby to hear her and snapped at nothing, "Leave me alone! I'll meet you later!"

"Ma'am? Is everything alright?"

The blonde spun on her heels again, facing the librarian, who had just come into the aisle from the other end. He was looking at her like she'd sprouted a couple extra limbs. Yang tried to get a grip on her expression and forced herself to calm down. This was madness. "Yeah, sorry, I'm…I was on a call." She awkwardly tapped her hair over her ear, was instantly met with a dubious look, but then the man shrugged like it wasn't his business anyway. Yang handed the papers towards him, only slightly relieved. "Uh, here, I wanted to return these to you."

He took them and asked, "Did you...want me to show you more related books?"

Yang pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath in. The smart thing was to leave immediately. But she couldn't do that. That required telling Pyrrha the truth, and Yang wasn't capable of it. And for whatever reason, it seemed that Nightshade wasn't directly harassing Yang when she was in company of others, so the only thing left to do was to keep researching and just stick close to Pyrrha.

She slowly exhaled, took her hand away from her face, and squared her shoulders. "Yeah, show me what else you got."

---

Yang was in the middle of a one-armed push-up on the exercise mat in the storage room when Ruby showed up in the doorway. It was still early evening, but Yang hadn't been expecting her to come by. She'd been focused on keeping her balance, trying not to get distracted by the phantom prickling of a limb she didn't have anymore. She'd kept her prosthetic on, and even if it was curled against her back, Yang kept imagining, feeling, her right hand mirroring her left on the mat. It was frustrating, almost collapsing more than once because of it.

She saw her little sister's red and black T-shirt from the corner of her eye and turned her head enough to properly see her. Ruby looked much less upbeat than her usual self, staring at the floor, quietly waiting. Yang pushed herself into a cross-legged sitting position right away and turned off the pop-rock music playing from her portable speaker. "Hey there, kiddo," she greeted her with a warm smile, tucking away her fears and insecurities to the back of her mind for now to give Ruby her undivided attention.

Their uncle Qrow would call Ruby kiddo sometimes. During rare, good moments. Yang had a flash of chasing a younger Ruby down the beach while a sober Qrow waited to pounce out of the water at them. Getting sand stuck everywhere on their bodies, later discovering wonky-shaped sunburns and giggling at what animals or objects they could trace out of the red markings.

Almost forgetting, just for a little while, that life and loss waited to chase after them from the metaphorical shallows, too.

"Hey, Yang," Ruby sighed, trying to return the smile, but only the corner of her mouth lifted a little.

"I can give you a sweaty hug if you'd like," Yang offered, opening her arms with a wink.

Ruby wrinkled her nose. "Ew, no." But it still made her lips twitch wider, so Yang already considered that a win. Ruby was quiet afterwards, though, and she just stayed standing there at the doorway.

Yang softened and patted the mat in front of her. "Wanna join me? We can talk, if that's what you want, or we could work out together. Or whatever else floats your boat."

Ruby seemed to think about the suggestion for a moment, and then she nodded and came over. "Let's work out. Tell me how it went at the library."

As Ruby started stretching her muscles, Yang turned the music back on, quieter this time, and let herself fall onto her back and began a set of crunches. Simpler, easier not to think about her arm doing this instead. She kept her breathing even and said, "It was…" horrifying "…super boring. On the bright side, I guess we did find some information about Nightshade, possibly. Did you know there used to be a veil of darkness over Vale way back when it was first established?"

Pyrrha had come as close to confirming it as she could get. Even Vale's history books made mention of the anomaly Peter Port exposed in his journal – except, since mortals weren't aware that vampires were real, much less powerful ancient vampires, the veil had fallen into urban legend, just a fun story to tell with a flashlight under blankets now. The town's name had officially changed to Vale before it was even half a century old.

But the enforcers knew better.

Nightshade's signature was all over it.

Yang shared as much with Ruby, whose gray eyes had gotten increasingly wider the more Yang spoke. She seemed almost impressed in the arch of her eyebrows. "Crazy. I'd love to actually see it, you know? Like, I mean, I know beware the danger and everything, but a big shadowy cloud in the air seems so cool."

Yang had to stop herself from snorting. She lifted her torso up and to the side while keeping her legs in the air, bent at the knees, working her obliques now. Yeah, cool. It's cool that she could be watching us every minute of the day and we'd never know. It's cool that she could appear in this room right now and kill us in seconds. But she could see where Ruby was coming from. If she hadn't known their lives and so many other lives were on the line because of them, Yang could imagine she'd have thought Nightshade's powers were pretty awesome, too. So, all she ended up saying was, "I'm sure you'll get the chance when we take her, well, them, down."

After she finished stretching, Ruby got into position for a plank. "You think they're a girl?" she asked, somewhat surprised.

Not accusing, just genuinely curious. It helped Yang ease into the half-truth after her slip up. "I dunno, just a feeling. Maybe the skeleton I encountered in the alley had a feminine structure. Or the voice sounds female. But none of that means anything, really. And it doesn't matter, anyway. We still gotta kill them."

"…Yeah. That's true."

They were both quiet for a bit after that, contemplative and focused on their workout. Yang felt guilty for withholding the other information she had found out about Nightshade at the library. She'd taken pictures of all the letters and documents, but kept them to herself instead of uploading them to the ancient's profile in Aurora's database.

It wasn't supposed to be getting so complicated. This Vale case was already a huge undertaking all on its own, and Yang had never thought that keeping secret her willing participation in being fed on by a vampire would evolve into so many more secrets needing to be kept. All because of her own fears.

And that's gonna come back and bite me, too.

For now, it seemed one of the obvious next steps in their investigation would be to question Edrick and Oliver Beryl. As the owners of Cryolife, it was entirely possible they knew just what, exactly, was happening at the warehouse. And if they knew that, then maybe they also knew a couple vampires, themselves, other than Nightshade.

Unless she's keeping them on a super tight leash. Unless they don't even know they're being controlled.

But the only way to get answers was to actually go find out.

"Hey, Yang?" Ruby suddenly asked, breaking the relative silence they'd been in.

Yang looked over and saw that her sister had sat up, staring at the floor again. She sat up, too, and lowered the volume on the speaker even more. "What's up, Rube-Rube?"

Ruby's eyebrows creased into an expression of frustration. "Do you…" Her voice lowered into a whisper. "Do you ever hate them?"

Yes. More than I should. "You mean vampires, right?"

Ruby nodded.

"I'm…I'm upset sometimes, yeah. Where's this coming from?"

"I was thinking about Penny. And then I was thinking about Mom and Dad. And Qrow. And Raven. And then Aurora." Ruby made a quick circular motion with her index at her head. "And all of it kept spinning. It's just…literally none of it would be if vampires didn't exist."

"Oh, Ruby…" Yang sighed. Picked at the fabric of her pants. Took interest in the joints of her prosthetic. She had no idea what to say because she felt exactly the same – guilt and everything. She drooped her shoulders, tried to pull something wise out of her ass for her little sister's sake – there were those couple of books on teenagers and parenting that Yang had fallen asleep to constantly way back, forcing herself to read them anyway so she could better care for Ruby. A dozen short videos on psychology, too. Yang still felt like she'd just been winging it and getting it kinda right by the skin of her teeth. But if she remembered correctly, a recurring theme was that it was important to validate feelings – and Yang liked to think she'd always been a bit of a natural at that one. "I think…I think it's normal to have those thoughts. We went through a lot because of vampires, and it's scary, and sometimes our best isn't enough." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then added, "But, like…well, you know. There are still more good eggs than bad in the bunch."

It was what Yang kept telling herself, at least, and she did have the data and experience to back up the claim. Feelings weren't always so rational, though. It had taken a long time hanging out with Pyrrha for Yang to ease up on the more violent thoughts and direct her anger on more productive actions.

Yang didn't think Ruby truly hated anyone, not even the vampire that had caused Penny's death. The wound was still fresh, and Ruby was hurt, and of course there would be strong emotions coming into play. Of course she'd start doubting herself.

But Yang would have to be dead and buried six feet under before she let those doubts take root in Ruby like they had in her.

"I know. I think I just needed to get out of my head. I just wish…" Ruby's voice broke, and Yang saw the tears in her eyes.

She didn't jokingly offer anything this time. Comedy, being silly – Yang couldn't resort to that now. So, she just gathered her sister into her arms tightly. "Me, too, Rubes, me, too." And when Ruby held on and sniffed, Yang added, "You'll be okay. It'll just take a little while. But you're gonna be okay."

And then Yang had to separate herself from the moment – disconnect, or else she'd break down, too. Just for an entirely different reason. But right now wasn't about her. She kept holding Ruby, but she peeled herself away until the hug and the situation felt like nothing, until the sound of the music and Ruby's quiet sobs and Yang's own heartbeat all faded into rhythmless white noise, until she might as well have been a spectator in a stranger's body.

Even when Ruby pulled away and wiped her eyes, Yang plastered on a practiced, reassuring mask of a smile. She heard a voice that sounded like her own come out of a mouth that must have been hers say, "I'm always here for you, Ruby."

Summer would have said that. She had said that.

And then she wasn't there anymore.

"Thanks, Yang," Ruby murmured. She tried another small, almost hopeful smile of her own. "I love you."

"I love you, too, kiddo."

Ruby stared at her. And the longer she stared, the more concern etched itself into the adorable crease of her eyebrows.

"What? Something on my face?" Yang asked with a forced chuckle, and she reached over and turned the volume of the music back up again.

"Well…are you sure you're okay?"

This half-truth came even easier than the last. "Just tired, Ruby. Haven't been getting a lot of sleep. I guess I'll be going to bed early tonight." Even Yang's smile felt more genuine that time, too.

Ruby initially looked a little hesitant, but then she nodded. "Yeah, get as much rest as you can. I should, too, honestly, after we're done here."

"Good idea. They say sleep is the best medicine. And then tomorrow we'll both be up and running like normal again."

In the back of Yang's mind, she knew it shouldn't have worked. Ruby shouldn't have believed her. And, really, maybe she didn't. Maybe she'd learned a thing or two from Yang about looking convincing enough. But just as Yang wasn't used to confiding in Ruby, Ruby wasn't used to being the shoulder for Yang to lean on – and, so, maybe she just didn't feel comfortable insisting.

And Yang was grateful about it, regardless of the reason.

She wouldn't even have known where to begin explaining, anyway.

---

Yang pulled the covers over herself and laid down, getting comfortable on her side and allowing her body to slowly decompress. She nuzzled into the pillow and closed her eyes. The weight of emotional exhaustion and several nights of sleep deprivation pressed against her mind and made her muscles feel like lead. Being surrounded by softness like this was already quickly sending her into black oblivion.

But then she remembered.

Her eyes flew open, muscles tensing right back up, and she quickly looked around her room, just in case. There was nothing. She grabbed her scroll from her nightstand and checked the surveillance grid. Also nothing. Her breathing and her heartrate had accelerated, but Yang screwed her eyes shut again, trying her best to force herself to calm down.

Nightshade hadn't shown another sign of life after Yang had snapped at her to leave back at the library. Of course, Yang knew she had also told the ancient that she'd meet with her later – and now definitely counted as later – but it was possible Yang could delay the meeting until tomorrow. And, gods, did she ever want to delay it.

The fact of the matter was: Yang wasn't just scared of Nightshade; she was petrified of her. It was hard for her to admit it, even to herself, especially because she had been fighting vampires for over sixty years and had never experienced this kind of debilitating fear towards them, but she couldn't deny the dread overwhelming her. Ever since she had seen that winged, horned demon-shape made of shadows, Yang couldn't help but believe that was the monster waiting for her – whether it was real or not. But the truth was Yang had never faced a creature she had zero chance against as an enforcer, and with every new piece of information discovered, the beast that was Nightshade just kept growing and sharpening her claws and fangs.

Yang didn't know her weaknesses – if she even had any. She just knew she was Nightshade's next meal, completely at the mercy of her whims.

Yang tried to relax again. Tried to convince herself she could wait until tomorrow. Tried to ignore the threat hovering above her life, waiting to possibly take from her against her will if she withheld herself for too long. And she was so tired that the weight of sleep did begin to press on her consciousness again despite the anxious part of her insisting this was a bad idea. She slipped into sleep…and right back out when her subconscious launched itself into a nightmare about fangs biting into her throat and causing her to drown in her own blood.

Yang sat up straight, chest heaving. She patted and held her neck, making sure she was unharmed. She was going to make herself go insane at this rate. And what if Nightshade couldn't be detected by the surveillance grid, and she just came into the duplex searching for Yang? That would put Ruby, Pyrrha, and Sun in mortal danger.

I have to go. Tonight.

She refused to let anyone other than herself get hurt, and delaying the inevitable was careless and stupid. Yang could not let her fear consume her.

So, with this sense of obligation in mind, Yang forced herself to move. She got out from under the blankets and quietly took off her pajamas, afterwards reattaching her prosthetic to the connector at the end of what was left of her right bicep. After flexing the fingers and checking that it was in functioning order, she set about putting on a proper set of clothes. She did it deliberately, taking much more time than needed in a vain attempt at tricking herself into staying calm – pulling on the jeans and fussing on how high or low they should ride on her hips, adjusting her bra straps several times to get the perfect support, smoothing out creases on the sleeveless brown turtleneck she slid over her head…

Screw this.

The anxiety was too much. She stopped wasting her time and got her extra pair of combat boots from her closet and slipped a leather jacket on. Finally, she wrapped her belt with her gear around her hips and buckled it up, then strapped her guns to her thighs.

Yang rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. Her heart was pounding and it felt like her insides were shivering, but she did her best to at least appear composed. From her scroll, she deactivated the sensors and cameras on her room's side of the duplex, and then headed for the window, opened it, and silently jumped out – taking the front door would have been too noisy and she didn't want to wake anyone.

The cool night air greeted her as she shoved her hands in her pockets and began walking. There was no moon in the clear sky, and light pollution from Vale made it difficult to see any stars. Her breath fogged slightly when she exhaled, and Yang kept searching her surroundings in her paranoia. She fully expected Nightshade to tackle her out of nowhere and feed now that she was alone – after all, the ancient had seemed awfully urgent in her harassment earlier that day. Yang desperately tried to keep her nerves under control, but she swore she kept seeing little movements near the trees or behind the sides of houses. She checked her scroll. There was still nothing. Yet Yang was not reassured.

Where do I go? She knew she had to walk far enough to not be within range of the perimeter Yang and Pyrrha had set up when they had first gotten here. But assuming she did find a place for this, what would she do then? If Yang was being honest, she kind of expected Nightshade to just show up. What are the chances she isn't watching me right now?

Eventually, Yang determined that she was far away enough from the duplex and reactivated the sensors before putting her scroll back in her pocket. She took the metal capsule device from her prosthetic forearm and tossed it. Before it hit the ground, it immediately deployed in mid-air, unfolding and bending and clasping together until Yang's motorcycle was waiting for her on the side of the road.

She glanced around one more time. And froze. There was a shadow, it was quickly rising into the sky. Wings spread wide. Small. Bird. Yang's shoulders sagged with the relieved breath she exhaled. Man, fuck me. She then took another breath and slapped her cheeks a little. C'mon, Yang. You got this. You're Operative Ember! Super strong enforcer extraordinaire. She swung her leg over the seat of her electric motorcycle and ignited the engine. It whirred to life, and then Yang was speeding off into the night with her newly-barely-found courage.

There was an abandoned, dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of Vale. It looked like the kind of place shady transactions happened in, and Yang figured that was as appropriate as it was going to get. Once she got off her motorcycle, she pressed a button on the dash and grabbed the handle, and the bike collapsed in on and reshaped itself until it was back in its metal capsule again, which she inserted into the compartment of her metal forearm.

She then took out her scroll, sighed, and after hovering her thumb over the button for a moment, turned off her location tracking. It was an absolutely terrible idea, but she couldn't afford the others coming here, especially not Pyrrha or Ruby. Yang steeled herself and began walking towards the building. The shivering inside her chest intensified. It felt like something had eyes on her. The prickling on her nape was relentless.

There was a broken window all the way up on the fourth floor – Yang figured nobody ever made it up that high, so she jumped, clearing one floor and a half entirely, and then jabbed her fingers into the metal wall to hang on. It was slightly painful for her left hand, but Yang began climbing with relative ease, making dents for better holds.

She made it to the broken window within just two minutes, and then hauled herself over the sill and dropped into the room inside, boots landing and crunching on pieces of glass. She looked around. It was an office, papers blown everywhere. There was an old desk and a few chairs, some cabinets and shelves along the walls. And, of course, the rock on the floor that had been used to break the window in the first place.

Gods, what am I doing?

Yang turned her back to the door, facing the window, and took a few slow steps backwards. "Alright, Nightshade..." she murmured, because maybe saying her name was some kind of demon-spawn summoning. Yang's heart was racing. "I got out of bed just for you. If you're so hungry, show yourself." Everything in Yang was screaming that she was about to see a winged abomination materialize in front of her – or, somehow even worse, the half-decomposed skeleton – and she was not prepared to face that, much less let it drink from her, not again. She should not have been here. In fact, for the first time ever, Yang wondered if she was better off defecting and spending her life on the run.

Just like her uncle, as it were.

There was a shift in the air. A change in the sound of the silence.

Something had arrived.

Yang not so much saw as she felt the space behind her start swallowing up what little light there was. Clawed black tendrils raking on the walls at the corners of her vision. Something sinister reflecting on the jagged edges of glass left on the window.

Prickling on her nape, chills up her spine.

This was it.

Yang's heart was trying to beat out of her chest, make an escape without her. Still, fighting her fear bit by bit, she slowly turned. The entire back area of the office had become a pitch black void, like everything there had ceased to exist. The shadows were gathering together, the void collapsing in on itself above the desk until it took on the shape of a person casually sitting there, gold irises tinged with red glowing and floating in the space of the head.

Then the figure solidified and the darkness gained color, unnatural shadows and smoke disappearing.

As if nothing reality-breaking hadn't just been there.

It was that woman – the one from Yang's maybe-maybe-not fever dream, the one in the painting at the library. The one with faunus cat ears and the haunting beauty. Except for the beginnings of that fierce crimson, which were a reminder of the deadly threat she represented.

But she wasn't some eldritch nightmare with wings and horns or a ghoul straight out of the grave.

"Why are you calling me Nightshade? I gave you my real name."

Yang opened her mouth but her voice refused to work for a solid three seconds. She just kept staring. But then Nightshade's words registered in Yang's brain. "I hoped I'd been dreaming," she whispered, "or that I'd seen your face somewhere else, somehow." And now she remembered how...gentle and filled with guilt the vampire had seemed then, when Yang had been laying on her bed – like Nightshade had been an entirely different entity. There was a part of Yang that tried to consolidate all of this information together to form a clear picture of who, exactly, this creature was, but her fear was making rational thought next to impossible.

Nightshade – Blake, was it? – nodded. She crossed one willowy leg over the other, elegant and comfortable in her tight pants and heeled boots. Her hair wasn't like in the painting – she had bangs now and she kept the length in tussled layers and waves; a lot more modern, a little more edgy, and another intrusive thought butted into Yang's head. Did she, like…go to a hairdresser for that?

"I did say I would answer whatever questions you have. Shall I do that before or after I've fed?"

This made Yang take a step back, immediately guarded and forgetting any hair-related thoughts. "You almost killed me that first time."

Blake lowered her head, and Yang saw it then – hints of an immortal sadness, a heartbreaking regret, in the laxing of her shoulders and how tightly she gripped her own forearm while her gaze became dull and so, so distant. "I had been starving myself for...decades. It doesn't excuse what I did to you, but I was crazed by hunger. And you tasted..." Blake closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and finished in her exhaled breath, "so unbelievably good." Her eyes opened, and the crimson around the pupils was a lot more obvious now, predatory life returning to them. "I won't take so much this time, I promise."

Yang swallowed hard and balled her fists at her sides to hide their shaking. She supposed the leech meant her words as a reassurance, but they felt like the total opposite. Like creepy stalker vibes, in fact. Should Yang have been believing anything that came out of this vampire's mouth in the first place? It was already so surreal to even be having a calm conversation with this natural killer, like she couldn't just decide to end Yang's life at the drop of a hat. "I need to know why you can only feed from me now. Why not synthetic plasma or blood packs? Why not…others?"

"I used to have willing mortals who would let me drink from them alternatively once every three days, but...well, time has passed. My system automatically adapts to only accept what will ensure my survival for the longest. I drink from you and I'm sated for a little over a week. If I try to go back to lesser...nutritional values...then my thirst just can't be quenched."

"So...it's the dextroglobin?"

"That, and because of my age. A younger vampire could still interchange food sources." She paused, and her expression became closed off, maybe even almost worried. "I'd also like to clarify that I could drink from other enforcers…at least, I think. You smell different, better, than even them. But, either way, you seem to be the only one who would even let me."

Yang didn't say anything to that, just stood there, processing. Shifted her weight. Other enforcers won't do the trick, if what she's saying is true. Because Yang's blood was…a grade higher, or something. Because she'd already been part enforcer before taking the mutagens. She clenched her fists. So, I really am the only one she can feed from now. Shit. It wasn't like Yang knew any other enforcers who were like her. And then, of course, there was the issue of this not even supposed to be fucking happening in the first place.

She couldn't help it, Yang paced in front of the window for a moment and passed her hand through her hair. Blake didn't move, just watched, expression indecipherable. I locked her into this. I did this to both of us by forcing her to drink from me. But she doesn't know… Yang stopped and rubbed her temples, then the bridge of her nose. "Ughh, I'm stupid."

"Well..."

Yang pivoted and glared at the ancient. "I didn't ask for your smartass input. How old are you, anyway?"

Blake arched an eyebrow, and suddenly her expression was way too interesting with that tempting gleam in her irises despite the sarcastic upturn of her mouth. "Our first date, and you're already being so rude. The audacity you have."

Yang blinked, narrowing her eyes as she tried to determine if Blake was actually offended or not. And if she wasn't… Hello, a sense of humor? Very dry, too. And was she flirting? There's no way. What the fuck? Yang frowned. She still couldn't place that subtle accent, either, some of the S's sounding almost like a hush, other consonants occasionally having some kind of extra purr behind them, like her tongue was used to speech that required it to be tense at the back. It was unique – and probably came from a dead dialect because it sounded like no other accent Yang had ever heard. And she'd heard a lot from traveling so much.

Focus! Yang wasn't in the mood to play. This vampire held too much power, there was too much danger. She crossed her arms and only responded to Blake's quip with an unimpressed grimace.

"I don't keep track of my exact age anymore," Blake said with wry, sideways eyeroll, becoming serious again. If she was bothered that Yang hadn't taken the bait, she didn't show it. "Time starts being incredibly meaningless after a while. But I've passed my third millennium."

Third…? She was over three thousand years old. She was over three fucking thousand years old. Blake had lived through the rises and falls of entire civilizations. She had seen Vale, Atlas, Mistral, and even Vacuo, the oldest major cities in Remnant, get built from the ground up. She had been present for the Faunus War some one thousand years ago, had seen humanity enslave and practically decimate her entire species. Chances were that she had been a slave, too, before the revolution. She was a living relic of the past. And Aurora wanted their enforcers to kill her.

It was that moral gray area, and Yang wasn't quite sure where she stood yet – at least, with regards to Blake. She had seen with her own eyes the kind of powers Blake possessed, and those were undoubtedly not the only ones, too. Blake, herself, had threatened something about bleeding the entire city dry, and how that seemed entirely within her ability to do so. She could one day just snap, and that would be the end of thousands of mortal lives within weeks or days – just as Raven and Glynda had explained.

And yet.

Blake was technically at Yang's mercy now. Or Yang was at Blake's mercy. Maybe they were at each other's mercy. Blake needed Yang to feed.

A part of Yang revolted at the idea that had just taken form in her head. Blake had still been mortal once. Despite all that power, all those experiences, back in that alley she had claimed she hadn't done anything wrong in a very long time. But...maybe she was so old that argument had become invalid. Maybe Yang was wrong in still having empathy for this ancient creature, and gaining her trust in order to stab her in the back was the best method of putting an end to her existence...

"You're awfully quiet, enforcer."

Yang returned to the present moment. Blake still hadn't moved, gold and crimson eyes searching and wanting, and the blonde knew it would be foolish to underestimate the intelligence shining there. Yang would have to think about these revelations and implications at a different time. For now...well, it seemed Blake was intent on keeping Yang alive for her own survival, so the enforcer hesitantly stepped towards the vampire. She raised her left hand, baring her wrist, and offered it to Blake. She couldn't stop her shaking.

Blake glanced down at it, then met Yang's gaze again. Hungry, concerned. "Are you okay?"

She might as well have asked if vampires were real. Same amount of pure oblivious absurdity, especially coming from her. Yang scowled. "I didn't realize consent was a concept you knew."

"I don't blame you for thinking so little of me, but I assure you I haven't drank from anyone without their consent, or even killed anyone, since the last time I tried to die. And that was about a millennium ago."

Yang suddenly took her hand away. "Yeah, about that. Care to explain yourself?"

Blake sighed, and there was a low, frustrated growl in her throat despite the desolation in her eyes. "You try existing forever, failed attempt after failed attempt at killing yourself, shouldering the over two-hundred-thousand lives you've taken in your beginnings, and see if you don't grow tired and bitter and desperate for release from all the weight of evil you've done. Maybe you'd try to get someone else to finish you off."

…Oh. Over two-hundred-thousand lives. Eighty-thousand deaths beyond the average amount needed for basic survival over the course of one millennium. Living on and on and on. No, Yang couldn't imagine or understand what that must be like. Couldn't even comprehend the extent of murder being admitted to. But it certainly felt like wanting to die. Yang should not have been anywhere near this monster. "Over how much time?" she whispered, frozen in place.

"All within my first millennium and two centuries, about. After that, I…" her expression softened, saddened – as if that were possible – but there was bitter regret, hate, lighting up her irises now. "…I learned to control myself, finally."

There was a story there. Yang didn't have to be a genius to see it – which was good because Yang wasn't a genius, if any of her recent decisions were an indicator. But that hate did not stem from nowhere, and didn't seem to be directed at Yang, either.

It was a lot to take in. Especially when Blake looked and sounded so truthful, hadn't dodged any questions so far. Maybe it was a bit strange she had been so forthcoming, though, not even hiding the number of deaths she had caused. But, for all intents and purposes, it felt like sufficient information had been given to Yang. So, just like a lunatic, she raised her left hand back up again and said, "Then, fine, you have my consent to drink, so long as you don't take so much that I can't function properly afterwards."

And you, Yang Xiao Long, have entirely lost your mind.

"I won't. And thank you. This won't hurt." Blake's slender fingers came around Yang's hand and forearm, much like she had done back in the alley, except now she was gentle when she pulled Yang's wrist closer to her face. The bracer on Yang's other bicep once again began to burn, and it occurred to Yang that Blake must have some kind of passive charm about her aura because as far as the blonde could tell, the vampire hadn't visibly tried to influence Yang in any kind of way. It was just more insanity to consider that this creature was using power without even consciously trying.

Nervously, Yang watched as Blake first passed the end of her tongue over her skin, causing a tingle to bloom there and goosebumps to race up the enforcer's arm. Yang jerked her hand away, inhaling sharply through her shock and...something else that was wildly inappropriate but a lot more pleasurable. "What the fuck? Don't lick me."

Blake closed her eyes for a moment, going so still it was as if she'd become rock. Even the air seemed to…hang somehow, shadows suspending, silence becoming its own living entity. Yang waited, apprehensive, unsure what was happening. She heard her own heart in her ears thrumming away, pressure in her skull. Then, after a few seconds, Blake's body gradually relaxed and she opened her eyes again, letting out a shallow, barely there, breath, and along with it, the room seemed to exhale, too. Her irises were entirely red, but the gold came back around the outer rim. Yang hadn't ever seen a vampire's eyes do that in real time.

She exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, too.

"…I see that I have more explanations to give you before we try this again. I apologize. I would appreciate it, though, for both our sakes, if you refrained from pulling away next time."

Is that a threat?

But Yang saw it, then – the tension in the muscles of Blake's neck, the tightness of her jaw, the cat ears flat on her head, the very visible fangs behind her lips when she spoke. Not embarrassed – battling for control. Yang gave her a confused, angry grimace. "No, hello? Just don't fucking lick me. Don't be a creep."

It seemed that whatever Yang had done, though, had taken a large chunk out of Blake's patience. The look she set on Yang was deadpan, verging on annoyed. "I'm trying to make this arrangement as painless as possible for you. But, by all means, if you'd rather suffer each time, I'll spare your sensibilities."

This caused Yang to narrow her eyes even more. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Blake made a forward motion with her chin, indicating Yang's wrist. "I've numbed you. Test it, if it'll make you feel better."

It took Yang a moment to assimilate that information, and she didn't try to hide her suspicion as she kept her eyes on Blake. But then she clenched her fist at her side, and she already felt that something was slightly off at her wrist area, still felt a bit of a not-entirely unpleasant tingle. It wasn't like the effects of clinical anaesthetic, where there was a sensation of mush and bloated-ness. She brought her hand up but didn't see anything different, either. So, Yang dug her prosthetic thumb into the skin there, tried to pinch herself, but all she felt was the pressure and smoothness of her metal fingers, no hint of pain at all.

She looked up at Blake again, surprised. "How? Is this something vampires have been able to do all this time?"

"Only me, as far as I know. It's a secretion under my tongue. Cures surface wounds, acts as a type of numbing agent as well."

Yang's eyebrows rose a little higher. Well, that explained the already healed scars after the first time Blake had fed from her and nearly killed her. And how the pain of fangs digging into her flesh had faded after a bit. But as Yang started really thinking about all of that again and reviewing the other things Blake had said about how she fed in the past, something else occurred to her. Yang lowered her hand, gauging the vampire's disposition. While Yang had been thinking, Blake had leaned forward on her elbow against her crossed legs, resting her chin on her palm as she observed Yang. Like she was trying to appear disinterested, unaffected by anything anymore, but her gaze was too intense, too…wanting. The annoyance had gone, though, softening her traits.

Yang decided it was probably safe to ask. "What about your venom? You said you had willing victims. Did they not change?"

As if they'd been willing, too. Nobody in their right mind would be willing.

For some reason, that made Blake wince. She looked down. "It takes active focus not to inject the venom. I can avoid doing that to you again now that I'm not starving, if you'd prefer. But you're immune to being changed."

There was a realization slowly dawning on Yang with each answer Blake gave – and gave without attacking and with continued supposed honesty. Something that challenged everything Yang believed about this creature in this particular instant, challenged a lot of the things Raven and Glynda had said about ancient vampires just yesterday.

It was the fact that, despite their mutual wariness and frustrations, Blake was trying to make Yang feel comfortable. Was trying to let Yang set the terms of how this…arrangement happened.

It was this very weird thing that felt like…well, that felt like how cats dropped dead gifts in front of entrance doors or balconies. Like, cool, thank you for this rare instance of showing you care, but also…what the hell am I supposed to do with this half-eaten rat?

Because Yang was still stuck with a fucking stray now. The half-eaten rat wasn't going to fix that.

And Yang hadn't ever been a cat person.

She rubbed her forehead. Drooped her shoulders. She wasn't shaking in fear anymore. She wasn't even that nervous anymore, either. For all intents and purposes, even if the possibility still very much existed that Blake's motives were nothing but selfish and cruel, the ancient had successfully calmed Yang.

So, she said, "Do whatever's easier for you." She took a short breath and shook her head. She couldn't believe how this was panning out. "Anyway, I think I'm okay now. To let you feed without pulling away again. Unless you have another surprise you'd like to share."

Blake seemed like she actually, genuinely tried to think of something, looking up at the ceiling and then off to the side without changing her position, but then she gave a slight shake of her head. "None that I can think of."

"Okay, then." Yang stepped closer, presented her wrist to Blake for a third time. "I'm good to go." Gods preserve me.

Gold and crimson eyes checked Yang's expression but quickly zeroed in on their mark near Blake's face. She stopped leaning on her palm and uncrossed her legs. When the ancient's fingers came up to hold Yang's forearm again, her touch was even softer than before, almost making Yang be the one to push her wrist towards the ancient's mouth.

If Yang wanted, she could pull away again no problem. And some tiny, twisted part of her wanted to, just to see the reaction, just to prove all her fears founded. To stop hesitating.

Just to make the decision to kill Blake easy.

Blake inhaled deeply, hovering close as if savoring the scent of a freshly cooked meal, and then she opened her mouth and slowly sunk her fangs into Yang's wrist. There was only a tugging sensation, no pain as the blood began to flow. The vampire's cool lips pressed in, fangs carving deeper, and Blake let out a quiet moan and a satisfied sigh between guzzles, eyes rolling shut.

Yang watched, both exasperated and morbidly fascinated by the movements of Blake's mouth and throat as she sucked – because suddenly Yang knew exactly what it would be like to be locked in a heated embrace with her. How her lips would grip. In what ways her teeth could bite. How her tongue would seek and push. The intensity in her passion.

It made Yang feel weak all over. Ready to sink to her knees and just give up.

But then she also felt the venom start coursing through her veins, and her thoughts scattered. It was a substance a little thicker than blood, first cold as ice as it traveled up her arm, then becoming warm and weighty as it reached her shoulder and chest, like she was being hugged from the inside. It relaxed her muscles, slowed her heart, calmed any remaining apprehensions or morbid temptations. Her eyelids fluttered, and soon, before she knew it, before she could stop it, she was tipping forward. She used her other hand to steady herself on the desk, practically leaning into Blake now, her bracer scalding her bicep. In this proximity, Yang registered a smell that seemed completely out of place in this setting – oatmeal skin cream, maybe? And soap. Subtle, clean, gentle. But, of course, there was the sharper, more metallic scent of Yang's blood, too.

At least that sickening reek of sweetness hadn't stuck around. This was a lot nicer. A lot nicer.

Blake scraped her teeth on the puncture wounds, drawing out another few gulps. It went on like this for a while longer, Yang experiencing this as if in a pleasant, floating trance, and the increasing warmth of Blake's mouth should not have felt so good.

But then the leech's sucking slowed, and stopped. Yang felt the flat of Blake's tongue cover her wrist, discovered the texture became almost like wet sandpaper closer to the back, felt and saw her drag it over the holes and tears slowly, and Yang's stomach dropped, clenched. She watched, mesmerized, as the wounds started closing and scarring in accelerated time, a maddening tingle racing up her arm yet again. With each deliberate swipe of Blake's tongue, Yang lost her ability to breathe a little more, the air catching in her throat and refusing to leave her lungs. And Blake's thumbs were softly rubbing Yang's skin where she held her now, causing a mess of contradictory feelings to arise. Desire, anger. Helplessness. Yang's legs trembled and nearly buckled.

And then it was over.

Yang was frozen. She could only stare, once more hypnotized by those vivid, glowing liquid gold irises, especially standing as close as she was. She swallowed with difficulty. If Blake turned and raised her head just a little more…

Blake passed her tongue over her lips, wiping the red from them, still savoring the taste. Her eyes drifted from Yang's throat to her jaw, then her mouth, and she paused. Time seemed to stand still, Yang's heart beating somewhere in her ears, and she felt her pulse in her wrist, insistent and hard. A different kind of tension filled the space between them, and they were much too close for any kind of comfort, yet for some ungodly reason, Yang wasn't moving away.

But golden met lilac, breaking the spell. "I thought you," Blake began in a rich murmur, lightly pushing her palm against Yang's shoulder to put some distance between them, "didn't like me."

Yang did step away then, practically stumbling in her hurry, and held her head in her hands, heart once again racing while heat rose to her face. Time sped back up. "I don't! Stop using your tricks on me!"

"…I'm not doing a single thing to you. You're wearing a ward."

What the hell? Yang clenched her teeth, anger overpowering everything else. It had to be the venom. She shouldn't have allowed Blake to infect her with it. Yang refused to look at the vampire or reflect on the implications of what she'd said. Instead, trying to change the subject, Yang began venting her frustrations. "Whatever! We have to talk about your methods of letting me know you're hungry. Do you have a scroll or something, or are you too old for that? I'd much rather if you just fucking texted me instead of creeping on me like a sociopath."

"Don't insult me," Blake grated, effectively putting an end to whatever semblance of a truce they had managed to come to earlier, and her tone alone was enough to make Yang check her own temper. "I have a scroll, and I apologize for scaring you. I'll give you my contact details."

Yang glared, but stepped a bit closer and took her scroll out of her pocket, enabling her wireless connection. Blake tapped her own scroll to Yang's, and as soon as "Contact Added" appeared on their holoscreens, they put their devices back into their pockets.

Just exchanging digits with a creature old enough to have seen the beginnings of functioning modern-day society. No biggie.

"Next time, I'm sure a hotel room will be just fine for this," Blake muttered. "Or come to my place. You're being ridiculous in your attempt for secrecy. An abandoned warehouse? Are we in a sci-fi holovid –"

"I'm not walking myself into your home to be trapped there, leech!" Never mind that she had apparently already been there before and Blake had carried her out safely (although that was a debatable issue in itself). But a blush crept all the way up Yang's neck in her embarrassment. The bloodsucker had a point. "A hotel room seems like a good compromise, though," she added in a mumble. As long as you're paying.

On a different thought, Blake was willing to give her residence location away that easily? And now that Yang was really thinking about it, she didn't know why she had assumed Blake's home was some inaccessible mansion or strange cave system somewhere. She'd never thought that of other vampires. Maybe Yang had watched too many sci-fi movies as a kid, imagining the apex predator lived differently than everyone else.

Honestly, not Yang's proudest moment.

"Lovely. Now, do you have other questions for me?"

Yang closed her eyes and took a deep breath in before slowly letting it out. She was standing here in front of Nightshade, herself – the vampire she was ordered to kill, the vampire she was supposed to be deathly afraid of, the vampire that had just drank her blood, the vampire that had admitted to murdering over two-hundred thousand people over the course of a millennium and two centuries.

The equivalent of killing three people per day, every day, for one-thousand-two-hundred years.

The notion of that was impossible to comprehend.

And, yet, that somehow wasn't the most surreal part anymore. No, instead, it was the fact that, after the interactions they'd just had, Yang actually felt like she was talking to another person just like her, someone who was a part of modern-day society and who had feelings, too.

Not some ancient, inscrutable being with terrible powers and an entire lake of blood on her hands.

But that was exactly the problem. Blake was that, too. She was Nightshade.

Yang opened her eyes. "What's your real form?"

Blake tilted her head a bit, cat ears leaning backwards. She swept her hand up in front of her body, and Yang's eyes – traitors – couldn't help but follow the motion, couldn't help but appreciate the tight, graceful curves of her hips and slim waist. "This is me."

Never mind that cryptic answer. "But you have a different form," Yang insisted, eyes quickly returning to Blake's face because she refused to be caught dead checking out this vampire. And don't lie to me.

Blake sighed – again – her expression turning into a frown. There was hurt in her eyes, though, and Yang couldn't fathom why. "I have developed a different form, yes, over the last...five or so centuries. It has its uses. It's not my real form, though, as you so graciously put it." She spread her arms a bit. "This is the original me."

Yang took a moment to observe her, the subtle slant of her eyebrows that seemed to have a perpetual, faint furrow of tension at their highest point – less visible with her choppy bangs in the way now, though; the long, dark lashes framing those gold gems, naturally intensifying their look; the soft nose above a criminally tempting mouth – everything about Blake's mouth was plump, promises of tenderness even around the rich ridges defining the heart shape of her lips. Really, truly, a sculptor's masterpiece that kept giving the more Yang stared – because then there were those sharp cheekbones contrasting with the softer curve of Blake's jaw, perfectly smoothing into the oval point of her chin. All of it framed by silky, messily styled jet-black curls, felid ears atop her head betraying some amount of feeling no matter how practiced the deadpan mask was.

There was no denying Blake was unfathomably beautiful, but part of it was…other. Because of being a vampire, because of being ancient – things in her face and in her presence of being were anything but natural. The brightness of her eyes, the marble-like look of her skin, the sheer quiet but impossible power she exuded… Still, she was very much real, and it was now strangely hard to imagine that she had any other form than this.

She didn't even look a hair past thirty, if that, never mind three thousand.

But Yang wasn't supposed to get distracted by a pretty face. She swallowed hard, trying to remember what they'd even been talking about, trying to remember that this pretty face was also death incarnate. She managed, "You tried to kill yourself before?"

Blake nodded her head once, and it was like she was gauging Yang, too, gaze intense and unblinking. "I wish I could die, enforcer, but I'm cursed with instincts for survival that even I can't fight. It doesn't matter what I do, or how much information I divulge. I'm still here, and every single last person who tried to end me isn't."

Yang would have thrown her hands up in disbelief if she wasn't so caught in abject horror at the matter-of-fact admission. Lethal, unkillable, even when trying to die. Imagine what she could do if she had intent to destroy.

Except Yang already knew. Blake had not kept secret the number of deaths she had caused.

It still made Yang wonder about that first night when Blake was hunting her – after decades of starvation, if Yang had just done as Blake had asked...would it have actually worked? What wicked irony, that the vampire SUN wants their operatives to kill actively wants that fate, and survival instincts alone make it impossible.

"So, starve yourself again, then, and I'll do what you asked of me that night."

A very, very, very dangerous glint appeared in Blake's eyes. Purposefully, she uncrossed her legs and stood from the desk. The shadows shifted, moved with and around her – the darkness, itself, orbiting her gravity. Like a lover, touching the edges of her skin, caressing her hair, embracing her body, turning the world off-kilter and redefining the rules of how light scattered. Suddenly there was something else there with her, behind her, above her, spreading its smokey bat-like wings across the entire space like an avenging, fallen angel of death.

Yang took a step back, eyes widening, immediately regretting her words. It was beyond her why it would have triggered the monster if her suggestion was literally what Blake had already tried to do, but Yang wasn't sure she'd ever understand what motivated a monolithic fossil.

Blake continued advancing, and Yang continued backing up, fearful of what was about to happen, but then her boots crunched on glass, and the enforcer knew the window was right behind her. There was nowhere for her to go unless she jumped – and she knew she could survive the fall, but was it wise to bring this out in the open?

"Draw your gun, enforcer," Blake uttered, and there was power in her voice, resonating all around them. She stepped right up to Yang, pools of yellow lava sparking and igniting, and Yang's breath caught in her throat. "Put a bullet in my head."

Yang opened her mouth, tried to say something, but nothing came out. Her hands didn't even reach for her weapons. All she could see was that glowing gold, all she could think about was how little space there was between them. There was a voice screaming inside her head that she had a job she was supposed to do, a duty to keep her friends, family, and the mortal world safe, and that she was failing all of them now. Like a coward.

Raven would sneer, seeing how useless Yang was.

Pyrrha would just…shake her head slowly, look away. Disappointed. Unsurprised.

That vision hurt the most.

Something in Blake's eyes changed – danger becoming razor sharp. She grabbed Yang's gun from her thigh, the one with the UV-C bullets, and unholstered it roughly, making their hips collide for the briefest, electrifying moment when she pulled. But before Yang could gain a semblance of proper composure, Blake took the safety off, wrapped Yang's hand around the handle, and pressed the barrel of the gun to her own forehead.

Her glower was lightning across a stormy sky. "Now pull the trigger. End my undying, wretched existence."

"I –" Yang's heart was beating in every inch of her skin, pounding in her head. She stared, wide-eyed, at this ancient creature demanding death, and her index came around the trigger. She could end this, right here, right now – do what she had literally just told this vampire she'd do. Complete her task. It was what everyone wanted, Blake included. Yang tightened her grip, shaking, and Blake just waited, every bit as defiant as an undead army raised from the void below.

But there was desperation there, too. A grief-stricken longing, a brokenness so great it reached into Yang's chest and cracked her own heart. She swallowed hard, trying to find the motivation, the will to do what was, for all intents and purposes, the right thing...

But all Yang could think about was that Blake wouldn't be here, like this, if she really was a monstrous killer through and through.

If she felt no pain. If she didn't feel regret. If she hadn't already tried to end it in every way she knew how.

If she wasn't lying.

Coward! Traitor!

Tears blurred her vision, and Yang clenched her jaw before lowering her gun. "I can't," she whispered. She dropped her gaze, too, no longer able to look Blake in the eyes. "I can't..."

There was a silence – a heavy, tense silence that settled on and between them like a physical barrier. Yang stared at the shards of broken glass on the floor, furious, panicking about her own weakness. The gun in her hand was trembling. No, she was trembling again.

But then Yang felt cool fingers against her cheek, a gentle caress that lasted just long enough for the vampire to speak – a soft, chilling murmur that hollowed the space between them like the darkest secret. "Until next time, Ember."

Yang gasped and looked up. But Blake and her touch had already vanished into the night.

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