Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me. I'm really poor.

So here is a big update on this story. Hopefully this keeps everyone satisfied for a while. While I already have plans for the next part of the story, I might try working on my other stories, so it this one may not update until after then. Maybe.

Anyway, this might not be as action heavy as people may be expecting. I also acknowledge that the ending of it may probably be frustrating for others because of what happens after all the teasing and all, but the story will continue. Also, don't forget to review and comment. I don't tend to answer questions in reviews, only sometimes, but you can shoot me a message if you really want an answer.

Also, working on the new Scrivener beta on windows really made it much easier for me to type this all out. I just hope it doesn't break what I write when it updates.

Maria braced herself. She dug her heels on the ground, her blades raised as she was pushed back by the Aard sign that the witcher used to push her away. As the force of the sign grew weak, she had to leap back when the long claws of a higher vampire almost cut through her neck. Regis snarled at her and tried to close the gap between them, however, after claw and blade clashed, it became clear to the vampire that her strength was not in anyway lacking compared to his. Once she was pushing him down, it became even more clearer that it was his own strength that was lacking.

Before he could be overwhelmed, Lambert came to his aid, slashing downward with his steel blade to separate the woman from him. As he got to his feet, he noticed that his claws, which were supposed to be harder than normal steel, was nicked by Maria's blades.

"Amazing…" he couldn't help but say.

Eskel came forward and brought his own sword skills into play against Maria. He twisted and twirled, moving his sword in such a smooth and deadly motion akin to a dance. However, each and every one of his careful and accurate strikes were blocked and parried easily, he himself ending up pushed back after blocking a heavy strike.

The battle had left little of the collection of warehouses around them. Most were shattered and broken, with whatever items they had in them strewn about throughout the dirt ground. Some of the larger pieces were even on fire, smoking and crackling. It had not even been two minutes and already the destruction around them was devastating.

At the beginning of the battle, they had managed to surprise Maria, who was unfamiliar with the witcher signs that Eskel and Lambert used against her. Their Yrden signs slowed her great speed, making it difficult for her to attack them, though she was now able to maneuver around the signs. It didn't take long before she was able to grasp around their other signs as well, adapting to them at a frightening pace as the fight went on. Against the vampires, she was a lot more accustomed to fighting, able to see through their movements that seemed to fast for the naked eye.

When Eskel used Quen to block her strike, she quickly drew her pistol and fired, causing the barrier to crack and collapse around the stunned witcher. He would have been impaled right there and then if it were not for Orianna stepping in slashing with her own claws at Maria, who deftly avoided them and took a moment to step back.

"Dammit…" groaned Eskel as he straightened himself up. "She's getting used to the signs."

"Tell me about it," agreed Lambert. "We've only fought for a few minutes and it already seems like she can predict our moves pretty accurately. I don't think Vessemir covered this in his lessons."

"We have to flee." Orianna acted more cautious and fearful than they did, never taking her eyes off Maria for even a moment.

"Why?" asked Lambert. "I'll admit she's a lot more impressive than I gave her credit for, but she's the one who's getting cornered."

It was true. Though Maria was fast and strong, incredibly so, taking on two higher vampires and two witchers at the same time was not to her advantage. Just as she'd been adapting to them, they too were slowly catching up to her movements. With them cooperating in their attacks, it wouldn't be long before they had her at the end of her ropes.

"You haven't seen her get serious as of yet," hissed Orianna. "Once she does, it will be more difficult for us to defeat her. Our advantage in numbers will diminish."

Maria relaxed and lowered her blades.

"Huh? Think she's giving up?" observed Lambert.

"Stop her!" Orianna screamed.

She flipped her blades in her hands, raised them up and pointed them towards her torso.

Surprisingly, Lambert and Eskel had both followed Orianna's command with no hesitation. They had both dashed in a burst of speed and quickly closed the gap between them and Maria, locking their blades just underneath the hilts, preventing Maria from pushing them down on her.

"Are you crazy?!" Lambert grunted as he pulled against her, his and Eskel's swords screeching against Maria's blades.

Using their arms as leverage, Maria flipped herself over them, booting Lambert in his face and narrowly missing Eskel's with her other.

"Fuck!" Lambert nudged his broken nose back into place with his free hand. "This is the thanks I get for saving her life? Talk about ungrateful."

Regis attacked Maria who was now flanked between them. He tried to stab her with his claws, almost touching her open back, though she spun on her heels and attempted to impale him on her blade. If Orianna had not yanked him back from behind, he'd have surely been done.

"Oh my…" Regis gulped after seeing a clasp on his tunic cut clean. "That would have been rather unfortunate."

"Try to be more careful, Regis," said Orianna. She turned to the witchers and shouted, "We can take her down as she is right now, but do not let her impale herself with her swords!"

The witchers didn't question her and simply nodded.

Maria leveled her blades at eye level, the edge of each facing two of her opponents as she could do nothing but wait as they inched closer towards her, trapping her. She threw one of her blades at Eskel, the witcher ducking down to avoid it. When the vampires moved to strike her, she took out a round bottle from her coat and threw it at them. The bottle struck the ground and burst into flames, causing the vampires to stop in their tracks. She then rushed the two witchers, feinting out Eskel with her blade and striking out instead with her free palm that laid the witcher sprawled on the ground.

Lambert signed Aard to push her back, however, she quickly stabbed her blade to the ground and held herself firm with both hands on its handle. Once Lambert saw her reach for her Evelyn once again, he quickly changed his sign to Quen to protect himself. With a bang, her quicksilver bullet collided with the magic barrier, shattering it as well but failing to wound him. She had expected it, though. She just needed it to distract it long enough for her to get close to him.

"Urrghkk!" Lambert struggled as Maria raised him by his throat with one hand, gripping tightly. As tall as she was, and with her strength, it was an easy feat for her.

"If you see yourself a hunter, then may you find a dream to which you hopefully wake," she said softly as she prepared to finish him off with her blade.

A flash of light and a thunderous roar broke out. Lambert fell back on the ground coughing, nursing his neck and wondering what had happened. He saw one of the houses beside him smoking and battered, in a state much like the warehouse he'd crashed through earlier was. Underneath the piles, he could see Maria's limp and unmoving body.

"No one chokes my witcher but me!"

"Keira?!" He was surprised as his lover worriedly rushed beside him.

The sorceress was quick to check on him, patting him from top to bottom, including his privates, as if she had thought they might have been missing for some reason. After a satisfied nod, she pulled his neck towards and ravished his lips. After that loving moment, their lips parted and she slapped him hard on his cheeks.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"What happened with meeting up with the boys?!" she demanded.

"Uh, well…"

"Later, you two." Geralt walked up to them, Eskel leaning on his shoulder. "Business first, pleasure later. Regis, you two okay back there?"

The two vampires reverted back to their regular human forms. Regis looked quite happy to see him, whilst Orianna remained wary, keeping an eye on the spot where Maria lay.

"We're fine," said Regis. "A little singed but none the worse for wear. That molotov she used was most unusual."

"I shall be more than fine once I've dealt with her." Orianna brought her claws out and was about to go over and finish Maria, but Geralt stopped her. "What are you doing? Once she comes back to her senses, she'll not leave us be. Better to solve this problem, right here and now."

Geralt simply shook his head. "Can't let you do that. Our job is take her in alive."

"Are you mad, witcher?!" she practically screamed. Her eyes glowered in fury. "Have you any notion of how dangerous she is?!"

"Hmm… about as dangerous as letting a higher vampire walk away?"

That seemed to have put the fire out of Orianna. She simply drew a long breath, then regained her composure. Still, that didn't stop her from giving Geralt a hateful glare of disapproval.

"So…" said Eskel. He separated from Geralt and finally stood on his own feet. "What are we going to do with her? Not gonna be easy moving her out of here unseen. Those witch hunters are gonna be waiting for us. To check if we've dealt with the vampire problem."

"Yes," nodded Regis. "I don't believe they'll take too well to us hauling their unconscious guest right in front of them. We won't be able to move her without getting spotted. That is unless you plan on us forcing our way through them."

That action would put a whole slew of other problems for them. As bigoted and overbearing as they may be, the witch hunter order was still currently one of the most influential organizations spread throughout Redania. They may not have the best of reputations, but many people still see them as a force of good. Mostly by humans. Fighting them on the grounds of kidnapping a guest of theirs, who some folk had taken as a saint, while also helping in the escape of a higher vampire known to drink the blood of orphans… It certainly would not paint Geralt and his comrades in good light. They'd be persecuted and hunted down in every major city and village across the country.

"Wait. I got an idea."

Lambert had a mischievous smirk on his face. He was staring at the broken down warehouse where the others had stayed at before the fighting had demolished it completely.

Geralt frowned as he seemed to understand. "Don't tell me…"

"So it all comes back to this," Lambert chuckled.

"Settle down, folks. The slums will be quarantined for a little while longer. Be patient."

The witch hunters and city guards stood at guard over the perimeter they made around a section of the slums, trying to keep the people from getting close. Residents from the slums and other parts of the city were worriedly talking of the loud disturbance that had been happening ever since the soldiers had made the blockade. While the witch hunters had tried to suppress panic about information of a vampire hiding in the city, rumors of it had spread thoroughly among the masses, causing rising tensions among the people.

"What's going on?" asked one of the peasants. "Why did we have to leave our homes?"

"I have to get supper ready soon for my children," said a woman.

"Why are witch hunters here too?" asked another. "Does it has something to do with all the noise?"

Silas, one of the old and well-known city guard that patrolled the slums, addressed the crowd. Seeing him put the crowd at somewhat at easy, as he was, for the most part, better than the other guards that belittled the slum folk. He used to live in the slums as well, so they put a little more trust into him.

"There is no need to be alarmed," he said. "Just cleaning out a vermin that had made its way here. It'll all be over soon. We've specialists on the job."

The crowd murmured to one another of their thoughts.

"Vermin? What kind of vermin would need to quarantine a whole district?"

"Rat infestation maybe?"

"Specialists?"

"Witchers," spoke a beggar. "Saw two of them went in I did. Two swords on their backs and all."

The murmurings grew louder. Everyone knew what the appearance of a witcher meant.

"It's the vampire!" shouted a woman hysterically. "I heard them talking about it at the inn! It must be!"

"A vampire? In the slums?!"

"Should we really be here?! What if it escapes?!"

Rising panic soon started to spread through the crowd at the thought of the presence of vampires. The murmuring turned into noisy chatter, eliciting fear among the people. The guards and witch hunters, seeing them grow restless, tried to calm them down.

"Order! Order!" shouted Silas. He could see that they were close to starting a riot.

One of the guards shoved a man that had gotten too close.

"Everyone keep back if you know what's best for you!"

That action just caused the crowd to turn their fear and high-strung tension towards them.

"Why are you hurting him? What have we done to you?!"

"Aren't you guards? Why aren't you in there helping those witchers kill that vampire?!"

"Do your jobs and protect us!"

Silas could see his own men and the witch hunters grow agitated, some of them grabbing the hilt of their swords. He cursed inwards, already anticipating that even without the vampire there, someone would be bound to get killed. As much as he hated it, there were plenty among their ranks that thought little of taking the life of those in the slums. All it took was one hothead to pull out his sword for any sort of excuse and everything would turn chaotic.

Thankfully, it didn't turn out that way.

"What's going on here?" Geralt walked up behind them, leading ahead of Eskel, Keira and Lambert. The two witchers behind him hefted a large, dirty sack on top of their shoulders.

Everyone grew silent at their arrival. The guards and witch hunters pulled back to let them through, carefully observing them.

"Witcher?" Silas was relieved to see them. "Is it done? Have you finally killed it?"

"Dead as a doorknob!" Lambert patted the sack. "No more bloodsucking fiend here! Now, if you don't mind, we really have to get going."

Silas was relieved at the news. Even if the news of the vampire was already out, there would no longer be any panic or discord since the vampire had already been dealt with. He was about to order his men to make way through the crowds for them, but one of the witch hunters came up to them.

"Wait," he said, blocking their path. "We can take the proof of the bounty here. I dunno why you bothered bringing the whole body here, but it doesn't matter. We can escort you back to the captain afterwards to make claim on your reward."

Silas frowned. He really wished they would just do that somewhere else. He'd rather not see the grotesque figure of such a monster so near supper time.

When the witch hunter tried to pull the sack open, Geralt grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned.

"Why not?" asked the witch hunter testily. "We have to make sure you killed it. You can't just expect us to pay without proof?"

"This one's a higher vampire."

"So what?"

"It doesn't die so easily. If you pull off that sack, it might just come back to life."

Silas backed away, and so did his fellow guards and those who were close enough to hear. The witch hunters looked worried, however they stayed where they were. He had to give them some credit for that. Although he could see that the witch hunter addressing the witcher had gone slightly pale.

"Just from pulling off… a sack?" he said, looking a little afraid and a bit more confused.

"It's a magic sack," said Lambert. "Put a little witcher magic into it that prevents it from coming back to life. Not for ordinary vampires. It's something that's been passed down by witchers of old, for the very purpose of handling higher vampires. You could try it if you want? But we can't make any promises we'll be able to put it down back again. This thing almost killed all of us fighting it at the same time."

True enough, Silas and everyone there could see that the two witchers carrying the sack looked to be bruised and battered. Given the loud and destructive sounds from earlier, none would doubt their story.

The witch hunter nodded nervously and backed down. Just the thought of fighting such a monster put all complaints on hold.

"Tell your captain that we can discuss the matter of our payment later," said Geralt. "We need to, uh, consecrate, salt, and burn the body before scattering its ashes over the sea. It'll take some time, but we have to take those measures to make sure that she stays dead. Doubt anyone here would want her coming back for revenge in the middle of the night."

"U-Understood." The witch hunter agreed quickly, even offering a salute. "Carry on proper, then!"

The witcher and his friends moved through the way Silas and his guards made for them, the crowd deciding to walk back quickly towards their homes instead of gawking. Likely they did not want to risk the chance of the vampire coming back to life with them around. Magical sack or not, it still looked like something that would tear apart at the seams at any given moment.

For a moment, Silas thought for sure he heard one of the witchers was chuckling as they passed.

When he turned to look, he only saw the witcher carrying the front of the sack groaning and nursing his side, the white-haired one beside him asking if his injury was bad.

"So witchers do care for more than gold," he muttered to himself.

Geralt stood on guard besides Maria as the others were tending to their wounds sitting not too far. Maria was left lying face up on cushioned bench, looking peacefully asleep. Although, she was breathing a little too quietly for his liking. Combined with her pale complexion, it made her look a little too much like a corpse. A very beautiful one, but a corpse nonetheless.

After leaving the slums, they carefully made their way to Keira's house. It was a bit more troublesome than he'd thought it would be. They still had to mask their movements, lest they were spotted by any city guards and witch hunters on the way. He preferred it if they they didn't spin any more tales about ridiculous ways on killing vampires. There was plenty enough of that as it is already.

As if garlic could make even the lesser ones hesitate. Maybe it would if it wondered why someone would throw garlic at it.

Keira's portal was located at the basement of her Oxenfurt abode, as most immobile portals are built to be. That in itself did little to calm the witcher's nerves about portals. Mages tended to put dangerous things underneath their homes—laboratories, experimental creatures, volatile rituals, and etc. Basically things that may explode.

"Are you sure she's alright?" said Geralt.

"She's fine," answered Keira. The sorceress was busy preparing the portal that would teleport them far from the city. "I've put her in a deep sleep. Nothing to worry over."

"I'm a little more worried she'll wake up," chimed Lambert. He was frowning at the cuts in his leather armor. "I don't like our chances here in this basement if we had to fight her again."

"Rest easy your poor little minds," sighed Keira. "While I may not be an Oneiromancer, I know how to put someone to bed with a few spells of my own. She won't be getting up anytime soon. Not unless it's from a true love's kiss anyway."

There was a low hum as the circular device whirred to life. An orange sphere of light appeared in its center, pulsing.

"There we go," smiled Keira. "It takes some time to warm up, though. Should be ready in a few minutes. I just need to queue in our destination afterwards and we'll be able leave."

"Finally." Orianna stood from where she stayed in the corner, eyes looking relieved since she and Regis met up with them on the way. "As much as I enjoyed my time here in Oxenfurt, I can say that I am damned well pleased to be leaving it."

"You'll still need to flee the country," said Geralt. "The witch hunters will most likely confiscate any and all your possessions in Redania. Probably going to investigate every single known connection you have here to make sure they're not monsters in disguise."

"Please," she scoffed. "The only one's such they are likely to catch would be my lawyers. And as for my possessions… I have far more than what I have here in Redania or Touissant. I can live comfortably anywhere, even if I had to cross the sea. Living for as long as I have, one tends to accumulate wealth without even knowing. Once we our out of the city, I shall consider our bargain to be fulfilled."

"And what about you, Regis?"

"Hmm?" The curious higher vampire was occupied examining Lady Maria's items that were spread on a table. "Oh! Yes, of course. Orianna and I have chatted about on our way here, and I shall be accompanying her for the time being. She was gracious enough to accept me as her guest in wherever pleasant vistas she has."

"It's hard to say no when you insist on lecturing me the ways of abstinence…" she said. "If I trusted my self control a little bit more, I would have gladly left without your offer. As much as it shames me to admit, I may fall back on my word if temptation where to arise."

"Give it time," said Regis confidently. "You'll lose the inhibition after a decade or two. It took me longer than that, but I believe in your strength of will to overcome it."

"I feel so assured…" Orianna gave Geralt a look of exasperation.

The witcher tried to hide his smile by pretending to look over the items on the table. His eyes wandered onto the elaborately crafter sheath of the blades. He traced the artistic swirls etched into it, smooth and well polished. It was exquisite without being extravagant—the quality of its craftsmanship surpassing even those of royalty. He hadn't seen anything quite like its design in his travels. Elegant like the ancient works of the elves, but a little too closer to simple and not overly complex to be impractical.

"Don't take it out." Regis stopped him from unsheathing it to take a closer look. "The smell of it—It would be hard for me to bear in this place without windows."

"It's smell?"

"Her blood," answered Orianna, her nose slightly wrinkled. "She uses it to coat her blades. It reeks entirely of it."

"What's wrong with her blood?" laughed Lambert. "Not to your tastes? Thought a saint was like a rare and expensive wine to vampires?"

Orianna was hesitant but said, "It's just… wrong. There was something to it that I don't even dare to imagine."

"Wrong?" Eskel raised a brow. "It can't be that bad."

"I have to agree with her," said Regis, pushing the blade aside. "What traces of it left makes me uneasy. Worse than the black blood potion you witchers used. Poison would be a far easier drink."

"Hmmm… what about the rest of the stuff she has?" said Geralt. He picked up Maria's pistol. "Looks like one of those fire sticks the dwarves had been working on. Never actually saw one that didn't blow up, though."

"You'll have to see to them yourself," said Regis, stepping away from the table with a frown "All her implements give off various but much the same scents. I had wished to inspect the concoctions and such, however, even standing in the same room as these feel like it's making me ill. You don't mind us waiting up stairs, will you?"

Both higher vampires left for fresher air, leaving just the witchers and Keira in the basement. Eskel, who had still been warily watching Orianna, snorted.

"You trust her to keep her promise, Wolf?" he said as he chewed on a jerky.

"I trust Regis to keep an eye on her," answered Geralt. "And he will."

"And what about her?" he gestured to Maria's still and quiet form. "We didn't get much instructions aside from delivering her to the elf and those sorceresses. What are they even going to do with her?"

"They haven't quite reached a consensus on that," answered Keira as she continued to prep the portal. "There are arguments to what must be done with her, however all agreed that she not be left alone. Levels of consequences varied from the eradication of a size of a simple village to the catastrophic destruction of an entire country. It might be that they've managed to reach an agreement while we were away, but I suppose we will find out once we return."

That didn't sound encouraging. Geralt had been skeptical about the contract from the beginning, but if that was what Yeneffer and Triss had also believed to happen, then he couldn't just sit on it. Ciri had also been pleased with the job, so it made it even harder to turn down. She had commented that it has been too long since they all last worked on a contract together, what with her working mostly working in the northern realms. Her visits were seldom, and she always had to take care not to be seen. Touissant was, after all, still a territory of Nilfgaard. Emhyr var Emreis, the emperor of Nilfgaard and her father, would most certainly react badly to her miraculous reappearance.

"Wonder what's she dreaming about?" he said, examining Maria's face.

"Must be something nice if she can sleep like that," said Lambert. He squinted his eyes over the pulsing light from the portal. "I wouldn't be able to with all this light and noise down here."

"It's a pleasant dream, no doubt," said Keira. "Sleeping spells are far more effective when the casted upon feel reluctant to wake from them."

True enough, that while they continued their conversation, Lady Maria was dreaming. She dreamed of a time long past.

Memories she held dear and tender.

For what reason or whom did she decide to pick up her blade, she did not even remember. Her life before becoming a hunter was trivial and not worthy of remembering. She had lived as a citizen of Cainhurst—highest nobles of society. Proud, virtuous and strong, they stood at the top while proving themselves with conduct that befit their status. True nobles worthy of their titles.

When the beasts scourge started, Maria was one of the first of them to do something about it. She had sought out a man who'd been successful in slaying the beasts. To learn from him. In order to remove the creatures that caused so much suffering to the people.

She remembered the first time they met. Outside his workshop she waited for him. He arrived tattered and beaten after taking the head of a beast, covered in blood. She, dressed in her old garment, clean and pure as a noble lady of her house should. They stood apart and stared at one another.

"I wish to become a hunter," she finally said.

He didn't turn her away like she thought he would. Neither did he comment that she shouldn't. He simply walked past her towards his workshop and said, "Well, what are you waiting for? I have much to teach you."

There came others with similar intentions. No matter their background, Gehrman did not turn them away. And thus, the first of old hunters were born. He was the first hunter, and they were his students. They learned, they hunted, and they died. So many of them did. It seemed that no matter how many they slew, or how many they slaughtered, more and more beasts continued to appear.

So many of his students did they bury. Many he himself whose grave he dug.

Watching him do so caused an ache in her heart that pained her so.

She had wondered if one day if he would do the same for her. Thoughts of her own death did not bother her. However, she would regret it if he wept for her. Will he stand above her corpse one day with such sadness in his eyes?

"You are talented," he once said to her in the workshop. "Frighteningly so. By far the best of my students."

She had, in her life as a noble, long gotten used to praises. Even among the other Cainhurst—even Annalise herself—would give her praise. She heard it frequently from those she saved and other hunters as well. But hearing him say it? She had not felt such elation in a very long time. It was the first time she ever heard him say so. Not once had he done spoke of her such until that day.

"Which will make your fate all the more worse if you continue on this path…"

He warned her of the fate of such exceptional hunters like her. Like him. Death, if they are offered such mercy, will come slowly for them, with each passing second a curse that haunts them till then.

To hear him speak with such defeatism… it did not suit him.

"Put down your blades and lead a quiet life," he said to her almost pleadingly. "Find someplace far from all of this. If you go now you will still be able to leave all this madness behind you. Wash away the blood."

That was the first time she had truly touched him, cradling his morose face softly in her hands, her steady eyes gazing into his. She saw him then. Truly for what he was. More than a hunter. More than the first of their kind.

"…And what of you?" she asked. "What will become of you?"

"I will be here…" he said, his head turning to look over the workshop. "Always I will be here. To guide hunters in the never ending hunt. My fate has long been decided."

"Then, I wish to do so as well."

He turned his face away from her, holding onto her hands shakily, drops of water dripping onto the ground. For once, he shed tears not for the dead but for the living.

"Please keep me by your side," she said to him as they kept their heads close to each other. "For as long as you need me."

He held her hand on his cheek and whispered, "Always."

It was a day of firsts for her.

It would also be the last time they would be together. Before the tragedy and nightmare began…

"What's this?"

Lambert shook a strangely shaped vial containing red liquid in front of him. The witcher had, unlike the vampires, no problems with going through Maria's items and equipment.

"Huh. I wonder if it's something like a witcher potion?" he said.

He stared at it closely, eyes furrowing. Witcher potions were made through alchemical preparations, meticulously done by witcher themselves. So all witchers are also considered experienced in the ways of alchemy and are familiar or at least somewhat knowledgeable in regards to such items.

"It kind of looks like… blood?"

"Probably shouldn't touch it," warned Eskel. He looked apprehensively at the vial.

"Relax," scoffed Lambert. "It's probably just something like medicine or something. I'm just going to open it and see."

"Don't think you should do that," said Geralt. He was still standing over Maria, making sure nothing out of the ordinary happen. "We don't know for sure what it is."

"Lambert, dear," said Keira. "I know how curious you can be, but I've told you before that it is very rude to look over a woman's personal effects. Remember what happened last time? I still haven't gotten all the smell out of my lab from that."

"You're all being too uptight," he said. "Sleeping beauty over there isn't going to mind. I'm just going to pop off the cap and give it a whiff. I just want to know what it is."

The cocky witcher pulled the cap off the vial. Immediately the overpowering scent of blood spread out from it. The smell was so strong, one didn't need the enhanced olfactory of a vampire to know what it was. However, every single one of them could tell that there was something very different about it. Something very wrong. He'd capped it no more than a few seconds after opening it.

"Lambert—!"

Geralt had been about to admonish him when he felt something grip his arm. He looked down just in time to see Lady Maria open her eyelids suddenly. The next thing he knew he felt himself weightless, right before crashing into Eskel.

"Aw, hell!" Lambert had been about to sign Aard, however Maria threw one of the wooden chairs at him before he could. The rather expensive looking chair that had splintered from the impact with his head hadn't even fallen to the ground yet before Maria kicked him hard in his abdomen.

Maria stepped back swiftly, a white-hot blast of lightning passing through where she had stood. Her eyes locked on to Keira. She vanished like the wind, appearing just suddenly in front of the sorceress who had been preparing to unleash another spell.

"Oh, no you don't!"

Eskel slammed into her before she could do anything. He managed to push her into the pulsing ball of light of the portal that had been behind her. When she had made contact with it, the portal whinnied at a high pitch, sparking as if it were about to explode. Then there was a bright flash of light. Afterwards, the light and sounds slowly began to fade, leaving no trace of the hunter.

The door upstairs crashed open, Regis and Orianna appearing in their savage forms.

"What happened?!" snarled Regis, scanning the aftermath.

Everything had happened so quickly that it was hard to say where to start.

"Lambert's fault," said Eskel as he steadied himself on his knees.

"How is it my fault?!"

"I second that." Geralt dusted the dust over him. He frowned at the portal. "Told you to leave it alone. Keira, where is she?"

"Let me see…" Keira went to a stone slab with glowing runes on it next to the portal.

The portal suddenly sparked all over, and then, like most things put in a mage's basement, blew up. Small pieces of rock and metal flew around the room. Fortunately it was a rather small explosion, with just the portal itself left in a mess and smoking.

"Well…"

Keira rose up slowly after she had ducked away, coughing slightly.

"I believe that answers your question."

The commotion over at Keira's home did not go unnoticed. It was hard not to. The explosion had been heard by everyone on the street. They could also see the black smoke coming out of the house. With how tense the situation in the city was because of the vampires, it didn't take long before the city guards and witch hunters had arrived on the scene.

Geralt, as much as he'd thought he wouldn't have to, told them that the special ritual they had done was to permanently kill the vampire. He had to explain to them the process of it in detail before he could convince them of it, but eventually, all parties involved had come to believe it. Now, he just had to hope that no one would be stupid enough to use it on a higher vampire someday. Fortunately, he doubted there were many people that could ever even know how to find one.

There was at least one thing to come out of his false story, though. With the threat of the vampire now gone, Regis and Orianna would have an easier time getting out of the city. And with the threat of Maria gone, Orianna was content with patiently waiting for the city to slacken its guard as before so that they could leave unhindered.

Meanwhile, Lambert and Eskel were busy helping Keira sort out the mess. The sorceress was fuming at the loss of her portal, giving Lambert quite the earful for his carelessness. Geralt heard her mention something about a megascope crystal or something that caused his fellow witcher to turn as pale as Maria. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

As Geralt was about to enter the house again to help, a young man came up to him.

"Ho there," he greeted. "You be the witcher, Geralt of Rivia?"

"Who wants to know?" asked Geralt.

"Just a messenger," answered the young man. "I've a message for you." From his pouch he handed Geralt a letter. "A guest at the inn you and yours are lodged with—he asked me to deliver it to you."

Geralt opened the letter, reading it.

"Damn…" He crumpled it in his hand. "It's just one thing after another."

The witcher told his friends of an important matter he had to settle and left for the inn. The streets were lively and boisterous. News of the vampire's death seemed to have spread all over the city, as everyone appeared to be celebrating. He had to stop more than a few times, people thanking him and pushing him to join them in their celebrations. If he wasn't dreading with what's to come, he would have found it funny how quick the people were to forget how they used to treat witchers like him.

Once he arrived at the inn, he saw that the inside was in a similar jovial mood as the streets. Everyone was drinking and eating to their hearts content, sharing stories and conversations loudly all over the entire building. He could hear people from the upper floors toasting and shouting their cheers.

"At least everyone else seem to be doing well," he mumbled.

Over by the tables, at the center of the inn, he saw the person he was looking for.

Geralt made his way through the crowds, stopping right in front of an open seat on the table that already had a mug of mead waiting for him. The table was completely free, which was strange given that the inn was packed full of customers. Only a single man sat at the table, drinking from his own mug. He raised his in gesture to the witcher's arrival, as if he was expecting him, lips curling into a smirk.

"Gaunter O'Dimm," muttered Geralt distastefully.

"The one and only," said the merchant of mirrors. "It has been a long time, Geralt. Come. Please, have a seat."

The witcher did not do so, at least not immediately. He spent a good minute staring at the man—demon or some other. Last he saw of him was after he had beaten the demonic being at his own game, saving his and another's soul from whatever plans he'd had for them. Seeing that there didn't seem to be an immediate danger or hostility, Geralt finally sat himself down.

"Didn't think to see you here," he said, still on his guard. "Didn't think our next meeting would be over a drink either."

"Expect the unexpected," smiled O'Dimm. "Though, I'm sure you've known we would meet again. After all, I did say I would be back. And what's wrong with getting together back for another round of drinks? Doesn't it remind you of our first meeting? A great deal noisier and better wine, but countryside food was better to my taste."

Circumstances had led the witcher to questioning him on the whereabouts of his beloved many years ago. Though, he long suspected that their meeting at that inn long ago had been more than chance. He wasn't so foolish to think that this time would be any different.

"What are you after, O'Dimm?"

"Just a friendly conversation for now, witcher," answered the merchant. He raised his hand, a tavern wench came over and dropped a plate of food on the table. "It has been a while after we last spoke, and contrary to what you believe me to be, even I enjoy idle chatter with someone every now and again. Especially so after enduring a long period of travel."

"And that someone just happened to be me?"

O'Dimm chuckled. "Ever so skeptical, aren't we? I suppose that's how you managed to stay alive all this time. Believe it or not, I would have been quite disappointed if I had found out that you had died before we managed to meet once more."

"Oh, I believe that," said Geralt. "Only because I know that you probably had plans of your own for me."

"I'll admit," the merchant raised his palms, "As I made my way back here, I took to passing some of the time with such thoughts. Only passing thoughts, you understand? Nothing more than fancies now, I assure you."

Though Geralt didn't show it, he was very worried about what O'Dimm had been concocting as revenge against him. He knew the merchant to be a powerful being, one that had lived far longer than any monster he'd ever encountered before. Devious and cruel in his imagination and actions. He wasn't so sure he'd be able to beat him like he did before.

"Still wary, I see," said O'Dimm as he chewed through a turkey leg. "Would it reassure you if I told you that I am in a very weakened state right now?"

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"Not enough for you to kill me, of course," he chuckled, not the least bit worried of the witcher's consideration of killing him right then. "Though enough that I am unable to fulfill any such fantasies that I'd planned for against you. At least not for another decade or so. Banishment from a realm takes quite a bit of hassle to undo."

"So you're vulnerable?" To which O'Dimm nodded in response. "You telling me that doesn't make me feel any better. In fact, it just makes me all the more suspicious on what exactly it is you want from me?"

O'Dimm snapped his fingers.

The entire inn froze and went silent. The entertainers playing their instruments were still as they stopped in the middle of playing their music, customers with their mouths half open as they were eating, a baguette broken in two hung in the air after a woman smashed it over a touchy peasant's head. The Master of Mirrors wasn't as vulnerable as he'd made himself out to be.

"We'll need a bit of peace and quiet for what we are about to discuss," he said. Putting down his drink, he looked at Geralt seriously. "I want what you want."

The witcher frowned as he was unsure of what he meant.

"You are on a quest," continued O'Dimm, "Always on a quest even to this day. No plans on ever retiring? Nevermind. We both know the answer to that. The important thing right now is the one that you are on. You're quest on seeking the Lady Maria."

"Why do you—?"

"She's far more dangerous than you or your friends realize, witcher. Not for her skills, mind you. Though, she is quite an exceptional fighter, wouldn't you say?"

O'Dimm picked up a slice of pie, examining and sniffing, right before he suddenly threw it behind his back, which only froze in midair.

"Saw what happened, did you?" snorted Geralt. "I bet you enjoyed that?"

"I most certainly would have, but sadly, I had to miss it entirely. I was only there for the aftermath. Which was indeed a little satisfying, seeing you picking up the pieces and going on with your little charade with the witch hunters."

"Would've thought you had taken prime seats?" wondered Geralt.

"Front row seat, up and center, if I was able to, yes," admitted O'Dimm. Casually, he tossed the peel of a banana somewhere behind Geralt, but it froze in the air much like the pie. "Due to my current state of vulnerability though, I dare not risk it. Which ties in to the object of your quest—bringing the hunter back with you to see your elven sage. On that, I wish to help you with. I'll even add my own payment to your contract."

He coughed lightly before sitting with his back straight and his face solemn, O'Dimm said, "I swear to you, Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf, witcher, that I, Master Mirror, Man of Glass, Gaunter O'Dimm, shall not take any action of vengeance nor bring down willful misfortune upon you and those dear to you should you fulfill your contract thus spoken."

There was a rumble. The air around them seemed to vibrate and pulse, even though all around them continued to be deathly still. Red colors grew vibrant and glowed. The light glared. Geralt's witcher medallion rattled in its chains around his neck so much that he thought it would shatter. After a few seconds, everything settled down and all was normal once again. Normal in the sense that everyone else all around them was still frozen in place like before.

"How's that?" smiled O'Dimm.

It was strange. The witcher didn't doubt the seriousness of the vow he had just took. He could feel the words actually bind the merchant. A deep and powerful promise that was true as the light of the sun. There was no twisting around it. He would honor his word, or he will no doubt truly be defeated and destroyed once and for all. By his own words.

"Why?" the single word that encompassed every complex emotion and thought the witcher had on the offer given to him.

"Don't tell me a witcher such as yourself have never heard of looking a gift horse in its mouth?" said O'Dimm. "Your lady—I can point you the right way. All you need do is complete your contract as you planned on doing so anyway. No additional measures or promises. Just do as you had intended to. For that, I am merely speeding things along."

Geralt was silent for a moment, considering.

"What do you know of her? What is she really?"

For the first time, Gaunter O'Dimm seemed to have difficulty finding the right words to speak.

"A hunter of beasts," he said with grim seriousness. "Not of this world. She is an anomaly—one that may bring even further havoc if not removed. Worse than war. Worse than plague. You've no reason to believe my words, but I trust you are more receptive to your friends in the lodge, who have a small inkling of the consequences and agree. The sooner you capture her, the better it is for everyone."

"And that includes you?"

O'Dimm nodded. "That includes me. If I'd known that this would have happened, I wouldn't have bothered coming back here. Now, I have no choice but to rely on you once again, weakened as I am. I can do little but hide and wish you luck on your contract."

"Afraid?" asked Geralt disbelievingly. "You? I admit she's strong, but I didn't realize she'd even make you scared."

O'Dimm gazed at the witcher.

"It is not her that I fear," he answered. "I fear that which she may bring. As should you."

He clapped his hands and the world turned once more. Music and noise shattered the silence, hustle and bustle continued to spread from the boisterous crowd enjoying their meals. A drunken uproar of a fight began as patrons fought over a thrown pie landing on someone's head. A nobleman had slipped on a banana peel and accidentally grabbed onto a lady's bosom, causing said lady's husband, a very muscular and ill-tempered man, to toss the offending nobleman towards a rowdy bunch of dwarves, further spreading the disturbance throughout the inn.

"As should everyone…"

The sudden break of the silence and eruption of chaos momentarily overwhelmed the Geralt's senses. Once he'd shaken it off, he looked up to find the merchant of mirrors gone from his seat. The only trace left of him was a single folded parchment on the table.

"Show off," the witcher grumbled.