The walk back to the safehouse was silent, but it wasn't the empty silence of the void. It was heavy, filled with the unsaid weight of what had happened in the forest.
Valerius walked her to the rusted steel door of her bunker. He didn't hover. He didn't try to come in. He simply adjusted his cuffs, which were miraculously free of Ghoul blood now.
"Rest, little hunter," he said, his voice soft. "Regenerating takes energy, even for humans."
He turned to leave, his silhouette merging with the shadows of the alley.
Elara stood there, her hand on the door handle. Her chest felt tight. Not from the bruising, but from a foreign pressure in her throat. Logic dictated she go inside, lock the door, and reload her weapons. Logic dictated she ignore the enemy.
But the memory of his hand crushing a heart to save hers was... persistent.
"Valerius," she called out.
He stopped. He didn't turn around, but she saw his shoulders stiffen slightly.
Elara swallowed the lump in her throat. The words tasted like ash. "Thank you."
It was quiet for a second.
Then, Valerius turned. He offered her a smile that didn't have any teeth, any threat, or any arrogance. It was just a smile.
"You're welcome, Elara," he whispered.
He vanished into the night before she could take it back. Elara slammed the door shut and leaned against it, breathing hard.
"Stupid," she muttered to the empty room. "You don't thank the target. You shoot him."
The next morning, Elara woke up with a plan.
Operation: kinetic Trauma.
She had rigged a tripwire at the entrance of her alleyway connected to a claymore mine. Simple. Loud. Effective.
She stood on the roof of her building, sniper rifle assembled, watching the alley. She waited for the familiar figure of the Vampire to stroll in.
He arrived at 9:00 AM sharp. But he didn't walk into the alley. He simply appeared on the roof behind her, leaning against the ventilation unit.
"Good morning," he chirped.
Elara spun around, drawing her sidearm. "You're early. And you bypassed the claymore. That was expensive."
"I stepped over it," Valerius said, dismissing the explosive. He was dressed differently today. No suit. He wore a dark turtleneck, a long charcoal coat, and—strangely—sunglasses. "Put the gun away, Elara. No dying today."
"Why?" Elara scowled, keeping the gun trained on his forehead. "Is it a holiday? Is it National Vampire Appreciation Day?"
"No," Valerius grinned, pushing his sunglasses down his nose to wink at her. "It's date night. Well, date morning."
Elara lowered the gun slightly. Her brain short-circuited.
"Huh?!"
"A date," Valerius repeated, enunciating the word like he was teaching a toddler. "Social activity. courtship. Fun. You and me."
"I am going to shoot you," Elara stated.
"If you do, we'll be late for the reservation," Valerius countered. He walked over and gently pushed the barrel of her gun down with one finger. "Come now. You can try to kill me during the date. I find multitasking very attractive."
Sector 4 had been flooded when the dams broke twenty years ago. Now, it was a Venice of the Apocalypse.
Wooden walkways and pontoon bridges connected the tops of submerged skyscrapers. Bioluminescent moss hung from the rusted cables, casting everything in a surreal, neon-blue glow. Monsters and humans mingled here—a neutral zone for trade.
The air smelled of grilled spices and swamp water.
"This place is a structural nightmare," Elara muttered, scanning the crowd for threats. She was wearing her tactical gear, which stood out against the colorful robes of the merchants.
"It's romantic," Valerius corrected, guiding her by the small of her back.
Elara immediately stiffened at the touch, but she didn't break his arm. That was progress.
They stopped at a food stall run by a four-armed reptilian creature grilling skewers of unidentified meat.
"Two scorp-squid skewers," Valerius ordered, tossing a gold coin to the merchant.
He handed one to Elara. It was still twitching slightly.
"Eat," he commanded gently. "You look pale."
Elara glared at the food, then at him. "I could stab you with this skewer. Right in the eye."
"You could," Valerius agreed, taking a bite of his own. "But then who would pay for the boat ride?"
Elara aggressively bit into the skewer. It was... surprisingly delicious. Spicy, savory, and crunchy.
"Good?" Valerius asked, watching her.
"It's adequate fuel," she lied, wiping sauce from her lip.
Valerius reached out. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, catching a drop of sauce she missed.
Elara's reflexes kicked in. She grabbed his wrist, twisting it violently, and pulled a concealed dagger from her sleeve, aiming for his jugular.
Valerius didn't even spill his food. He caught her dagger hand with his free hand, locking their fingers together. To anyone passing by, it looked like they were holding hands intimately.
"Not in front of the calamari," he whispered, his face inches from hers. "It ruins the appetite."
He slowly pushed the dagger back into her sleeve, then released her hand.
"Fine," Elara huffed, sheathing the blade. "But I'm adding this to your tab."
He rented a small, flat-bottomed boat to navigate the "streets" between the buildings.
Valerius rowed. He took off his coat, revealing the muscles of his arms shifting under the turtleneck as he pushed the oar through the black water.
Elara sat opposite him, her hand resting on the hidden detonator in her pocket. She had stuck a sticky-bomb to the bottom of his seat when he wasn't looking.
"You're staring," Valerius noted, the boat gliding under a canopy of glowing vines.
"I'm calculating the structural integrity of the oar," Elara said.
"You're wondering what it would be like to kiss me," Valerius teased.
Elara scoffed. "I'm wondering how fast you would sink if I blew a hole in the boat."
"The water is toxic," Valerius said casually. "If I sink, you sink. And I don't think your skin regenerates like mine."
Elara paused. She took her hand off the detonator. Valid point.
"Tell me," Valerius said, his voice turning serious. "Aside from the mutilation of insects... what did you like? Before the world ended. Did you like music? Art?"
Elara looked at the water. Reflections of the neon moss danced on the surface.
"I liked silence," she said honestly. "My house was always loud. Yelling. Breaking things. I liked it when I was alone in the basement. It was quiet."
Valerius stopped rowing. The boat drifted.
"Silence is heavy," he murmured. "I have had eight hundred years of silence. It is not peaceful, Elara. It is deafening."
He looked at her, his red eyes soft behind the sunglasses.
"That is why I like you," he said. "You are loud. Your violence, your anger, your resilience... it screams. It drowns out the silence."
Elara felt that strange crawl on her skin again. Not fear, but something dangerously close to being understood.
She hated it.
She lunged.
She leaped across the small boat, tackling him. She wrapped a garrote wire around his neck, pulling tight.
The boat rocked violently, threatening to tip.
"Die!" she hissed, pulling until the wire cut into his skin.
Valerius didn't fight back. He fell backward onto the floor of the boat, taking her with him. She landed on top of his chest, straddling him, the wire dug deep into his neck.
He looked up at her. He was choking, but he was... smiling. "Is this..." he wheezed. "...the second base?"
Elara growled, tightening the wire. "Stop joking and die!"
"You're... beautiful... from this angle," Valerius choked out.
He reached up. Elara expected him to throw her off. Instead, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"But..."
He tapped her wrist. A pressure point.
Elara's hand went numb. She gasped, dropping the wire.
Valerius sat up, rubbing his bleeding neck. The wound was already closing.
"But we have arrived at our destination," he finished, pointing to the dock. "And it would be rude to be late for the show."
Elara sat back on her heels, panting, staring at her numb hand. He had neutralized her with a tap.
"You are infuriating," she seethed.
"And you," Valerius said, helping her up as if she hadn't just tried to decapitate him, "are breathtaking. Come along."
They walked to an old pre-war antique shop that had been fortified against looters. The owner, a blind old man, seemed to know Valerius.
"The usual, Master Valerius?" the old man asked.
"Something special today, Silas," Valerius said. "For the lady."
Valerius led Elara to a glass case in the back. Inside sat a pair of daggers.
They weren't ordinary. The blades were obsidian, black as night, with handles made of white bone. They hummed with a faint, purple energy.
"Gravity-forged," Valerius explained. "Pre-war prototypes. They can cut through monster carapace like butter. And..."
He opened the case and handed one to her. It was perfectly balanced.
"...they are coated in a permanent neurotoxin. One scratch, and it shuts down the nervous system of any living thing. Even a Highborn."
Elara held the dagger. It was exquisite. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"Why?" she asked, looking at him suspiciously. "I will use this on you."
"I'm counting on it," Valerius said. He leaned against the counter, looking at her with that terrifying, affectionate gaze. "If anyone is going to end me, Elara... I want you to have the best tools for the job."
He reached out, his fingers hovering over her hand holding the weapon.
"Happy date night," he whispered.
Elara looked at the dagger, then at his neck, which was fully healed. She gripped the handle tight.
"This doesn't change anything," she said, though her voice lacked its usual bite. "I'm still going to kill you."
"I know," Valerius smiled, and for the first time, he looked genuinely happy. "That's why this is the best date I've had in centuries."