#delmi

That word finally caught his attention. He pulled his cloak a little closer around his body, worried that perhaps his weapons may show.

The man chuckled. “Yeah, you weren’t expecting that one, were you? Well, my pal dragged the body back with him and after some investigating, it was revealed that he was from a nearby village that borders the forest. His wife hadn’t seen him in days and he’d suddenly vanished. Some brave lads took up the job of skimming through the forest in the daytime and that’s when the mansion was discovered. There were signs of someone living there, but no one was found.”

“And those who did the search? Have they gone back?”

“Sure they have. Daytime and nighttime. It always seems occupied. Candles lit in the evening, the rooms kept clean...but no matter how long they stake the place out, no one ever shows up.”

Rienmar pulled forth a map and handed it to the man. “Could you point out the location of this mansion on here for me?”

He slowly took the map in his hand while eyeing Rienmar. “Hmm. I don’t really think you’re doing this for research on a book.”

“Believe what you will, sir. Can you point it out to me or not?”

With a scoff, he pointed to a location on the map and handed it back. Rienmar made a mark, thanked the man, and gladly went about his way. He was more than happy to be on the move again and leave this village behind. This bit of information from the man - as odd as he seemed - was enough to encourage him to go on to the village that bordered the forest. The travel time would be long enough. He wished he had a vehicle to use, but the country he was in was less developed and heavily forested, so the easiest way to get around was either by foot or horse. A horse had thankfully been easy enough to acquire. It carried his saddlebags full of his necessities well and was a smooth enough galloper that it didn’t make him worry for his more fragile things.

And so he spent the next two days at a decent pace, coming upon the village late afternoon. As he laid eyes upon it, he felt a slight shiver run down his spine. No matter how many times he found himself in this situation, he always got an adrenaline rush and had to remind himself to think logically and not get lost in the moment. First things first, he needed to gather more information and rest up so that when night fell, he could get on with it.

The villagers, however, were less than helpful. Their voices were shaky and their eyes rarely met his. 

“Oh, the mansion? It’s, um, just an old house from a family that lived long ago. They’re all dead now.”

“Children play there sometimes, they love to play hide and seek there. It makes people think there’s someone living there. I wouldn’t even worry about it.”

“I- There’s a curse on that place, I hear. I’d recommend you stay far away from there.”

Rienmar hummed lowly with mild aggravation as he ate his stew in the inn where he’d paid for a room for the night. Why were these residents being so unhelpful? They denied anyone going missing or dying mysteriously. Were they being threatened? Was whatever entity that was in there holding them hostage, promising to kill them if they revealed them? No matter. He’d gone into situations with less information before.

As the moon rose, he left the inn quietly. He resaddled his horse, patting it on the neck before mounting. He went off into the forest, only a lantern he held lighting his way. He only kept the horse moving at a walk. He wanted to be as quiet as possible and be able to hear around him should he be ambushed. Tension only grew stronger as he saw the lights through the trees. He dismounted and moved closer on foot, peering around the trunks. It was an old mansion, that was certain, but it looked far from run down. Candles were lit inside and he could have sworn he saw a shadow or two move about inside. He removed his cloak and went back to the horse. He had two different pistols holstered on each hip and a belt that contained all sorts of other useful things: two wooden stakes, a vial of holy water, a silver cross, and extra silver bullets. Strapped onto his back was a machete. He set the cloak across the saddle and took the time to tie his hair up. It was time to focus.

He took hold of one of the guns and removed the safety. He kept a tight grip on it and began to rotate around the perimeter, checking the building for additional exits. He dared to wander close to the back and side doors he found and attempted the handles, but both were locked. Front door it was, then. If that was locked as well, it would be time to start checking windows.

Luckily, the door was unlocked. He held his breath as it made a horrifyingly loud creak as it swung open. He stepped as lightly as he could, his ears straining to listen for the slightest movement that wasn’t caused by himself. The foyer was empty. He took a deep breath, expecting to smell dust. Surprisingly, it smelled like fresh air...maybe even wildflowers. There were no shoes or coats hanging, almost no sign of anyone living there.

It was almost like he was walking into the home that belongs in a movie. In front of him were grand stairs that split left and right halfway up, taking one to either side of the house. There were grand rugs over the hardwood floors. Pillars that rose up to the vaulted ceiling, perhaps made of marble? As he was trying to decide which way to go, he could have sworn he heard a whoosh go past his ear. He spun left, pulling the hammer on his gun back, and aimed.

There was nothing there. The small hairs on his ear felt as though a quick breeze had blown by, but there was no indication that anyone had been there. No windows were open and there weren’t any candles that were close enough to have flickered. He reminded himself to breathe.

Whoosh.

Up above!

He lifted his gun, finger ready to pull the trigger-

Nothing… But he could have sworn he’d seen a shadow shift.

Whoosh!

He inhaled sharply. This wasn’t good. There were multiples. He shouldn’t have come alone. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He shifted to turn around when all of a sudden, he met a pair of sly, confident green eyes. He barely had time to start reacting when he found his gun knocked from his hand and a force to his chest shoved him so hard that he fell flat on his back. As he started to reach for his vial of holy water, a heeled boot hooked his wrist and prevented him from moving. He instinctively grabbed the boot and tried to shift it, but to no avail. He dared to glance up into the face of his soon-to-be killer.

The first thing he saw were long and pointed black nails from the hand that rested near the knee of the leg that was keeping him pinned. Short, wavy mahogany hair draped over the shoulders of the person and a pair of fangs protruded past lips that were pulled back in a smirk. “You should be more careful about where you trek, dear hunter,” the woman all but purred.

Rienmar couldn’t help but grin defiantly into the face of death. “Well, I’ve never been one to be too careful. Life’s more boring that way.”

“Hmm. I can’t say I disagree with you there. But now the question is, what should we do with you?”

“I thought there was more than one.”

The woman arched a brow. “I must admit that I’m impressed. Well, Mimi? Taren? What do you think we should do with him?”

Two pairs of footsteps approached, one from each side. To his left, a woman of dark skin stood tall, arms crossed, and a bemused smile on her lips. She had long braids pulled back into a ponytail and her eyes were of a violet color that seemed to fade into a green tone near the irises. To his right, an individual with pale skin (as one would expect of vampires) looked down on him with blue eyes. They had short, silver hair, numerous scars across the exposed skin Rienmar could see, and their left arm was gone below the elbow. This one had seen battles before, that was certain. 

The dark skinned woman, Mimi, hummed as if she liked what she saw. “Well, I could think of a few things.”

“All hunters are the same,” the pale skinned one, Taren, spat. “They only think of killing. So let’s return in kind and be done with it.”

The green eyed woman stood upright, but kept her boot in place. Rienmar didn’t relax at all. “What do you say?” she asked him. “Are you the same?”

His gaze steeled. “If ridding the world of those who murder innocent villagers from elderly to children is all it takes to be classified as a murderer myself, then so be it.”

“Aravae, don’t bother trying to reason with him,” Taren warned with fangs flashing.

Aravae, the woman who currently towered above him, seemed stunned ever so slightly. Or perhaps concerned? Her brows drew together and her lips pursed. “So that’s what you’ve heard, is it?”

“Isn’t that what all vampires do? I’ve never met one who hasn’t killed the sinless in cold blood.”

“Have you ever actually talked with one?” Mimi inquired, taking a step closer to him.

“Delmi, not you too,” Taren grumbled, hand clenching into a fist.

“Just- Hold on. I want to hear his answer.”

“I must admit that you’re the first ones who haven’t exactly monologued or just completely screamed at me while immediately trying to kill me. But regardless, I was careless and if you’re going to kill me, I’d rather quit delaying the inevitable.”

Mimi - Delmi - tilted her head. “So in your eyes, all vampires are just bloodthirsty murderers?”

“I’ve never seen otherwise.”

“Yet you’re still breathing,” Aravae pointed out.

“What are you getting at?!” he demanded, nerves worn thin.

“Are you willing to listen?”

“Are you willing to let me up?”

“Not a chance,” Taren interjected. “Not with how many weapons you have.”

“And you yourselves aren’t weapons?”

Delmi cleared her throat. “Okay, hear me out, everyone. We know you came alone, Sir Hunter. Your gun has been knocked away. We will let you up, you don’t go for it. We stay on opposite sides of the room, and you will hear us out.”

“We don’t need him!” Taren insisted, eyes flashing dangerously.

“But you can’t deny it would be useful to have him on our side.”

They grumbled something unintelligible and threw their hand in the air, stepping back. “Fine. But if he tries anything, I won’t hesitate.”

“Thank you. Now, what about you, Sir Hunter?”

His eyes darted around to each of them. Aravae was hard to read, but it was clear that Delmi seemed a little hopeful and Taren wanted to rip him to pieces. At least they made it sound like they wouldn’t do it right away, so long as he was careful. Given the alternative options, he didn’t exactly have much of a choice. “...Very well.”

Aravae looked to Delmi briefly before moving her boot. Before Rienmar could even blink, the three vampires were across the room from him, as promised. The women looked rather relaxed, considering the situation. Taren was stiff as a board. Rienmar slowly rose to his feet, resisting every screaming urge in him to reach for anything on his person and defend himself. Once he was upright, he took a couple of steps backwards and told himself to not go for his gun on the floor between them. “There. Now...what am I supposed to hear you out about?”

Taren refused to look away from Rienmar, but Aravae and Delmi glanced at each other for only a moment. Delmi gave a small shrug and said, “Just to make you realize that the world is not all black and white. What if I told you we had a deal with the village nearby?”

“If they offer you sacrifices, you won’t kill them all?”

Their irritated groan was simultaneous. Aravae spoke next. “No, typical human. Look, we did not ask to be what we are, but we cannot change. Therefore, we have to try and make the best out of the circumstances we have. The deal with the village is that if they have elderly who are ready for their time or if there are sick who cannot be healed, they are brought to us.”

Rienmar felt almost a painful sting in his chest as the breath rushed from his body. “Wh...what? But, then...how are there not more vampires? Or wait, are there?” He looked around, now expecting an ambush.

“It’s just the three of us,” Delmi assured him. “We are not purebloods, so we don’t have the power to change anyone.”

“But so...the ones who are brought, they…?”

“We drink their blood,” Taren hissed. “We return their bodies to their families so they can bury them. We can go several weeks before we need to feed, so it isn’t like we’re driving the villagers to extinction. In case you didn’t notice, it is full of people.”

“So judging by that, do you think we deserve to be killed?” Aravae inquired.

Rienmar stuttered, at a loss for words. 

“How did you come to hear of us, anyways? We know the villagers haven’t tried to pool money to pay for a hunter.”

“Just...rumors. I… I don’t know what to think about this. What do...you want out of this?”

“A potential alliance,” Delmi replied. “We don’t need other hunters coming that are less willing to listen. We try to live as best we can without hurting anyone.”

He furrowed his brows, trying to remember what he’d heard from the strange man in the village before this. “But there was a man found in the forest with his throat ripped out.”

The three shared a look of...regret? Anger? “Another vampire who intruded on our territory. We disposed of him and explained what happened to his family,” Taren explained.

“Then...the man who vanished, his wife was looking for him?”

Aravae pursed her lips. “He was sick...and he hid it from her. He came to us, knowing he wouldn’t live much longer. Again, we explained it to her.”

Rienmar’s breath was shaky and he began to feel a pounding in his head.

Taren rolled their eyes while Delmi said gently, “We aren’t expecting you to believe us right away. We just...don’t want you to try to kill us, is all. Discussion of details for this alliance we would like to propose can wait until you see that what we’ve told you is the truth.”

He managed to bring his eyes up to Delmi’s and saw that what she was saying had genuinity. He was still at a complete loss, but he managed to ask quietly, “What of my weapons?”

“Take them with you. Come back to us when you have an answer,” Aravae replied.

“And we’ll be watching,” Taren added.

“I...don’t suppose I’ll get a better offer.” He sighed slowly. “As you say. I’ll return to the inn and investigate the village.”

Aravae appeared almost directly in front of him, his gun in her hand. She offered it out to him in her palm. He reached for it at a slow pace, his eyes not leaving hers. Once he took it, she all but whispered, “We’ll be waiting.”

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