Vampire Hunter D: Dark Nocturne (24 page)

“She'll only be in the way,” said D. “We'll do what we can for her. 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'll have no choice but to part company 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 all the while, 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 now to a safe area,” he said.

The vitality returned to Miska's expression—it was like the stars lighting up the night sky. That's 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 still probably 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 ever 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 putting her inside it, 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 of him like some 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 here most people wouldn't see their own hand in front of their face, 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 in particular. “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. And at the same time, the glowing Miska faded.

Bounding to that spot 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—although 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 of that 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.

D's right hand flashed out. His longsword had 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. At the same time, the shadowy figures pounced on him. D's blade struck down only the first figure. The upper and lower halves of the remainder were flying 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, then the treetops rustled noisily once 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 blunder.”

“What blunder?”

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

The left side of his 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. But 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 ordinarily would probably 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.