STRANGE TRAVELING COMPANIONS

CHAPTER 1

I

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Though the moonlight should’ve been entirely impartial, the road alone seemed to stand out like a blue snake—it was surrounded by darkness. The leaves rustled restlessly. The wind was picking up.

The road was really a highway. A relatively high number of people and vehicles traveled it by day, but with the coming of night, it became a kingdom of the weird prowled by such famed creatures of the western Frontier as shape-shifting humanoids and matter-changing bugs.

Apparently an unfortunate traveler had invaded their domain tonight. Five or six bizarre silhouettes surrounded a tall figure in front of a carriage way station that sat by the side of the highway. The way station contained bolt-firing pistols, short spears, and longswords that might be used in an emergency, but the figure showed no sign of taking them in hand as he soaked in the hungry gazes of eyes aglow with a green phosphorescence.

What seemed to keep the fiendish forms from immediately pouncing on the man was the cruelty the Nobility had fostered in their creations—the desire to keep their prey in terror until the moment of death. But just then, the voice of the darkness turned that theory on its head as the man asked, “Why do you not come for me?”

By the sound of it, it wasn’t the monsters who were waiting, but rather the traveler.

“Then I shall have to make it easier for you to approach. Come!”

With that last word, another light took hold in the darkness, streaking glows of crimson. In an instant, shadowy forms sprang at him from either side. One was an altered insect. Resembling a giant praying mantis, its body began to transform into something denser in midair, from organic to inorganic . . . to steel.

The light of the moon shot up from below. A body that was intended to repel any kind of attack split like a rotten vegetable, spraying an oily substance as it fell to the ground.

The bloodsucking moth-man who’d simultaneously pounced from the opposite side had phosphorescent flecks of gold flying from his wings as he was ripped right down the center. The scythe-like claws of the former and blood-siphoning proboscis of the latter had never managed to strike home.

“Come!”

In response to the traveler’s second invitation, a thunder beast firmly planted all six of its paws on the ground as it turned its helmet-like head to the heavens.

Pale bolts of lightning struck the man. The air was ionized, and white smoke curled from the earth. Again and again, lightning struck.

The figure raised his right hand. In it, he grasped a black blade with an elegant curve. The sword had a sheen unlike any weapon local travelers, soldiers, or fighting men would ever carry, and from the instant he pulled it out till he held it aloft, it absorbed the lightning continuously. And even after he drove it deep into the thunder beast’s chest, the creature likely never knew what had happened. Lightning crackled around the blade and, as if reading its wielder’s mind, leapt from its tip to the thunder beast’s face.

Spasms gripped the monster. Though it used the electrical discharge in the air rather than from its own body to shock its opponents, the creature didn’t actually have any defense of its own against electricity.

With a pale glow still clinging to the sword, the man raised it high, and then brought it down in a stroke. Though his arms already seemed fully extended, the blade that split the thunder beast’s head in two reached a foot further than it should have.

“Two to go—I wish I could tell you to attack me, but the one I’ve been waiting for has come. Away with you!”

And with that command from the man, the surviving creatures that’d been frozen in place as if awaiting their fate each gave a low growl and immediately vanished into the darkness to either side of the road. They were so incredibly fast that it almost looked as if they’d teleported away.

Flicking the gore from his blade with a single shake, the man slowly looked over his shoulder. At the far end of the highway that ran down from the north, the silhouette of a horse and rider had just come into view. Though the moonlight was bluish, the man on the steed seemed to be robed in a hue far deeper than the darkness. Beneath his wide-brimmed traveler’s hat, a pair of oddly glowing eyes gazed ahead.

Stepping over the thunder beast corpse that lay at his feet, the man moved forward. A blue haze swirled in the middle of the darkness—at least, that was how it seemed. For the man was covered from the shoulders down by a cape the color of the deepest sea. The click that came from the vicinity of his hip was apparently his blade being returned to its sheath.

“Balazs?” the black rider asked from his mount’s back.

“Indeed. How like the greatest Hunter of this day and age to be so punctual,” the man said, although he didn’t seem to consult a watch.

However, the rider had indeed appeared exactly at the appointed time.

“Though I must say,” the man continued, “my body trembled the instant you approached. Otherwise I never would’ve let those last two creatures get away.”

The rider had approached without the man on the ground even noticing his presence until the very last moment.

“From the time I turned onto the highway, you should’ve been able to detect me. I wasn’t trying to go unnoticed,” said the black rider.

With this remark, the man on the ground was made out to be a liar even though he knew all along whom he was dealing with—though it appeared he’d actually been paying the rider a compliment.

Which of them was right?

“State your business,” said the figure in black.

“Will you not dismount at least? I have the most wonderful liquor.”

There was no reply.

Not seeming to take any particular offense, the man continued, “Then I shall tell you. I wish you to see me to the village of Krauhausen.”

The village was on the far edge of the Frontier—a hundred and twenty miles to the west. And it really was the edge, with an ominous chain of mountains miles high towering just beyond it.

“You’re fully capable of going alone,” said the rider.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the figure in blue responded.

His hair was golden and flowing, and his ultramarine eyes possessed great beauty. The moonlight only added to his air of mystery, until it seemed that everything surrounding him was reduced to a blur. Everything save one person—the rider still up in the saddle.

“There is someone in the village who won’t particularly welcome my arrival. As soon as I approach, I’m sure I shall be greeted with violence. Honestly, I don’t believe I can make it on my own. I need your help, D.”

“Tell me why you want me to accompany you. And don’t say it’s because you’re not confident in your own abilities.”

“One reason should already be clear to you. The other I cannot say. But the one who awaits me in the village is a Noble. I want you to destroy him. And that will have to suffice for now.”

D said nothing as he gazed at his strange would-be employer. While it was certainly understandable that someone might want him to dispose of a Noble, refusing to disclose the reason was a grave breach of protocol. From the very start, D’s attitude had been somewhat unusual. He turned his back.

“Please wait,” the figure in blue—Balazs—called out. “I had no desire to expose the shameful actions of my own parents, but it’s unavoidable. The name of the Noble who waits in Krauhausen is Vlad Balazs. He’s my father.”

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The horse wheeled around once more.

“Do not ask me why I would have you execute my father,” Balazs said in a hard tone. “I must see to it that he is destroyed. That is my sole purpose. I can’t allow my power to be whittled away by needless opposition. Although it may be unheard-of for a Vampire Hunter to enter the employ of a Noble, I beg you to break with tradition. Will you not accept this assignment?”

There was no sound—even D couldn’t help but fall silent at this explanation. For a vampire to seek assistance from someone whose very purpose was to destroy them, and furthermore to have as the target one’s own parent, was not only completely unheard-of, it was truly bizarre. What thoughts flitted through the mind of the young Hunter of unearthly beauty?

Presently, D replied, “Okay.”

He spoke from horseback to the other warrior.

“Many thanks,” said the man clad in blue. “I haven’t been out of my castle much. I thought it would be best to leave everything to your judgment for the duration of our journey.”

“Fine.”

“Splendid! Now, for your compensation—”

The figure he mentioned was exactly a hundred times the accepted rate.

“Here’s an advance.”

He pulled a small bag out of his cape and tossed it to D.

Catching it in his left hand, D didn’t even look inside before saying, “Okay.”

The coins were a precious metal worth a hundred times their weight in gold.

“While you’re with me, I won’t allow you to feed on humans. If you should happen to break this condition, I will destroy you on the spot.”

“Understood,” Balazs said flatly. Somehow, his voiced resembled that of the man in black. “Oh, I must be forgetting my manners not to have introduced myself properly. I am Byron Balazs, son of Vlad, the regulator of the western Frontier.”

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II

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Viewed objectively, it really was a strange journey—although the term “earth-shattering” might’ve been more apropos. The employer traveling with the Vampire Hunter was one of the very bloodsucking Nobles he was supposed to destroy. Needless to say, Balazs could only act by night: This was what the baron said should be apparent to D. By day, he rode in a blue carriage drawn by a team of four horses, and his vehicle had been parked off in a nearby forest when he fought the monstrous creatures. Apparently the four cyborg horses had been told to comply with D’s commands, and they followed him meekly.

However, it was plain for all to see that the vehicle belonged to the Nobility. As they went down the road by day, travelers and pedestrians stopped in their tracks with their eyes bugged. Many got off the road and hid. Some even readied their weapons. What’s more, the young man who seemed to be acting as a guide possessed a heavenly beauty that no human could hope to equal no matter how they tried. And it was perfectly natural that this thought should pop into the heads of everyone along the road.

There goes a Noble and his servant.

There were some who served the Nobility that were still living, breathing humans. In many cases, it was a victim whose blood they’d stopped drinking just before the person was about to join their ranks—people who’d dropped off into a kind of hypnotic state highly open to suggestion. However, there were also those who retained their senses and still swore fealty from the bottom of their hearts—in a word, “traitors.” D must’ve appeared to be one of the latter. But the people who thought that naturally had their expressions tinged with perplexity due to D’s incredibly good looks.

Ordinarily, such a pair would travel back roads by day so that they wouldn’t draw much attention and take to the highway by night. Or else they’d sleep somewhere deep in the woods by day and move solely in darkness. If one were to follow the Nobility’s natural disposition, the latter option made more sense. However, D went right down the highway while the sun was shining, and stopped at night.

“Why don’t we go when it’s dark?” the baron asked on the third evening of their journey.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“No.”

“Are you bored?”

“No,” Balazs replied once more.

Undoubtedly the interior of the baron’s carriage was furnished with amusements unimaginable by D. Although the Nobility’s scientific prowess may not have unraveled the secrets of time, it had essentially mastered matters of space.

“In that case, deal with it.”

“You’re in charge. I don’t mean to complain, but considering both our physiologies, wouldn’t it be far less taxing for us to travel by night? It would also be that much easier for you to keep tabs on me.”

Gently raising the brim of his traveler’s hat, D looked at the baron.

Transfixed by that gaze, the vampiric Noble shuddered at the hue of the eyes that threatened to suck him in.

“Do you want me to keep tabs on you?” asked the Hunter.

A thin smile seemed to skim the baron’s lips.

“No.”

“I don’t want you to get the impression that I trust you,” D added in a voice like ice. “My job is getting you to the village of Krauhausen. And if I were a foe who knew you were coming, I’d choose to attack you by daylight.”

“I see. That makes perfect sense,” the baron remarked with a gorgeous grin. Though beautiful, his smile also bordered on ghastly. “Although you may not trust me, I have consummate faith in you, Vampire Hunter ‘D.’”

He then added, “However—”

At that moment, the creak of what sounded like wooden wheels could be heard to the north of the woods where they traveled, coming from the highway. The roar of engines then came in due course—a number of them.

“There are five, counting the carriage,” said the baron. “They’re more than a half mile from here.”

Though the wheels and the engines surely raised quite a din, only the ears of a Noble would be able to isolate each individual sound over such a distance.

“Would you mind if I went?” the baron asked, having already risen to his feet.

“Do as you like,” D replied.

Although he knew there were no homes in the area before he even spoke, in light of the powers the Nobility possessed, it would be hard not to consider the Hunter’s response indifferent . . . or even irresponsible.

Once the baron’s blue cape had vanished into the darkness, D pushed his hat down over his eyes and sat back against the roots of a massive tree to sleep.

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Racing madly down the road was a white carriage drawn by a pair of horses. It was so elegantly crafted, it was apparent at a glance that it belonged to the Nobility—and up in the driver’s seat, a young man was madly working a whip. Yet his visage was as expressionless as a stark white Noh mask, and he didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at the sound of gasoline-powered car engines now less than fifty yards behind him.

As the upright collar of the man’s coat was flattened by the force of the wind, the neck that was left exposed bore a pair of swollen and discolored wounds at the nape—punctures undoubtedly left by fangs. Neither human nor Noble, this being was merely a puppet who moved at the commands of the master who’d given him the kiss of the Nobility—a Cesare.

Although he’d avoided the post towns, he was spotted by a bunch of rustic youths who’d been out playing too long on the back roads, and they decided to give chase. But whether that troubled the driver’s numbed brain or not was difficult to determine.

At that moment, a cold voice linked the youth to the vehicle like a thread.

“Our foes are coming. What in blazes are you doing?!”

With veritable thunder echoing from the wagon wheels, the comment rang in the young man’s head as if it had been whispered right into his ear.

“It’s beyond my power to make them go any faster,” he replied, not seeming particularly agitated. “Mistress, I think perhaps you might—”

“Do you think I would actually sit up there next to a servant and work the reins?” the voice said softly, but she quickly laughed, “Oh, very well. Move over!”

Offering no protests, the young man slid to the right, at which point the roof of the carriage opened smoothly and a figure of pure white appeared in the void. Moonlight gave her the luster of silver.

As the figure moved into the position the driver had previously occupied, the young man reeled backward.

The figure in white—clearly female from the sound of her voice—put one hand to a fresh wound on his neck that had left his head connected by a narrow strip of skin. She was stanching the flow of blood.

Turning her golden brown eyes in a loving glance at the youth who’d been killed instantly, she said, “Now that I no longer have you, I shall have no choice but to do it myself. Hmm . . . I wonder where I shall find my next servant?”

As she pursed her lips, a gunshot rang out behind her. One of her pursuers had fired a conventional rifle. As if on cue, a number of sparks shot from various spots on the carriage.

Without warning, the carriage tilted to the right—the figure in white had suddenly tugged the reins to turn. Though the horses managed the angle, it proved too much for the vehicle. Bolts in the coupler connecting the horses to the carriage blew out automatically, setting the animals free.

The vehicle toppled over. Wagon wheels churned up dust and threw grass from the plains everywhere. Shaking the earth, the vehicle rolled a second time and then a third before settling down.

Less than five seconds later, a quartet of lights came gliding down the highway. Cutting their engines about fifteen feet shy of the carriage, the young men got out of their low-slung motorcars armed with every imaginable weapon.

Their vehicles hardly deserved to be called cars. The bodies were rough frames from easily workable materials like wood and light alloys that’d then been fitted with tires and an engine—in other words, go-karts. Each of them looked well used, with their engine compartments pitch black with soot.

“You figure they’re dead?” asked one of the young men.

“No chance. We’re dealing with the Nobility here. We can’t afford to let our guard down.”

“If we can catch it instead of killing it, it could be more useful later. We could bring it to some research center in the Capital, and I hear they’d pay a fortune for it.”

Compared to other areas, the western Frontier had been relatively free of trouble with the Nobility after their decline. It was therefore understandable that as generations passed, there were more and more people who didn’t know how fearsome the Nobles truly were. These young men didn’t realize that when actually faced with one, their earlier words would count for nothing.

Driven purely by a lust for fame and wealth, the men walked right over to death’s door.

The door opened.

With the creak of hinges, the upward-facing carriage door slowly swung in an arc. From it, something like a white glow popped up, then glided down to stand beside the carriage, where it resolved into a young woman with a white dress and flowing black tresses. She had prim little eyebrows like willow leaves, eyes as dark as a holy night, and a nose and lips that were beautifully delicate, with every tiny wrinkle and crease of the latter so sharp they’d burn themselves into the retinas of all who saw them. The girl’s entire body was also shrouded in white phosphorescence. You could actually go so far as to call it a white flame.

The unearthly aura that welled from her hypnotized the recklessly courageous young men.

One stepped forward with a longsword in hand. He was their leader, and by far the fiercest of the bunch.

It’s just a damn Noble, he told himself, but there was nothing he could do about the tremble in his legs. As if to shake it off, he gave a shout of, “Take that!” and drove his blade into the woman.

They had heard about the Nobility’s immortal nature from their mothers and fathers. Although stabbing such a creature anywhere but through the heart wouldn’t destroy it, it could still prove fairly effective. They would try and grab her while she was still wincing from being struck in the belly—that’s what the leader thought.

Without moving a muscle, the woman took the blade through her svelte abdomen.

“Holy shit!” the young man screamed as he stumbled forward.

Feeling no contact, no physical resistance whatsoever, the longsword sank into the young woman’s form up to the hilt, and then the young man himself slipped right through her body.

“Whatever are you doing?”

Slamming nose first into the ground, the young man snorted angrily but quickly got up again as her voice resounded behind him with naked scorn. He turned around in shock.

The woman’s form had vanished abruptly, but she now stood about ten feet in front of his compatriots, who’d also turned the same way. In her left hand she cradled the man whose head dangled back on the thin strip of skin connecting it to his neck—her driver. Her right hand kept his gaping neck wound covered all the while.

“You—you stupid bitch!”

“Come to me. This time, I shall be the real thing,” she told them, her voice so refreshingly clear, it seemed as if the moon above them had spoken.

Ignorant of what lay behind that tone, all the young men aside from the leader shouldered their rifles. Flames and the booming report of gunfire rocked the night air. Because their ammunition used far more gunpowder than necessary, the heavy rifles kicked their barrels up nearly ninety degrees.

But what shook horribly under the impact of the bullets was the driver’s corpse. Even though the young men realized she was using him as a shield, it still looked to them almost as if he’d stepped in front of the gunfire of his own accord. For a second they were blasted by a gale of sheer terror, and their fingers ceased pulling the triggers.

“I desire a substitute,” said the voice of the unseen girl. It was as if the headless corpse had spoken. “One of you—for the rest I have no use.”

A white blur rose straight up from the corpse’s neck. The five fingers that’d capped the wound had been taken away.

But something sparkled brilliantly in the moonlight as it rose in a geyser. As the youths watched, it spread in midair, billowing against them like black gossamer and staining their bodies with something dark. Blood. The blood of the driver.

There was no sense protesting that the heart pumping his blood should’ve already stopped. The only possible explanation was that it continued working even though his head had been almost completely taken off.

Dyed black, the young men stood paralyzed with disbelief for a while, but each soon gave a dying scream and fell to the ground. The gore that’d rained down on them was no ordinary blood. As a result of coming into contact with the girl’s hand, it had been transformed into a drug of sorts that, on entering the youths’ body, caused a chemical reaction with their blood that in turn formed an unknown but virulent poison. Even their flesh and bones were dissolving.

Ironically, the only one spared was the first one whose skin had come into contact with the black blood. As his friends’ faces and limbs collapsed into piles of offal, the leader could only stare in utter shock.

“Come to me,” said the girl, beckoning to him with her hand. Now no longer necessary, the corpse of her driver had been discarded at her feet.

It was the leader’s good fortune that the girl’s beckoning gesture was done half in jest—she had put no hypnotic power behind it. He still had a means of escape. Pushing his longsword against his neck, he slashed through the carotid artery before the woman’s voice or the gleam of her eyes could reach him.

“Of all the nerve,” the girl said, her voice carrying the first signs of loathing and agitation. “He won’t make much of a servant like that. Now where am I supposed to find another one? But wait—there may be a chance if he’s not completely dead yet!”

As if she’d just had a wonderful idea, the girl raced gaily to the prone form of the leader. So long as he hadn’t died, it would be possible to give him “the kiss of the Nobility” and transform him into one of the living dead. It would be easy enough to get him to do the trivial duties she had for him.

Easily taking away the longsword he gripped, she grabbed the leader by the scruff of the neck and flipped him over. At the time, she didn’t notice the spokes from the broken wagon wheel lying beside him.

The leader opened his eyes a crack.

“How splendid! I hope you shall enjoy serving me.”

Her pale and lovely visage slowly moved closer to the nape of his neck, and a heartbeat later, an unearthly scream gushed from the girl’s mouth. She was going to suck the blood from a half-dead man who could offer no resistance. But in the end, it was this simple act that’d invited her to drop her guard.

Like a curse on the swell of bosom in her white dress, the wooden spokes that’d supported the rim of the wheel were stuck through the middle of her chest. In his dying seconds, the group’s leader had wrung one last bit of strength from himself to drive the jagged chunk of wood into the girl’s torso. Though he ceased breathing almost immediately, he must’ve been satisfied by her screams, because in death his face wore an unsettling grin.

“You bastard! You rotten bastard!” the girl bellowed as she reached for the stake in her chest.

In truth, her wound wasn’t that deep. The young man’s strength had been spent. And yet the girl couldn’t pull it out.

On closer inspection, the wheel had lost its outer rim, and most of the wooden spokes had broken off the hub; a pair was still left sticking out from either side, forming the shape of a cross. A cross-shaped stake.

White smoke poured from the hand that’d grabbed hold of it, and the woman’s skin had melted away.

Unable to say a word, she was writhing when her body was abruptly turned over to face upward. Before her surprise could even register, the stake was pulled out.

“Who are you?” the girl asked. Apparently some of the cross’s effect still remained, as she was barely able to catch her breath.

“I am Baron Byron Balazs,” the figure in the blue cape said, snapping the stake in two and hurling the pieces far away. “What are you doing out here?”

Putting one hand to her chest, where a crimson rose had blossomed, the girl let out an easy breath. She’d recognized him as one of her kind.

Curtsying respectfully, she said, “I am Miska, granddaughter of Duke Cornelius Drake, director of the Southern Frontier Control Committee. And I have certain business that takes me to the village of Krauhausen.”

“What are the odds?” the baron muttered, and the girl seemed to read something in his expression.

“Could it be that you’re headed there as well? If you don’t mind, might I travel in your company?” she asked in a voice that tugged at him with dependency.

“That may prove problematic,” the baron said noncommittally. He wasn’t exactly traveling alone.

“I can’t, then?”

Despair spread across her face like the legs of a black spider, but at that point the girl turned with a start. She’d just noticed that the baron was staring at something.

About thirty feet away, D stood beside a colossal bole.

“And who is this?” the girl—Miska—asked in spite of herself.

His sordid raiment was so mismatched with his elegant features, she couldn’t help but ask. He looked like nothing shy of a Noble.

“This is my trusted escort. He’s known as D.” And after introducing him, the baron asked, “Well?”

He was referring to the matter of Miska.

“D? It can’t be,” the girl said before the man could respond, shock reshaping her countenance. “Vampire Hunter ‘D’—how many times I’ve heard that name. He’s our sworn foe!”

“He’s traveling with me. He’s my partner, so to speak.”

At the baron’s words, Miska’s expression wavered.

“Is he your servant, then?”

“Regretfully, I haven’t laid a finger on him. As I mentioned, he’s accompanying me on my journey to the village of Krauhausen to keep me safe.”

“Impossible,” Miska groaned as she put her fist to her mouth. “A Noble and a Hunter would never travel together . . . I simply can’t believe it!”

“Regarding what I just asked you—what do you say?” the baron inquired.

“She’ll only be in the way,” said D. “We’ll do what we can. But if you’re taking care of her and find you’re unable to keep yourself safe, I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

“Understood,” the baron said with a firm nod.

“You can see how it is,” he told Miska. “I’m sorry, but we have no choice but to part ways with you. You would do well to try to reach some remote locale before dawn. You’d best go now.”

“Do you mean to tell me you, a Noble, answer to a lowly dhampir?” Miska said in a resolute tone. Glaring at D with wildly blazing eyes, she added, “In that case, allow me to ask something of you. I should like you to see me to a safe location.”

Though she made this request without any visible concern, it left the baron in a difficult position. As a Noble, he couldn’t very well leave a lady in distress. However, he had a greater purpose, and in order to achieve his ends, D would prove indispensable.

Miska gazed at the baron with a rather angry look.

“Very well, we shall bring you to a safe area,” he said.

The vitality returned to Miska’s expression—like the stars lighting up the night sky. It embodied what it was to be a Noble.

“However, this is only for tonight,” the baron added. “If I may speak candidly, the journey we’re on is extremely dangerous. Even with this Hunter along for protection, you would probably still be safer traveling alone. I certainly would never leave you to fend for yourself otherwise. I just want you to understand that.”

“Understood,” Miska said curtly.

The baron’s face clouded at the reaction, though it was exactly what he’d expected.

“I realize your position and your terrible plight,” the girl continued. “However, this is unforgivable. If you abandon a frail woman simply because it suits your own convenience, the rest of the Nobility shall surely point at you and jeer till the end of time.”

The baron fell silent. Though he’d expected a remark like this, he found her words had far more power over him than he would’ve dreamt possible. For a few seconds, his thoughts made him want to retch blood.

“We can accompany you for tonight alone. If the code of the Nobility decrees that I’m to be an object of scorn for the rest of my days, then I shall resign myself to that fate.”

Once more, Miska’s expression changed.

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III

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After that, the group raced along for about an hour until an especially deep and black forest came into view.

Reattaching the steeds to Miska’s carriage and helping her inside, the baron then told her, “Once the dawn comes, we must take our leave.”

“Thank you ever so much for going so far out of your way on my account,” Miska replied as if she was reading a prepared statement, and then her carriage sank into the abyss of silence.

Wearing a bitter grin, the baron walked over to D, who stood by Balazs’s carriage.

“Be they Noble or human, someone must look out for women and children,” the baron remarked.

“That girl killed four young men,” said D.

“Surely that was their fault.”

“I’m not blaming her. Even a Noble has a right to defend herself. But if young Nobles had been doing the same thing, you’d certainly have been capable of turning a blind eye.”

“Are you certain we can’t bring her with us?”

“She could be an assassin,” the Hunter told him.

“Impossible!”

“There’s no way to be sure. In this world, anything can happen.”

“True enough.”

“Did you ask her why she was going to Krauhausen?”

“No,” the baron replied with a shake of his head. “Hmm, I suppose that is too much of a coincidence. I imagine going our separate ways truly is the best solution.”

But no sooner had he made peace with the idea than there was the creak of hinges. The door to Miska’s carriage opened, and a white glow stepped down. It was Miska. Without even glancing at the pair, she headed toward the highway with a gait that made it seem like she was swimming.

“What’s that all about?” the baron asked, squinting his eyes.

“Stay here,” D told him before heading off after the glowing Miska.

Though she wasn’t traveling all that quickly and he soon caught up, it almost looked as if a wind whipped up by D drove her forward as she glided along thirty feet ahead like a soap bubble he was chasing.

In a corner of the forest so overgrown even the moonlight never reached it, she vanished abruptly.

D halted. Though it was so pitch black most people wouldn’t see their own hands in front of their faces, his eyes saw the world as if it were in broad daylight.

“I see I was successful in my bid to lure you out, interloper,” Miska’s voice said from nowhere. “I’m quite sure the only reason that gentleman has treated me so poorly is because you’ve been filling him with foolish notions. There’s no other reason why any upstanding Noble would leave a lady behind in her hour of need. You lowly half-blood impostor—here I’ll send you to your maker!”

“So, you’re a lady in distress?” D asked softly. “A woman who would hunt a Hunter—I’m sure you must be terribly frail.”

“Silence!”

And as if in response to her furious roar—a human figure suddenly glowed just ahead of D. It was Miska. Without even seeming to move her feet, she closed on D.

“Interesting,” someone said. It wasn’t D, but rather a hoarse voice from the vicinity of his left hip.

D’s left hand went into action.

Something knifed through the wind and pierced the trees. There was a woman’s gasp, and then it quickly became quiet again. At the same time, the glowing Miska faded.

Bounding to her without making a sound, D took a look at the plain wooden stake stuck in the tree trunk before he spun around. Ahead of him, a black fog had billowed up silently. D’s kicking off the ground and the fog’s enveloping him were almost simultaneous, and it was a few seconds later that a cry of pain arose from the bushes about fifteen feet away.

“You did a wonderful job of seeing through my little deception, but you can’t stop the fog of death. I should’ve expected as much from Vampire Hunter ‘D.’ My carelessness has simply made more work for me,” said the figure in white who’d appeared from thin air—Miska.

Apparently she’d taken D seeing through her illusion into account all along.

“When my blood enters your body, it’ll become poison. Even a Noble can be immobilized for three days by it. But that’s nothing compared to what it’ll do to a miserable dhampir.”

As her feet pattered across the grass to bring her to where D had landed, her right hand clutched an imposing foot-long knife. It was anyone’s guess where she’d kept it hidden up until now.

As expected, D fell flat on his back among the roots of the tree.

“I’m sure the baron will be rather cross with me, but I’m prepared to accept that.”

The girl raised her knife, and then swung it down. But it was stopped cold in midair.

“It can’t be!”

As Miska’s eyes bulged in astonishment, the youth far more lovely than her slowly got back on his feet.

“So, are you the real thing?” D asked.

“Why didn’t my fog of blood harm you? Do you mean to tell me you’re indestructible?”

Of course, Miska had no way of knowing that a faint snicker issued from the part of his left hand that came into contact with her wrist, holding back the deadly blow.

“Kill me,” Miska groaned. Both her lips and her voice quaked. Her spell had been broken by a human/Noble half-breed. For a Noble like Miska, the humiliation was a fate worse than death.

The young man wasn’t the sort of person to pardon anyone who’d made an attempt on his life. Miska would meet her fate here and now.

D’s right hand flashed out as his longsword shot up above his head.

The shadowy figures that’d just leapt down from the tree were bisected before they could cry out, leaving a total of six pieces.

“It’s not over yet,” Miska said as she watched the dark forms. Shockingly enough, it looked like she was enjoying herself.

D also realized it wasn’t over. Even before the half-dozen pieces of the bisected figures sluggishly got up again, he knew there was something wrong from the unusual feel of his blade as it’d gone through them.

“It would appear you have someone else to take care of before you deal with me,” Miska said, her eyes turning to the half-dozen pieces.

The figures didn’t move. Though they’d returned to life, they’d already tasted D’s blade once. But the right hand of each glistened with the cutting edge of a weapon.

Still facing them, D raised his left hand, and then something whistled through the air. Just then, the shadowy figures pounced on him. D’s blade struck down only the first figure. The upper and lower halves of the remainder flew through the air, but they then fell to the ground like puppets that’d had their strings cut.

The leaves trembled, shaking off the moonlight. Seconds earlier, D apparently hadn’t missed the groan up in the tree. The rough wooden needle had found its mark.

“Done playing with your dolls?” D asked as he looked up.

Miska knit her brow. She didn’t understand what D meant.

From the treetop, a mournful voice flowed out, saying, “It figures he’d only hire the best as an escort—you’re the first person to ever find me while I was hidden.”

“So, you’re a puppet master?” said D.

“Aye. Folks call me ‘Mario the Puppeteer.’ Keep in mind; the ones I just threw at you were merely a test. I wonder whether you’ll be able to spot the puppets I use next time,” the voice said, laughing as if its pain were already forgotten.

Once more an arrow of light flew from D’s right hand, and the stand of trees swayed in response.

“We’ll meet again, dashing Hunter! Perhaps next time it’ll be in the depths of hell,” the same voice called from the grove to D’s rear. The treetops rustled noisily before it became quiet again.

D used his hand to bat away what was falling in front of him.

Miska also seemed to notice it, and she said, “Whatever could these strings be for?”

She then looked quickly at the figures lying at her feet and nodded knowingly to herself.

“Say,” she called out to D, but then she noticed something that completely altered her expression. D still had a firm grip on her right wrist. One had to wonder how he’d managed to work his sword or hurl the wooden needles under the circumstances.

Their eyes met. His were still ice, unchanged from when he’d told her he would dispose of her.

“Do you still intend to do something . . . to me?” Miska said, backing away a step.

Terror shot through her from the very top of her head down to the tips of her toes. The Hunter had just released her, and she knew what that had to mean.

Glittering, D’s blade went into motion.

And then—

“Wait!”

The voice was that of Baron Balazs. Crossing the grass, he said, “I came out here thinking something like this might’ve happened. Stop, D! I won’t allow you to lay a hand on this girl.”

“She tried to kill me.”

D’s reply left the baron at a loss for words. Noticing the black shapes lying at his feet, he’d thought that was what had attacked them.

Quickly turning to Miska, the baron said, “That was a foolish thing to do—you must never do so again.”

Miska lowered her eyes at his harsh tone.

D stepped forward.

Somewhat flustered, the baron told him, “Stop it! Dawn will be here soon. Then we part company. Just let her be.”

“Out of my way,” D replied.

“I’m your employer.”

“And what have you employed me for? If you don’t have me around, you’ll be in danger. She was well aware of that.”

“This time, I must ask you to restrain yourself,” the baron said coolly. “Besides, as my guard, you committed a major error.”

“What error?”

“I was attacked just now. See for yourself.”

The left side of the baron’s cape was thrown back, revealing a jagged wound to his shoulder. Due to the incredible recuperative powers of the Nobility, the actual wound had half closed already, but the clothing over it was damp and red.

“They struck at the same time. They must’ve waited for you to leave my side. And as my guard, your failure to realize that was an obvious mistake.”

Although the Nobleman may have been exaggerating a bit, D’s sword returned to its sheath.

“There won’t be a second time,” the Hunter stated, but it was unclear if his remark was directed at Miska or the baron. The young Noblewoman’s shoulders still dropped in relief.

“We’re going back now,” D told him.

The baron was captivated by a strange thought, and he followed the Hunter naturally enough. Although he’d agreed to comply with D’s instructions for the duration of the journey, a Noble would ordinarily never accept such an arrangement, particularly when it involved an employee whose way of speaking and general bearing were light years away from where they should be. Yet he wasn’t at all angry. In fact, he got the impression he could trust the Hunter, and that this was the safest thing to do.

Of course, dhampirs had some Noble blood in them. The empathy that sprang from that connection was actually the biggest reason the Nobility detested dhampirs. A human being with the same regal blood they possessed? Due to these feelings, the highest honor a dhampir could receive was to be treated as a Noble, but for a Noble, the very lowest form of employment was exterminating dhampirs.

At a certain Noble’s mansion in the southern Frontier district, a “head market” was held once a year in imitation of the open-air markets in human cities. Of all the countless severed heads on exhibit there from humans and beasts, the cheapest of all were those of dhampirs—which were sold by the mound. Of course, you could say such excessive contempt only served to betray the Nobility’s mixed feelings about dhampirs.

And the baron probably wasn’t exempt from these emotions. Though he was indispensable where this trip was concerned, taking orders from D the dhampir had to be more than a little humbling to his psyche. Miska’s actions were most likely prompted by this unease as well. And yet, the Noble couldn’t help but wonder if the young man wasn’t something far greater than even he could imagine. The baron had to consciously push back this thought when it suddenly popped into his mind.

“What was your attacker like?” D asked as they were walking.

“Someone made up of flowers.”

“Flowers?”

Not long after D had gone off in pursuit of Miska, a golden pollen-like dust had blown in on the wind. Immediately holding his breath, the baron had seen a figure in all the colors of the rainbow standing just beyond the eddying swirls of yellow. The cape that shrouded the tall figure had spread wide. The reason he seemed to have every imaginable hue was because the body beneath that cape was covered with lovely flower petals. The dust—or pollen—flew from one of his blooms.

The baron had taken cover behind his carriage, but a split second later, more madness assailed him from above. He’d narrowly escaped, though his shoulder was rent wide in the process. The only thing that’d allowed him to get off so lightly was the superhuman reflexes he possessed as a member of the Nobility. He’d quickly looked up to the sky, but even with the lyncean eyes of a Noble, he hadn’t discerned any more than a shadowy winged figure flying off to the south at incredible speed, and the multicolored assassin had also vanished.

There had been two foes.

“Do you know them?” asked the baron.

“The flower character? Yes.”

“Oh, really?”

“He’s known as ‘Crimson Stitchwort,’ and he’s a famous Vampire Hunter in the eastern sectors. Mario, whom I ran into, is one of the top three out west. It seems you’ve got every half-decent Hunter on the Frontier out to get you.”

“Do you suppose I have someone spooked?”

“Only you’d know that.”

The baron smiled thinly, but didn’t say another word all the way back to camp.