Kiss of the Vampire: The Girl with the Sharp Sword (book of Vampires)
Volume 2, Chapter 14 – Blood Pact and Shadow Fangs
The wheels of the van screeched against gravel as it pulled to a slow halt at the edge of the forest. No gates, no signposts. Just a crude wooden marker with a red ribbon tied around it—faded, fraying, but still untouched.
Captain Ethan Allen stepped out first, his boots thudding softly on the dirt road. He adjusted the strap on his rifle and scanned the treeline, motioning for the others to disembark.
"Stay sharp. No heroics. This is diplomacy, not a raid," he said without looking back.
One by one, the Black Knights emerged. Denver stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles. Alicia checked her custom-built stakes with a grimace. Kliev remained silent, lifting a steel crate from the back with one hand. Maya slipped her blade into her sash. Deyviel was the last to step out—his black coat catching the wind just slightly as his boots hit the ground.
"Yumi," Mizuno called, "Eyes on the trees."
Without a word, the pale-eyed girl vanished into the foliage.
Alicia scoffed. "Vampires who drink blood from government trucks and expect to be trusted. What's next? A demon daycare?"
Emily rolled her eyes. "They're keeping the pact. For now. That's what matters."
"Cut the chatter," Ethan said. "Let's move."
---
The woods swallowed them whole.
As they walked deeper, everything felt… wrong. The trees were unnaturally tall and tightly clustered, their roots coiling like sleeping serpents. The further they went, the darker it became—even though the sun still sat high above.
Deyviel's senses were on edge. He couldn't shake the feeling that the forest was listening. Watching. Not hostile—but wary. As if weighing each of them, judging their blood.
He walked beside Denver, who whispered under his breath, "I don't like this. Feels like a setup."
"No," Deyviel murmured. "If it were, we'd already be surrounded."
He glanced over at Maya, walking just ahead. She hadn't said a word since they entered. Her eyes were scanning everything—but her fingers twitched near the hilt of her blade. She was remembering something. Or someone.
---
After an hour, they arrived.
The sanctuary was a village. Old stone structures covered in moss, with smooth roofs that blended into the treetops. No torches, no guards. Just figures watching from the shadows—vampires with pale skin, clothed in simple robes or travel-worn coats. They stood quietly, without fear or welcome. Like statues in a graveyard.
A tall figure stepped forward. His hair was snow white, and his eyes were a dull gold.
"I am Elden, First Blood of this domain," he said calmly. "You are early."
"We had reason," Ethan replied.
Mizuno stepped forward, papers in hand. "Two unregistered vampires were seen entering your territory two nights ago. One matching the description of Balthazar. The other… unclear."
Elden tilted his head. "We do not keep gates. The forest breathes. Things come and go."
"That's not good enough," Alicia snapped.
Emily shot her a warning glance.
Elden's tone didn't shift. "We do not break the pact. We take only what is given. Blood, peace, silence. That is the deal. If one of the old ones came here… they did not disturb the balance. Not yet."
---
The group was led to an old stone hall, where the weekly blood crates were stored. Everything was accounted for. No signs of theft. No tampering. The cold boxes glowed slightly under magical seal.
But something still felt wrong.
Yumi returned quietly and whispered something into Mizuno's ear.
"There's an old crypt," Mizuno said. "Off the edge of the village. Sealed. Overgrown."
Ethan nodded. "Deyviel. Maya. Denver. You're with me."
---
The crypt was a ruined mausoleum, half-consumed by the forest. Stone steps led into the dark below, vines crawling along the arch like veins.
Deyviel's grip tightened.
There was blood. Old… but familiar. Faint trails, barely dried.
As they descended, their footsteps echoed into a silence too deep for nature.
And then…
A whisper.
Low. Barely audible.
A voice—no, two. Conversing. Faint, yet layered with power.
Deyviel froze.
One voice was calm, like frost breaking glass.
The other—ancient. Not deep, not loud—but old. Soaked in cruelty and memory. A voice he'd never heard, but instinctively feared.
They turned the corner—
And saw nothing.
Just a stone floor, cracked. A broken chain. A smear of blood.
Maya stepped forward slowly, then stopped.
On the far wall, carved deep into the stone, was a symbol—a sigil of war, older than any vampire kingdom.
Denver whispered, "...That's Talagbusao's mark."
The crypt trembled slightly. A heartbeat beneath stone.
Ethan stepped back. "We're leaving. Now."
No one argued.
As they climbed out, the forest seemed quieter. Too quiet.
As if whatever had been there… was now awake.
Black Order High Command – Philippines
Beneath the old military complex in Nueva Ecija, behind ten layers of armored gates and enchantment seals, the underground war room of the Black Order hummed with quiet urgency.
Holograms glowed across the long obsidian table—each representing a region currently under watch. Some red. A few blinking orange. One in the far north, marked "Luzon Highlands," was flashing.
General McDougal, built like an armored tank in a clean-cut uniform, slammed a thick folder on the table as he addressed the room.
"This is the fourth reported incident in less than two weeks," he began, voice gravelly but commanding. "Another patrol unit gone silent. Border outpost torched. Survivors say they were attacked by rogue vampires wearing no crest, speaking an older dialect—pre-empire."
He looked up.
The room was silent.
The President of the Philippines, a silver-haired man in a worn barong, rested his hands on the table and leaned forward. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed the weight he carried.
General McDougal's fingers tapped against the polished obsidian table. One beat. Two. Then he stood.
"I'll make this clear," he said, voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "This isn't a debate anymore. The time for trust has passed."
He turned to the monitors behind him, where maps of various blood pact territories flickered with warnings.
"Fourteen rogue attacks in less than two months. Neutral grounds breached. Supply convoys intercepted. Survivors found drained. And not once—not once—have Erebus' so-called 'kin' offered us names or warnings."
He looked directly at Erebus.
"We gave you the seat at this table. We expected leadership. What we got is silence."
Erebus's golden eyes narrowed slightly. His tone, low and ancient, rumbled with buried weight. "You asked me to keep the clans calm. Not to leash them. That was your first mistake."
General Monica leaned forward. "The old bloodlines don't fear Erebus. They revere him. There's a difference. Reverence doesn't win wars. Authority does."
Ben's gaze never left the two.
The President interjected, diplomatic but firm. "The newly appointed Generals—Rivera and Tanaka—will serve as military liaisons for national defense zones. Our priority remains the civilian population."
Rivera, sharply dressed and clearly uncomfortable in the room full of killers, nodded. "We're suggesting a unification of communication between civilian enforcement and the Black Order."
Tanaka added, "We need visibility. The people are scared. Rumors about Catherine returning… about vampires organizing again—it's spreading like wildfire."
General Arthur muttered under his breath, "The people should be scared."
McDougal shot him a glance but didn't disagree.
---
General Elric, dressed in ceremonial robes with enchanted silver embroidery, finally spoke up. "I've been tracking movement through old ley lines. There's arcane interference near the sanctuary Deyviel's team is visiting. Something old is stirring. Not chaotic like Balthazar… something colder."
Ben's head lifted slightly at that.
He spoke, finally breaking his silence again.
"If it's Catherine, she's not just hiding. She's preparing."
Monica nodded. "And Balthazar follows her. Always has."
Ben leaned back, arms crossed. "But if Talagbusao is back… this isn't about reclaiming the vampire throne."
He let that hang in the air.
Then continued, "It's about something worse."
---
There was a pause. Every leader in the room felt it—that silent weight pressing against the walls, as if the shadows themselves were listening.
General McDougal walked slowly to the edge of the holographic map.
"Our hunters are stretched thin. Our pacts are unstable. And we're watching the birth of a new shadow empire from the ashes of the last one."
He turned around.
"I want all blood sanctuaries reviewed within forty-eight hours. If there's even a whisper of Catherine or Talagbusao, I want boots on the ground."
"To the press," he added, looking at the President, "we say it's heightened border monitoring. But privately—"
He turned to Monica, Arthur, and Elric.
"We prepare for containment protocols. Lock and load."
He looked at Erebus.
"If your people get in the way, I won't ask again."
Erebus's voice came as a low growl. "Then make sure you don't mistake my people for monsters… until you've met the real ones."
---
Ben stood from his seat, the quiet motion somehow heavier than anyone raising their voice.
He walked to the edge of the table, eyes cast down over the maps, then lifted them to McDougal.
"Send more than guns," he said.
"Send someone who's not afraid of dying."
McDougal raised an eyebrow. "Are you volunteering?"
Ben offered a faint, dry smile. "Already did. You just didn't read the fine print."
He walked off without waiting for permission.
---
As the war room descended into movement—orders being drafted, teams being reassigned, data surging in—General Elric looked toward the monitor showing Deyviel's team location.
The signal was clear.
But the screen flickered.
Just once.
Like something else had passed through it.
A handprint, faint and bloody, appeared against the glass for only a moment—then vanished.
Elric blinked. No one else seemed to see it.
He said nothing.
But something old had been watching.
And it remembered every name in that room.
Meanwhile back at Deyviel's team
The forest didn't welcome them back.
Not really.
As Deyviel and the others emerged from the crypt, the air had changed. He noticed it instantly. It was cooler—still, but tense. Like the world itself was holding its breath.
Denver broke the silence first. "That symbol… it shouldn't exist anymore."
Maya didn't answer. She hadn't spoken since seeing it. Her fingers hadn't left her blade since they entered the crypt, and even now, her eyes stayed locked on the treeline. Watching. Listening.
Captain Ethan Allen raised a hand to halt them.
They weren't alone.
High above, near the moss-covered roof of an old watchtower, stood a figure. Barefoot, dressed in simple robes. Her skin pale as bone, her eyes completely white. She looked down at them not with hostility—but with a quiet, haunting stillness.
One of the locals.
One of the so-called peaceful ones.
Ethan stepped forward, voice calm but clipped. "What's your name?"
She didn't answer.
Her mouth opened just slightly—and the sound that came out wasn't words.
It was a whisper carried on wind.
"Leave."
Denver raised a brow. "That's all? Not even a thanks for checking if your crypt's hiding an ancient war god?"
Still no response.
The wind picked up.
Then, a quiet shuffle.
Yumi reappeared beside the squad, crouched low, breathing light.
"Two strangers. I caught scent trails. Recent."
Mizuno stepped forward. "Where?"
"North path. They're moving. Not hiding."
Ethan turned to Elden, the vampire elder who had welcomed them earlier. The old vampire now stood at the edge of the square, hands behind his back.
"You told us no guests passed through."
Elden's face remained composed. "I told you we do not gate the forest. That is not the same."
Alicia scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"They entered by choice. Just as you did."
Kliev's hand moved to his weapon. "And if they're who we think?"
Elden's eyes finally narrowed. "Then your problem is no longer diplomatic."
Emily gently touched Alicia's arm. "Let's not start something unless we have to."
But it was already starting.
From deep in the trees, a howl cut through the silence.
Not loud.
Not savage.
But clear.
One of the humans in the squad stiffened. "That wasn't a vampire…"
Deyviel moved. Quiet, slow. Instinct taking over.
He stepped toward the treeline. His boots crunched softly on the moss. One hand hovered near his sword, but he didn't draw it.
Denver moved with him.
They reached the edge of the northern path—overgrown, ancient, nearly devoured by nature.
There were footprints.
Two sets.
And they weren't fading.
The pair was still close.
Maya caught up, her voice low. "We should move. Quietly. If it's Catherine—"
Ethan cut in. "We regroup first. This isn't a solo op."
But Deyviel didn't move.
His eyes were fixed on something near the trail's edge.
A tree—wide, blackened at the roots. Its bark split with time.
Pinned to it by a blade was a cloth. Black silk. Stained with crimson.
On it was a symbol.
One Deyviel didn't recognize.
But Maya did.
Her breath caught.
"That's his banner."
"Whose?" Deyviel asked.
She answered without turning.
"Talagbusao."
---
They returned to the village square faster than they left it. Everyone was on edge now.
Yumi had vanished again, scouting ahead. Alicia was pacing. Kliev stood like a stone statue.
Mizuno barked orders, but quietly. She knew what this meant.
The vampire sanctuary wasn't neutral ground anymore.
Emily checked her comms. "No signal. Something's jamming us. Magical interference."
Captain Ethan exhaled slowly. "We're pulling out. This isn't a recon anymore. This is a war site."
"But the two trails—" Deyviel started.
"I said pull back."
He didn't like it. None of them did.
But protocol was clear.
They started moving back toward the van.
---
Halfway through the forest path, Yumi reappeared—her cloak torn, breath ragged.
"They're gone," she said quickly. "The two—Catherine and the other. I'm sure it was her. The scent is unmistakable."
"Where?" Maya asked sharply.
"South. Toward the human borders."
Emily looked up. "Then they're not hiding anymore."
Captain Ethan didn't hesitate. "We report. Now."
Mizuno gave a sharp nod.
Deyviel glanced back once toward the sanctuary.
The villagers had vanished from sight.
Not hiding.
Just watching.
He met the eyes of Elden once more—who hadn't moved an inch.
This time, the old vampire offered a slight nod.
A farewell.
A warning.
Or both.
---
They loaded into the van.
No one spoke during the first stretch of the drive.
The trees seemed to lean closer as they left. Branches brushing against windows. Like claws dragging softly along the metal.
Alicia finally muttered, "I hate this place."
Denver smirked. "You hate every place."
"This one more than most."
Deyviel sat beside Maya. Her eyes were locked on the window, hand clutching the edge of her seat.
He leaned slightly. "What was that symbol? The one in the crypt."
She hesitated.
Then said quietly, "It's not a symbol. It's a calling mark. He used it before going to war."
Deyviel stared ahead.
He didn't know who he was yet.
But the fear in her voice said enough.
---
The van rolled down the path, away from the sanctuary.
Back toward the world.
But something unseen still lingered in the trees.
Watching them go.
Waiting.
Meanwhile at the far head across the mountains.
Ruins Beneath the Moon
The moon hovered low, tinged red at the edges like it had tasted blood.
Wind rustled through the broken pillars and collapsed statues of what was once a city—now reduced to stone husks and roots. The forest hadn't reclaimed it. It had avoided it. As if even trees knew not to grow near what had been buried here.
Catherine walked barefoot across the cracked marble, her long silver hair flowing behind her like a trail of light in the gloom. Her eyes, cold and ageless, scanned the ruins with purpose.
Beside her, Balthazar's heavy footsteps echoed through the dead plaza. Unlike her, he wore plated armor over his long coat, etched with scars and blood runes. His voice was like grinding steel.
"Are you certain it's here?"
Catherine didn't look at him. "I saw it once. In another life. A gate with no lock. Only a name."
Balthazar glanced around. "This place reeks of old blood."
"They all do," she whispered.
They passed a mural—half-destroyed, its images worn but still legible.
A god-like figure, weeping dark ichor, towering above kneeling beasts and burning skies.
Catherine paused, placing her hand on the wall.
"Before the first empire… before the first kings…" she murmured. "They sealed the door here. Beneath their bones. Buried the key inside the bloodline that betrayed them."
Balthazar stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Then we'll tear it from the earth. From them."
Catherine's gaze softened, but not with kindness.
With sorrow.
"Not yet."
She turned and continued forward—past a shattered altar, over a cracked bridge, toward a pit of stone stairs that spiraled deep into the ground.
The deeper they went, the less the wind followed.
Only stillness.
And something… breathing.
The bottom opened into a wide chamber, circular, the ceiling lost to darkness.
Catherine stopped.
At the center of the chamber stood an altar made of black bone.
It pulsed faintly.
She approached it, slowly, reverently, as though touching it would wake something older than time.
"This is the place," she said. "This is where the gate sleeps."
Balthazar unsheathed his blade. "Then let's wake it."
Catherine held up a hand.
"No. Not yet."
She kneeled before the altar. Blood had dried in the cracks of the stone—centuries old.
Her eyes closed.
"I need to remember the name."
Balthazar frowned. "Whose?"
Catherine opened her eyes.
And in that moment, her voice shifted.
Not hers.
Deeper. Otherworldly.
"The one who waits behind the stars."
The chamber trembled.
A sound—not a roar, not a whisper—a memory of sound echoed from the walls.
Far behind them, something moved in the dark. Not footsteps. Not breath.
Just presence.
Balthazar turned slowly, his eyes glowing.
"What is that?"
Catherine stared straight ahead.
"He's listening."
And then—etched into the altar, faint and pulsing—a mark appeared.
A symbol none of them should remember. A sigil erased from time. Burned into the world itself.
And above them… something stirred in the blackness overhead.
Not a shape.
Not a shadow.
A smile.
Without form. Without light.
A grin that spread across the ceiling of the chamber—vast, grinning, unseen except by the soul.
Catherine whispered,
"He's almost here."
---
End of Chapter 14