Back to the Underground Club: The Aftermath

Maria and Rachel burst into the living room, dragging Igor between them, his leather-clad form slumping with each step. Ethan, who had been savoring his morning coffee, nearly dropped his mug in shock.

"Bloody hell," he murmured, setting his cup down on the polished oak table. His eyes flickered to the bearded biker, then back to the vampiresses. "What's going on here? Who's this bloke?"

"Later, Ethan!" Maria snapped, her voice a mix of urgency and exhaustion. She and Rachel maneuvered Igor onto the plush velvet sofa, ignoring the crimson stains seeping into the fabric. Igor groaned, clutching his leg, where blood pooled around a gaping wound.

"Shit, he's still bleeding," Rachel muttered, her fingers trembling as she tried to apply pressure. Her once elegant dress was torn, hanging off her shoulder by a thread, soaked in gore. Ethan's gaze traveled from her disheveled state to Maria’s equally wrecked appearance. Torn clothes, smeared makeup, and eyes wild with some untold horror.

"Alright, alright," Ethan said, moving closer, his tone softening. "Let me take a look."

He knelt beside Igor, peeling back the makeshift bandage. Blood oozed, dark and viscous. Igor's face contorted in pain, his breaths shallow. He managed to lift his head, eyes glazed but filled with suspicion. "You... one of them?" he rasped.

"One of what, mate?" Ethan replied, eyebrow raised.

"Vampires," Igor hissed through clenched teeth.

Maria chuckled softly, despite the tension. "No, Igor. Ethan here is a vampire hunter."

"A… a hunter?" Igor's confusion deepened, but Ethan cut him off with a practiced efficiency.

"So many questions and no time for answers. Hold still, this might sting a bit." Ethan's hands were steady, trained by years of necessity. He inspected the wound carefully. "Bullet went clean through. Could’ve been worse. Much worse."

"Are you a doctor?" Igor's voice wavered, weak from blood loss.

"No, just years of practice. Was trained as a basic field medic by Sanguis Sanctus," Ethan explained, glancing up at Maria. "Your turn to help. Lick the wound."

"Huh?" Igor's eyes widened, darting from Ethan to Maria.

"Her saliva," Ethan clarified. "It has healing properties. Quicker than any first aid kit."

"Trust me," Maria added, leaning forward. Despite the chaos, her movements were graceful, almost mesmerizing. She met Igor's eyes, her own glowing faintly. "This will help."

Maria's tongue darted out, tracing the edges of the wound. Igor gasped, a strange sensation overtaking the pain. It was both soothing and electrifying, a paradox of pleasure and discomfort.

"Don't get carried away, Maria," Ethan warned, catching the predatory glint in her eye.

"Relax, Ethan," Maria purred, pulling back slightly. Already, the tearing flesh seemed to knit together slightly, the bleeding slowing to a mere trickle. "See? All better."

"Thank you," Igor mumbled, his eyelids growing heavy. Exhaustion was winning. He barely registered Ethan's approving nod or Rachel's relieved sigh before sleep claimed him, pulling him into a merciful oblivion.

Ethan stood, brushing off his hands. "Right, now that he's sorted, what in blazes happened to you two?"

"Not now," Rachel yawned, stretching luxuriously before she headed towards the bedroom. "I need to lie down…"

"Maria," Ethan's tone was firm, his eyes unwavering. "Your clothes are in tatters, and you're covered in blood. I need to know what went down."

"Fine," Maria relented, rubbing her eyes. "We partied, met some company, including that guy there. Igor. Had fun. Then some Mexican drug gang cornered us in an alley on our way home. Fight broke out. Igor surprised them and drew their fire, saved us both. We fought back and killed them all."

"What? You killed… all- all of them?" Ethan's jaw tightened.

"We had no choice," Maria shrugged, unapologetic. "It was them or us."

"But still-" Ethan began, but Maria shook her head.

"Ethan, I’m dead tired, we’ll talk later." With that, she turned, heading towards the shaded bedroom, leaving Ethan standing amidst the aftermath of their nightmarish escapade as the sun slowly climbed higher in the sky.

Later that day, Igor stirred on the plush sofa, blinking against the muted light filtering through heavy drapes. The room's dimness made it hard to tell if it was morning or evening, but the quiet hum of distant activities reminded him where he was. He shifted, a dull ache reminding him of his leg.

"Shit," he muttered, pulling up his pant leg. Where there had been a bullet wound now resided a pinkish scar, the flesh knitting together in an almost miraculous fashion. It still throbbed but the improvement was undeniable.

"Time to stretch these legs," he whispered to himself, getting up gingerly.

The mansion was labyrinthine, shadows curling around corners and hallways stretching into darkness. Echoes of low murmurs and the creak of old wood underfoot painted a picture of age-old mysteries.

As he hobbled through the mansion, he noticed a series of gasping sounds. He followed the noises to a large, open space—a dojo. Ethan was there, shirtless and glistening with sweat, each movement precise and lethal as he sparred with an invisible opponent.

"Fancy seeing you up and about," Ethan remarked without breaking stride, his British accent lending an odd formality to the casual greeting.

"Leg's feeling better," Igor replied, watching Ethan's movements, the fluidity and control. "Thanks to you and Maria."

"Indeed," Ethan said, finally pausing and wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His eyes, however, remained wary, assessing. "How's the pain?"

"Manageable," Igor admitted, rolling his shoulders. "So… you heard about last night?"

"Bits and pieces," Ethan acknowledged, grabbing a towel. "Enough to know it was messy."

"Yeah, it got wild," Igor agreed, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being under scrutiny. Ethan's gaze was too probing, too calculating. "What? Is there something on your mind?"

"Just wondering," Ethan began slowly, choosing his words with care, "if you’re fully aware of what Maria and Rachel are."

"Well… they’re vampires." Igor stated it plainly. "I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"Quite," Ethan responded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "But there's more to it than just knowing, isn't there?"

"Like what? What are you talking about?" Igor frowned, sensing an undercurrent he couldn't quite grasp.

"Sorry for being straightforward, but… were there any... intimate relations with either of them?" Ethan's tone was neutral, but the question hung heavy in the air.

"Uhm… well, yeah," Igor said bluntly after some consideration. "I had sex with Maria. And I let her feed on me too, if that counts as intimate to you. Why?"

Ethan’s expression flickered, confusion and something else—concern, doubt?—flashing across his face before he masked it with a nod. "I see."

"Is there a problem?" Igor pressed, stepping closer.

Ethan hesitated, weighing his words. "It's nothing, Igor. Just... be careful, alright? They're not like us. They obviously don’t intend to kill you, which is good news. But their kind... they can make anyone their puppet."

“I know that. I’ve seen how they controlled some other guy. Maria tried the same thing on me, but it didn’t work. I make my own choices.” Igor paused before he emphasized his next words. “Don’t get me wrong, dude, I do appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself.”

Ethan studied him for a moment before finally nodding. "If you say so. It’s just a bit weird willingly hanging out with vampires, wouldn’t you say?"

"Ha! To hear that coming from you…” Igor chuckled. “A vampire hunter living with vampires… makes perfect sense, don't ya think?"

"Well that’s different… there's history," Ethan deflected, turning away slightly. "Things aren't always black and white."

"What do you mean?" Igor pushed, unwilling to let it go. "You got some kind of truce going on with them?"

"Something like that," Ethan sighed, clearly reluctant. "I was... zealous. Too focused on hatred. Maria and Rachel, they helped me see things differently. Perhaps, in some twisted way, they're allies against greater threats."

"Greater threats?" Igor echoed, eyebrow raised. "Like what?"

"That's for another time," Ethan said, changing the subject. "Tell me, did your parents ever mention anything about vampires?"

"My parents? What do they have to do with this?"

"Nothing particular, I'm just wondering if they had any idea that vampires actually exist."

"Look, they’re Russian immigrants, if you want to know," Igor shrugged. "They had to work their asses off to make a decent living. We don't talk much these days and especially not about fairy tales. They never mentioned vampires beyond some old folk myths."

Ethan’s expression sharpened. "Are you certain? Perhaps in your younger years?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why?"

Ethan hesitated, then shook his head. "Never mind. It's nothing."

Igor eyed him, trying to find the motive for his unusual questioning, but Ethan left no clues.

"Well then, this was a nice chat," Igor declared somewhat sarcastically, cutting through the tense silence. "I'm starving. Let's get something to eat, if you finished training."

"Of course, I’ll make us lunch," Ethan nodded with a relaxed smile. “Don’t expect our vampire hosts to cook for us feeble humans…”