Noir
Chapter 15

The vampire whirled around, her icy gaze piercing through the darkness, her pale face contorting in anger as she saw us. With a guttural snarl, she threw herself at me, her movements a blur of speed, the air whistling in her wake. I barely had time to react, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, rolling out of the way as her razor-sharp claws raked across my back, leaving a searing pain in their wake. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the sorcerer fleeing through a narrow gap between towering buildings, his cloak billowing behind him.

Crouching low, the scent of damp earth filling my nostrils, I retrieved my star-shaped weapon from my pocket, its cold metal glinting in the moonlight. With a flick of my wrist, I hurled it towards the fleeing sorcerer, the sharp points slicing through the air with a satisfying whistle. And then, a cry of pain pierced the night, the sorcerer's voice echoing through the empty streets.

My head swiveled towards Noir, the sound of his rapid breaths filling the air, his daggers gleaming as they danced through the darkness, striking the now-transformed werewolf in a mesmerizing flurry of motion. The sound of steel meeting flesh reverberated in my ears, as the werewolf let out a guttural, pained cry, its massive form staggering backward.

But even injured, the werewolf remained a formidable opponent. With a swift, sweeping motion, it swiped at Noir with a massive paw, the sheer force sending him hurtling through the air.

I barely had time to register the sound of shattering glass before the vampire was upon me again, her eyes burning with fury. I swiftly dodged to the side, feeling the rush of air as I rolled beneath her outstretched arms. As she swiftly turned back around, I lunged forward, my dagger slicing through the air with a metallic whoosh, aiming for her heart. But she was quicker than I anticipated, her body twisting gracefully at the last moment, evading my attack. The dagger slipped from my grasp, its sharp blade clattering against the ground, and I scrambled to my feet, the cold sweat of adrenaline coating my skin. I narrowly avoided another swipe from her deadly claws, feeling the rush of wind as her hand passed inches from my face.

The werewolf, wounded and in pain, limped toward Noir, its snarls echoing through the air. Its growls were a symphony of agony, filled with a raw, primal energy.

"You should have stayed dead, little witch," the woman taunted, her voice dripping with malevolence as she advanced towards me. Her movements were a deadly dance, fluid and precise, every step calculated to instill fear. I could feel the weight of her gaze, the intensity of her anger radiating through the air, suffocating and palpable.

I instinctively backed away from the woman, my heart pounding in my chest, the rapid beats reverberating in my ears. My eyes darted between the ongoing struggle of Noir and the wounded werewolf, their grunts and snarls mixing with the scent of blood and sweat in the air. They rolled on the ground, the sound of their frenzied battle a cacophony of growls, clawing, and the occasional yelp of pain.

The woman, sensing my hesitation, let out a malicious laugh that echoed in the darkness. "Go on, little witch," she sneered, her voice dripping with twisted amusement. She gestured lazily toward Noir, still locked in a desperate struggle with the werewolf. "Is he not one and the same as what you hunt?"

I took a deep breath, the cool night air filling my lungs, as I tried to steady my shaking hands. The handle of the dagger felt cold and solid in my grip, grounding me in the moment. My Hunter instincts surged within me, a swirling mix of adrenaline and anticipation, responding to the woman's taunting words. But despite the rush, something held me back.

Noir and his brothers, their presence a comforting weight beside me, had taken me in when they could have easily ended my life. Instead, they had offered me a sanctuary, a purpose. The woman's laughter echoed through the night, a chilling sound that sent shivers down my spine. The moonlight glinted off her sharp fangs, making them seem even more menacing.

Her next strike came swiftly, aimed directly at my chest. I reacted on instinct, a burst of agility propelling me to the side. The wind of her movement brushed against my skin, a fleeting touch that heightened my senses. I stole a glance at Noir, still locked in a desperate struggle with the werewolf, and saw the urgency in his widened eyes, silently warning me.

In that heart-stopping moment, hesitation gripped me, but then a hiss escaped my lips as I lunged forward, determined to strike. Yet, the woman effortlessly evaded my attack, her movements fluid and graceful. Noir, finally free from the clutches of the werewolf, sprang to his feet. Our eyes met, and within that fleeting connection, a flicker of approval passed before vanishing. He nodded sharply, a silent command, and in that instant, I knew what needed to be done. With a final glance at the woman, my breath ragged and heavy, I mustered all my strength and hurled the dagger towards her heart. The sickening thud of the blade replaceing its mark reverberated through the air, and her body went limp, lifeless. I stood there, trembling, my chest heaving with exertion. Noir approached me, his expression inscrutable, his presence a comforting anchor.

"You're ready," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the rush of blood in my ears. I nodded, unable to trust my voice in that moment. Yet, a small voice inside my head persisted, whispering that the woman had been right. Noir was no different from the darkness I had committed myself to eradicating. By sparing him, I felt a gnawing sense of self-betrayal.

Noir turned away from me, his footsteps echoing softly against the cold asphalt as he made his way to where the lifeless woman lay. With a fluid motion, he retrieved my dagger, the scrape slicing through the heavy silence. The scent of iron lingered in the air as he wiped the blade clean on the woman's cloak, erasing any trace of the fateful encounter.

"She was right, you know," Noir murmured as he extended his hand, returning the dagger to my trembling grasp. "I am one of them."

My throat tightened. "Why didn't you tell me?" I questioned, my voice barely rising above a breath.

Noir turned his gaze away, his eyes drifting into the distance. "Because I didn't want you to bear the burden of this choice," he confessed, his words heavy with a sense of protection. "I didn't want you to feel compelled to decide." Confusion etched across my features, a frown forming on my brow. "I don't understand," I admitted, my voice tinged with frustration and curiosity.

Noir met my gaze, his amber eyes filled with a blend of sorrow and an enigmatic emotion I struggled to decipher. "You shouldn't have to," he murmured softly, his words a gentle caress against the raging storm within me. A lump began to form in my throat, causing a tightness that made it difficult to swallow. "What do you mean?"

Noir let out a weary sigh, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. "I was born a vampire, but my upbringing was far from typical. Raised by a coven of witches, they took us in as children, providing shelter and guidance after my family was mercilessly slaughtered."

As I listened, the air seemed to grow heavy with the weight of his words. A scent of ancient books and dried herbs suddenly surrounded me and intermingled with the faint metallic odor of blood. Noir's eyes held both pain and gratitude. My eyes questioning, Noir slowly nodded, affirming he had given me the memory of another time.

"They taught us how to survive, to navigate the darkness that consumed us. Through their teachings, we learned to control the monstrous instincts that plagued our existence." His hand gestured towards the lifeless body before us, a stark reminder of the world we inhabited.

"They never encouraged us to kill for sport or pleasure," he continued, his voice filled with conviction. "Instead, they instilled in us the profound value of life and the sacredness of death."