Rendezvous Under the Moonshadow

Chapter 7: A Futile Probing

At the end of the parking garage stood an unremarkable, rust-streaked fire door. A crude emblem—crossed bones and a dagger—was scrawled on it in red spray paint, like the shoddy totem of some third-rate gang. Two burly men stood guard, dressed in worn leather jackets, their bare arms covered in meaningless tattoos. Their eyes were hostile, and they radiated a violent "keep out" aura.

Anya could smell a mix of sweat, cheap alcohol, and the faint tang of blood on them. They were human, but certainly not the ordinary, law-abiding kind. They were likely Servitors to some supernatural being, assigned to guard this entrance.

As Seraphina and Anya approached, one of the brutes stuck out a thick arm, blocking their path.

"Hold it," his voice was as rough as sandpaper. "Tourists aren't welcome here."

His gaze roamed over Anya's body, openly lecherous, making her skin crawl with revulsion. The muscles in her waist tensed, and the dagger in her boot felt like it was burning, ready to be drawn.

Seraphina stopped. The hand resting on the small of Anya's back didn't move. She didn't even glance at the man, merely turning her head slightly, her ice-blue eyes flicking toward his outstretched arm.

Just one look.

No words, no gestures.

But the man's body went rigid, as if struck by an invisible bolt of lightning. The muscles in his coarse face twitched uncontrollably. The aggression and lust in his eyes were instantly replaced by a profound terror that seemed to spring from the very depths of his soul. Beads of sweat popped on his forehead, and his arm snapped back with comical speed, as if he'd touched a live wire.

With a soft thud, his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, trembling like a leaf in an autumn wind. His companion fared no better, his face draining of all color as he scrambled backward, trying to melt into the wall.

"Prin… Princess Valerius…" the man on the ground stammered, his voice a choked, trembling sob as he uttered the noble name and title.

Anya stared at the scene in shock. She knew Seraphina was powerful, but she hadn't realized to what extent. With just a single glance, she could make two menacing thugs crumble and kneel in terror.

This wasn't just a display of strength. This was… the absolute dominance of a being at the apex of the food chain over those below.

Seraphina still paid them no mind, as if they were nothing more than two rocks by the side of the road. She guided Anya past the kneeling man, her pace unhurried and graceful.

Only after their figures had vanished behind the fire door did the two men collapse completely, gasping for breath as if they’d just been saved from drowning.

Behind the fire door was a narrow, steep staircase leading down. The air grew thicker, filled with a chaotic mixture of unidentifiable smells—damp mildew, the sour stench of rotting food, the cloying sweetness of cheap perfume, and… the more complex, unique scents of various non-human creatures.

Anya felt as if her sense of smell was being assaulted.

*"Welcome to the 'Nightside'," * Seraphina's voice suddenly sounded in her mind. "Veridian City's garbage dump, and also… its central hub for information and secrets."

At the bottom of the stairs was a wide platform. It must have once been an abandoned subway station, but now it had been transformed into a bizarre, cyberpunk-style underground market.

Flickering neon tubes of every color snaked around the station's pillars and ceiling like veins, buzzing with electricity and bathing the entire space in a shifting, uncertain light. A thin haze of what might have been smoke or vapor hung in the air, making everything seem slightly unreal.

The place was teeming with life—or rather, a teeming menagerie of species.

Anya saw "people" of all shapes and sizes. A curvaceous woman with cat ears and a tail leaned against a stall, licking a lollipop with a forked, serpentine tongue. A group of short, grayish-skinned creatures with huge, hooked noses huddled together, haggling fiercely in a language that sounded like rocks grinding together. A man in a respectable suit had a shadow that was far more twisted and massive than he was.

Others didn't even bother with a fully human guise. A hulking man with the head of a wolf was arm-wrestling a creature with bat wings sprouting from its back, surrounded by a crowd of cheering, betting onlookers.

This was Veridian City's underbelly. A lawless, chaotic haven for Anarchs, exiled Renegades, and all manner of low-level supernatural beings.

Anya felt like she'd just walked into the Mos Eisley Cantina from Star Wars. Every single person looked dangerous and mysterious.

Her blazing red hair and the vibrant, life-filled aura of a high-born werewolf made her stand out like a torch in the dark. The moment she stepped onto the platform, countless eyes swiveled in her direction.

Those gazes were filled with curiosity, greed, jealousy, but most of all… the excitement of spotting a rare piece of prey.

Anya's body tensed again. She'd learned her lesson this time. Instead of growling, she subconsciously pressed closer to Seraphina.

The hand on her back remained steady. Seraphina seemed completely indifferent to the aggressive stares, simply leading Anya deeper into the station at a calm, measured pace.

Her steps were elegant and firm, the silver owl on her cane tapping the ground with a rhythmic thump, thump. Each sound seemed to strike a beat against the hearts of the surrounding criminals.

Wherever they went, the crowd parted like water before a ship's bow, automatically clearing a path for them. The gazes that had been filled with greed and desire were quickly lowered in reverence when they met Seraphina's ice-blue eyes.

In this place, the name of Princess Valerius was clearly more effective than any law.

Anya was led through the chaotic crowd in a posture that was half-protective, half-possessive. She could clearly feel the cold, reassuring strength flowing from the hand on her waist. The cool, clean scent of Seraphina filled her senses, blocking out the foul, murky smells of the market.

The feeling… was strange.

She felt like she was being sheltered under the wing of a powerful and elegant lioness, shielded from all external danger and malice. It was a sense of absolute security she had never experienced before in her life.

She couldn't help but turn her head slightly, stealing a glance at Seraphina.

From her angle, she had a perfect view of Seraphina's profile. Her long, silver eyelashes cast a charming little shadow in the shifting neon light. The elegant line of her jaw was tense, betraying that she wasn't as relaxed as she appeared, but was in a state of high alert.

Anya suddenly thought that this icy woman, who always kept everyone at a distance, wasn't so bad after all.

They finally stopped in front of the most dilapidated, inconspicuous stall in the market.

Behind the stall sat a stooped, monkey-like old man. He wore a pair of thick glasses with a broken frame held together by tape and was hunched over a pile of scrap metal and electronic components, fixing something with an old soldering iron.

He seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings until Seraphina tapped her cane lightly on his counter.

Thump.

The old man's hand jerked, nearly dropping the soldering iron. He looked up, peering at Seraphina through his bottle-thick lenses. When he recognized her, a fawning, fearful smile immediately spread across his wrinkled face.

"Oh! Oh! It's… it's you! My esteemed lady!" he scrambled to put down his tools and get up from his chair, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. "What wind has blown a person of your stature to my humble, filthy 'mole hole'?"

"Cut the theatrics, 'Mole'," Seraphina’s voice was as cool and emotionless as ever. "I'm here because I have business for you."

The old man, now identified as "Mole," rubbed his hands together, his smile growing even more sycophantic. "Of course, of course! It is my honor to be of service. What is it you wish to know? Has some Neonate broken the rules and displeased you? Or has one of those Brujah lunatics been causing trouble in your territory again?"

He was clearly well-versed in the internal politics of vampire society.

"Neither." Seraphina took the small, black metal fragment from her coat and placed it on the counter. "Look at this."

Mole's gaze fell upon the tiny fragment. The smile on his face froze when he saw the profane runes etched upon it. His beady little rat-like eyes, hidden behind the thick lenses, flashed with utter shock and terror.

"This… this is…" He picked up a magnifying glass with a trembling hand and held it over the fragment, examining it closely. Like the brutes at the entrance, sweat began to bead on his forehead.

"Yes. It's exactly what you think it is," Seraphina's voice was as cold as a blade. "'The Hand of Purity.' They're back."

Mole's body convulsed, and the magnifying glass almost fell from his grasp. He put it down, his face paler than a corpse.

"No… impossible…" he muttered to himself. "They… weren't they… completely wiped out? Wasn't their 'stronghold' burned to the ground?"

"It seems a few particularly resilient 'cockroaches' crawled out of that fire," Seraphina’s tone was filled with undisguised killing intent. "And now, they're in my city."

She paused, her ice-blue eyes pinning Mole to the spot. "I need information," she said. "Everything on them. Their hideouts, their members, all their recent activities in Veridian. I want to know who's in contact with them, who's providing them with aid. I want a complete, detailed intelligence network."

An expression more painful than crying appeared on Mole's face. "My lady… you're… you're asking the impossible!" he whined. "The Hand of Purity… they're all genuine madmen! They aren't like those nobles who follow the rules of the Camarilla, or those stupid wolf pups who only know how to fight. They… they are butchers who will stop at nothing! If I investigate them and they find out, I'll… I'll be turned into feed for their Imps!"

Anya's brow furrowed at the term "wolf pups," and a warning growl started to build in her throat again. But she remembered Seraphina's warning and forced it down.

Seraphina seemed to notice her emotional shift. The hand on her back, with an almost imperceptible movement, gave her side a light squeeze with its fingertips.

Anya shuddered, the budding anger instantly replaced by a strange, tingling sensation. She shot Seraphina an annoyed glare, but the vampire wasn't looking at her.

"Your payment." Ignoring Mole's pleading, Seraphina tossed a small velvet pouch onto the counter.

The pouch landed with a soft, heavy clink of metal. The drawstring came loose, and a few ancient gold coins, gleaming with a dark golden light and stamped with intricate patterns, rolled out.

Mole's eyes went wide. The greed in his rat-like eyes instantly burned away his fear.

"Are… are these… Fifth Age… Elven court gold pieces?" he picked one up with a trembling hand, stroking it as if it were a lover. "My god… the purity… the craftsmanship… there's still a residual energy of the… of the Sunwell on them…"

"Three," Seraphina's voice cut through his reverie. "That's the down payment. There will be seven more when the job is done."

Ten Elven court gold pieces.

That price was enough to drive every information broker in the Nightside into a frenzy.

Mole's breathing became ragged. He looked up at Seraphina, his eyes torn between greed and terror.

Finally, greed won.

"...Done!" he said, gritting his teeth as if making a momentous decision. "I'll take the job! But… I need time. Three days. No, five! In five days, I'll have everything you need!"

"Three days," Seraphina said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Same time, same place, three days from now. I will come for my information. If I don't get what I want, or if I find you've tried any tricks…"

She didn't finish the sentence, but the unspoken threat was more chilling than any curse.

"Never, never!" Mole promised, bowing and scraping. "You can rest assured, my lady! I, Mole, have survived in the Nightside for years on my reputation! Three days, I will give you a satisfactory answer!"

"Good." Seraphina nodded, seemingly satisfied. Without another word, she turned and led Anya back the way they came.

Only after their figures had vanished back into the crowd did Mole dare to straighten up. He looked at the gold coins on his counter, enough to set him up for life, then at the ominous fragment with the Bloodthorn mark, and a pained smile, full of greed and terror, spread across his face.

He knew he had just accepted a job that was big enough to get him killed.

…

On the way back, Anya remained silent.

She was still processing everything that had happened. Seraphina's power, her decisiveness, and the almost instinctual way she had protected her.

She had expected Seraphina to "transact" with her using money or threats, like she had with Mole. But she hadn't. She had chosen… a more equal form of "cooperation," albeit one still filled with commands.

And when Mole had been disrespectful, she had… soothed her. Even if the method was a bit strange.

Anya's side still tingled where her fingertips had squeezed.

"What are you thinking about?" Seraphina's voice suddenly broke the silence in her mind.

"Nothing," Anya answered quickly.

"You're lying," Seraphina's tone was all-knowing. "Your heart rate is seventeen beats faster than it was a moment ago. You're either nervous, or… thinking about something emotionally charged."

Anya's face flared crimson. This woman's senses were cheating! She could hear her heartbeat that clearly? Did that mean all her chaotic thoughts were…

No, probably not. She can hear the beat, not the thought. Anya reassured herself.

"I was just… wondering why me," Anya decided to switch to a safer topic. "I mean, why bring me along? You could have handled all this by yourself. I… I didn't really help at all. I almost caused you trouble."

The car re-entered the dark, abandoned subway tunnel. The only sound was once again the roar of the engine.

After a long moment, Seraphina's voice came through again.

It seemed, just for a moment, to be a fraction softer.

"…Because," she said, "you were the one who found the fragment."

"You earned the right to know."

(End of Chapter）