The ghoul met its demise in due time, its head getting crushed under Bastien's boot. Its skull split open like a watermelon, the murky, black brain matter splattering the stairs with a 'splat' sound. The deformed body spasmed for a few seconds before becoming still, and only then did Bastien turn around to face the woman.
"Are you alright?"
The woman didn't respond, frozen in place.
The being before her might have an ethereal appearance, a beauty that transcended species, but it was also terrifying, just like the putrid ghoul.
"Ah, don't worry, I won't attack you." Bastien offered a gentle smile as he pointed to Jules downstairs. "See this angel here? He's my friend, and he's the one who sent me over to help you. So, believe me, I don't want you any harm."
Slowly, the words seemed to make their way into the woman's head, and she carefully nodded, not without fearfully glancing at Jules. Was he really an angel…?
Her doubt was clearly written on her face, but the incubus pretended not to notice.
"What's your name?"
"…Sarah."
"Alright, Sarah. Can you stand on your own?"
The woman emitted a sound of acknowledgement as she slowly crawled back up, using the wall as a crutch. She refused to take the demon's offered hand, averting her eyes, and Bastien didn't insist. Expecting a human to fully trust him just because he smashed a ghoul to literal mush, saving her life in passing, would be foolish; that wasn't a reassuring sight in the least, and he could imagine how frightened she must be feeling deep down.
She was brave enough not to show it, however.
"Can you walk down the stairs on your own?"
As if afraid Sarah would misunderstand him, Bastien tilted his head toward the main stairway. The platform between the staircases might be wide, but it wasn't the best rest area, not with all the debris covering the stained rugs.
Despite what the woman said, she appeared unsteady on her legs, so Bastien slowly walked in front of her as they climbed down the stairs, ready to catch her at any time—he wouldn't be surprised if her knees buckled midway. Her whole body trembled in either exhaustion or fear, her hands tightly gripping the rail.
"Took you long enough," Jules commented once they reached him, not even deigning to lift his eyes from his book.
"Dear, it barely took me a minute to get rid of that—"
"That's what I'm saying: you took your sweet time. It should take you less than ten seconds to slay that kind of weak thing."
"Not everyone is a killing machine like you," Bastien chukled, amusement brightening his golden eyes. "If you're worried about me, you should just say so. No need to beat around the bush."
"I'm not worried."
"Uh-huh."
"Could you stop that sickening display of affection and take care of that blood sack's wounds?" Balthazar retched, a hand covering his nose and mouth. "The pungent smell is driving me dizzy! Do something!"
"We're not your caregivers, as far as I know," Bastien clicked his tongue, but still turned around to yet again smile reassuringly at Sarah. "Don't worry about him. He won't dare to try anything, lest he wish to die."
It felt like the cat had gotten the woman's tongue, and all she could do was nod. On the bright side, she wasn't screaming in fear or losing her mind despite her proximity to them, beings that were clearly otherworldly.
A good start.
"But Balthazar is right," Bastien acknowledged. "We should take care of your injuries first and foremost."
"I-I'm not really hurt."
Indeed, Sarah seemed to be quite healthy, considering the hazards filling the haunted house. Her jeans were torn around the knees, and scratches reddened her skin. A few cuts blemished her pretty face, and purplish bruises could be seen on her wrists, the contusions visible when she moved her arms around, pulling the sleeves of her pullover. But otherwise, she was fine; no broken bones, missing limbs, or deep lacerations. It was all superficial wounds easily treated and not life-threatening.
"It's still better to take our precautions, so the wounds don't get infected. We could start by–" Bastien stopped mid-sentence, then awkwardly coughed. "Right, it's not like we have a first aid kit on hand. My apologies."
"No, don't worry about it. It's fine."
A silence then befell them until Jules snapped his book shut, startling Sarah into letting out a stifled cry.
"So? How did you get stranded in this place?"
"Jules. Delicacy."
The hunter responded with a deadpan expression, his lips stretched into a taut line. His piercing grey eyes seemed to be asking: "Why even bother?"
"I'm sorry about that." Bastien pretended not to notice Jules's annoyance and comforted Sarah instead. "My friend can get a little too, let's say, blunt."
"It's a valid question, though," Balthazar grimaced, still pinching his nose—his addiction to the blood of that bastard son of heaven didn't make him immune against hunger, and his stomach was getting agitated, his fangs visibly itching.
"Guys, please!"
Lowering her head, Sarah seemed to hesitate a moment before muttering, "I was at the amusement park with my friends, and we decided to visit the haunted house. Next thing I know, we were already lost in that hell."
"Friends? Where are they now?"
Jules twisted the knife without mercy, and the woman tensed under his scrutinizing gaze.
"We… we got separated."
"Is that so?"
Sarah's bottom lip trembled, staring at her feet and not daring to say anything more. Jules seemed to get the memo and didn't pursue the matter further. Instead, he leaped to his feet, eyeing Sarah as he said, "Shall we move? And try to find those friends of yours."
Again, the woman didn't answer with words and only managed to nod, humming in agreement.
***
Balthazar was in a foul mood, but Jules promptly ignored him, rubbing his finger that had been bitten a moment ago. In any case, the tiny puncture-like wounds were already closing, healing so fast it was barely visible to the naked eye.
"I'm starting to feel like a food dispenser."
"I guess that's not too far off from reality," Bastien chuckled, eyeing Sarah, who was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. "Maybe you should slow down the pace. She can barely keep up."
"And why should I accommodate her?"
"You know why."
Even if Jules knew, he didn't feel like entertaining anyone. Why would he? He had no obligation to.
'Has my ability to feel compassion already started to dwindle?' The fleeting thought crossed his mind as he stared at Bastien, who didn't shy away from staring back. Well, maybe it had. The right thing to do, then, should be to follow along with whatever Bastien said.
"Alright," Jules conceded. "Let's take a longer break."
At first, the hunter hadn't planned to rest for long, just long enough to give him time to feed the vampire. Balthazar had grown restless, thanks to Sarah, and it was better to keep his tummy full before he lashed out. His fits of temper were still a pain to handle.
More importantly, Jules also needed him sane for what was about to come next. The vampire had become an ally out of necessity, but he was a handy one—the hunter would be a fool not to use the perfect tool at his disposal, and let it rot instead.
"Don't worry about me," Sarah forced out. "We can go on. I think I'm recognizing the place, too… I'm pretty sure I got separated from my friends around here."
"If you say so."
It was impossible; the array was a maze that changed appearance now and then. Even the banquet hall they were at a few hours earlier, which was also where the Incubus had fed on the jianzhi, had a redesign in the time they hadn't seen it. If it hadn't been for the discarded jianzhi still lying on the ground, Jules might not have recognized the place.
Perhaps it was better not to tell her, so her hopes wouldn't be crushed, and her lies wouldn't be exposed.
"I recognized that door!" Sarah exclaimed as they walked through a corridor, pointing at a greenish door with a lion knocker on it. "I-I remember my girlfriend going in that one j-just before—!"
She couldn't finish her sentence, tears welling in her eyes. Jules frowned ever-so-sightly. Indeed, it seemed like his ability to feel empathy had taken a turn for the worse.
"Let's check it out, then."
Nevertheless, Jules took a step forward, putting a hand on the doorknob. The other side of the door felt silent, too silent for the haunted house. That kind of eerie quietness was far more horrifying than any wails and screams could be. Something was terribly amiss on the other side; he could already tell that much.
Before opening the door, Jules glanced over his shoulder, and cold words left his mouth, "That thing will not uphold its end of the bargain. You should take cover."
"Eh?"
"Your friends are most likely already dead."
"Jules," Bastien sighed. "Delicacy."
"She has the right to know. There's no point in—"
"Enough," the incubus cut the hunter short.
"My girlfriend is dead?" Sarah asked, tears already rolling down her cheeks, mingling with the dirt and the dried blood.
"I'm sorry," was Bastien's answer.
Soon enough, heartwrenching wails echoed throughout the corridor as the woman collapsed on her knees, her face buried in her hands. She might have led them to a trap, but it was nevertheless painful to watch. If Jules had been in his normal state, he would have shared the demon's thought.
To begin with, Sarah's sudden appearance had been too perfect, as if orchestrated. Even if ghouls were on the lower spectrum, these beings were still strong enough to rip apart an untrained human in seconds.
"We'll be back," Bastien said to Balthazar. "Don't you dare feast on her; be a good boy for once and protect her instead."
"That's if you make it out alive."
Neither Bastien nor Jules replied.
That cunning thing had grown impatient, impatient enough for it to reach out to them; but who were they to refuse its invitation? Playing cat and mouse was a boring game, and neither actually wanted to spend years in this place if it could be avoided.
They might as well take a gamble.